Unexpected Visitor, Vic & Bob & the First Shutout
During the warm summer of the first year of the new millennium, my life was transformed in ways I never imagined possible by an unexpected visitor.
As I sat in the living room reading The Guardian, on the first Saturday in July 2000, there was an unexpected ring on the doorbell of our first floor flat in Stroud Green.
Since CR was out on an expeditionary mission to Homebase and we were not expecting visitors, I ignored the unwelcome intrusion upon my daily dose of Fabian Society programming.
However, the ringing became more insistent and I inevitably stormed down the stairs to the front door, intent on sending whomsoever away with a flea in their ear.
A Holy Man of India
Imagine my surprise when I opened the door to reveal a seventy-odd year old gentleman with striking blue eyes, bare feet and the Saffron turban of the Holy Men of India.
“I have traveled many miles to see you…” he said, with a warm and open smile. “What are you selling, mate?” I replied, already shackled by my own cynicism.
Continuing to smile, somewhat infectiously, the Indian gentleman retorted:
“Sometimes you ask too many questions, when you simply need to have faith in God.”
By which point, I had already decided that he was clearly wasting my time:
“Listen mate, this is going nowhere. I don’t want to buy anything, join anything or read anything and I don’t believe in God.”
Surprise Surprise
Without so much as pausing for breath, he then asked me to think of the following three things, without expressing them to him:
- The name of the woman who has hurt me most.
- The name of the place I would like to visit next.
- The name of the place I would like to live one day.
As he was asking me the questions, he scribbled down the following answers on a piece of paper:
- The name of the woman in question.
- New York.
- Amsterdam.
He then handed the paper to me, which I stared at ponderously, not quite believing what I was reading.
However, since the answers he wrote down were undeniably the three things I had in my mind, I invited him in for a cup of tea, despite my supposed better judgment.
Cursed By A Woman I Don’t Know
Over the course of the next half hour, the Indian gentleman told me that I had been cursed by a woman I have never met, who lived many centuries ago..
Having recovered from Catholicism by adopting Atheism as my new religion at eight years old, I suddenly felt the world I thought I knew fall away beneath my feet.
Whilst I had no logical reason to believe a word of the seemingly fantastical tale he was telling me, I knew in my heart that every word he said was truth, no matter how hard my head tried to overrule my instinct’s distinctly iconoclastic conclusion.
In perfect paradoxical essence, he told me that he was merely playing his role in an ancient prophesy, which relates directly to the purported “mission” I am here to fulfill in this life.
Not believing in God, the afterlife, reincarnation or the veracity of ancient prophesy, I tried in vain to reject what I was being told, despite my instinct screaming that this was a man I could trust with my life.
One Ring To Rule Them All
Nevertheless, instead of punishing my cynical default setting by simply leaving me to wallow in it, the Indian gentleman said the following unforgettable words:
“The evil and powerful woman who cursed you has cursed you so badly that your entire life has been and continues to be plagued by her demons.”
He then pulled from his jacket pocket a thick gold band with a huge orange stone on top and offered it to me.
“If you accept this ring today, in return for the cup of tea you made me, all of those demons will be gone and they will never return. If you don’t accept the ring, it will be very difficult for you.”
Without hesitation, I told him that there was no way that I would accept the one ring to rule all my demons.
To my continuing surprise, he placed the ring back in his pocket, smiled broadly and proclaimed:
“Then I have fulfilled my role in this ancient prophesy. I will come back in two weeks to see how you are doing.
A Fertile Fortnight
Over the course of the next two weeks, I slowly started to comprehend that nothing would ever be the same again, as I became obsessed with working out the true purpose of my life.
This led to a fresh burst of creativity, when I set to work on a treatise imagining a world without criminal banksters and fraudulent debt, the prevalence of which I perceived to be the root cause of most people’s problems, rather than the love of money.
By the end of this extremely fertile fortnight, I was bursting with excitement at the prospect of my Indian friend’s return.
Final Visit
When he arrived as expected, CR was once again at Homebase on a Saturday afternoon.
As soon as I saw the look on his face when I opened the front door, my instinct told me he somehow knew what I was about to tell him, over another cup of Earl Grey.
When I’d finished telling him about how inspired I had been since his first visit to do what I know in my heart I am here to do, my Indian friend smiled broadly and said:
“Did you really think I came all the way from India for no good reason?”
