From rags to 'Riches' Eddie Izzard's cross-dressed for success

If he wanted,

Eddie Izzard

could pound out one incredible, autobiographical self-help book - inspiring, incisive and, unlike most of those tomes, wildly funny.

"But if I did, it might seem like one of those 'Oh, people, please give me money' things," argued the actor/comedian in a recent chat.

Then there's the dyslexia.

While it works great in his scattershot, stream-of-consciousness, "every show's a rehearsal" comedy turns on stage, when this English bloke is "talking crap" about everything from ancient history to politics to pop culture, Izzard's focusing problem could get in the way of cranking out a readable book.

"I don't really have the patience for writing - I never even write my bits down," Izzard shared the other day by cell phone, as he was wandering the streets of . . . oh, I forgot to ask where.

"So if people are interested in my life, I'd rather they just come out and see me , or go online and see anything I've done. Then they'll reach the same conclusion on their own: 'If that idiot's done that, well then, I can do it, too.' " Conveniently, he's headlining at the Academy of Music Monday through Wednesday with his new one-guy show, "Stripped."

And besides all that, "the timing's off" for Izzard to do a self-referential tome. "I've just gotten to the middle chapter. You're supposed to do the life story at the end."

OK, so let's give you the the Reader's Digest version of Izzard's struggle to succeed so far - a book he'd probably call "Relentless." (Yeah, he uses the term a lot.)

The early years - bleak. Born in Yemen (dad worked for British Petroleum), mostly raised in England. His mum died when he was 6.

Eddie started trying on her clothes. And not just because he missed her. "I knew, even then, that I had extra genes." But he pretty much kept that to himself.

At age seven, Eddie really started acting out - he'd begun to contemplate a career as a stage performer.

Flash (far) forward to the college years. He'd signed up to study accounting, but rarely went to class. Izzard now had it in his head to become a stand-up comedian. He tried. Failed. Tried. Failed. Tried and failed yet again.

"I'd get off one laugh and then nothing," he said. "I would be so traumatized, it would take 16 months before I was willing to get back on the stage again."

He finally figured out how to work a crowd by doing sketch comedy and street theater. Big gestures, big laughs.

The guy started building a following at the Edinburgh Festival. Then came some legit acting gigs, la-de-dah, in London's West End.

Izzard let on in an interview that he's a transvestite - straight but sometimes cross-dressing: "Mentally I'm all boy, plus extra girl."

Then he decided to share his interesting taste in fashion by wearing makeup and a dress on stage during his comedy act, in part to give courage to others and to open up a conversation on prejudice.

In Britain, which has long harbored cross-dressing comedians, nobody seemed to mind. Izzard got bigger - even breaking the record for the largest outdoor gig (80,000 viewers) headlined by a comedian.

None less than John Cleese anointed him "the Lost [Monty] Python," which pleased Izzard no end. Like them, he enjoyed talking trash about history and philosophy, intellectualizing really stupid stuff and occasionally wearing women's undergarments.

"The Monty Python guys were my gods," he allowed now. "I was totally influenced by what they do. They took a highbrow thing and took it lowbrow. And they'd take a lowbrow thing and make it highbrow."

In search of bigger things, Izzard eventually came to the States to play on Broadway ("A Day in the Death of Joe Egg") and to start over as a comedian.

He landed an HBO comedy special, "Dressed To Kill," which helped a lot.

Comedian Robin Williams liked him so much, he produced an Izzard tour. Then, in 2000, his last time in Philly, Izzard sold out several nights at the 250-seat Painted Bride Arts Center.

At the time, he told this writer that he didn't think the tranny comedian thing would play well in Peoria. Still, he aimed to conquer the world as a movie actor.

So how has all that worked out?

Not too shabbily.

"For someone perceived as a comedian, who doesn't want to do comedies, it takes more time to get Hollywood casting people to break down their resistance.

"But you just have to stick to your guns," Izzard counseled in our chat.

His biggest and best acting exposure of late has been in the TV dramedy series "The Riches," this week ending its second, writer's strike-abbreviated season on the FX channel.

Eddie plays the head of a contemporary gypsy/grifter clan that assumes the identities of some dead folks to enjoy their upper-class existence.

"It's a commentary on the American-dream lifestyle, not all that different from people playing dodgeball with their credit cards, but darker," observed the actor/comedian. "I really like the scenes where I can make you grimace and then laugh in the same sentence."

From that high-profile gig, Izzard has jumped to acting assignments as various as the voice of an unhinged, bad-guy-killing mouse in the soon-opening "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian," and the Third Reich's head of communications in the plot-to-kill-Hitler movie "Valkyrie," starring and produced by Tom Cruise.

There's been some negative buzz about the latter, largely because its release date has been postponed several times - most recently until next February.

"Don't worry about it, it's cool," Izzard assured. "Two people I respect who came in with no ax to grind saw it and said it's good - one's a scriptwriter, the other a critic. It's in a good place. They just want it to land right.

"If the film had come out in October [as previously scheduled], it would land as an historical drama. That's the perceived slot for that kind of movie. But it's not that, it's a thriller. So they had to find a week that worked. You know, stuff swirls around a lot of movies. There was a lot of negative talk about 'Titanic,' too."

"Yeah, so if that one was such a big hit, how come they haven't made a sequel?" I ask, facetiously.

"You mean 'Titanic 2 - in Slow Motion'? It's coming."

Oh, and remember how Izzard once said (four paragraphs back) that his glam-slam comedy thing could never play in Middle America?

Well, this time around with "Stripped," he's hitting about 30 towns, playing for the first time in places like Columbus, Ohio; Cincinnati, and Memphis, Tenn.,and in large halls.

"Most of the shows are already sold out," he said. "In L.A. and New York [where he's playing the 6,000-seat Radio City Music Hall], they've had to add extra shows."

Does the comedian change his show for bigger venues?

"No, I'll do the same thing I'd do before 100 people. The only thing that changes is the timing. It's like starting up an ocean liner instead of a speed boat. Eventually, you can get up to the same speed. But first you have to wait for the laughs to come back, to get the momentum going."

Mr. Izzard is toning down the cross-dressing fashion statement to "maybe a little eye makeup," but mostly because he's getting tired of talking about THAT subject, and also because he wants to remain unpredictable.

For sure, his humor will remain just as provocative, as intellectually challenging and also as goofy as ever.

"I've decided to talk about the complete history of our civilization and our planet and why I don't think there's a God, a guy up there in heaven with a beard. Look at God's voting record on the history of civilization, from dinosaurs and hot magma on down.

"Look at the millions he's let die. The people he's let take power. It's like he wasn't voting, not giving a damn. How do you believe in someone like that?" *

Academy of Music, Broad and Locust streets, 8 p.m. Monday-Wednesday, $45-$65, 215-893-1999, www.kimmelcenter.org.