York!
City of big churches, big walls, big Viking centres, the reason that Yorkies are called Yorkies and about to be my home for seven weeks. It better be good so.
Wait'll I tell ya!
I had left Waterford a few days after the festival and eventually hit the high road to York (hangover still intact) to start rehearsals for 'The Beauty Queen of Leenane' (Actually I had slipped in a sly four days in Lisbon.....but that's my business). Now for ‘high road’ read ‘train’ and in fairness the train from the London to York is on the best line in the UK. So it only takes 2 hours from Kings Cross which is seriously good going when you consider that Manchester is closer and takes 3 and a half hours to get to. But, then again, as well as all the above, York is the birthplace of the great british railway that I've come to know so well in my time living here so I suppose it should be good. I betcha it’s even better when you have a seat. Jesus it was packed! And so my adventure to York began with me sitting for two hours on a fold down seat in between carriages on a train that was so packed to bursting I‘m sure it could be constituted as a war crime and not only that but I was sitting just outside the toilet as well so I got a blast of everyone’s business now and then. What glamour! And at what a price!! 70 quid!! Jesus! Not to worry though as that fare will be included in my first weeks wages because by equity law if you live more than 25km from the theatre they need to give you a single train fare there for the start of the gig. Not too bad so. Just as long as I‘m not jumping up and down to the London all the time. Now that would really break the bank. But sure why would I be doing that. Oh yeah.......Auditions. Shite. Well maybe I won’t get any. But that would be shite also as I wouldn't have any job to go on to after ‘Beauty Queen’. Ah crap I can feel the auld Jitter kicking in already. Never mind that now though I had a job to be doing.
The first day was like most first days with what we call the ‘meet and greet’; wherein you meet and greet (as it said on the can) everyone involved with the show and lots more from the Theatre. Meeting the rest of the cast is a quick one this time though as there's only 4 in the play and the others seem like good heads and that’s grand with me. Then there's the read through. And if I thought that the script was good when I read it first it really hit home when we read it out loud. This thing is the business. Absolutely hilarious. So much so I can’t finish a couple of lines because I‘m laughing so much meself. The set is shown and it’s brilliant. I‘m starting to get very excited about this. And its great, after a summer of prancing around in a kids play to be able to swear on stage again. Its very liberating. ’Feck!’ Woohoo! ’Bitch!’ go on! We’re all chatting throughout the day getting to know each other and of course the topic of conversation inevitably gets around to digs and the horror stories begin. None of them are happy with their digs; one of the lads says he can‘t walk around barefoot because the floor is so dirty. Now I’m not one to be happy at other people's misfortunes but I suddenly stop begrudging the £105 a week I’m paying for my digs, cause they aren't bad at all. I had arrived the previous night into a very pleasant studio flat with twin beds, kitchen and a brand new bathroom and they change the sheets for you every week. Well thank Jesus for that! Comfort while on tour is paramount and if I had to pay a little extra for it well fair enough, I’d just have to make sure I minded me money and not go overboard with drinking while I was in York. ’Yeah Right‘ I hear you shout at me, but I’m afraid that was indeed the case for the first few weeks. Now this may have been more out of necessity than any form of suddenly acquired sense and sensibility for as well as bringing Martin McDonagh’s first play to life I was also still writing the music for the Lord of the Flies back home.......oh and for the first two weeks I was bricking it about a little thing called ‘The Way We Were’ back in the fair Déise land. You see.....
I was about tread the boards of the Theatre Royal in Waterford for the first time in 5 years.
And I was more shit-scared than.......
