Thursday 29 October 2015

Differences


I was asked by William Rycroft at Vintage to answer a series of questions about Curious Incident, and how the book differs from the play. I think it was Peter Ustinov who said that only when you're interviewed do you discover how you feel about things. Anyway, here's what I said:


Throughout the book Christopher Boone has rituals like spotting coloured cars; do you or any of the other actors have any rituals before you go on stage?
 
Rituals before going on stage, and preparation in general, are very personal things: they're often unique to each actor and it's quite important to let people get on with theirs, whatever they may be. I've personally never been the kind of actor who needs to stare at the wall to get into character or whatever. I went to LAMDA: we were implicitly taught not to take ourselves too seriously, I think. Although, to be fair, that does depend very much on the material. If you're doing something naturalistic, it's often quite helpful to have some time to yourself before you go on. But, for me, this play is so much about quick transitions. You're this, then you're that. Scenes end and begin like the snap of fingers. So, with this more than any show I've ever been involved in, I'm talking all sorts of nonsense right until the millisecond my foot hits the stage. To be honest, I should probably be a bit more sensitive to others about it. Because, for those who are getting into character, it's probably quite annoying.

Has being in the play made you approach the book in a different way?

Being in the play hasn't really made me approach the book differently, to be honest. I must be the only person in the western hemisphere who, until a year ago, hadn't actually read Mark Haddon's book. So my ingestion of the book and the play occurred very much in tandem. They complement each other brilliantly - Simon Stephens is incredibly faithful to Mark's material: much of the dialogue is repeated verbatim - and, to be honest, it's got to the point now where I can't really remember what's in the play and what's in the book. Mark Haddon said to me a while back that it's the same for him, funnily enough.

Do you have a favourite character in the book and why?

 

I don't really have a favourite character in the book; most actors would say the character they're playing, but for me Roger Shears is such a gigantic loser. The relationship between Christopher and his mother is something that I find very moving, though. There's a beautiful dimension to Mark Haddon's Judy Boone which, because it's written, can only be perceived from reading. When you look at her letters to her son, there are very slight and subtle spelling and grammar mistakes. You wouldn't know that from our production because these are simply read by Gina Isaac, who plays Judy. But what comes across from that character in the book is that she might be dyslexic and have slight learning difficulties herself. I think that's a beautifully understated bit of character: that she, like her estranged son, doesn't easily fit with societal norms, standards and conventions. Also, it makes her very raw and human. There's something more pure about her emotions in the way that they're expressed in these very long, ungrammatical sentences. And, in my head, it binds those two characters together in a way that is unique to the book. That said, I think somehow Gina manages to put that across: in the touchingly clumsy yet heartfelt way she reaches out to Christopher in our production.  These characters – particularly the parents – are such beautifully flawed human beings that it just makes them more and more real to me.

Are there any moments in the book that didn’t make it into the play but that you wish had?

 

Something which fans occasionally feel compelled to point out is that there's much more Sherlock Holmes in the book than there is in the play. There's a whole chapter devoted to The Hound of the Baskervilles, for example. I was fully expecting Mark Haddon, when we met him, to be an enormous Christopher Boone-esque Conan Doyle fan that took Holmes very much as his inspiration for elements of the story – including its title – but it's funny how things like Holmes and Watson stopping for tea in Swindon in that story are just lovely little moments of serendipity; even though they seem somehow predestined.

Which aspects of the book do you think were most important in the staging of the play?

 

The most important aspect of the book, and the reason that it was universally agreed that it could never be successfully translated onto the stage, is that it gets inside its protagonist's head, in a way that reminds me of Faulkner, Conrad or Salinger. Somehow, through methods best known to themselves, Simon Stephens managed to do this in alliance with director Marianne Elliott and designer Bunny Christie. For my money, this achievement cannot be overstated – it's the reason that people respond in the way that they do to our play. It's properly stylised, interactive and immersive theatre that grabs anyone who's ever grappled with how to fit into their environment, how to grow up or how to parent a child. We can get hung up on the whole portrayal of autism: this play is about all of us.

Approaching the end of this phenomenal tour, what part of the story will you take away with you?

 

As this enormous tour winds down into its final weeks, I'm beginning to realise that it'll be a unique job in my career: probably the one that I'm most proud of above all others, although I'll need the dust to settle a bit for the objectivity of that to become fully clear. I'll remember that, in Liverpool over five days in July, we played to as many people as the West End cast plays to in a month. I'll remember Sarah, the teenager who wrote to Joshua Jenkins to say that his performance meant so much to her that she was coming again, with her parents, so that her friends and family might understand her more. And I'll remember Josh's definitive, towering performance as Christopher. As far as I'm concerned, there aren't enough good things that can be said about him as an actor. I know that many people have played and will play this part, but I simply cannot imagine that there's anyone else to touch him.

