Interview with Henry Goodman

Photo shows Henry Goodman in Duet for One at the Almeida Theatre. By Bridget Jones

Henry Goodman is one of those actors whose faces you know, but whose names you don't.

I was lucky enough to interview him recently for work. It was over the phone, so I can't really say I've met him. However, he was pretty much charming, as well as worried he hadn't prepared, happily ready to giggle when he'd got a good answer for me, and finally, the victim of distraction.

There are so many fascinating things about carrying out interviews. (I don't think I'll ever get bored of it.)

The more you do, the more you learn, of course. This time's lesson was never, ever say "One last question...". By the time I'd finished my flawed final intro, his attention was gone, and the answer he gave was rambling and useless. Lesson learnt.

My previous lesson was to do as much research as you possibly can. (Yes, yes, I know. I should know this already.) Speaking to Jenna Russell, she told me about her husband being in Women Beware Women at the National, a show I'd seen. But I totally didn't know she was married to one of the leads: Raymond Coulthard. Oops.

So, I read and read and read about Henry. For once, I felt completely sure I'd done enough research to handle anything that came up in the interview. Ask me something about this Mr Goodman now, chances are I'll know the answer.

Was I able to talk to him about being a twin? Being born on Shakespeare's birthday? Being fired from a Broadway show? Whether his schizophrenic father had influenced his career choice? If his friendship with Imelda Staunton is as strong as it was last year? If he felt with this latest role has enhanced or lessened his feelings about being typecast as a Jew?

Nope, but that's the funny thing about the way we interview at work. The "My London" question formats are pretty much grown-up Smash Hits, to be honest. Favourites. Best. Most, etc. Sometimes I think I might as well be asking which is their fave member of Take That...

But I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Chances are Henry Goodman's been asked about his Jewishness before. And his twin. And his father.

Instead, I get the chance to get a giggle out of him while he's trying to explain his love for a yachting shop in Covent Garden. And when questions like that work, they're so much more satisfying. In this media-trained or, at least, media-savvy world, a slightly less common question can be nicely revealing of a real person behind the carefully presented persona.

Here's another picture of him looking a bit less serious as Sir Humphrey in Yes Prime Minister. Picture by Manuel Harlan

Every Good Boy Deserves to See This Show

Or, In Praise of: Tom Stoppard

Last week, as JC was away, I headed to the National Theatre to spend a tenner on just over an hour's world-class (TM VL) entertainment.

Every Good Boy Deserves Favour was amazing. It'll be one of those shows that I forget I've seen, and then remember again with a whoosh of emotion (like Three Days of Rain); one that I perhaps enjoy the more I think about it afterwards rather than while I'm in the theatre itself; one that'll certainly stay with me for a long time.

You can read my review of the show here on londonist. 

I was already a big fan of Tom Stoppard. (He wrote my favouritest film, Shakespeare in Love, afterall.) As usual, I know I'm not the one who's just noticed he's amazing. But all the same, I totally love this piece about him in The Telegraph, where he's described wonderfully, as "as brooding and handsome as ever."  He's called "cerebral and autodidactic but not, he protests, academic even though his plays are studied in universities." It's a fantastically well-written piece by Nigel Farndale.

Here are a few tasty quotes:

"Few contemporary playwrights have a style so distinctive that their surname enters the language as an adjective. There’s Pinteresque and Stoppardian and, well, that’s about it. Stoppardian seems to mean dealing with philosophical concepts in a witty, ironic and linguistically complex way, usually with multiple timelines and visual humour."

Sir Tom's favourite plays?:

"I wouldn't deny you an answer, but I don't have favourites. I would say Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, Arcadia and the one I am writing now, which I haven't started."

I like that quote. It reminds me of SiL:

Marlowe: I thought your play was for Burbage.
Sexy Joe Fiennes: This is a different one.
Marlowe: A different one you haven't written?

And, back to that Telegraph piece, this wonderful discussion about the nature of intelligent, intellectual entertainment: 

Sir Tom reckons you can "miss the laugh" in two polar ways. "You can miss it by giving the audience too much information, so they have no work to do, or you can miss it by not giving them enough.

"This applies to every line, so it is not a generality about how oblique, or opaque, or transparent the play ought to be. It is a moment-to-moment decision you are making when you are writing the play, rehearsing it and acting it. The perfect play is when the audience has to reach to pick it up."

What a perfectly delicious turn of phrase. It actually makes my mouth water. Yum.

Sir Michael Caine

And here's the results of the 4 minutes, 30 seconds of tape I got from the guy.

It was late by the time I was able to get my 4min 30secs. About 10pm. Sir Mike (as TG and I have been calling him) had already spoken to a radio station (Capital?), the Standard and London TV. LTV had also been filming the whole of the Standard interview. So, what with the large TV camera and all the questions, Sir Mike was already getting a little bored of all the slightly awkward journo attention, I could tell.

I really didn't want LTV to film me talking to him.

Luckily, LTV packed up their camera just before I was introduced to the man, otherwise, I'd've been fairly distracted by the fact that three or four of my colleagues were hanging around watching me, and filming me "work".

In the end, it was fine. Fun, even. Trying to make him laugh a bit, while keeping going with the questions, and hoping he wouldn't get annoyed, or bored. Which is what I suppose it's like talking to most people who are famous.

He talks in soundbites. He almost talks in SEO keywords. One sentence at a time. One word answers, almost. If I asked him for a reason, or to elaborate he'd give me one more sentence, then stop. Nothing extra, noting wasted, nothing superfluous. If he's media trained, it's from a time when 4 minutes 30 seconds is long enough to get exactly what you want out of an interviewee.

It turned out to be one of the quickest, easiest write-ups ever.

On another note, I didn't get a picture with him.

Opinion is divided on the issue: my Mum was extremely disappointed. A couple of people at work were surprised.

JC thinks I did the right thing: "You're either a fan, or you're working, a professional journalist."

I'm glad JC said that. I'd watched the photographers and the guy from the Standard pushing themselves and their cameras this way and that to get a shot with him, and I just felt a bit uncomfortable. I'd already taken a chunk of this guy's evening; why should I get any more? Plus, I was working.

Celeb Excitement: Sir Michael Caine

So for one reason or another, I could be interviewing Sir Michael Caine ce soir.

Not getting too excited because it might not come off; if it does, I think it'll be fun. He's supposed to be a really nice guy.

Trouble is, it's all happening at about 9.45pm tonight. And people who know me know that's about the time I start flagging. One thing I have learnt about chatting to famous peeps - it takes a lot of energy.

Fingers crossed, eh?