No, wait, we've been there before methinks. Anyway you would’ve been proud of me (or not depending on the state of your own liver) as for the most part I went straight back to my flat after rehearsals each day. I even went so far as to stay in York my first weekend there and I didn't go out at all. Not a bit. I stayed indoors working on the three shows currently swimming around my brain and by the time Sunday night came around I was only hanging for a few scoops. There wasn’t a sinner willing to join me!! Janey mac! So I ended up going down the road and doing something I've never done in my life. I sat at the bar on my own and had a couple of pints while reading a Séan O’Casey play. Now that's either you’re idea of complete and utter sophistication or complete and utter sadness. I have a feeling the barmaid who served me thought it to be the latter and I tended to agree with her. But that‘s ok, I could do with some sobriety in my life after the madness of the festival and also I was saving my money big time which could only be a good thing and I could probably end up saving a few quid on this job as long as I don’t have to hop down to London. Of course I spoke too soon. The phone goes, ah sure ‘tis the agent;
’You have an audition for a new West End musical called ‘The Far Pavilions’ next Wednesday in London.‘
Ok delighted to have an audition but like a dog I have to shell out a load of bucks to get to London. That said though it could be worth it, a big new West End musical and I was up for a good part in it seemingly. Grand so I’ll give it a shot. I just have to get time off rehearsals. I work it out that I can go back down to the London Tuesday evening and be back in York for rehearsals at 2.30 on Wednesday, a rush I know but I don't think that our director, sound and all as he is, will give me the whole day off. He agrees to the half day so I’m sorted and the timing works fine. I get up nice and early to warm up the voice (I can‘t stand singing in the morning. I’m well shite until around 2pm) and in I trot to a big hall in Kensington. The panel at the audition consists of the casting director (who I know as she's cast me before at Regent’s Park, so that's a good thing), the Lyricist (don’t know him), and the Musical Director. Now this guy I had met before. Years ago, and I do mean years ago; it was 1998, I was still at music college and I went to an open audition in Dublin for Phantom of the Opera and they recalled me to London and this guy was at my recall that day. Problem was I got pissed the night before (nothing changes) and I made an absolute dogs dinner of the audition. Luckily though he seemed not to remember that so that's cool. And the audition goes very well indeed, I sing my own song of choice and then the musical director says to me;
’Well Jamie you mostly have an acting CV but you're obviously very musical.’ quoth he.
‘Well actually I studied music before acting, I have a degree in music.’ proudly boasteth I.
My reply however does not go down like a lead balloon as my previous audition boasts have. This guy is actually impressed. Its mad but now that I have a bit of straight acting on the auld CV I‘m suddenly more in demand for musicals and yet when I only had musicals on the CV I had some struggle to even get an audition. Jesus! Go figure. Anyway I walk out of the audition with a bit of music to learn and happy in the knowledge that I had to go back again in a few weeks to meet the director. They were also being very accommodating as they said they’d see me once ‘Beauty Queen’ had opened so I didn't have to get more time off of rehearsals. How bad. This could work out well and be worth the train fare.
Yeah right.
Firstly they didn't wait until 'Beauty Queen' had opened, they called me in the week before! So I had to go with my begging cap to the director and try and get another morning off. Now I'm taking the piss here a bit, the last week of rehearsals where everything goes a little crazy and mad and its imperative that everyone's there all the time, and here's auld auditionman looking for time off! I'll never get it methinks. Well methinks wrong as it turns out. It was a testament to how well rehearsals were going at that stage that the director not only gave me the morning off but he gave the whole cast the day off! Jesus! He must have been very happy with us. Too right though because we were having a deadly craic in rehearsals and, certainly from my point of view, really good work was being done. There was very little pressure and I felt I was really on a roll with the character of Ray (to be honest I based him on a mix of various characters I know in the Déise. But you would have had to've seen the show to know who they were cause I'm not spilling me acting beans!). As long as I could stop corpsing (losing it and laughing - very unprofessional) in the 'cat's wee' scene I might be alright in this little drama that we're putting on. So I had secured the Monday off for all and that weekend I set about the onerous task of finishing and recording all the music for the 'Lord of the Flies'. Yes that was still going on. I love writing music. I love it even more when there's a nice big cheque at the end when you're finished but I had already been paid for this one so that was hard going. But after hours of work I finished all the mixing and the recording and I put the minidisc and three cds into a jiffy bag ready to go and for some reason I don't send them straight away like I should've. I end up bringing the package with me to London. Now in hindsight that's a bit silly because that little pack contained the entire score and sound design for 'Lord of the Flies'. If anything happened it I'd be in deep shit. Hang on where was I? Ah yes the recall.
Well I headed back to the London on the Sunday night and got up nice and early on Monday morning to start warming up the voce. Its in good nick. Sound, because the song they gave me to sing for them is quite high so I'll need me vocal faculties about me. In I go for me 10 O'Clock appointment with the musical supervisor just to make sure I know the song properly and so he can give me any help I need with it. I sing it once through and he says;
'That's great! Come back to sing for the director at 11.15 and could you sing it in your Irish accent as well please.'
No hassle in the castle boy. Fast forward the ads and I head back into the room this time the director's there and she's nice but its the usual musical theatre audition thing. No small talk just get on with it, and I of course oblige. With style! I sing the shit out of it and all the way through it the casting director is whispering to the director and pointing things out on my CV. Good Girl. Thank you very much! I finish and I stand there waiting for her to ask me some questions about my previous credits perhaps or to give me another recall mayhap.
'Thank you, that's all we need to hear today.' she says.
