In early 2008, I answered an advert on Gumtree.com. My wife, Kate, had sent me this call for ‘non actors’ after spotting it on her daily trawl through the Pet Section. I replied to the advert with the bare bones of some invented character along with a fairly specific storyline. On the basis of that submission, I was invited for an audition, and was asked to prepare a 10-minute monologue. As a non-actor in every sense of the term, and having only just created this character during my lunch hour, this seemed far outside of my capabilities.
On the day of the audition, I was on the verge of pulling out, but ultimately felt I had nothing to lose, so went regardless. The audition was somewhere in Soho, I can’t clearly recall where or when. I remember opening the gate for a woman in her early twenties attending the audition, and her giving me some cold vibe in exchange. A lot of people, sat on plastic chairs as though they were back in school, were waiting to audition.
Waiting my turn, a young woman next to me started chatting, brightly. She was a banker; a talkative banker. She was a talkative banker in a jazz band. At that time, I was still in a band, and carried with me a not too small amount of music knowledge. Though my knowledge of jazz was (and is) light, I put a few simple questions to her. She wavered. Either she was playing a character or she was in a really shit jazz band.
A number of people came out of audition looking shaken. On entering the crammed room filled with jutting steel, and protruding bits of tech, I was introduced to Turner Prize winner, Gillian Wearing. I hadn’t been told who the director was. Perhaps that knowledge would have made a difference prior to audition, but I can’t really say. Regardless, I answered Gillian’s questions as truthfully and fully as I could. I could occasionally see my face somewhere on a screen, and disliked how it looked.
Two weeks later, I got the call to say that I’d got a part in Gillian’s film and I was to await further instructions. In December, I was called for a workshop with 12 other participants at Twickenham Studios. There, I met our facilitator, Sam Rumbelow. Sam is a trained method actor, and brilliant tutor, teaching classes regularly in East London. Having never worked with arts professionals before, I gave myself over to the entire experience. Those workshops in Twickenham changed my life irrevocably.
2009 was spent adjusting to the knowledge revealed in Twickenham, wasting time on Twitter, disbanding my not-incredibly-popular beat combo, writing about music, dealing with epilepsy, and awaiting news about the film. In early 2010, I heard we were set to film that March. I had saved my leave specifically for these three weeks. Of the 13 participants that attended the original Twickenham workshops, only four (including myself) remained. A further three new cast members from Newcastle were added, and for those of you with remedial maths, that made (and continues to make) seven.
So, a thrilling, visceral and life-enhancing three weeks zipped by in Newcastle. The time spent there with cast and crew was as happy and fulfilling a time as I can possibly recall having. Almost every moment was filmed. Over 100 hours of footage have been culled to a mere 83 minutes. Those 83 minutes will premiere at Manchester’s Abandon Normal Devices Festival on October 2nd and also at the London Film Festival on October 14th and 15th.