Inside Will Smith's $3.8 million motorhome that's better than most houses
While many of us dream of living the luxurious life that celebrities experience, this lifestyle can become exhausting, or so actors keep telling us.
For Will Smith, he may have discovered the ultimate solution to these challenges; however, the only problem is that it doesn't come cheap.
The 'Fresh Prince of Bel-Air' star, who has a reported net worth of around $540 million, once owned a custom two-storey motorhome worth $3.8 million ($US2.5 million), which is significantly more valuable than most Aussie houses.
The Hollywood star dropped $2.5 million on a fully customised, two-storey RV by Anderson Mobile Estates that boasts enough amenities to rival even the fanciest homes.
Ron Anderson, who helped to design the trailer, ran through the fine details and explored the expensive materials used to bring it to life.
'This is the biggest, tallest, widest, most luxurious RV in the world,' Anderson said.
'Will Smith contacted me and said I want something unique; I said, 'I got it.'
'There's no amount of money that you could offer me to break that trust.'
This massive 22-wheeled vehicle has it all, from expensive countertops to a home cinema.
Known as 'The Heat', this sprawling home features an expansive roof that rises to 107cm to create an upstairs level, housing an impressive 30-person cinema with automatic shades and a 100-inch TV.
If (for some reason) a cinema with 30 seats doesn't interest you, the room can also be transformed into a luxurious office space.
The first level of the home on wheels features a full kitchen estimated to be worth around $300,000, a dining room, two lounges — one of which boasts a professional makeup station — and a small office, while the other serves as a wardrobe.
The downstairs area features a $38,000 bathroom that spans the full width of the trailer, complete with a glass door that turns opaque at the touch of a button, a sauna shower, and a separate toilet.
The luxury extends beyond that, as the motorhome boasts 111.5 square metres of living space, 14 televisions, leather furnishings valued at $462,000, and technology worth over $192,500.
All doors on the RV are automatic and were dubbed 'Star Trek' doors by Anderson when the RV was first unveiled in the early 2000s.
Will used to own 'The Heat' for decades and famously lived in it while filming Ali, Men in Black III, and The Pursuit of Happyness.
If you're willing to pay for the experience, this luxurious 22-wheeler is now available for hire at a rate of $13,800 per night.
Will Smith is currently residing in a $66m custom-built compound in Calabasas, California, which he has owned for several years.
The house was designed by architect Stephen Samuelson, who collaborated with Will Smith and Pinkett Smith in 1997, inspired by the work he had done on the home of Carol Burnett, according to Architectural Digest.
The property boasts nine bedrooms and 13 bathrooms.
The residence features a meditation lounge, a recording studio, a sunken trampoline, and courts for basketball, tennis, and volleyball.
The home graced the cover of Architectural Digest in 2011 and was briefly listed for sale for $42 million in 2014.
In September 2021, the couple had to renovate the property after a basement fire caused smoke damage. The family was home when the fire broke out, but no injuries were reported, according to the New York Post.
Pinkett Smith reportedly filmed her former talk show 'Red Table Talk' inside the Calabasas home.
Last year, the pair parted ways with one of the more modest properties in their robust real estate portfolio.