Ok. To be honest that sentence is normally the kiss of death and means that's the end of any hope for that gig, but i remain optimistic. You never know. I head into town to get the train back to York but get accidently waylaid into a pub on Leicester Square by the whole man Brian Doherty. And I get a bit pissed but despite that I get the music for Lord of the Flies into the post. Thank God. And I fall onto the train back to York without getting a ticket, in case they don't check. Of course they do and I have to fork out £75 for a single...Jesus!!! I mean this is daylight train robbery. Back to York so and into the last week of rehearsals and Its hopping. I've got me lines learned (well after a fashion) and we get to the point on the Thursday where we find that that's it! We need an audience! Time to go to the theatre so and by the Friday we're in that chapel of high entertainment. And I'm feeling grand, show's going well, we open next week so if any auditions happen, it'll be easy to sort it out cos I'll just be working nights, and I don't have to worry about Lord of the Flies any more I can concentrate on.....then the phone goes and its not my agent. It's Lord of the Flies director Ben Hennessey.
'Well Jamie, were we supposed to get some music this week?'
What? Me heart sinks. I posted all the music on Monday they should have gotten it on Wednesday! Oh Jesus don't tell me its lost in the fucking post!! I'm even questioning whether I did actually post it on the monday. I was a bit pissed but not so much so that I would post it in a bin rather than a post box! They, like meself, open the following week. This is seriously not good at all. So despite being up to me eyes with the tech rehearsals for 'Beauty Queen' I end up having to redo all the all the tracks for "Flies' as well. Aaaaagh! I spend the weekend doing it all over again because I'm going to have to Fed Ex it on Monday so it gets to Waterford the next day. This is serious stress exactly when I don't feckin' want it! I get up too late on Monday morning to go to the Post Office so I head straight to the theatre, throw on the costume and hit the stage. I do me best but its not great, me minds elsewhere to be honest. I head back to me dressing room on the break baytin meself up over the crap acting and I notice there's a voice message on me phone. Its the secretary at Red Kettle....a package arrived that morning containing 3 CDs and a minidisc!! It got there!! You beauty!! And speaking of beauties, I return to the stage to rehearse me next scene and I'm on fire! We open tomorrow night, but fuck that, I'm ready to do it now boy! But tomorrow wasn't a long time coming and we hit the boards with our dark slice of Connemara life, and the audience lap it up and by press night we're sucking Diesel!! Its the business, the crowd are wetting themselves;
'She did seem nice enough to me, there, now. Big brown eyes she had. And I do like brown eyes me I do. Oh Aye. Like the lass used to be on Bosco. Or I think the lass used to be on Bosco had brown eyes......
(Pause just long enough for the gag)
...We did have a black and white telly at that time.'
Not a dry seat in the house. I had them in the palm of me feckin' hand. Oh yeah I could get used to this. That night then we get royally drunk because we deserve it! And we go to what is possibly the only nightspot in York (and certainly the only one I was brought to); The Willow. If I said to you a chinese restaurant with a dancefloor and 80's music mixing with the smell of Kung Po beef you may look at me like I was the Liar De Paor but I tell no lie, such a place exists. Shockingly bad but it somehow ended up being the only place we went to for the rest of my time in York. Jesus! To be honest I had to fill meself up with a load of pints before I went there just so as to ease the pain. The following day though the reviews came in and I generally don't read reviews unless someone tells me there's a good mention for me. Reading a bad review before a show can be catastrophic so I don't do it. The reviews were brilliant. Big time! And I was blown away with what a couple of them said about me. These were the best reviews I had ever gotten. Ever. While the reviews for Willows were brilliant for me they slated the show itself. This time the whole show was praised, which is deadly enough to begin with but then some of them singled out me in particular. Now don't worry I can still fit through a door and I'm certainly not going to start quoting reviews here and bore the crap out of ye but this kind of shit really matters in this business. The minute I sent copies to my agent she had them in the post to casting directors all over the shop. Jesus they even did a feature on me in the Yorkshire post. Now I know I've made it! Oop North anyway. So the buzz was good even if sometimes the craic wasn't as mad as I'm sometimes used to. But that's ok too. Try and save the sponds cause I'm going to be out of work soon.
Oh shit.
Forgot about that! And here comes the bastarding jitter again. But not to worry, super agent to the rescue;
'You have a meeting with the casting director of BBC comedy.' - How bad.
'You have an audition for the RSC.' - Nice one.
'You have a meeting in Manchester for a telly job.' - I do have the best agent around, its official.
So I spend a shitload of bucks to once more head back to the london for the BBC and RSC meetings, but hey it'll be worth it if I end up getting a part in Ricky Gervais' new sitcom sure. The BBC meeting goes well. I head over to broadcasting house (knowing where to go this time) and I spend a grand 20 minutes with a very nice lady who casts all of BBC's comedy output. I was keeping meself in check, because I didn't want to try too hard to be funny in front of her. I think I did ok. She spoke briefly about a couple of things but nothing definite and I left not knowing whether she liked me at all. I hate meetings. But ye know that already.