Feeling guilty for having initially doubted his motivations and integrity, I asked him if he had brought the ring with him, wondering if I’d refused it too hastily, which led to the following exchange:
“Not today. You see, the prophesy predicted you would not accept the easy path, no matter what I said. And that is exactly what happened.”
“You mean, I wasn’t supposed to accept the ring?”
“Yes. But many great souls are and will continue to pray for your success. Many people will also come to do so in years to come, now you are back on the right path.”
With that, my Indian friend bade me farewell, but I knew that this was not the last time we would meet, one way or another.
Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased)
In the summer of 2000, I was cast in a small supporting role in the first episode of Charlie Higson’s Randal & Hopkirk (Deceased), with Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer.
Since Vic and Bob were my comedic idols, from whom I drew great inspiration in my early stand-up career, I was very excited about working with them.
When the production company, Working Title, sent a car to pick me up on the morning of my one day of shooting, I was smiling from ear to ear.
However, when we picked up one of the other actors, the then unknown David Tenant, who lived only a couple of miles away from CR and I, my smile turned to a frown when he completely refused to talk to me – as if I were beneath him.
Nevertheless, I reassured myself that he would never be cast in NEFARIOUS, despite the fact that he might have been perfect to play ‘Billy’, had he not acted like such an arrogant wanker.
Grumpy Bob
Once we arrived at the East London studio where we were shooting together that day, Tenant and I got out of the car and walked in opposite directions.
As I walked past a few trailers on my way to find the production manager, Bob Mortimer jumped out of one of them.
“Good morning, Bob…” I said, with a warm smile. “Alright…” replied Bob, with a cold grimace, before he stormed away in a temper I can only imagine had nothing to do with my morning salutation.
Charming Vic
Having recovered my good mood after meeting the episode’s director, the lovely Mark Mylod, I got into my workman’s uniform and sat down to have a coffee with a few of the crew on the set.
Within a few minutes, Vic Reeves glided in, dressed in a white suit and fake tan. “Alright fella?” he said, looking directly at me, with a smile as warm as mine had been at the start of the day.
We only chitchatted for few minutes, before he was dragged off to have his hair and make-up finished, but Vic’s effortless charm was like a breath of fresh air.
No wonder he was by far the most popular actor among the crew.
Jessica Hynes
My three scenes on the first episode all featured a brilliant comic actress called Jessica Hynes, with whom I hit it off from the moment we met on the set to rehearse.
Our scenes took place at the R&H office, where I was painting a new logo on the door, much to the irritation of the detectives’ heavily pregnant Eastern European secretary, played by Jessica.
The director, Mark, Jessica and I all agreed that my nameless workman character had some potentially hilarious lines, which would be best played downbeat, which is exactly how I played them.
Spaced
Jessica and I got on so well, we shared a car back home at the end of the day, despite the fact that she lived in West London, which meant Stroud Green wasn’t exactly on the way.
Whilst I was very happy about this, I couldn’t help but wonder if Tenant had asked the producers to send him home in a different car.
Nevertheless, Jessica and I talked about NEFARIOUS and ROADKILL, before she told me about the sitcom she had produced and co-written called ‘Spaced’, with comedian Simon Pegg.
The first series had been released on Channel 4 the previous September, during which I found myself belly-laughing consistently, which is unusual at the best of times.
As the car pulled up outside the flat to drop me off, Jessica turned to me with a smile and said:
“Lovely to meet you and great to work with you. I’m sure the scenes are going to be very funny. But more than anything, keep going. Because I’ve got a feeling about you in my waters.”
Mixed Feelings
When the episode was broadcast by the BBC on a Saturday night in the Autumn prime time schedule, just about everybody I have ever known happened to be tuned in.
However, when I sat down to watch it at CR’s parents’ home in Hertfordshire, I was horrified with how much weight I had gained since LITTLE ENGLAND.
Even universal admiration of my blink and you miss it comic turn did nothing to abate my disappointment with myself for falling off the healthy wagon. Again!
I nonetheless managed to just about console myself with the fact that my acting agent, John Markham, received a call from Working Title to let us know that my performance was so popular that the BBC was flooded with calls from people asking if my nameless character would return in future episodes.
With an ever-increasing number of radio voice overs coming my way, c/o my VO agent, Nicola Richardson, along with a string of cracking stand-up gigs at top London venues and my perpetually over-subscribed comedy workshops, I had every reason to be more than optimistic that the first year of the new millennium would finish a lot better than it began.
