RICHARD JAMES
I was obsessed with Anthony Sher. All through my formative years and my drama school training, I had worshipped at his feet. The Year Of The King, his diary of playing the title role in the RSC's 1984 production of Richard III, was my Bible. I first saw him on stage as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice and I was mesmerised. He was my acting hero, and you know what they say about meeting your heroes...
Luckily, he turned out to be really nice.
It took all my reserve to maintain at least the appearance of professionalism at our first meeting. It was at a wig fitting for The Wind In The Willows where he declared that the Chief Weasel (that he was to play) wouldn't have any hair at all, but would wear a bowler hat to distinguish him from his minions (me, Keith-Lee Castle and Robert Bathurst). You don't get to be a Knight of the Realm for nothing.
Within a matter of days there I was, sharing a car with him to one of several beautiful locations, helping him through a bottle of Chablis in his Winnebago to celebrate him playing Stanley Spencer at the National Theatre, generally getting along with the greatest stage actor of our age.
I had to pinch myself.
To say nothing of being directed by Terry Jones (probably the nicest Python of all), sharing scenes with Eric Idle, Nicol Williamson, Steve Coogan, Stephen Fy...
I'm still pinching.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that not every shoot goes smoothly. So it went with A Bunch Of Amateurs. It's all been documented elsewhere since, so I think I can safely say that the wheels very nearly came off.
I had originally auditioned for the part of Rupert, a young farmer, in this rather charming comedy concerning a faded Hollywood actor playing King Lear in a local village hall alongside, well, a bunch of amateurs. That role eventually went to Alistair Petrie (fair enough) but I was given the consolation prize of playing a doctor in a few hospital scenes.
And that's when I met Burt Reynolds.
He was nothing short of civil with and my first block of filming went well. Upon my return to the Isle of Mann, however, things had changed. Mr Reynolds was no longer talking to the director, wasn't coming out of his trailer before 3pm and was being replaced by a stand-in for long shots (he was also eventually revoiced in several scenes by John Sessions). This was the only time I have ever seen boards placed around a set to help with the leading actor's lines. The rest of the cast (and it was a starry cast indeed) ploughed on valiantly, but this was my only experience of an unhappy set.
But, at least I can say I've worked with Burt Reynolds. Oh, and it was Her Majesty the Queen's favourite film of 2008. It was reported that she had requested a copy of the DVD be sent to Buckingham Palace.
Beat that.
There's nothing better than working with a director in possession of an impressive book of contacts. It means that, as in the case of Mike Newell's Great Expectations, you could well find yourself at the table read with some notable alumni of the Harry Potter franchise. Specifically, Ralph Fiennes, Robbie Coltrane and Helena Bonham Carter.
This was the only job that I know I was given on account of my nose. At my audition, Mike Newell turned to the casting director and said as much. I think it helped to provide a resemblance to other 'family members' in the film, particularly Jeremy Irvine as Pip.
As Cousin Raymond, I spent a good deal of my scenes with HBC playing, naturally, Mrs Haversham. It's always fascinating to watch the big stars at work, and I noticed she was saying her lines very quietly. So much so that I almost had to lean in to hear my cues. Perhaps it was deliberate; a bit of status-play. I didn't mind. She is, after all, Helena Bonham Carter.
And she took it all in good heart when, on our last day together, to help combat the layers of dirt that were applied to her every morning in makeup, I presented her with a posh bar of soap for her to remember me by.
