TV Directing: a Cautionary Tale.

Can't think of a photo so . . .

An advertisment for my song.

Here's a cautionary tale – or even a tail – about knocking people on the way up – you may meet them on the way down and you may need them

I remember seeing the film 'Carrie' – the original one – and loved it; especially the end when the whole cinema erupted; then we went to the pub and talked about it, trembled and rushed to get that last pint as this was in the day when pubs closed at 10.30 pm – and I was working at a theatre in Cheltenham where 10:30 closing time meant 10:30 closing time and as the film finished at about 10:24 it was quite a rush.

The director of that film was Brian De Palma and even though he has made good movies since he has never quite fulfilled the promise he showed earlier on and do you ever wonder why? No! I didn't think you did because you're not like that, are you?

I saw Michael Douglas on a talk show once; he was chatting away about this and that and he was asked a question about Brian De Palma and, even though I can't remember the exact words he used, it seems he had stood in the way of Michael getting a role and Michael said 'he didn't know who he was dealing with' or words to that affect.

De Palma had obviously upset him not knowing that Michael Douglas was to become one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood -so maybe that's why he didn't fulfil the promise he showed earlier - or maybe his films weren't that good after all.

I'm not sure if I could be that vindictive; I had the chance once to get my own back on someone once who had treated me badly and I didn't take the opportunity. One thing you need to know is that in the 40 years I have been an actor I have never been involved in any big arguments or been treated nasty by a director, producer or big star but I remember one day I had a call from a producer at the BBC. He was Gerard Glaister who produced a lot of quality television series from the late 1950s up to 1991; in fact it was in 1990-91 that I had the call from him.

It was completely out of the blue; I may have written to him at some point, I don't know, but when I met him he told me he was doing a television series about horse racing. He actually gave me a cup of tea – or he sent for one – and we chatted about the series and what he was going to do with it. He had some pictures on the wall of some of the actors that were due to be in it and he showed me plans and shooting dates.

Then he said that as some of the money was coming from Ireland he would like an Irish actor in the series to play a trainer and he said he thought I would be right for the part. Wonderful, I thought, but I had been acting for 20 years so I never put any reliance on anything anybody said to me unless it was the time of the first rehearsal.

Let me check on something, he said, and he got on the phone and asked to speak to the director, who was called Jeremy Summers; I'd like you to meet him, he said, and when he (Summers) answered the phone they arranged it between them.

I was told he was on the floor below and down I trotted to see him.

When I walked in the first thing he said to me was - What's this about?

What's this about????

I explained that Gerard Glaister had said they would be looking for an Irishman to play the trainer and he interrupted me and said - who said he was Irish?

I told him that I was told by Gerard Glaister.

- We haven't decided yet what he should be, he said, and what were you doing with Gerard Glaister?

I explained that he had called me in and he said – why would he call you in? Did you write to him.

He said that as if Gerard Glaister was an idiot and called everybody in who wrote to him; maybe he did, who knows.

We were not getting on!

I can't even remember leaving the office; I had been swimming along, minding my own business when a hand came in to the water and picked me out. Oh what a nice little fish you are, the hand said, I'll feed you and show you to my friend. Then the hand showed it to his friend and said – do you like this little fish and the friend said no; throw him back in.

I just looked on the IMDb and noticed Jeremy Summers only directed the one episode of Trainer, which is what the series was called and it was just my luck to meet the shit bag on that day.

But that's it I'm sure the person he cast in the role did it splendidly and had loads of charisma and star quality but then . . . .

Some time later I was with a company in Percy Street and I was involved in a TV series. If you saw my little movie The Scroll, it was based on the two characters in that and was set in some of the most exciting countries in Europe.

I devised it, as I had created the characters, and it was called Hard On Their Heels; the two main characters from The Scroll would follow two girls who had conned them out of money and a private detective was following the boys (us).

I took the pilot to Cannes and we talked to a lot of people and on a few occasions we nearly got it off the ground – but it didn't happen.

