Concluding my food vs exercise debate

Ours is a highly visual industry so maintaining a stable default appearance is essential.

If you're required to put on weight or lose it for a role, it is normal to present yourself in your stable default size at the audition before these alterations can be considered. This means that you have to stay in shape - a shape you have chosen to be a marketable actor. Personally, I look better leaner, so that's the shape that I have chosen for myself.

Until recently, my approach entailed trying not to eat rubbish. The sometimes-not-so-small percentage of junk and booze that did pass my lips was (I believed) cancelled out (or so I thought) by a punitive, daily workout.

Then my wife went to see a nutritionist and I realised, after all these years, that staying in shape is 90% nutrition and 10% exercise. I lost a load of weight without exercise in my run up to Siren because I was simply too busy to go to the gym--and I stayed on plan. Surprisingly, I also didn't have the same daily muscle pains and niggling injuries that plagued me when I was working out savagely every day.

So, with this in mind, I'm going to focus on nutrition, flexibility and tone rather than ferocious cardio and super-quick weight sets. Eating right will take care of the body fat leaving exercise to potter about in an altogether more sustainable and more gentle place.

This past weekend, I joined an amazing gym with loads of natural light and facilities that lend themselves more to health and wellbeing, rather than to the body beautiful. Ironically, this approach, with good nutrition, does indeed make a body beautiful (and with comparatively less effort).

I have a Facebook page, does that make me an egotist?

Back in the day when Facebook pages only had a button on the top that said, Become a Fan, I thought it was very affected for lesser-known actors to have Facebook pages. In my world, it was okay to become a fan of coffee, Jimi Hendrix, red wine, Dog Soldiers and Gary Oldman but to become a fan of an actor who wasn't an A-lister didn't seem right.

Mercifully, they have changed the functionality and now you can create an actor page with a Like button (the difference between Like and Become a Fan is subtle but essential).

Over the past 2 years, many actors in my Facebook friends list have decommissioned (or hidden) their personal Facebook accounts and built professional Facebook pages. I always wondered why until recently.

Your professional life and your personal life don't belong together in the same camp. For example, if your mate walked into the boardroom while you were giving a presentation and said, "Alright punk-ass. How trashed were you last weekend?" You'd probably be really annoyed with him.

Similarly, if your co-star posts a publicity photo of her character draped all over your character on Facebook and your buddy from another world comments, "If you need help servicing this hot chick mate, let me know," your two worlds have definitely collided - and you're definitely annoyed with him.

Privacy settings on personal Facebook pages mean that a lot of the lovely professional content that you would have on your Facebook profile is hidden from Google and future employers. What a waste! Also, that professional content may escape your attention as you scroll through status updates that include Davey's Stag Do, Gemma likes butternut soup and the umpteen music video links that get posted daily.

It therefore makes sense for actors to have a professional page because after all, your reputation is your product and that should be both protected and enhanced. Take a look at the Glenn Speers Facebook page; you might even choose to like my page or even share something I've posted on it.

The irrational blues

The truth is that all actors are pretty fragile—the very actors who ‘act’ tough are also prone to several simultaneous vexations of the spirit—daily.

Our lamentations are borne of insecurity: “I haven’t heard from my agent for weeks now! Am I crap?”; “Why didn’t they even look at my profile? I totally fit the character description!”; “I’ve put on weight; my jeans are tight…”; “Oh my word, look at my hair!”. (This happens to you no matter how butch you think you are.)

Then there are the insecurities that come from the business side of acting: “Okay, the play is over and I don’t have a thing lined up. Will I ever get work again?”; “I need a new headshot; I’m getting older…”; “Do I know enough accents to be really marketable?”; “Do I have a big enough web presence?”; “Does my showreel showcase my emotional range?”; “Do I have enough ‘big’ credits on my CV to get attention from top casting directors?”; “Did my native accent put them off?”, and the big one, “I’m doing too many roles like this. Am I typecast?”

It is really hard to keep your sense of self when all of this is going on in the quiet of your flat as you trawl the internet looking for work.

I find that it helps to step away from it all, go outside, watch people go by and realise that it isn’t all about me and my career and that life really does go on all around me—and will continue to go on after I am gone, in spite of me.

Buddhists recommend an ego-free life because you’re happier when you have no ego. I would go a step further, it keeps me sane. My advice to myself in times of insecurity is: drop the ego and believe in the order of things. After all, what’s for me won’t go by me.

“What’s for ye won’t go by ye.”  - Old Scottish Proverb

After the curtain goes down

What an experience Siren was. We were sold out 3 out of 4 nights (which is great for fringe) and I got good reviews (in person and online). What more could I have asked of that run?

On our final night last Friday, we had a few drinks with friends in the pub downstairs after the performance. On Saturday night, we regrouped over home-made pizza at the writer's house to chat about future plans and possibilities. Can we do it again? Where would we do it? What's next? It's hard not to get excited about the future of this play but we need to balance that excitement against some economic realities.

After the weekend, I was glad to get back into the swing of things. I went to the gym on Monday, spoke to the guy who is fitting new windows in our flat and bought a few bits to stock up the larder. It was a good day.

I know however that the inevitable will happen: I will start missing the energy and purpose of the past few weeks. It's Tuesday and I am already fighting with my email, cursing an acting website and ploughing through the deluge of admin that's been so neglected during the past few weeks.