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Sydney Morning Herald
38 minutes ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Why Hollywood's comedy king thinks Aussies appreciate him most
Paul Feig, the American filmmaker behind Bridesmaids, The Heat, Freaks and Geeks, A Simple Favour and a whole lot more, makes no bones about what it means to be the inaugural recipient of a lifetime achievement award from South by Southwest Sydney. 'Gateway to death.' He laughs. 'No, I'm honoured, because I have spent my whole life working on this and hopefully I've got a few more years left. 'It'd be one thing if I wasn't working any more and couldn't get a job,' he continues. 'Then you'd be like, 'Oh boy, there's the booby prize'. But to me it's a great honour because I'm continuing to work and I'm doing stuff that I'm really proud of.' Feig (it rhymes with Smeeg) has just finished shooting a new feature, The Housemaid, which should be out by Christmas. Another Simple Favour – the sequel to his beloved crime-thriller comedy A Simple Favour (2018) – dropped on Prime Video in May, having debuted at the original SXSW in Austin, Texas, in March. And according to he now has about 20 projects – including a sequel to the 2015 Melissa McCarthy movie Spy – in various stages of development. At 62, the perennially dapper writer-director-producer has no intention of slowing down. 'I'm all about speed,' he says. 'My whole thing is I'm looking for runaway freight trains, because the things you develop for years are just caught in the muck and the mire, people overthink, it starts to sag, and people get tired of the stuff that was good, you know.' Getting a project up and running quickly is vital to maintain the momentum, especially in comedy. 'I think energy is the biggest thing that makes a movie or a project great,' he says. 'Everybody goes into it with a head of steam. I'm not saying good things don't come out of being cautious and taking time. It's just for me, that's not a pace I like. I like, 'blam, here it is'.' For the most part, that approach has served Feig well. Having started his career as a performer, he switched to the other side of the camera after his breakthrough role in Sabrina the Teenage Witch was cut after one season because, he was told, they didn't really know how to write for his character. 'It was this thing of, 'Wow, if you're an actor in this business, you're completely out of control'. They can fire you at any time. You are stuck in a contract for seven years unless they let you out of it. So it just cemented in my head that I want to do this.' His first attempt, a self-funded feature he wrote, directed and starred in (alongside illusionist Penn Jillette, of Penn and Teller fame), wiped out his and his wife Lauren's savings and was never picked up for distribution. 'I was like, 'it could potentially be over right now',' he says of the film, Life Sold Separately, which has not been released to this day. But rather than give up, he took inspiration from his friend Matt Reeves, who had just co-created the college drama Felicity with J.J. Abrams (Lost). 'I decided to write a pilot based on my high school.' The show was Freaks and Geeks, and after Judd Apatow, a friend from stand-up days, agreed to come on board as producer, he was off at the races. 'Suddenly we got sold to NBC, we're making a pilot, we got picked up. It was just redemption at the highest possible level.' The show only lasted a single season – and NBC initially screened only 12 of its 18 episodes before dumping the final six one Saturday night a year later – but it launched the careers of actors Linda Cardellini, James Franco, Seth Rogen and Jason Segel. And, obviously, of one Paul Feig. Those 18 episodes will screen at SXSW in October in a marathon 14-hour session. 'Sadly, I'm not going to be there when they're doing it, that would have been kind of fun,' he says. 'But I don't know if I could even survive that. I can't sit that long.' Also screening are Bridesmaids and The Heat. The first time I chatted with Feig was in 2011, when I met him, Kristen Wiig and Rose Byrne on a Melbourne rooftop to talk about Bridesmaids. At the time, the film was at the centre of a debate after some old hands (comedian Jerry Lewis, and journalist Christopher Hitchens among them) insisted women weren't funny. Looking back, can you even believe that was a thing? Loading 'Well, I'd like to say we've moved on, but our current political situation here [in the US] is just such a disaster. Always when things feel like they're accelerating forward, there's some nefarious force to put the brakes on and pull it back. 'I always thought the conversation about 'are women funny?' to be ridiculous,' he adds, 'because all I do is work with funny and talented women. The evidence doesn't bear out any of that, so it all just feels like misogyny to me when people say it.' Feig also found himself in the sights when his remake of Ghostbusters (2016), featuring an all-female team, was review-bombed on Rotten Tomatoes before anyone had even seen it. The attacks on African-American comedian Leslie Jones were especially vile. 'If you look at the timing, it was right during the rise of Trump,' he says. 'The manosphere, which I didn't realise existed, had an axe to grind, and we were the perfect moment for them.' His response, he admits, was one of shock. 'I was such a novice to criticism on the internet at that point because, from Freaks and Geeks to Bridesmaids, The Office [he directed 15 episodes of the US version], all these things I'd been involved with were really popular, it was just nothing but goodwill out there for what I was doing. And so, when suddenly it turns, you're like, 'Wait, who are these evil-feeling forces that are coming at me with such anger and venom?' It kind of knocks you sideways. 'Now I'm immune to it,' he adds. 'But at the time, it brings up all the old bullying and things you went through as a kid. And you just realise, 'OK, I can be in my 50s and still be completely pulled back into the schoolyard'.' Thankfully, that's all a long way behind him now. A lifetime, you might say. Feig admits he is looking forward to receiving the award in person and to visiting a country that has always embraced his work again. 'I think Australians have a great sense of humour, and they kind of get what I go for,' he says. 'All my movies are comedies, even when they're thrillers or whatever. I mean, some are very hidden dark comedies, but they're still meant to entertain you. 'It's OK to laugh when things get extreme,' he says. 'And I just feel like Aussie audiences have always kind of gotten that.'

