Chapter 4 - From Stage to Screen

After a fairly successful run with Durrington Theatrical Society (Aladdin by Christopher Lillicrap, and Din-Dins by Derek Hoddinot) I was enlisted by a group of close and trusted friends to play what is ostensibly my first straight screen role, that of Detective Superintendent David Wilson in Chris Kirk's A Mind of Winter.

This was a very challenging role as I was only 21 at the time and I had to act early to mid-thirties as a hard nosed detective who will stop at nothing to solve the murder of a local cab driver. The true nature of his character does not become clear until towards the end as it is revealed that he committed the murder and has been trying to pin it on a disgruntled unemployed guy who lives in the same village.

So far, so Midsomer Murders. Or so you would think.

Unfortunately, what I thought at the time was a great twist was slightly hampered by the fact that they tried to put a supernatural twist on the nature of Wilson's character. According to some plot  elements and exposition, my character died ten years previous to the events in the film in an accident involving a taxi driver. Is it the same driver? Never explained. Is my character a ghost? Possibly with some of the weird things that seem to happen.

Although uniformly superbly acted by everyone involved (Derry Everett gets a special mention for the key scene where she begins to suspect Wilson and she confronts him, leading to a bit of a barnstormer. I put her through hell on that scene and I'm very proud of the work we did that day.) the film suffered from a loss of plot cohesion as the bodies started piling up, sometimes for plausible reasons, others just so that Chris could experiment with his special effects kit and have tons of blood and brains splattered all over his car windscreen. At least, that's how it feels in hindsight. At the time, it was hilarious.

It also led me into my first proper relationship thanks to a drunken night at my friend Mark's birthday party a few months before shooting started. The best thing to come out of that time, which lasted far longer than it should have, were my two older children. Bye bye drama school and a potential acting career, hello doing acting in my spare time with my mates between nappy changes.

Still, we all have to make sacrifices; we must suffer for our art.

After a number of other projects in those early days, Chris and I had a falling out and Mark struck out on his own in order to take his creativity away from any negative influence, which resulted in a few more collaborations together, details of which will follow in future posts. Chris and I have since got back in touch years later, water very much under the bridge, and he has been collaborating with Mark to get all of our old projects on YouTube. Hopefully they'll actually be working soon!

Next time: my time with the Arundel Festival!

Chapter 3 - Going Down Under

And so we come to my final college production which finally set the seal on the fact that I wanted to enter acting professionally and do it for the rest of my life - Our Country's Good by Timberlake Wertenbaker.

Based on the book The Playmaker by Thomas Keneally, it tells the story of one of the first convict shipments to New South Wales in Australia, and how the Governor Arthur Phillip tries to convince his officers that the unruly convicts can be brought in line by having them put on a production of The Recruiting Officer. Sounds implausible? Well, it really did happen, and we brought it to life in November 1991.

Even with all the productions I've done in the last 20+ years, I can honestly say this is one of my absolute favourites. The script is brilliantly written (it won the Olivier Award for Best Play) and the cast were at the top of their game.

The feel of the production can be summed up by the fact it was a collaborative process between the Drama and English faculties. We had to draw people in to fill all the roles as there were so many. There were people coming into this that had never acted before occupying key roles, though you would never have known.

Auditions were an intriguing process. I really wanted to play Major Ross, a nasty piece of work in the Governor's staff who is totally against the idea of putting on a play. However, I was told by my Director that I was 'too nice' to play such a role. I would prove them wrong years later.

I was eventually selected to play the role of the convict John Wisehammer, a self taught 'literate' who learnt everything he needed to know about the English language from a dictionary that he always carried with him. He was fond of dropping definitions into conversation as the mood suited him, and he had a soft spot for the character of Mary, the young convict who would eventually fall for the charms of Ralph, the Captain who is assigned with Directing the play.

This was my first production using Theatre in the Round (where the audience surrounds you on all four sides of the 'stage') and it was quite an experience. I had never got so close to my audience before, and to begin with, it was a little off-putting. After all, this was only my third stage production, and we had explored a different mode of theatre in every single one. Eventually, it grew on me, not least because my parents got to see me perform up close.

I also got to say the word c*nt for the first time on stage. In front of my parents. It was so liberating!

The thing I will take away from that production in particular was undoubtedly the final scene. All the cast members are 'backstage', waiting to go on; it's opening night and the whole colony has turned out to witness something that the officers are convinced will be an unmitigated disaster. You can feel the tension in the air, particularly after my character reads out his idea for the epilogue - a rather bitter and controversial piece that he had penned himself. Despite the general approval of all present, the Captain has no choice but to decline it's use.

And so, the cast are hushed into silence. Arnold Sideway makes his way onto the stage to deliver the opening speech. And as the last few words are spoken, the music begins to swell...

Excuse me. I've got a lump in my throat even now over twenty years later.

The music of the final movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, the triumphant brass blaring out as the lights slowly faded, will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Oops, here come the tears again.

It was such an effecting and powerful moment created by this little band of Drama and Literature students, that when the last night played out to that tremendous German's music, it took a lot of self control to keep my composure. 

When I got home, I shaved the patchy beard I had grown for the role and had a good cry.