Because I know myself and can see the writing on the wall, I've decided to keep my acting purpose amongst the admin duties, gym and between auditions by doing some training at The Actor's Centre. I recently did two courses there and they were excellent. I'm also going to get in touch with Rick Lipton, my accent coach, get my accents out of the cupboard, like the dusty costumes that they are, and spruce them up. They could be required to appear in public at any given time so I need them to be fresh and presentable. I need to nail a few monologues for each and revise their lexical sets.

I also received some long-awaited footage for my showreel this week (I'm talking years here!), so getting a new showreel together will keep me quite occupied. Of course, that will need to go up on Spotlight, YouTube, Vimeo and my website.

I have no idea why they call the period between projects 'resting'. I don't sit on my flanks watching telly - nor does any other actor I know. We work so hard between projects - our work is never done. The phrase 'resting' must have either been coined by a non-actor or by an actor in days gone by who had an agent who did all the admin and job hunting for them while they sat around in Bohemian houses getting trolleyed and putting on weight. That is certainly not the way it works in 2010 where you are expected to be lean, skilled and digital.

Do you know where the term 'resting actor' comes from?

Nifty and thrifty props and costumes

It is Siren's opening night tomorrow. I'm pleased to say that we are out of the lab and my character, Geoff, is ready for exposure - literally. Geoff will need to sit on a bed in the Etcetera Theatre in his pants.

I have identified a good pair of pants for Geoff - nothing too fashionable since he is a City Boy and would probably wear understated Calvin Kleins or Hugo Boss, not colourful Aussie Bums. 

Those I would not buy second hand (of course!) but yesterday, my wife and I found a fantastic suit shirt and two ties in a charity shop off the Twickenham high street for a fiver!

I would highly recommend scouring the charity shops for cheap costumes - you find some fairly exotic items in there and some that are suitably worn too if that is the desired effect. Buckled work boots. Battered satchels. Old spectacles.  Wrinkled leather gloves. Jeans so cheap you can pour fake blood all over them. The possibilities are endless in a good charity shop.

When I filmed Diego's Story, the directors Wayne Yip and Alex Garcia created the set in a flat by replacing the furniture with cheap household items off eBay that we could trash during filming. Even the widescreen TV was off eBay - it didn't work but it was there for the trashing - as we saw fit.

My co-star, Nicola Stuart-Hill, played my junkie girlfriend a great time pulling the contents off shelves while looking for stuff she could sell in the flat we were robbing. Marc Elliott had to watch 'his' flat being trashed while I got shot and sat on the couch with fake blood pouring out of my eBay jeans, soaking the upholstery on the eBay leather couch. I then flopped onto the floor like a wet fish making a right mess of the laminate in a pool of blood before dying with a manic stare and a gun in my hand.


And now Alex and Wayne have gone on to do great things - like make Would Like to Meet, which is being screened on Channel 4 on Thursday 12 August. Don't miss it; it's been nominated Critic's Choice for Thursday by The Sunday Times Magazine and The Observer has given it a great review too. It is incredibly moving.


So in terms of costume and props, with charity shops, eBay and a bit of imagination, even a low-budget production can have everything it needs for not very much money.

(And, if you're at a loss for something to do this week, come and see Siren starring me and Paula Gilbert, directed by Paul Blinkhorn and written by Peter Briffa...)

I love it when a plan comes together

(A perspective from the stage)

Picture the scene: two actors, one director and a writer are all sitting in a hot little room, deconstructing a new play that has one week to go until curtain up. It is unseasonally warm in London, I'm strutting around in a very hot costume, time is running out and the mood in the room is sub-zero.

We begin a scene and the director calls us to a halt yet again to deconstruct a monologue I'm trying to bring to life. It's a little late in the day for this level of analysis, dontcha think? Or is it just me?

Also, the changes that day are different to the changes made to the same scenes the previous week... It keeps evolving - until we settle on a greater truth or something like that. It is art after all, isn't it? I get that, but like I said, why didn't we do this lab work earlier on?

I start to panic.

My character is still in a test tube. I can't bring him to life yet because they keep changing his DNA. Also, with very specific direction, I'm yet not able to bring emotional colour to the character and that frustrates me. I am that large puppet in Being John Malkovich and the director is John Malkovich who is actually John Cusack who is trying to impress a woman from inside John Malkovich's head and who is muttering, "Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich..."

And then, just before we reach tipping point, we break through. 

Everything just clicks into place for no discernable reason and we are out of the lab and onto the stage. The dynamic in the room changes, the mood lifts and we are in a tangibly different place.

My character is born and I get to bring him out to meet the other character in the play; he frolics around in the stuffy little room and we have a bit of fun with him, trying on different ties and deciding whether to give him a serious shave. He's glad to be alive and is looking forward to curtain-up. 

I also get to bring deep empathy to his character by adding in the essential emotional layer: the nuances, the shadow moves and the hidden little tics that are the keys to authentic characterisation. At last I'm an actor, not a lab technician and it feels tremendous.

So next time you're in the middle of it and you think to yourself, "How can anything good ever come out of this? I'm going mad!", just remember that it is a process and believe that it will come together. Whether it clicks in with 2 days to go or whether it falls into place with 7 days to go, the show will always shift into gear suddenly when you feel like you've been idling forever. 

Here's hoping that we are going to do Siren justice on stage.  Watch this space!