The Age
38 minutes ago
- The Age
Why Hollywood's comedy king thinks Aussies appreciate him most
Paul Feig, the American filmmaker behind Bridesmaids, The Heat, Freaks and Geeks, A Simple Favour and a whole lot more, makes no bones about what it means to be the inaugural recipient of a lifetime achievement award from South by Southwest Sydney. 'Gateway to death.' He laughs. 'No, I'm honoured, because I have spent my whole life working on this and hopefully I've got a few more years left. 'It'd be one thing if I wasn't working any more and couldn't get a job,' he continues. 'Then you'd be like, 'Oh boy, there's the booby prize'. But to me it's a great honour because I'm continuing to work and I'm doing stuff that I'm really proud of.' Feig (it rhymes with Smeeg) has just finished shooting a new feature, The Housemaid, which should be out by Christmas. Another Simple Favour – the sequel to his beloved crime-thriller comedy A Simple Favour (2018) – dropped on Prime Video in May, having debuted at the original SXSW in Austin, Texas, in March. And according to he now has about 20 projects – including a sequel to the 2015 Melissa McCarthy movie Spy – in various stages of development. At 62, the perennially dapper writer-director-producer has no intention of slowing down. 'I'm all about speed,' he says. 'My whole thing is I'm looking for runaway freight trains, because the things you develop for years are just caught in the muck and the mire, people overthink, it starts to sag, and people get tired of the stuff that was good, you know.' Getting a project up and running quickly is vital to maintain the momentum, especially in comedy. 'I think energy is the biggest thing that makes a movie or a project great,' he says. 'Everybody goes into it with a head of steam. I'm not saying good things don't come out of being cautious and taking time. It's just for me, that's not a pace I like. I like, 'blam, here it is'.' For the most part, that approach has served Feig well. Having started his career as a performer, he switched to the other side of the camera after his breakthrough role in Sabrina the Teenage Witch was cut after one season because, he was told, they didn't really know how to write for his character. 'It was this thing of, 'Wow, if you're an actor in this business, you're completely out of control'. They can fire you at any time. You are stuck in a contract for seven years unless they let you out of it. So it just cemented in my head that I want to do this.' His first attempt, a self-funded feature he wrote, directed and starred in (alongside illusionist Penn Jillette, of Penn and Teller fame), wiped out his and his wife Lauren's savings and was never picked up for distribution. 'I was like, 'it could potentially be over right now',' he says of the film, Life Sold Separately, which has not been released to this day. But rather than give up, he took inspiration from his friend Matt Reeves, who had just co-created the college drama Felicity with J.J. Abrams (Lost). 'I decided to write a pilot based on my high school.' The show was Freaks and Geeks, and after Judd Apatow, a friend from stand-up days, agreed to come on board as producer, he was off at the races. 'Suddenly we got sold to NBC, we're making a pilot, we got picked up. It was just redemption at the highest possible level.' The show only lasted a single season – and NBC initially screened only 12 of its 18 episodes before dumping the final six one Saturday night a year later – but it launched the careers of actors Linda Cardellini, James Franco, Seth Rogen and Jason Segel. And, obviously, of one Paul Feig. Those 18 episodes will screen at SXSW in October in a marathon 14-hour session. 'Sadly, I'm not going to be there when they're doing it, that would have been kind of fun,' he says. 'But I don't know if I could even survive that. I can't sit that long.' Also screening are Bridesmaids and The Heat. The first time I chatted with Feig was in 2011, when I met him, Kristen Wiig and Rose Byrne on a Melbourne rooftop to talk about Bridesmaids. At the time, the film was at the centre of a debate after some old hands (comedian Jerry Lewis, and journalist Christopher Hitchens among them) insisted women weren't funny. Looking back, can you even believe that was a thing? Loading 'Well, I'd like to say we've moved on, but our current political situation here [in the US] is just such a disaster. Always when things feel like they're accelerating forward, there's some nefarious force to put the brakes on and pull it back. 'I always thought the conversation about 'are women funny?' to be ridiculous,' he adds, 'because all I do is work with funny and talented women. The evidence doesn't bear out any of that, so it all just feels like misogyny to me when people say it.' Feig also found himself in the sights when his remake of Ghostbusters (2016), featuring an all-female team, was review-bombed on Rotten Tomatoes before anyone had even seen it. The attacks on African-American comedian Leslie Jones were especially vile. 