So I set my sights on pulling off the seemingly impossible – shooting NEFARIOUS before Christmas.
Cast & Crew Ready To Rock
Over the course of the late Summer and early Autumn of 2000, my co-producing partner, Tony, and I assembled a truly impressive cast and crew.
This naturally included ROADKILL director of photography, Rory Taylor, stunts-coordinator, Ray Nicholas and SFX expert, Kevin Christie; along with top film editor, Mark Day, and veteran English producer, Paul Tivers.
From the day Paul and I met, it was clear we were destined to work together.
As Grizzled As A Grizzly
As we sat down to coffee and cigarettes in a cafe near Oxford Street, without having even exchanged pleasantries, Paul said the following unforgettable words:
“Alright, ya Geordie bastard! So I’ve read your script, I’ve seen your short and I’m sitting her wondering whether I’m about to gamble the next three years of my life on what my gut is telling me might just be the best fucking script I’ve ever read by a first-time feature writer.”
Nevertheless, I obviously sensed there was a ‘but’ coming.
“But the script is still at least one polish [possibly a new draft] away from being ready to shoot and you guys are telling me that you want to shoot this year??? It’s just not realistic.”
Of course, Paul was absolutely right, but when I told him that we were going to have a crack at it all the same, he agreed to co-produce the project with us.
Moreover, even though I didn’t realise it until much later, I had actually acquired the most significant mentor of my professional career, as well as a fiercely loyal and trusted friend.
Suffice to say, what Paul Tivers did for me, by his own admission, he had only ever done for Ridley Scott, Steven Spielberg and James Cameron, during the years he spent living and working in California, Mexico and Japan.
With a cast that now headlined Christopher Walken, Dougie Henshall, Lindsay Duncan, Phil Danials, Kim Bodnia, Johnny Vegas and Howard Marks, as well as the unbridled success of ROADKILL under our belts, I was almost certain that a green light for NEFARIOUS was just around the corner.
So we banged out pitches, scripts and show-reels to every film financier in London, aiming to raise £3.5M in production finance.
Tuesday 17th October 2000
Today is probably the most important day of my career. The British Film Council and Renaissance Films will make their decisions on whether to finance NEFARIOUS by the close of business.
If both say ‘yes’, we will have secured the money to make the film. In which case, it will be extremely tight but we should just about manage to shoot the whole thing in six weeks, all before Christmas.
This would be a complete non-starter, were it not the fact that Tony and I already have a talented, experienced and committed crew in place, champing at the bit for the cameras to start rolling.
However, if only one says ‘yes’, then we can either shoot in two blocks, before and after the annual festivities, enabling us to use the next two weeks to find the remaining finance.
Or we can substantially cut the budget from £3.5m to somewhere near the £2m mark, knowing that we could still achieve the same level of production values we are aiming for.
But if both parties decide to pass, then we are looking at postponing until 2001, which would almost certainly mean that the whole project will begin to fall apart.
All of this is made considerably more stressful by the fact that both Tony and I have been staring the specter of financial insecurity in the face for longer than we’d like to remember.
Living Hand To Mouth
Living hand-to-mouth is something we have learned to cope with, but the DTI loan our production company took out so that we could get through the development of NEFARIOUS is bleeding us dry every month.
We owe the best part of forty thousand pounds and the only realistic chance of being able to pay any of it back this year is if the film is given a ‘green light’ and we actually get paid for the 40-60 hours of graft we’re putting in every week.
So why I am I feeling so calm, confident and secure?
The fact is that I have never felt so at peace with myself. This is the path I have chosen and I know it is the right one. The Universe has played too many meaningful cards for everything to turn to shite, no matter what transpires between now and the end of this year.
Wednesday 18th October
At around ten thirty this morning, Sarah from Renaissance Films called to say that they were passing because the reader’s report came back with too many question marks about the script.
They said that the characters and dialogue were strong but too much deviation away from the main plot considerably dulled it’s impact.
I almost begged her to reconsider, before she gave in to her sympathy and promised that she would read it and get back to me within forty eight hours, provided she thought the reader was wrong.
Either I’m on the verge of nervous collapse, smothering myself in a cloak of blind delusion, or the rejection of my work just doesn’t seem to register any more.
