Dead Flowers Live

In the absence of the larking about professionally and despite dark thoughts of the destruction of the artistic soul of our nation and possibly the planet by the encroaching forces of greed and philistinism I will nevertheless try and set down one or two snippets for the blog nibblers out there to chew on.

I have not yet heard about the film I went up for, apparently the tapes went astray in the post but now have been recovered and the last I heard they were winging their way to somewhere over the rainbow from whence a reply will doubtless come soon or not at all. We are in the midst of that quaint institution a bank holiday where sport is played, tea is drunk and everyone does their banking on-line.

For my own part, I and the band which I front known as Dead Flowers played a gig yesterday at the Redbridge Green Fair, the sort of festival where one can purchase a gluten-free falafel wrap and get an Indian head massage if one is so minded. At 52 I am the junior member of the band and I jump around a bit and sing. I also play the electric fiddle and mandolin when the others let me. Our set list includes such classics as "There's a Riot Going On", "Sympathy for The Devil" and "Roll Over Beethoven" so pastoral it isn't! Well we had fun and so did the thirty or so people who hung around or wandered within earshot and the cute white dog with the curly tail seemed to be enjoying itself.

It was also the 50th birthday of my very good friend and indeed best man, Paul Bradley a fine actor and one of the funniest men alive. He had the most brilliant party in a boathouse by the Lee Navigation opposite Walthamstow Marshes - a venue of mystery and history and the largest group of sleeping swans I have ever seen. A few drinks were taken and old acquaintances renewed and ways to make a living dicussed ranging from being a tour guide to pest-control and whether there was an overlap. More of that later perhaps. The composer Stephen Warbeck and the central core of his band The hKippers (the h is silent) which PB fronts, played an unplugged session of his renowned sound Stupid World Music before which gremlins pale and depression flees.

Thank you and good-night.

Lark?

I saw Kingfisher Blue at The Bush last week on the first preview and had a fine evening. Lin Coghlan the writer and Paul Miller the director together make a special kind of theatre which manages to be raw and lyrical at the same time and a good story is told to boot. Everyone should go and see some fab acting as well.
A vast silence reigns in career space, not a lark ascending.

Shut the door on your way out

Yes I know it's been a while but I've been in Paris don't y'know. Flying (literally) in the face of fiscal prudence J and I felt we should take the advice of Jackie Wullschlager the art critic of the FT and see the Matisse exhibition "Une Seconde Vie" at the Musée du Luxembourg. It was very much to my taste, colourful, confident, life affirming and joyous. Matisse was extremely ill when he was 71 and not expected to recover, however he did and the world is a better place for that. His work for the next 14 years was largely made up of his famous shapes, coloured, cut out and stuck on. Blue Peter at genius level. All I can say is go if you can. There are deals to be got on expedia if you don't mind flying.
As far as the acting is concerned I had to pop in for another swift visit to the "Family Affairs" set to round off Glen the psychic, drained after his efforts and eager to leave. It was a different director for this last scene as it occurrs in the following episode which falls in a different block. Hardly had we introduced ourselves than I was finished shooting and on my way home. "Shut the door on your way out " - I thought I heard them call. Easily said but the exit area of the Thames shed was being used as a hospital set that day and I had to weave my way through a crowd of Supporting Artists - who were pretending various afflictions - and slope off, hoping not to be trapped and penned by the shepherd-like 3rd Assistant Director - Come by! Come by! Then I'm out. Back on the street and unemployed, the very low fee pre-spent long ago.
Pipeline-wise I was interviewed yesterday for a small part in a movie "Razors Edge" playing Wesley Snipes' boss. I met Po Chih Leong the director and I had to pretend to shout at WS down the phone. I wore a blue shirt, red tie, smart grey trousers and brown wool jacket and had a neat, short haircut the day before. There was very little character description but I felt I had made the right sort of choices. We'll see.
I went to the Royal Court last night to see "The Woman Before". I'm afraid I just didn't get it. It referred to Greek tragedy. Medea possibly. Oh well.

Goon Strip Actor!

Now I didn't think I was actually going to feel a bit guilty about not posting but here I am ready with a few excuses. Been driving back and forth to Wales as my wife J and I pledged help to some parent friends who rarely get to go on holiday by looking after their house, dogs and thoroughly delightful young teen boy and girl while at the same time I have been playing Glen Ashstone the reluctant psychic in "Family Affairs".

Going into soap world as a guest is an odd experience. It's not exactly like going into a country pub full of locals but there are similarities. Of course it is a very nice neighbourhood and once one has been there for one day people at least recognise you as a part of the machine.

The pace of shooting is wild - on my first day I arrived at 8.15am and was out of the building by 10am having shot two scenes. The discipline and concentration required to produce some truthful work is huge. The regulars know exactly who they are and what their history gives them, as a guest one needs to have made a lot of decisions before turning up so as to have an inner life which can convince. Luckily the wardrobe people and I were on the same wavelength and after one telephone conversation they had provided a good selection of stuff for me to wear as there were no costume fittings in advance - Glen Ashstone came together quickly and finally in the dressing room.

One or two line-runs on camera and then one or two takes and it's done, as they shoot with three cameras simultaneously. The director is only going to intervene if there is a technical problem or if it is truly awful. The trick is to have imagined well what one looks like and who one is so that you can walk in to any situation or location and react truthfully to whatever comes your way. This way you can relax in to it and not feel the need to act each line too hard - a big temptation when you are only going to get one or two goes at it. As an actor you can make this type of drama as good as it can be, to think you can make it better is arrogant and counter-productive. It was going on before you arrived and will continue after you have been forgotten.

This is also true of regulars. This is a current issue with "Family Affairs" as there is a new series producer and all producers like to make some changes. Some actors have found that their characters are going, some are relieved to be kept on. The rhyme or reason for these changes are not really relevant to the individuals involved, some go some stay, end of story. What may be life-changing for them is just another episode.

On Friday last I did some psychic scenes. I can't really reveal what goes on but it involved a cuddly toy and inventive camera work. I still have a bit more to do later this week which I'll post about later - obviously - as I'm not really a prognosticator - which I've just noticed is an anagram for Goon Strip Actor!

USE IT!

So how does one play a psychic? Answers on a postcard please......... I think I am going to go for dead ordinary with a hint of inner torture from his unwelcome gift. Like paprika in a goulash - gives it colour but doesn't overpower. Obviously it will be a bit like my dad as I am now the age that he was when he was this age. He was almost totally blind so a great listener and he had very sensitive fingers - he could tell when someone who had just been eating hadn't washed his hands by touching the door handles, from which he would reel away in disgust. To most of us he appeared to be reacting to something that wasn't there. A neat dresser, I like that. When inside is chaos one has to exert control where one can.
I lost control for a brief moment yesterday when trampolining in a friend's garden. I bounced off backwards while trying to regain my footing - should have just left it. I fell quite well really, but unfortunately not one of the electrons that make up my body felt able to pass by the electrons that made up the lawn regardless of the huge nano-distances between them - impasse! Literally. "You were lucky mate!" I hear them call in Oz and indeed it could be viewed that way. I could well be in traction or worse. However I do not feel that lucky. I feel like someone hit me in the kidneys with a cricket bat. But you see, the actor always wins; I can use it tomorrow in my portrayal of the reluctant psychic. I see it as the paprika in the performance - that wince as I sit down will be ENTIRELY GENUINE.