'If you look at the timing, it was right during the rise of Trump,' he says. 'The manosphere, which I didn't realise existed, had an axe to grind, and we were the perfect moment for them.' His response, he admits, was one of shock. 'I was such a novice to criticism on the internet at that point because, from Freaks and Geeks to Bridesmaids, The Office [he directed 15 episodes of the US version], all these things I'd been involved with were really popular, it was just nothing but goodwill out there for what I was doing. And so, when suddenly it turns, you're like, 'Wait, who are these evil-feeling forces that are coming at me with such anger and venom?' It kind of knocks you sideways. 'Now I'm immune to it,' he adds. 'But at the time, it brings up all the old bullying and things you went through as a kid. And you just realise, 'OK, I can be in my 50s and still be completely pulled back into the schoolyard'.' Thankfully, that's all a long way behind him now. A lifetime, you might say. Feig admits he is looking forward to receiving the award in person and to visiting a country that has always embraced his work again. 'I think Australians have a great sense of humour, and they kind of get what I go for,' he says. 'All my movies are comedies, even when they're thrillers or whatever. I mean, some are very hidden dark comedies, but they're still meant to entertain you. 'It's OK to laugh when things get extreme,' he says. 'And I just feel like Aussie audiences have always kind of gotten that.'

News.com.au
an hour ago
- News.com.au
The unassuming 71-year-old ‘ketamine queen' who changed Australia's drug scene forever
Kerrin Hofstrand used to have a foolproof ritual every time a package of ecstasy would arrive from the US. She'd head to a bar on Sydney's Oxford street, play the song California Dreamin', drink a Stoli and drop half a pill. If she wasn't high as a kite in 15 minutes, she'd know the drugs were no good. And if you think that's the most shocking thing you'll hear out of the mouth of a kindly-looking 71-year-old, you're in for a surprise. Known as the woman who introduced ketamine to Australia in the 1990s, Kerrin's life has been colourful enough to fill several books, and in this week's episode of Gary Jubelin's I Catch Killers podcast, she weaves a fascinating tale spanning decades - including stories of her time working as a stripper, selling cocaine in Hawaii, managing a brothel and taking LSD at the age of 12. 'It was just what we did in my group,' she explains candidly, referring to her childhood dalliance with LSD. 'I did acid before I ever even smoked a joint. It was very strange.' Despite the early indoctrination, Kerrin says her true 'drug days' didn't begin until she moved to the United States. An international move and an introduction to criminal life Kerrin's father, Gordon Stephen Piper was a household name in Australia. An actor, he was best known for playing Bob the plumber on the long-running television show A Country Practice. At 19, Kerrin's dad organised an opportunity for her to study at a prestigious New York acting school, a move she bankrolled with an inheritance she'd received from a great aunt the year prior. 'A girlfriend of mine, Sandra, was going to Hawaii,' she explains. 'She'd already been there, and she'd met this guy named Mark. She was in love with him. And I said, 'oh, well, I'll stop off in Hawaii with you' [en route to New York].' Mark, a semi-pro surfer with long blonde hair, lived in the penthouse of a 1930s building locals called 'the Hippie Hilton' in Hawaii. And as soon as Kerrin arrived, she fell for him. The pair quickly struck up a long-distance love affair between Hawaii and Sydney. 'Sandra went home after a month, I never went to acting school, and I ended up marrying Mark back here two years later,' she says. Once the pair moved together permanently to Hawaii, Kerrin began studying nursing by day, and working in a strip club by night, where she quickly progressed from cocktail waitress to fully fledged dancer. 'I was a tall leggy, good-looking person,' she explains. 