Anyway, there’s still the Film Council decision to procure, so I harangued Robert Jones’ assistant Helen all afternoon. She was never less than lovely during several episodes of the same conversation.
M: “I’m so sorry for hassling you so much Helen, but we really have to talk to Robert today. Has he read the script yet?”
H: “I completely understand why you are calling and it’s never a hassle. But Robert’s going to be in meetings most of the day so I don’t know when you’ll be able to talk to him.”
M: “Do you know if he’s read it?”
H: “I think he has, yes.”
M: “What does he think?”
H: “You’ll have to talk to Robert. As soon as he’s free I promise I’ll get him to call you.”
And so it went on for the entire length of the day.
Tony came over to the flat around two and we spent four white-knuckled hours having panic attacks every time family and friends called to see if there was any news. I only wish we had something to tell them.
Paul Tivers, who has production managed or co-produced for Cameron, Scott and Spielberg, recently said that enthusiasm is what gets a film made and he has never seen so much of that precious commodity invested in a debut feature film.
Can it really be possible that NEFARIOUS is going to be passed-on by every source of film finance in London, when we have Christopher Walken, Lindsay Duncan, Douglas Henshall, Phil Danials, Johnny Vegas, Howard Marks and Kim Bodnia in the cast?!?
Just after 7.30pm, Robert Jones called at the end of a very stressful day. We talked for almost half an hour.
However, he told me that whilst he hadn’t managed to finish the script yet, he didn’t have a strong feeling about it.
Nevertheless, I insisted that he would feel differently when he has finished it. If he doesn’t, it would seem we have no choice but to postpone the shoot till next year.
Thursday 19th October 2000
I spent the entire day trying in vain to get in contact with Robert Jones, the head of the Premiere Fund at the Film Council, who was also one of the producers on ‘The Usual Suspects’.
His assistant, the ever-patient Helen, again promised to get him to call me as soon as he is at his desk but it probably won’t be until tomorrow.
I’m beginning to wonder if this is ever going to happen. Are we wasting our time here or what?
The only incident of note came late in the day, when the wonderful Ken McReddie called to say that the offers of work are piling up for Dougie and Lindsay and he can only hold two very good ones off until close of business tomorrow.
I promised I’d call without fail to tell him one of two things: Robert Jones has finished the script and loves it, or we’re going to have to postpone until the spring of 2001.
Friday 20th October 2000
After yet another day of desperate bouts of gloom and blind optimism, at around 7.35pm, Robert Jones called to finally put us out our misery.
He took another half hour out of his life and with what seemed like genuine sympathy he advised me that the script should be put back into development, preferably under the guidance of a script editor.
When I reminded him that the only realistic chance we have of paying for any more development is if the Film Council decide to invest, he promised he would solicit an application for Film Council development funding.
Sensing the ever-decreasing circles of my all-too-familiar bitter disappointment, Robert told me about a time when he was faced with an almost identical situation, while producing ‘The Usual Suspects’.
The script been passed on by just about every source of finance in London and LA, despite having a respected and bankable ensemble cast of actors already attached, all expecting to begin work in a matter of weeks.
Without a chance of the finance being in place by the start date, he risked losing every actor by postponing for six months. However, he had also sensed that there might be a problem with the script, so the writer started work on a new draft.
By the time the film went into production the following year, the cast had changed but only for the better and a very good script had developed into an Oscar-winner.
Nevertheless, I can already feel the cold hand of deep depression on my shoulder, as we slump back into development hell.
Worse than that is the feeling that critical information is currently being withheld from us, without which logic suggests that we must accept what we have been told at face value.
Despite this, my gut is telling me that Robert Jones might well have been playing out some sort of personal agenda, taking time and making efforts to quell any notion that he was fobbing us off with flimflam, for whatever reasons.
We will know for sure, one way or another, when the outcome of our application for Film Council development funds is known.
Bad News Received Well
Delivering bad news is never pleasant. However, delivering bad news to sixty two members of a film’s cast and crew is almost always likely to result in some abandoning ship.
I must admit I was pretty drained by the end of the last call I had to make today, but I was also completely blown away by the passion and commitment of everybody involved to stay on board the project.
In other words, everybody is willing to wait until we secure productions finance because they all concur that it is only a matter of time before that transpires.
Inspired into immediate action by the sheer force of the goodwill abounding, I set about writing a third draft of the screenplay, which obviously means I won’t be making very many diary entries for the duration.