The RSC audition is far more my kind of audition; meet the director exchange pleasantries and small talk, have a chat about the character(Dromio) then read from the script (Comedy of Errors). Then read the script in an accent other than my own. Y'know the typical thing. And it goes really well. The directors seems impressed so that's cool and I'm leaving the building and I bump into a good buddy of mine jolly Jonjo O'Neil (the actor not the Jockey);
'How're ya Jonjo? What're you doin' here?' qouth mise.
'I've an audition for the RSC. For Dromio in the Comedy of Errors.' quoth.....him.
Ah shit. Jonjo's had a charmed career since leaving drama school that's pretty much the envy of us all who know him. Telly, film, straight plays, musicals, commercials he's done it all. And he's just been working with the RSC for the past few months. Add to that he's a handsome charming bastard from Belfast and I could slowly see the job slip away. That's the way things are and you have to be realistic about it, at some stage you go up for jobs against a mate and there's no way you can be bitter about it and go 'Oh well I can't talk to him we're up for the same role'. That's Bullshit. Sure Jonjo and his Girlfriend ended up coming to York to see 'Beauty Queen'. Fair fucks to him to him for that. Deadly session that night as well. But you never know I might still get it.
The meeting in Manchester is another matter altogether. I get an early train to Manchester from York and I proceed to get so lost its stupid. I cannot find this place where the meeting is and I'm running around getting sweaty and that's never a good thing going into a meeting. I finally find the fecking place and i go into an office where there's a load of people sitting waiting. What's the story here? I ask them what time they're supposed to have their meeting and they all say 12. Hang on that's my time......aw shit this isn't a meeting at all its a fecking casting and what's worse its an improv casting. Crap! Improvisation, unless its really good, makes me puke. This is a doozy. Me and this chick are brought into the casting room and told that the scenario we had to play out was that we were having a party and we were swingers but the other guests wouldn't know that. Then the other people are brought in from the office to be the guests and we just improvise for the camera. And its the usual shite everyone trying not to be embarrassed but obviously they are and then everyone is trying to say more than the other person and I'm as guilty of that as everyone else. Its like watching a train wreck. You see I don't mind improvisation per se but this wasn't whose line is it anyway. I hate meetings. Especially when they turn into improvisations.
And then it was the last week of 'Beauty Queen' and the phone started going. I didn't get any of the shows I went for.
- Far Pavilions: 'The Musical Director really liked you but the director didn't think you had the right type of voice' - Bollox.
- BBC: 'She said you were nice but there's nothing there for you at the moment.' - Crap.
- RSC: 'They liked you but its not going to work out this time' - Feck it (Jonjo got in the end).
- Manchester: 'They said you were ok but they don't want you.' - Couldn't give a shit about that one.
And so in the cacophony of 'they liked you.. but...' I was left with nothing to go on to. And then the final nail was driven in. My ever vigilant agent calls me at 10 O'Clock one night;
'I got an email from Lord of the Rings. They were looking for your home address. The director wants to send you a letter.'
Why does he want to send me a letter? This can only be bad. It is. She rings back the following day.
'The letter will just say that they've decided to cast the hobbits shorter than you so that means they won't be considering you for one of them.'
And fair enough that's pretty much what the letter says when it arrives. Its a nice complementary letter and it also says that I'll be considered for a taller role if something suits. Sure we'll see. Who knows. And there it was, the end of the gig and nothing for the forseeable. Not good. Its been a while since I've done that many auditions and not gotten any of them. I hope it isn't a sign of things to come. And although all of that bad news is a bit of a dampener on me time in York I enjoyed every minute of doing Beauty Queen every night. Its a top theatre as well. The director makes a few noises towards about doing something together in 2005 and I'd jump at it. But they really need to do something about the digs situation and the nightlife!! At the end of it all we said our goodbyes as you do and I got a lift back to the London off the Stalwart Tessa Worsley (72 and a theatrical fireball still) and Paul Meston (Top actor, played me brother) so I save a bit on the bloody train fare. Although the car journey ended up taking 8 hours. There was a mini marathon in London. Jesus!
And it was over. All I had left was the memories and a lovely overdraft thanks to all the train journeys I had to make for jobs i didn't get. Oh and the reviews of course. And although I said before, I would never bore ye by quoting my reviews, I will tell you this one. A couple had approached us in the bar after the show one night to say how much they enjoyed it and they asked me was I really Irish.
'Since I was born' I quip back, making sure that my déise brogue was clearly in evidence.
'Oh yes we thought so.' They replied, 'Its just that there was two elderly Irish ladies behind us who were complaining during the show that your accent couldn't be real, it was too strong.'
The auld bitches!
