Thrones Gwen I owe it tall to Tilda
Game of Thrones star Gwendoline Christie has revealed she owes her career to the quirky looks of Tilda Swinton.
The 6ft 3in actress was told her appearance was too unconventional for her to ever succeed on screen.
But instead of shelving her ambitions, the 38-year- old was inspired by the stellar career of Scots- based Hollywood icon Tilda, whose unique image has taken her to the top.
Gwendoline – warrior Brienne of Tarth in the hit fantasy series – revealed she was encouraged to keep going af ter watching Orlando, a movie in which Tilda plays a nobleman who turns female.
She said: “I went to a brilliant drama school but was made aware that I would probably never work because I didn’t look the same as most actors.
“Then I saw Tilda in Orlando and I watched this incredible woman who was so pale and so unlike the kind of Hollywood actors I was used to seeing.
“I remember thinking, ‘ Well, she is in a film, she is ot herworld ly and is definitely outside of the room.’ I realised that maybe there is a place for me too.
“I had done a lot of theatre but when I told my agent that I’d love to work on screen, he said, ‘ Well, good luck with that’.
“But then the stars aligned and 10 months later came the wonderful par t of Brienne of Tarth in a show that would become a global phenomenon.”
Like last week, when the Picturehouse Cinema in central London announced they were launching special dog-friendly screenings on Sunday mornings.
“You can bring your dog, we’ll give them a treat and a blanket and we’ve got water bowls all over the place,” their spokeswoman chirruped excitedly in the promotional video before going on to say: “All the dogs are unbelievably excited!”
Are they? I wondered. This lent new depths to the phrase “like a dog being shown a card trick”.
Now we can marvel at the phrase “like a dog frowning and panting its way through Dunkirk”.
Was I the only one left wondering at the mayhem a cinema filled with dogs would inevitably lead to?
I’m trying to be careful here not to paint myself as a dog hater. Far from it – we had two dogs in my family when I was growing up.
First, Candy (a moniker that always gives me a winning start in any of those games that begin “your first name is your first pet’s name…”), a pedigree King Charles, and then Herby, a crazed mongrel cross between a labrador and a border collie. As you’d imagine, these two dogs had diametrically opposing personalities.
Candy was regal and would play no games with you. She would never get in the sea to swim when we went to the beach, no matter how hot it was.
It would always end with dad carrying her into the water and dumping her. Whereupon Candy would instantly swim ashore and sit there looking enraged that her dignity had been ransacked.
Herby was the opposite – up for literally anything. His favourite trick was rolling in the excrement of other dogs, a task he took to with glee and relish.
One time in Eglinton Park in Irvine, he engaged in this pastime so frantically he fell off the bank and toppled into the river, narrowly avoiding being swept downstream but immediately washing himself of the horrific act, which was a bonus.
I say all of this to make it plain that I am not a dog hater. Because nothing, nothing, will draw the rage of the Great British public faster than saying you don’t like dogs.