Tag Archives: james bond

How to meet your hero (and keep your childhood intact…)

bros

Bros are back, Back BACK!! and the world unites in celebration. A whole generation of 80s children (well, maybe a small sliver of a tiny British slice of one) will have been propelled back into their teenage selves at the news, and that tidal wave of nostalgic feelings will lift them up and carry them, purses open, all the way to the Ticketmaster website.

Most of us idolise performers as we grow up. We can all remember covering the walls of our childhood bedrooms with posters of our favourite singers and actors, and we’ve all fantasised about meeting them, and becoming their friends. I used to dream about meeting the Beatles (all four of them; how on earth this could have happened in 1987, I don’t know) and being asked if I’d like to join the group. Who knows what they could have achieved if I’d been there too… Of course, sometimes this strays into rather less healthy stalker territory, but for most of us, it stays within the normal bounds and is just another part of childhood. And as much as we cling to the hope that our longed-for meeting will happen and we will be whisked off to a glamorous and exciting new life, deep down we know how unlikely this is. The years roll on, and those crushes and fantasies fade away, the posters are taken down and put away with the gonks and Smurfs. Outside attending an enormo-gig at the O2 or Wembley, most of us will never share the same air as our heroes.

There will be the odd exception to this rule, of course – there’s always an outside chance you will stumble across one in the real world. I remember being in the menswear department of House of Fraser and seeing none other than Jimmy Page – Jimmy Actual Page – presumably shopping for something a bit more day-to-day than his dragon-embroidered trousers or rune-covered jerkins of yore.

jimmy-page

In that situation, there is a quick decision to be made. Do I allow the all-conquering rock God to track down that pair of comfy elasticated Gant slacks in peace, or do I barrel over there and invade his personal space, biro and crumpled Sainsbury’s receipt thrust forward ready to be signed? In this case, I left Mr Zeppelin alone, and it was probably for the best. These things can go one of two ways, after all… There can be nothing worse than launching yourself at the hero of your youth and being told to bugger off. In that brief moment, your happy childhood dreams are blown to smithereens.

However, for some of us, things are a bit different. If you somehow scrabble your way into the same profession as your childhood heroes, your chances of meeting them, and, indeed, working with them, increase massively (or dramatically, if you’ll forgive the pun). This is where things can get dangerous, as they suddenly stop being superhuman. You can even find yourself sharing a dressing room with them, and as we all know, there’s nothing more effective than that for finding out what someone’s really like. As you progress through an acting career, more and more of what you hear – or discover for yourself – shows you that all those towering  idols of your youth are just as depressingly human and normal as you are. Feet of clay, every one.

There is also the sobering thought that, even if you did want to work with those people, the chances to do so are diminishing with every passing year. I’ll never work with Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing now, will I?

Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee

Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee

But recently, the chance to meet and work with my ultimate childhood hero fell squarely in my lap…

Allow me to take you back in time. If you had happened to stumble across me in 1977, you would have met a small boy obsessed with ‘Dr Who’. Saturday evenings at 6.15pm would invariably find me transfixed on (or frequently, behind) the sofa, as that iconic title sequence unfolded on BBC1:

The succeeding 30 minutes were probably the most important of the week for me. I had been watching the programme for a couple of years by this point, and now, at the age of five, my devotion to the show was absolute. I loved it all: the monsters, the sets and props, the music – but at the centre of it all was the Doctor himself, as played by Tom Baker:

tom-1977

The idea of travelling through time and space with this extraordinary alien – someone funny and eccentric and brave, who could face down the most terrifying monsters with nothing more dangerous than a jelly baby, seemed the perfect life to me. Like all superfans, I had the posters on my wall, the novelisations and annuals, the long scarf (albeit brown rather than multi-coloured and stripey), and the TARDIS pencil case. I even went to our Silver Jubilee street party dressed as a Dalek:

Self as Dalek c 1977

My best-ever Christmas present came in 1979 – a signed photograph from Mr Baker himself. ‘Happy Christmas, Christopher’.
What I wanted most of all, of course, was to meet the great man. I suppose I must have thought that it was a possibility; ideally, he would enlist me to help him defeat some horrible alien creature – a Rutan, perhaps:

rutan

or a Krynoid:

krynoid-1

– but I would have been happy enough if he had simply landed his TARDIS in my back garden, offered me a jelly baby and dematerialised again. However, it was also the beginning of an awareness that, as well as day—dreaming of being a real Time Lord’s assistant, I could conceivably appear in the television programme ‘Dr Who’ as an actor. Around the same time, I saw ‘Star Wars’ and started to think about what it might be like on a film set, and to pretend to be someone else. So it was a pretty significant time as far as determining my future career was concerned. Later on, James Bond joined in, and Sherlock Holmes, and then Shakespeare popped up – and on and on…

But Dr Who was where it all started – and, for me, that always meant Tom Baker. This wonderful actor personified the character in a way that, in my opinion, no other incarnation before or since has managed to do.

Of course, Tom Baker’s tenure as the Doctor came to an end in 1981, and so did my fixation with the show. I moved on to new obsessions (the afore-mentioned martini-swilling super-spy being foremost amongst them). The Doctor always hovered somewhere in the background – he was even the subject of a recent painting of mine:

IMG_2739

(prints available here, print fans)… But once Tom left the show, it was never the same.

I did once actually meet the great man, on Chiswick High Road, and he patiently listened while I attempted to put into words what he had meant to me. It was just a brief encounter, but I was still thrilled by it, and I suppose I would have been happy if that had been that.

But, for once, the acting gods decided to smile upon on me, and one day not too long ago, to my amazement and joy, my agent called with an offer to appear in a new ‘Dr Who’ adventure – with none other than Tom Baker himself as the eponymous hero. I have had many calls from my agent – some of them happy, many of them not so happy – but this will probably always remain the happiest.

The offer had come from that estimable company, Big Finish, who specialise in producing wonderful new audio adventures featuring many of the best-loved genre characters and series of the past – ‘Blake’s 7’, ‘Sherlock Holmes’, ‘The Avengers’ and ‘The Prisoner’ amongst many others. But they are best known for their original ‘Dr Who’ stories, featuring many of the surviving Doctors.

big-finish

For years, including the period when the Time Lord was off our TV screens, Big Finish has kept the ‘Dr Who’ torch alive, creating wonderful new adventures in Time and Space. Initially, Tom Baker resisted a return to the role that made him famous, but since 2012 he has enthusiastically donned the scarf once more.

When the first day of recording came, I was very nervous, more than normal. I think my nerves came partly from a fear that I would embarrass myself in front of the great man: give a bad performance, make a fool of myself by unleashing my inner fanboy – or worse, clam up and not be able to talk. Most of all, though, I think I was afraid that Tom Baker would let me down. What if he was a bully, a dreadful bigot or a monstrous egomaniac? My childhood memories would be stomped to pieces by the very man who made them: Dr Who himself.

Thankfully, none of the above came to pass. Tom was an utter delight. He was immediately welcoming to all the cast, an hilarious anecdote-teller in the green room (and generous in listening to others’ stories too), and best of all, when he was behind the microphone, he was still The Doctor. It was a strange and wonderful experience for me to hear that voice coming through my headphones – and for me to answer it. To call him ‘Doctor’ and have him respond! My five-year-old self could never have believed that one day, he would not only meet Dr Who, but actually act alongside him too…

dr-who-thedius-nook-day-2-afternoon-10

Tom Baker and Your Author, 2016

I met my hero – and he is still my hero. What a relief.

jelly-baby

Jelly baby, anyone?