One day, before we went to Cannes, my partner was sitting in the office after partaking of a very heavy liquid lunch and the phone rang. It was a casting service, rather like The Breakdown Services in Los Angeles. They were after information to publish so agents could submit their clients for roles etc.

One of the characters I wanted in my series, was a French Count – a smooth kind of playboy and my partner told the casting service about this character. He told them that I was directing the series but my first priority was to cast this particular part.

From the following day the mail box was full of suggestions from agents and actors after this role. I didn't do anything about it and if anybody ever called I would explain that it was a mistake.

The submissions were from all kinds and not necessarily for the 'count' – I had letters from composers, who wanted to do the music for the series, actors and actresses for other roles and agents with lists of clients; one agent wrote and said their client would be a great director and would I consider him – his name? Yes – Jeremy Summers.

I was so tempted to call him in and mess him about but, as I aforementioned, I don't think I could be vindictive.

In Flanders Field II

I will always know when memorial day is coming up because I get a lot of hits on the post I wrote about the poem In Flanders Field. I think I wrote that piece about 3 years ago and it still gets read.

I think it's good to remember (lest we forget) the fallen from all wars. In a week where so many people have lost their lives because of a natural disaster it seems so futile that man treats man so abominably. As I write this I know that women can't walk home alone in Sri Lanka without the risk of getting raped by the authorities; that men in the same country are continually being tortured and murdered unless they pay bribes to the police. Can you imagine that? I don't think we need to pat our own police on the back because they don't do it.

There was a man in Sri Lanka who was being tortured and it continued awaiting a bribe from his family. They inserted a tube up his anus so they could insert barbed wire which gave him internal injuries. So he was sent to hospital where surgery repaired some of the damage so they could send him back for more torture – till his family paid a bribe; doesn't bear thinking about does it? He will never recover.

I remember the journelist Clive James saying that he was part of the first generation that would not expect to go to war. In fact up to The Faulklands War the only place the British soldier went to was the so called Northern Ireland.

There is a lot of money to be made from war; the depression of the thirties was eventually ended by the second world war.

Anyway here is my piece from two years ago and as I write this the time is 11:11 am on 11/11 – peace!

This is for today; November 11th; it would be great if it was published at eleven minutes passed eleven but that comes at different times in different countries; it was the time and date of the armistice in 1918; the end of the first world war which started in 1914; so I will get this as close to 11:00 am as I can.

The poem, which titles this post, was written by a Canadian John McCrae – so it's not only the English who wrote great World War One poetry; some of the great poems of the first world war were pro-war for example Rupert Brooke as opposed to the anti-war poems by others including Wilfred Owen.

There are two photos above as you can see – one clearly has the first line as 'In Flanders Field the poppies grow' which was hand written by the author and in the other one, taken from the publication In Flanders Field and Other Poems clearly says as poppies blow. I believe the hand written one was written from memory and is a mistake; but I always thought it was grow.

At this time of year in Britain most people wear red poppies in their lapels; this is to remember Armistice Day lest anybody forget and the people buy the poppies from poppy sellers in the streets; they're also usually available at your school and place of work and the money collected goes to a charity.

I leave you with a great poem and ask – is it pro or anti-war? Throwing the torch?? Discuss????

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Morrissey.

Morrissey.

I'm a bit late this week with my post because I've been getting my Christmas song ready for release on iTunes and other sites on the Internet and that's a bit complicated. I-Tunes use MP3 which is quite a poor quality and that is quite simple. I just send the song electronically to my distributor and they take if from there. They have all the art work etc and, as a matter of interest here it is and it's called Every Day is Christmas Day - http://tinyurl.com/old9xu3

The complication happens with the hard copy which cannot be sent over the Internet and I have to send it as a hard copy to another company on the west coast (USA) by snail mail. The reason for this is that it is 266 MB which is huge. The MP3 is only 5.54 MB so you can see the reduction in quality. The hard copy version also has another track which is a love song called, appropriately enough, I Love You.