'I was a size six on a 5'11 frame. I passed the audition.' Over the next few years, Kerrin achieved her nursing degree and made an extraordinary amount of money. In the process, she also developed a cocaine and quaaludes habit. Eventually, Kerrin's relationship with Mark ended, and she had to move temporarily back to Australia to nurse her mother, who died of cancer on Mother's Day in 1981. Cocaine, cruise ships and ecstasy Over the following decade, what Kerrin describes as her 'unusual' lifestyle took her through a career working on cruise ships around Hawaii (during which time she sold cocaine to 'everyone onboard, from the Captain down') to her eventual firing (because a guest saw her exit the bathroom without washing her hands, none the wiser that she'd actually been doing drugs), to her return to Australia, determined to detox. And it was here, in 1990, that Kerrin's role as a key player in Sydney's drug scene took off. During a night out on Oxford Street, a friend visiting from the States had suggested he begin sending her ecstasy from overseas. 'He said to me, 'Kerrin, if I sent you over 300 ecstasy a week, would you send me the money back?' I was like, 'yeah, sure, of course I will!' I was high as a kite! At the time, I just thought it was post-Mardi Gras, ecstasy talk.' 'About a week later, I get a phone call from the United States. And he goes, 'OK, so I need you to go to Bondi post office, you're going to take this letter saying you are who you are, and you have the authority to pick this up, and there's going to be six macadamia nut canisters'.' And so it began. Soon, Kerrin was doing a roaring trade. 'Every couple of weeks I'd send him back $9,999 from a different bank each time, to keep it under that $10,000 mark [which would flag suspicion].' Swimming in cash, she was soon able to move from her one-bedroom apartment to a fancy three-bedroom house in Paddington. Asked whether she worried about the potential harm she was doing through selling drugs, Kerrin is decisive. 'I was not standing at a kindergarten gate selling heroin,' she says simply. 'I felt absolutely no remorse about selling ecstasy because it wasn't a bad drug in those days,' Kerrin continues. 'In those days, you couldn't get anything more pure as a party drug. You only had to do a half to have eight hours of fun with no alcohol, a Chupa-Chup in your mouth, and a lemonade.' 'Special K' One day, a few months into Kerrin's ecstasy-dealing career, her American contact got in touch to tell her he was sending something different in the post. It would arrive in liquid form, in contact lens containers. It was ketamine - a previously unknown drug on the Australian scene. Kerrin began cooking it up and selling it for $200 per half-gram. Because she was the only person supplying it, Kerrin made 'an insane amount of money', but in the back of her mind, she knew she could be found out at any moment. In June 1991, that's exactly what happened. Unbeknownst to Kerrin, she'd been under police surveillance for a month before they decided to arrest her. 'They came in at 7.30am, and I was up in the top bathroom,' she recalls. 'I lived with three guys, and I thought it was one of them wanting to use the bathroom. I was in my pink flamingo pajamas, and they knocked at the door, and they said, 'get out now'. And I said, 'just hold on a minute, guys'. And they said, 'it's the police'. And I was like, 'OK, I still gotta clean my teeth anyway.'' As police searched her house, seizing drugs and other evidence, they eventually came to the oven, where Kerrin had left a batch of 'Special K' (ketamine) she'd cooked the night before. It was worth $10,000. 'They said to me, 'what's that?'' she recalls, 'and I said, 'it's Special K'. And they said, 'what? Like the Corn Flakes?' I said, 'no, like the ketamine that you give horses, it's a dance party drug, yeah?' So I was the first person in Australia to be busted with ketamine, and they changed the law to make ketamine illegal.' Because the drug had not been on the list of prohibited substances at the time of Kerrin's arrest, she wasn't charged for the ketamine they found. She was, however, charged for the 300 ecstasy pills, 2000 hits of LSD and $100,000 worth of cash that police found. She was eventually sentenced to three years and two months in Mulawa Correctional Centre - an experience she describes as 'hell on earth.' Life after drugs These days, Kerrin lives life on the law-abiding side of the street, exploring a passion for French cuisine, caring for her adopted Maltese Terrier, Bowie, and making videos about her adventures on TikTok for her fascinated followers. And in spite of her former money-making activities, she says that these days, the stakes are too high when it comes to drugs. 'It's a war on quality,' she explains. 'If the drugs were the quality of what I was dealing with when the ecstasy I sold was around, when the Coke was around, when all the drugs were around in those days and nobody was stamping on it 100 times, then you could feel safe about people taking them now.' 'I wouldn't, wouldn't trust anything on the streets these days,' she says. 'And anybody who gets involved with ice is just a goddamn idiot. I see the effects of that every single day.'