by Shane Briant
This friend of mine telephoned me, asking if I'd accompany her to the tea and chat, as she was shy and thought she'd be more comfortable with me there. She could sit beside me and talk as and when she felt like it. I said I' be delighted to meet Branagh. I admired his work. And I like free tea and cake.
By that time I'd appeared in leading roles in seven Australian feature films, and as many UK and American televisions series and films, but when I arrived at the Bell Shakespeare headquarters no one had the first idea who I was. Their entire focus was solely on the Bell Shakespeare Company and the Sydney Theatre Company. I don't think they ever visited a cinema or watched TV unless one of their theatre regulars was in a film or TV series. By contrast, I was familiar with both theatre actors and screen actors. I liked to go to the theatre as well as the movies.
When I arrived, I told the receptionist my friend and I had 'come for tea with Mr. Branagh'. She asked us our names and we gave them. Then she asked us if we'd sit and wait. Then in came John Bell. He was very friendly. He shook my friend's hand, had a brief conversation, and then shook mine, asking what I did for a living. I told him I'd been an actor for fifteen years. He smiled. He'd no idea who I was, wasn't inclined to find out. This didn't bother me in the least. I appreciated that he probably didn't watch too much television, and was treading the boards most nights so seldom took in the movies. Then his wife came in and joined us, a lovely actress called Anna. She also asked me what I did for a living. 'Groundhog Day!' I told her I'd been an actor for fifteen years. She smiled – no idea who I was, and not inclined to make enquiries. Of course I knew who they both were because I took an interest in all aspects of acting – the theatre included.
Anyway, we went backstage and were introduced to Kenneth, who was the epitome of charm.
During the two hours we were 'taking tea,' we all asked questions of Kenneth; his insights into the UK theatre, as well as the state of the British Film Industry were fascinating. Finally, John wrapped things up and we all stood. It was at this moment, just before Kenneth left, that he turned to me and in front of John and
Anna said; "Nice to meet you Shane. I've always enjoyed your work.
"I was taken by surprise – I'd no idea he was familiar with my work. Maybe he was being polite. Who knows? But his remark surprised the Bells, who both gave me a curious glance. The moments are golden, eh?
Director Peter Williams called my agent in July of 1987 enquiring if I'd be interested in playing Dysart in his production of 'Equus' at the Glenmore Theatre, just outside of Sydney.
An newcomer by the name of David Wenham was to play Alan Strang, the part created by Peter Firth in John Dexter's famous production at the Old Vic.
Playing Dysart, with David Wenham as 'Strang' in 'Equus.'
I leapt at the opportunity, as I'd always found Dysart's lines sheer poetry, and though the psychiatrist is basically no more than 'First Voice' in 'Under Milk Wood' or 'Chorus' in 'Henry V', it's a beautiful part to play. A kind of 'gilded voiceover.'
Peter was a showman of the old school – a charabanc-whiz. His matinées were invariably packed out because the plays he chose were directed at a less cerebral audience than the Sydney Theatre Company; people who wanted to see 'a darned good show.' How were they to know that, with 'Equus,' they'd witness a naked lad slashing horses to death? As well as a stark naked girl. Peter knew how to sell – no question about that.
An example. A lovely actress named Linda Stoner was cast as Dysart's magistrate friend. Linda was then, and still is, famous for her very glamorous and voluptuous looks on television; she'd been a television celebrity for quite some time. So when it came to the production poster, Peter Williams had her name top left, with mine opposite. There was no mention of David. Why? Simple. The bustour ladies wouldn't have any idea who David was, and most wouldn't know me. But Linda? He knew what the golden girls would say as they read his advertisements in the local papers. "Look here, Daisy. This one stars that lovely Linda Stoner – we have to see that."
Rehearsals were intense. David was about nineteen at the time, but had a grasp of the theatre well beyond his years. He was a natural. It's fun when every so often one comes across a 'natural'; they stand out so much you simply can't miss them.
I remember midway through rehearsals I made the error of watching Richard Burton's film version. I was riveted from start to finish. Burton's portrayal of Dysart seemed perfect – it was everything I'd wanted to put into my own performance.
So what was I to do – change a lot of things just to be different so that the critics wouldn't say, 'Aha! He's seen Burton's version. A crude copy?'
