Kill Keith Filming Awaits

As mentioned previously, tomorrow I am filming for my next feature film entitled "Kill Keith" that stars Keith Chegwin (naturally) and a whole raft of classic British TV stars. It's a small role playing the investigating detective but it is always nice to asked and comes nicely before popping off on holiday to Aruba.

If no one out there knows who Keith Chegwin is, as may be the case with many non-Brit readers, this informative and amusing video should provide all you need to know about the man in question.



As always with these things, it is all kicking off at some ungodly hour, all the way out in Hayes, so it'll be early to rise for me before making my way out to Middlesex/West London borders. And I forgot to order more Nature Valley crunchy granolas bars (Canadian maple syrup flavour) from Tesco online. They make for a fine breakfast snacklet. Bugger. I may have to suffice with a sausage bap.

Now for some reason I am listening to a lot of Jimi Hendrix of late and this track keeps pulling me back to the play button over and over and over and over again.



I love the intense imagery of the crippled girl, stranded on the cusp of suicide as the golden space ship, which really didn't have to stop, sailed on by her. My mum got me into Hendrix and that particular verse always stayed with me as a child, haunted me as I tried to unpick what it meant. I'm still not sure but it is beautiful.

On on that note, I leave you with this:

Falling Off Of The Cusp

As promised, I share here that what was yesterday a moment of being "On The Cusp" has become a moment of falling off of that cusp, as I did not get the acting job in question.

On reflection, or as a device to cushion the blow, it was not as big a deal as I made out; it was merely yet another commercial but the money and director involved gave the job an extra air of kudos but I think I got ahead of myself and carried away about it's importance.

Doing commercials is a case of ever decreasing circles, the more you do the less you can then do, over exposure is a killer, this job would have been the nail in the coffin. I'm talking a good game of course but not getting this job means I can do the feature film I mentioned with Keith Chegwin and also do a theatre casting for a great wee show. I'm lucky enough to be able to have these options.

I suppose what galled me about this job was that people involved made me feel that it was mine, even at the casting today and so you build expectations, hopes, plan what you will do with the money and whatnot.

Acting is a career where sometimes the best man does not get the job and this was the case, I was the best man but the reason I didn't get the job? And if this doesn't speak volumes about the line of work I've chosen...I wasn't from Yorkshire.

That's right, it was all down to the county I was from.

You couldn't make it up.

BUY ME!

Today, the 16th August 2010, is the release date of my debut feature film on that there DVD.

Back of the net!

"My Last Five Girlfriends" is still doing the rounds in the US on pay-per-view and is even playing on planes, so that as people travel huge distances they can stare at my face and silly hair. How cool is that?

But today I came out on DVD (you heard) and that is a moment worth savouring because who knows if it'll ever happen again? I mean, I hope so, I'm good enough to do more films but this business is a fickle and merciless thing.

Anyway, many of you have mentioned to me that you would like to know when it was coming out on DVD and today is that day.

I've already got my copy, hot off the press but feel free to buy your own copies right bloody here. I can't recommend them enough for all the family and the DVD would make for a very suitable Christmas gift.

More importantly, you can watch me again and again and even pause the bits I'm in an gaze at my mane.

Last Two Days: Acting Summation

Pretty wise.

I like to think so, last two days have been a nice collection, a nice condensation of what acting is, or what acting is for me anyway. What makes me wise I suppose.

First up was yesterday, finishing off a four-day workshop on Harold Pinter with the legend that is Harry Burton, a real honour and it ended with a wee showing of our work. I was good, the scene was good, it was all good. Confidence, as always, high.

Then, after a few drinks with workshop comrades and the lovely mates that had turned out to support me, legged it to the excellent Roxy Bar and Screen in SE1, to do a Q&A with director Julian Kemp at a screening of "My Last Five Girlfriends", my feature film debut.

I sat there and watched my big face up on the big screen and marvelled, once again, at how far I've come and although I had arrived at the screening anonymous, as I made my way to the front with Julian to take questions, I became famous, an object, to one degree of another, of famousness, of celebrity, of the viewed. What's wonderful, at the place I am, is that I can then leave the screening and become anonymous again and slide out of SE1 on the Northern Line, Northbound, changing at Leicester Square.

And then came today...

I should probably precis this by saying that I am very good at auditioning and whether I get the job or not, I nearly always leave a casting feeling as if I did my very best.

Today I had a relatively important casting for the BBC, relatively important because anything for the BBC is important and because it was a casting director I'd not had the pleasure of meeting yet. I have had equally or more important castings this year. I prepared, as always, meticulously and tubed it to White City, Westbound, changing at Oxford Circus.

During the casting preamble I had little feeling of what was about to occur. I shall spare the details but I fucked up quite badly and although it was by no means a bad audition, it was not up to my usually high standard, which considering the importance of the casting made it all the worse.

To be very clear, I hate the part of me that fucked up, I want to kill it, smash it to pieces because life is all about opportunities and each and everyone has got to be taken, even if it, as is often the case, is all there is. The myth of things leading to other things is a destructive one, I believe in opportunity for opportunity's sake, each on it's own merits.

My anger is slowly subsiding at my error, it still burns but this sting of my perceived defeat will kill off any further failure for the foreseeable future. And by kill off I mean smashed to fucking bits.

However, no regrets, press on, better to be pretty wise then pretty fucking stupid.

On TV Again...