The History Boys and Girls

Your humble author and Philippa Waller in Stephen Jeffrey's 'Hard Times' at the Watermill Theatre, 2000. Dir. Guy Retallack

Your humble author and Philippa Waller in Stephen Jeffrey’s ‘Hard Times’ at the Watermill Theatre, 2000. Dir. Guy Retallack

Ah, ‘Hard Times’! What a show that was. Watermill Theatre, year 2000, Guy Retallack directing, wonderful cast. If only I could go back and do it again. But that’s one of the tragedies of a stage actor’s life. Theatre is a transient, fleeting thing. No matter how wonderful your performance might have been, no matter how successful the production, as soon as the curtain falls on the last night, it is nothing but a memory. There is no way to recapture the feelings you had, or the magic spell the show cast over its audience. John Gielgud used to bemoan the fact that he couldn’t revisit his old performances, or, as he put it, (to be read in the great man’s voice) ‘Awake in the night and admire it as it sat on the mantelpiece’.

These days, of course, many theatre performances are professionally filmed, and these screenings are a great way for people to see shows they might otherwise miss. But they never really capture the thrill of being in the same room as the actors – that intangible frisson that happens when the lights go down. Theatre is a true shared experience – the audience has as much influence on how the show goes as the director does; it is implicated.

There is no real way of bottling this particular genie, but I think some of the magic of a stage performance is best presented in a still image. It’s a far more subtle way of spying on a show, sneaking a peek at the actors at work. A great theatre photograph can convey so much about a production.

And there is a noble and fascinating history to the art. Lord Snowdon’s wonderful theatre images, for example, are an essential addition to the shelves of anyone interested in British theatre.

I recently stumbled across a wonderful book called ‘Theatre Year’, one of a series of books published in the late 70s and early 80s, which featured the work of a master of the art of theatre photography, Donald Cooper.

Theatre Year 1983

Along with fascinating overviews of the year’s work by the supremely knowledgeable critic Michael Coveney, they documented the notable productions of a particular year, in this case, 1981-82, and are hugely evocative of their time. There are some wonderful images here, which make me nostalgic for a time before I was regularly attending the theatre. There is a slightly cautionary aspect – many of the photographs come from shows I have never even heard about, and are filled with actors whose names I don’t recognise. In another 30 years’ time, if my photograph appears in such a compendium, will anyone know who I was?

Here is a brief selection of some of the most interesting shots from ‘Theatre Year’ – all are copyright of the photographer Donald Cooper, and I include them purely for reference. A far more extensive selection of his extraordinary images can be found at www.photostage.co.uk.

A wonderful cast for the first production of Caryl Churchill’s ‘Top Girls’ at the Royal Court:

Lindsay Duncan, Gwen Taylor and Selina Cadell in Caryl Churchill's 'Top Girls' at the Royal Court. Dir. Max Stafford-Clark. © Donald Cooper

Lindsay Duncan, Gwen Taylor and Selina Cadell in Caryl Churchill’s ‘Top Girls’ at the Royal Court. Dir. Max Stafford-Clark. © Donald Cooper

‘Oi For England’ at the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs, by Trevor Griffiths – part of the Young People’s Play Scheme. The play was also filmed. A young Paul McGann can be seen at the left:

Paul McGann, Dorian Healy, Robin Hayter and Peter Lovstrom in 'Oi For England' by Trevor Griffiths, Royal Court Theatre Upstairs. Dir. Antonia Bird. © Donald Cooper

Paul McGann, Dorian Healy, Robin Hayter and Peter Lovstrom in ‘Oi For England’ by Trevor Griffiths, Royal Court Theatre Upstairs. Dir. Antonia Bird. © Donald Cooper

A future James Bond as Hotspur, in Trevor Nunn’s production of ‘Henry IV part 1’ for the RSC at the Barbican. Hal is played by the amazing (and sadly missed) Gerard Murphy:

Gerard Murphy and Timothy Dalton in 'Henry IV part 1' at the Barbican/RSC. Dir. Trevor Nunn. © Donald Cooper