My good friend Robert Kenchington recently referred me back to Burton's version, and I immediately realized that though I had initially thought of my portrayal of Dysart as very similar to Richard Burton's, this couldn't have been further from the truth. While Burton's Dysart was a terse, angry man, filled with invective and bitterness, my Dysart was played at a much more sober pace.
and psychology, my Dysart was constantly attempting to conjure up the deep seated reasons for the young boy's behaviour, quite often at a loss to make any sense of his own personal darkest thoughts.
Just before the first night, as I went through the entire play at breakneck speed in the park – something I always find very useful – I thought to myself, 'I think we've a hit here. The play itself is outstanding, David is outstanding, and the support cast is terrific. I feel confident.'
But the reviews were mixed. I hardly thought it possible, yet the critics took issue with Shaffer's play, suggesting it had been too highly praised in London when it premiered. Despite that, David received great reviews and we played to almost full auditoriums for a month.
Wendy and I got on famously with David, and every now and then we'd have him around to our home for dinner. He was so thin in those days!
I didn't see David again until 2007 when we were both cast in Roger Spottiswoode's film 'The Children of Hung Shi,' otherwise known as 'The Children of the Silk Road.' By then he was an Aussie film star, and had made a hat full of films, including 'Moulin Rouge,' and a couple of 'Lord of the Rings.' As I said, he stuck out as a star – he had nowhere else to go but upwards.
'WIT'
I hadn't acted on stage for about ten years when Sandra Bates, artistic director of the Sydney Ensemble Theatre, asked me if I'd care to play Harvey Kelekian M.D. in Margaret Edson's Pulitzer Prize-winning play 'Wit' with Sandy Gore as Vivien Bearing. I accepted with pleasure. It's Vivien Bearing's play of course; Kelekian occasionally comes on stage when Bearing thinks of him. Nevertheless, it's a great play, and I was happy to be part of it.
Over the course of the play, as she confronts her terminal cancer, Bearing assesses her own life through the intricacies of the English language, especially the use of wit and the metaphysical poetry of John Donne. Sandy did a terrific job, as did Todd Warden
as the doctor. Sandra directed impeccably.
However there were two very black moments.
I will never forget the dress rehearsal. Forty oncologists had been invited. Because our rehearsals had always run very smoothly, I anticipated a trouble-free run of the play. Wrong! The lights went up and Sandy started to speak. My cue was one minute later. I walk on stage, turn to Bearing and say 'You have cancer.' I then sit down next to her and we both speak our separate dialogue over one another for a full minute at high speed.
However, for the first time ever, that night Sandy decided she'd ramp up her volume by about a hundred per cent, and since she was sitting just six inches from me, I got the surprise of my life.
I dried. Horribly.
I looked at Denise Roberts. She'd offered to be on the book that day, but she smiled a 'can't help you, Shane.' No one had given her the book. Not her fault.
Sandy continued speaking for a good thirty seconds, then stopped. It was my line again. But which one? Extreme panic! My guides were looking after me that day. The line just popped into my head and all was well. Only those
who knew the play well would have spotted my dry, as Sandy kept talking so loudly while I was silent.
However, the following morning I became increasingly panicked by what had happened the night before. My dialogue was a killer – medical jargon par excellence. Would I dry again? Horror of horrors. By mid afternoon I was in a cold sweat. When the half was called I was terrified, frantically thinking of any way I could avoid stepping onto that stage again. Could I feign a heart attack? Nah. Step in front of a speeding car? Possibly! There was nothing for it; I was a dead man walking. I had to go on stage. When my cue came, I stepped forward, feeling as a man condemned to the guillotine looking up at the blade. I turned to Sandy, told her she had terminal cancer and sat down beside her.
The gods were kind to me that night – the words came to me in a torrent and I never had that problem again. I just wish Sandy had told me she was going to shout the night before.
The year 2000 was a very dark year for Wendy and me because we could both see that our beloved Coco was so ill with her kidney problems that she would ultimately have to be helped to the other side. We finally agreed that we would only ask our vet, Alan Fridley, for help if and when Coco couldn't walk any more.
During the run of 'Wit' I took Coco to the theatre every day. Sometimes she'd relax on set. No one knew. I wasn't going to rat her out.