Would you Adam and Eve it but yet another advert (making it's debut tonight, in the UK only I'm afraid) with my fizzog on will be appearing on your tele-boxes. Add this to VW, Kirky and my Yahoo! jaunt and I am verging on saturation point. No bad thing...unless you hate me...and the thing is with commercials, they are ever decreasing circles in that, if you do too many, people won't use you for a bit so I may be due for a crushing lack of work.

Having said that, I just got a part in a new feature film about killing Keith Chewin.

But more on that later...

The Guardian ran a nice little piece on the ad, with my face on, peering out at you from the screen like a Nazi hunter, which is always good for the old self-esteem.

It's for Bulmers of all people and I play the man who launches the frisbees so that people can have fun in the park during Summer. Don't ask. My character is called Steve. It was a fun shoot in Henley-on-Thames, in a massive field but I did get chronic hay fever and had to keep stuffing Vaseline up my nose. Costume was spectacular, a huge leather coat, bespoke top hat and antique racing goggles, topped off with a mustard polo neck that meant I nearly died in the infernal heat.

The upside was I got to meet Jeremy Paxman, who lived next to the field we were filming in. He was a jolly nice chap with his lovely kids and a wheezy old retriever following him dolefully about. He was very interested in our filming and recognised me from my appearances on the BBC as Kirky. This made me incredibly proud and I puffed out my chest somewhat. Compliments from Paxman, one imagines, do not come that often.

Tonight is the premier of the ad but I also shot some bits in character as Steve that will be seen around the place, they may also be posters. Anyway, here it is...

Yet Another New Commercial I'm In...

It goes without saying that 2010 has been the best year of my career ever. Seriously.

I have had, to date, an incredible 60 auditions, which is just mind blowing. Today, for example, I had 3 in one day: a feature film and two commercials no less. My agent is a freaking legend.

Work wise, I've done 5 commercials all over the world (with my Kohler one in the America still doing the rounds); reprised Poles Apart successfully; my debut feature film came out across the UK and is now doing very well in the US (with an upcoming DVD release); Kirky came alive on the BBC (a dream come true) and I've had confirmation that my play about growing up in Notts (Our Style is Legendary, which has been brewing for an eternity) will make its premiere next Spring in London.

And it's only July...

I'm not blowing me own trumpet, I'm just using this blog to document a good time in my life because one thing I've learnt about this acting lark is that at any moment it can go deathly quiet. You never have time to savour these moments because you have to keep your head down and keep going, this blog is all I have, apart from my feeble memory that is.

Anywho, without further ado, here is my latest piece of comedy gold...

Like Mercury...

Whenever I love an actor, I mean really love them, I always end up referring to them as "like mercury" and by that I do not mean Freddie Mercury:

Or the planet Mercury:

And to be truthful, I'm not quite sure what I mean.

What spurred this was the fact that Eva-Jane and I are off soon to see Mark Rylance in La Bete, an actor whose performances dwarf those of most humans, he is truly epic and bestrides contemporary acting like a colossus and he also constantly make me waffle on about his work being "like mercury". The best compliment my feeble mind can bestow.

I think I got it from a song by The Wedding Present, it is, unsurprisingly, called "Mercury" and is quite sublime, featuring some grand lyrics:

And I know where you want to be

You're in my hands but I just bet you'll slip away

You'll trickle like mercury

And I won't hear you

I can't seem to find the track online but here is another Weddo's track to hopefully turn some of you onto their great music...



So then I actually looked up what mercury is and discovered it is a quicksilver and bears the chemical element lettering of Hg. It is basically liquid metal, which makes it pretty unique. It doesn't conduct heat well but does channel electricity. It's also pretty toxic.

And that's about it.

I suppose the reference, with regards to acting anyway, is someone who has a raw but flowing movement, pace, excellent physical presence,  coupled with a sheer density of being that verges on the supernatural. To be both fluid and metal, one or the other at times and most of the time both.

I still think it's a cool compliment...

My Postman Recognises Me Off The Tele

I've had dabbles with fame before, in varying scales, such as after a show and the audience wanting to chat or have photos taken, to the premiere of "My Last Five Girlfriends" and signing autographs and then being stopped in the street (or worse, just stared at with whispering) by people who recognise me off the TV from commercials or whatever.

It's stepped up a level now as my trusty Postman has figured out who I am.

It seems that Kirky doing the rounds on the BBC and my new advert for VW that has just come out (and that I will post up when I either find it, or can be arsed to upload my copy to the Interwebs), have launched me to new heights of fame and thus, my Postman asked for an autograph.

At the time I was signing for a parcel, recorded delivery and all that, seems this squiggle was good enough, although I was more than willing to give him a more accurate autograph if he requires one.

However, I'm not very good at autographs. I never know what to put and end up either being obtuse or rambling and far too personal. I also have not perfected my autograph signature and have confused many a hunter as they compare signatures that are all different.

Fame is a funny thing, even the mild fame I am experiencing, it is a by product of my job of course but it's an odd experience to be stared at; to wonder if the staring is caused by my pink shorts, or unruly mop of hair, or because they saw me at the cinema. And then there's the texts and emails you get from mates you've not spoken to in a bit, who are jolted into contact by seeing you on the screen. That is one of the upsides.

I do wonder if I will ever ascend to even higher levels of fame, not that I care but the thought of it is both exciting, in that it will mean I am having greater success and terrifying, who wants to be a role model and having your behaviour, words and thoughts analysed and taken-apart?

I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, for now, I'm just grateful my Postman recognises me off of the tele.