Gerard Murphy and Timothy Dalton in ‘Henry IV part 1’ at the Barbican/RSC. Dir. Trevor Nunn. © Donald Cooper

The first production of Julian Mitchell’s ‘Another Country’ at the Queen’s Theatre brought us the West End debuts of two remarkable actors:

Rupert Everett and Kenneth Branagh in 'Another Country' by Julian Mitchell at the Queen's Theatre. Dir. Stuart Burge. © Donald Cooper

Rupert Everett and Kenneth Branagh in ‘Another Country’ by Julian Mitchell at the Queen’s Theatre. Dir. Stuart Burge. © Donald Cooper

– and here’s a wonderful bit of archive footage from Newsnight, with Joan Bakewell interviewing  Mitchell and his two leads:

Peter Hall’s epic ‘Oresteia’ at the National:

Peter Hall's production of 'The Oresteia' by Aeschylus at the Olivier, National Theatre. © Donald Cooper

Peter Hall’s production of ‘The Oresteia’ by Aeschylus at the Olivier, National Theatre. © Donald Cooper

‘Boogie!’, or to give it its full title, ‘Boogie Woogie Bubble ‘N’ Squeak!’ – a pastiche musical about girl vocal trios – starred Sarah McNair, who later became one of London’s top literary agents:

'Boogie Woogie Bubble 'N' Squeak' devised and performed by Sarah McNair, Michele Maxwell and Leonie Hofmeyr at the Mayfair Theatre. Dir. Stuart Hopps. © Donald Cooper

‘Boogie Woogie Bubble ‘N’ Squeak’ devised and performed by Sarah McNair, Michele Maxwell and Leonie Hofmeyr at the Mayfair Theatre. Dir. Stuart Hopps. © Donald Cooper

This must have been extraordinary – Paul Scofield as Don Quixote, with the wonderful Tony Haygarth as his Sancho Panza:

Paul Scofield and Tony Haygarth in 'Don Quixote de la Mancha' at the Oliver, National Theatre. Dir. Bill Bryden. © Donald Cooper

Paul Scofield and Tony Haygarth in ‘Don Quixote de la Mancha’ at the Oliver, National Theatre. Dir. Bill Bryden. © Donald Cooper

Helen Mirren and Michael Gambon together in ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ for the RSC – can you imagine! I saw Ms Mirren return to the part at the National Theatre 15 years later, with Alan Rickman as her Antony. An extraordinary actress:

Michael Gambon and Helen Mirren in 'Antony and Cleopatra' at The Other Place/RSC. Dir. Adrian Noble. © Donald Cooper

Michael Gambon and Helen Mirren in ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ at The Other Place/RSC. Dir. Adrian Noble. © Donald Cooper

Finally, Robert David Macdonald’s play ‘Summit Conference’ imagines Hitler and Mussolini’s respective lovers, Eva Braun and Clara Petacci, meeting and clashing in Berlin. What an impressive line-up here – and a reminder of the magnetism of Glenda Jackson:

Gary Oldman, Georgina Hale and Glenda Jackson in 'Summit Conference' at the Lyric Theatre. Dir. Philip Prowse. © Donald Cooper

Gary Oldman, Georgina Hale and Glenda Jackson in ‘Summit Conference’ at the Lyric Theatre. Dir. Philip Prowse. © Donald Cooper

These wonderful books can still be found out there, and I’d encourage you to seek them out – they are surprisingly inspiring. Wouldn’t it be good if we could revive the concept?

Reach for the stars?

George Lazenby

Here’s a nice little story for you. When George Lazenby heard that Cubby Broccoli and Harry Saltzman were looking for a new actor to play James Bond, he didn’t hang about. He bought the same watch as 007, had his hair cut by the same barber as Cubby Broccoli, bought a Savile Row suit that Sean Connery had forgotten to collect from his tailor, and then blagged his way into an audition. Lazenby believed he could get the part, and sure enough, he got it.

