The Independent - London, August 29th, 1996
Martin Donovan's eyes say: I'm going to kill you and it will not be quick. Still, he's devilishly handsome - tall and stately and serious, with a jaw the size of a small country. And that trademark floppy haircut, like a pair of curtains tugged apart. These are the things which could make middle-aged women want to put their arms around him and promise that everything's going to be just fine. Indeed he might have a future turning down offers from For Women magazine if he didn't look so bloody bored.
Bored with what? With the fact that he's stuck in a London hotel far from home (Manhattan) and ...
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