Friday 23 October 2015

Bath

October 23rd. A year ago today I auditioned for Curious Incident. The next day I had a recall. Ten days later we started rehearsals. This is what I tell people when they ask me if I've got "anything in the pipeline" for when this job finishes. Things happen fast in this business. And I've never even had a pipeline: I wouldn't know how to go about getting one.


We're at the Theatre Royal, Bath for two weeks. Pretty much sold out, once again. I'd been looking forward to this venue after what a director told me a few years ago: that this theatre is the best one in the country for comedy. This is because the 900 or so seats are divided into 10 or 12 little areas, so that the audience never feels part of a huge, collective crowd; and therefore they supposedly laugh more readily because they don't feel inhibited at expressing their emotions. I'm not sure that's true. Something I've learned doing this play is that every rule and preconception I've had about audiences has been challenged or disproved. As much as we like to think that we can predict these sorts of things, it's easy to forget that every single audience is different. And, as I've said so many times, this play is unlike anything else I've ever done. It forces us to disregard what we think we know.

Saturday 17 October 2015

Belfast


Simon Stephens came to see the show last night, with members of his family. We had a few drinks. We discussed what our favourite cities of the tour were, and whether Bob Dylan is any good live these days. People other than me discussed football. We went across the road to The Crown, one of my favourite pubs in the world. Simon asked me to write about this. I've been speaking his words for a year, so it seemed like a reasonable request. And then, like Keyser Soze, he's gone. Although, unlike Keyser Soze, he said "See you in Salford".

Today we play our last two shows in Belfast after another warm, welcoming, pretty much sold out week. Then it's back to the mainland, as they say over here, for the last four weeks and three venues of the tour.


Belfast shimmers in the autumn sunshine. Yesterday I walked into town with this in my ears. They went well together.


Saturday 10 October 2015

Words

 Photo: John McAndrew

Words are funny things. As we travel around the UK and Ireland, I realise that certain words - particularly place names - just sound amusing. A play I did a few years ago contained a moment where the word 'Plymouth' resulted in a huge laugh. Someone said to me at the time that he thought British place names sounded uniquely comical; in the same way that American place names sound expansive and romantic. You can't write Route 66 about the M1, for example.

Travelling around with this play, different words get different reactions in different places. 'Didcot Parkway' is much funnier in Oxford than anywhere else (so far; I'm hopeful about Bath); 'Sunderland' is hysterically funny in Newcastle, but sinks like a lead balloon in Sunderland. 'Christmas Day' is obviously much funnier the closer you are to Christmas. And, as I discovered this week, 'Quavers' isn't funny in Ireland.

I was told that this was because Quavers aren't sold in Ireland. Which they are. And some local people have pointed out to me that they think 'Quavers' is funny. My favourite theory goes as far to say that this is because Q is the funniest letter in the English language. I'm still pondering that one.

I happened to mention this, like I do lots of things, on Twitter. Mark Haddon suggested that maybe a word like 'Quavers' could geographically evolve as we travelled. Then he pointed out that 'Quavers' wasn't even in the novel in the first place; that Simon Stephens must have invented it for the play. Simon said that he reckoned it evolved in rehearsals, courtesy of the actor who originally played my part - Nick Sidi. Nick said that he'd even tried 'Cheese and Onion crisps' in previews before settling on 'Quavers'.

This week, I've attempted 'Quavers' three times; and 'Cheesy Doritos' (Simon's suggested Broadway alternative) twice on Thursday, which didn't exactly bring the house down. Last night, after discussions with the authorities, I went with 'Hula Hoops'.

So, yes. Words are funny things. And sometimes they're not.

Wednesday 7 October 2015

Dublin


Obviously, this tour has been a long one; but, like all things, it has a natural end that is steadily approaching. Friends have been keen to point this out for a while - perhaps as an act of support - but I have steadfastly refused to think about the end until now.

"You're on the home straight" friends would say when we still had about three months to go. No we're not, I'd firmly reply. But now, here we are: we finish next month. We have only five venues, and seven weeks, left of the job. This week we will play our 300th show. There won't be a 400th, or even a 350th. Home straight? Well, yes. I suppose so.

We find ourselves in Dublin for the Irish premiere of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time: our only non-UK venue. The Bord Gáis Energy Theatre is one of the biggest we visit, and it really feels like it. We've played bigger theatres - Liverpool, for example - but this theatre, like Cardiff and Salford, has a real sense of occasion to it. And, if all the audiences are as welcoming as they were tonight, it'll be a rewarding week.