by In 2005 I was in the end of 20 and was just going on as an actor. Nick Hytner threw me in his production by Heinrich IV Parts One and Two with Michael Gambon as Falstaff. There were news on the front page: the expectations of him were so ridiculous. And it didn’t work entirely at first.
My central role was Westmoreland, but Nick had summarized it with several boring lords, usually from friendly old experienced actors, and with a young line -up “Sexte”. As a young actor, I had a selection of funny little Kameen who worked with gambon.
Michael always played as if the most interesting person on stage was the one he spoke to. His mission to guide me, just get something from me – a reaction, a laugh, whatever it was – was so alive in his eyes. And I’ve tried since then. I mean, sometimes you look on the stage in someone’s eyes and you look into an emptiness. But when Gambon found someone with whom he could connect, it was more fun than I had ever imagined.
In the recruitment scene in Gloucestershire, three quarters of the way, when Shakespeare really slows down the story, I was Francis Waterble, the Falstaff enjoys calling a “woman of a woman tailoring”. Nick had managed to persuade John Wood out of retirement to play justice flat [meeting his old friend Falstaff]. I was really too young to understand the effects on a specific generation of theater visitors. But there was always an excitement gasp when he appeared.
Gambon was in his pomp, “The Great Gambon”, but John Wood frightened the Bejesus. He was scary, the great intellectual Shakespeare with a famous temperament. Until then, he was reduced with emphysema, but still had amazing strength, even if he was forced to use his falsetta. Gambon suddenly had to make an effort. He stopped his insignificance and raised his game.
Wood’s first line was two words, “Come On”, repeated three times. You need a master to use it. It may take two minutes to say it. But an alchemy of the connection passed. I could feel it on the back of the stage. Wood did nothing, did not play and in principle trusted Shakespeare. It was great.
We didn’t get any great reviews. But production quickly became legendary in acting circles because Gambon became the Lord of the Misrule and inaugurated with water fights behind the stage. It came to the point where I was permanently wet, all of us. Michael would throw a water bomb on me when I went on stage. The poor actors in the building that the other shows had to step through puddles. Gambon was Falstaff on and outside the stage, it was so easy and we became the Rogues company.
This anarchy outside the stage made the show better. It is terribly presumptuous to say, but I think this was the spirit of Shakespeare’s society. There was this conviviality, this camaraderie. People appeared to work early, went late and even hurried their scenes to return to the action.
I also learned something from which directors, producers and critics do not want to know – that is that the productions develop, especially during the “little break” in a national theater production while another show is opened. Richard Harris had just died in ours and gambon had received the appearance of Dumbledore. So the production company flew him to America and he had new Titan -Gnasers inserted.
Related: ‘Tender, dangerous, anarchic’: Daniel Craig, Michael Mann, Matthew Macfadyen and more remember Michael Gambon
When he came back, he suddenly had these brilliant teeth. We heard lines that were indistinct for the first time when we thought he didn’t know his lines. We removed the show for 20 minutes, which is unknown because it had become so clear and clear. They have seen an amazing work in the past three weeks.
