Character building. Lesson One.

Many younger actors come to me and say ‘Mr McPhereson, Sir, as a young actor where would be best to go to pick up those little habits, twitches and foibles that make a character whole?’. It’s a good question. I am actually asked a surprising number of questions. Some in person, some on small notes affixed to my mirror and occasionally questions shouted from passing vans. Many actors forget things like twitches and idiosyncrasies. I remember watching DiNiro in Godfather films and thinking ‘It would be a perfect performance if he would just pick his nose’. Little touches like that make a performance. Lawrence of Arabia, considered some to be a classic, would have been so much better had lovely Peter O’Toole been allowed to scratch his left buttock. I remember him calling me and saying the whole performance was marred by an itchy cheek. Let me tell you how I build a character. Now, different actors have different techniques, and there’s nothing wrong with any of them but in my opinion they are all wrong. This is how I do it. When I was starting out, it was difficult to get a solid character. We didn’t have television or anything like that in our house. It was just Mama, Poppa and myself. And my sister, Ermintrude. We used to do our own theatre productions in our small terraced house. Murder plays were particularly prevalent and many the time I would be the fallen victim, laying on the hearth, the rug, in a chair or face down in a pudding. There I would remain, the play going on around me, until it was over. One play we did regularly was Murder On The Orient Express, where I had to lay sprawled out on the floor, dead to all, whilst my family played the various parts of the play in another room, finally retiring for the big reveal scene to the buffet car – which in this particular improvisation was the Duck and Horse public house. Of course, I could not go with them because my commitment was so solid and I lay there until their return. As a matter of fact this was only the second longest I had committed to a role; I managed to extend and enhance my ‘dead body’ skills when we did A Caribbean Mystery, when the big reveal was the tail end of a fortnight in Doncaster. Charity shops are an absolutely wonderful place to pick up little character bits and pieces. The people in there are wonderful; mixtures of eccentricity and utter despair. Many the time I have gone into one of their stores, and pretended to be looking at a cuddly toy or Spode tea set, all the while staring intently at those behind the counter, drinking in all their habits and foibles. Of course, eventually they will get up and ask if they can help me. This is where my acting comes invaluable. ‘No, thank you. I am just browsing’ I reply, whilst deftly moving to the clothes racks. The assistant will then invariably walk at speed to a room marked ‘private’. After a few moments, they will return with another store member and pretend to be looking at something behind the till. But my eagle eye can see them looking up out of the peripheral vision to see what I am up to. This is all meat and drink to me. Soaking in their personalities. It is only when they stand up, stare at me with arms folded that I am discovered and must make my exit. I then walk the ten minutes to the next charity shop, drunk on traits and twitches, enter its’ portals, and a woman behind the till who is on the phone, terminating her call not with a goodbye but with ‘Yes, he just walked in now’.