Oh here's the love song - http://tinyurl.com/nss6l3n

You may have to copy and paste.

They are only on Amazon.com and not Amazon.co.uk as yet; that's a pisser isn't it?

Now what has this got to do with Morrissey, I hear you ask – well absolutely nothing; I'm just chatting. By the way John Lennon said that the word 'just' is a complete waste of time and I tend to agree with him; I just used it – oh there I go again!

But there he is up there; Morrissey – I don't know a lot about him but what I have heard is not too positive, in fact most of what I have heard has been fairly negative. But I have heard him sing, I have heard some of his records and songs and I really like what I hear; he was in a group called The Smiths and what I've heard from The Smiths I quite like too.

They seem to record songs which have a different rhythm from the musical backing, a technique which I have always liked.

I can't quite figure out how The Smiths, in their hay day, passed me by; I was a great fan of rock and pop music right up till the late nineties so what happened? I even liked some hip hop and rap but then suddenly . . . I went off it. Looking back the songs, CDs, records (whatever the current vernacular is) that I liked weren't hits; they fell by the wayside.

What I plan to do now is get some Morrissey and The Smiths tracks and maybe enjoy them but recently Morrissey has written an autobiography and it is published by Penguin Classics.

I am not a great fan of pop autobiographies or sports ones; in fact I think sportsmen and women are the most boring self obsessed people there are. One only has to look at Andy Murray smashing yet another racquet to realise this; I think I blame the sporting commentators for the way they describe the actions of some of the sporting super stars.

There used to be a shot-putter in Britain called Geoff Capes – who was a copper would you believe – and a commentator called David Coleman would build him up to be some kind of funny tough guy 'Geoff Capes has knocked over one of the East Germans in the tunnel; good old Geoff!'

But let me get back to Morrissey before I go completely off the subject; his autobiography has been published by Penguin Classics!! Yes they're my italics! Penguin Classics are usually reserved for Classic books, such as Shakespeare, Jane Austin and the like so how can a new book – a new title or whatever – be deemed to be a classic when it had yet to be published?

The reason, apparently, is that Morrissey wanted it that way. Isn't that some kind of blackmail from the reclusive, cult of a pop star?

I saw him one day in Los Angeles. Where? At the Farmers' Market, of course; a place I have written about on more than one occasion: there is a tiny street that separates the two parking lots that serve the Farmers' Market and the bloody 'eye sore' called The Grove (I don't even have to describe it do I, for you to picture what it might be like – yes Abercrombie & Fitch, The Gap, The Apple Store), and the parking lot the furthest away from The Farmers' is the one I used to use.

On the side, next to a bank, is the post office and out of there, one day, emerged Morrissey. He was with a small woman who might be described as on the plump side – that's nothing against her as I like plump women (well sometimes – it depends on what they want me to do). Because she was so small he looked very tall.

He looked very serious as if he had been over charged for a stamp at the post office but now I know he must have been thinking what to put into his classic. They got in to a mini and drove away and I went about my business not realising I had been in close contact with a cult!!

Now when I say I don't particularly like pop autobiographies or sporting ones I did like the Bob Dylan book Chronicles; I loved the way it was written and I am looking forward to volumes two and three. In it he tells of his friendship with the pop singer of the sixties, Bobby Vee, who was always one of my favourites – anybody who sounds a bit like Buddy Holly was in my record collection which is why I liked The Beatles.

Come to think of it when Bob Dylan picked up his GRAMMY he mentioned Buddy Holly. He said he saw Buddy Holly in Duluth when he was about 16 years old and he was three feet away from Buddy and he said 'he looked at me.' And he said that look inspired him when he was making his GRAMMY winning album.

So you never know; Morrissey's book might be good; who knows? I haven't read it yet but I know it has received 'mixed' reviews. One of the critics on a radio review show last week said he wasn't going to give it a 'mixed' review – he said it was the worst book he had ever read!!! He obviously hasn't read any of mine!!!!