Just Williams

‘There’s much to recommend the acting game; plenty of free time, lots of casual sex and the possibility of meeting Brian Blessed’

Simon on learning his lines

THERE ARE LOTS of questions actors are asked. My recent favourite is, ‘Were you ever Jeremy Irons?’ When asked the other day, ‘You’re not still acting are you?’ I answered sweetly, ‘I’ve just this minute started again.’ One of the hardiest perennials is: ‘How do you learn your lines?’ To which I answer, ‘With much difficulty.’ When my mobile flashes ‘memory full’, I know the feeling. I have been cramming my poor brain with dialogue for over 50 years – some good, some bad, some utterly unspeakable.

Generally there’s much to recommend the acting game; plenty of free time (known as ‘resting’), lots of casual sex and the possibility of meeting Brian Blessed in the flesh – the only tough bit is the learning of the damn lines.

Some people sit at a table uncovering and repeating the text line by line, some have partners who give them the cues over and over again, some use endless recordings and live in a Groundhog Day world. My preferred method is learning on the hoof, reading and reciting the lines as I walk over the Chilterns – who cares if fellow ramblers think I’m barmy?

Badly written material is hardest to learn – an instinct deep in your hippocampus cries out, ‘Nooo! Not another slack-arsed cliché.’ Sometimes a speech is booby-trapped with tongue-twisters and sudden thought changes, and you have to wire in a mental warning light: Slow Down. In extremis, a key word written on the palm of your hand can be a lifesaver.

Playing detectives or barristers with their quick-fire rounds of questions can be uphill work to learn (an earpiece is cheating and autocue is for cissies); doctors and politicians also often speak turgid gobbledygook. When I played Sir Humphrey in Yes, Prime Minister on stage – a part made memorable by Nigel Hawthorne on telly – I had my work cut out. In one of the character’s typical obfuscations I had a line of 129 words without a full spot in sight. It was hard graft made worthwhile by a huge round of applause every night.

In the happy days of weekly rep, with only five days’ rehearsal, first nights were a white-knuckle ride. One actor asked the prompter, ‘What’s the line?’ and got the whispered reply, ‘What’s the play?’ Another thespian caught in the headlights of amnesia enquired, ‘Where are we?’ and was told, ‘Page 37.’

Back in the terrifying days of live television, actors quickly learnt the art of survival. When they lost their way, they simply went on moving their lips, soundlessly, knowing that millions of angry viewers would be thumping their TV sets and blaming a technical fault.

I pity the poor actor who was given the most notorious prompt in the history of theatre: ‘… Or not to be.’

Simon plays Justin Elliott in The Archers and is in Allelujah! at the Bridge Theatre