I, too, once believed I would become the next James Bond, and I kitted myself out in much the same way – the right gun, the right haircut – I even had the bow tie. All right, I was 10 years old, but the level of determination was identical.

Tom Baker toothyluke_anh2colt

Somehow it didn’t work out for me, or at least, it hasn’t yet… But back then I certainly thought it could, or at least I could conceive of no impediment to stop it happening. In those happy days I had no notion of casting – that I might be seen as a specific ‘type’. For years, as I leapt about my bedroom practising my super-spy moves, I assumed that whatever parts I hankered after (Dr Who, Luke Skywalker, Colt Seavers from The Fall Guy), the world would cheerfully allow me to play. What I didn’t realise, of course, was that at the same time there were hundreds of other little actors all nursing the same ambitions.

Now there is nothing unusual about a 10-year-old having unrealistic expectations. Children down the years have dreamed of being explorers, footballers, astronauts, and this is only right and proper. After all, what did I know of the real world, my head filled as it was with nothing but Monster Munch and the theme song to ‘For Your Eyes Only’? But sooner or later the scales fell from my eyes and I was hit with a cold realisation that there was no automatic route to my dream destination. Sure, I made it into the acting profession, but gradually my aspirations were tempered by experience. I left drama school and my agent cast me out into the profession to see if anyone bit. I was certainly nibbled a little, but the really big fish swam on by. And so I learned to set my sights lower.

Mine is a familiar story. Many actors eventually come to accept that life won’t all be artistic satisfaction and hefty paycheques, and so we recalibrate our attitude to the profession and our place in the ranking.

But is this the only way? If I had held onto those childhood ambitions more tightly, might I have got further by now? After all, acting is so precarious, is it really any better to have a realistic attitude? If you put a limit on your ambitions, perhaps that means you also limit your imagination. Maybe it is actually the dreamers, the ones who keep their expectations unreasonably high, who reach the heights. Maybe the dreamers make better actors, because they are freer – they place no lid on what they think they can achieve in an audition, in a scene, in their career. If you admit no obstacle, don’t accept or acknowledge the existence of obstacles, maybe when you meet resistance it doesn’t have such a damaging or limiting effect on your career. If, as William Goldman puts it, ‘nobody knows anything’, why believe someone who says you can’t do something?

Stephanie_Beacham

I once worked with a very famous actress. She’d had a successful career in films and TV in the States, and had by this point settled comfortably into the role of Grande Dame of the theatre. But she told me about the time in the early 70s when her career had been flagging and the parts she had been playing had begun to shrink. So, she said, ‘I simply decided to become a star. It was as though my whole being underwent a cellular change’. Her career took off and it was Name-Above-The-Title all the way. At least, that’s how she remembered it. This degree of self-determination is mightily impressive, although of course it probably helped that she was tremendously beautiful. But is it really possible? Could I just change my mind overnight, decide to be a leading man and actually achieve it? Is it really as simple as that?

The flip-side of this attitude is the cliché of the pushy actor. Perhaps all those big stars have got where they are because they’re just horrendous, egocentric bullies. An inflated sense of entitlement can lead to a disregard for others, and I’m sure we can all bring examples to mind of badly-behaved actors – mentioning no Batmen, of course…

batman

But it must be true that the monkey who gets the banana is the one who climbs the tree, and not the one who stays on the ground playing with his tail. Or, to put it another way, if you want to reach the stars, you have a far greater chance of getting there if you make the leap, than you do if you stay on the ground. Obsess too much, allow thoughts of failure – or fear of success – to hold you back, and very soon, a whole career has flown by.

1 - The Tree

I might not actually get to play James Bond (or Colt Seavers, for that matter) but I have slowly learned that if I adopt a positive, optimistic attitude to the profession, and don’t allow myself to be put off when things don’t go my way, then I often find myself being led in a more interesting direction.

Ask yourself: ‘What would George Lazenby do?’

kilt