Coco on the set of 'WIT' at the Ensemble Theatre, Sydney.
We'd sit in the park before the show and I'd go through my lines. During the play she'd lie on the sofa in the Green Room. Then I'd take her home.
One morning a few days before the end of the run, Coco tried to get up but couldn't move her back legs. The time had come.
She now lies under a lovely tree on Geoffrey Simpson's
property outside Berry. We planted it as a sapling and it's now a twelve-foot tree. We love visiting her, as well as staying with Naomi and Geoffrey.
Coco
PRINCES, PIGDOGS, AND PRESIDENTS.
Wouldn't it be fabulous if everyone loved animals and treated them with the respect they deserve? We've always had a dog or cat, and Wendy and I'd be lost without the friendship of animals. Coco the pig dog, a Blue Heeler cattle dog cross, lived with us for seventeen years. The breed is called 'Pig Dog' because in the bush some Australians use them to hunt wild pigs. In their domesticated state they are very intelligent, athletic and loyal. Coco has a place in my heart forever, so she also has a place here. She came with me to almost every film I made. Sometimes she'd lounge in Winnebagos, sometimes she'd watch me act on set, and sometimes she even had a role.
Aussie Prime Minister, Bob Hawke, signed a betting card to Coco
In the horror flick I made called 'Out of the Body,' the vampire looks into a window and sees two people making out in a seriously deviant way – a naked man is astride the naked woman while he feathers her naked body with a cut throat razor. Mary Regan and I were both buck-naked except for very skimpy flesh coloured underpants. I told Coco to sit and stay, and then we started to rehearse. But the moment Mary started her low moans Coco became jealous, marched forward and started to lick Mary's naked body. She was banned from the set. Coco – not Mary.
I didn't think too much of 'Out of the Body,' but I'd like to mention that the director, Brian Trenchard-Smith has done some fine work in his time, and it's said that he was one of Quentin Tarantino's favourites after he made 'Time Bandits' and 'The Man from Hong Kong.' This film was a bit of a turkey – I think, anyway.
Coco also played 'the dog on the station,' in 'Cassandra,' and was 'the lonely dog' in an episode of 'Willisee's Australians — Jack Davey.'
When she wasn't working with me, she'd be working with Wendy who was Tournament Manager of the Australian Indoor Tennis Championships for ten years.
The 'Sydney Indoors' was one of the top ten ATP Tour events on the world circuit, and the big names were always there – Lendl, Edberg, Becker, McEnroe, Connors, Agassi, Borg etc. It was a superb tournament with Graham Lovett the Tournament Director.I was hired as the on-court announcer. Nepotism? Why not? I was the announcer during the day, and when the Channel 7 commentators arrived for the televised evening session I made my way to the players' box and helped myself to the catered food and wine. Delish!
Wendy with the charming Boris Becker. He won.
Wendy with a disappointed Stefan. He lost.
Coco's job was to mooch around in the car park while I was inside announcing, and be amused by the world's top tennis players as they arrived. She took her job very seriously. Ivan Lendl, a German Shepherd devotee, would play 'Catch 'n Spit' with her most days in the VIP car park, as would Andre Agassi, Boris Becker and a host of other guys – they were all charmed by her. Every year, after the Final there'd be an on-court 'bump-out' cocktail party. Wendy would very briefly allow Coco inside for a race around the court, and often the players would hit balls for her. She loved that.
Coco with Australian tennis legend, John Newcombe.
She had many famous friends. One Sunday morning in late 1988, Wendy received a call from HRH Prince Andrew. Wendy had been good friends with the Duchess of York when she was simply Sarah Ferguson, and had attended the royal wedding a couple of years earlier. When the Duchess visited Oz to see her sister Jane, she'd often call Wendy and occasionally take a trip up to Avalon for lunch with us. So when Prince Andrew's ship hit a technical problem that needed a day to fix, he took Sarah's advice and called Wendy to ask what might be a fun way to spend the day. She suggested Andrew drive up to Avalon, where we lived at the time, offering to take him up the Hawkesbury River to lunch at Cottage Point, a lovely restaurant sitting on a pontoon over the water. Great food and wonderful views.
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but neither of us had factored in the entourage. There were Federal Police, State Police, and Steve, his personal protection officer. Plus there was Wendy, Coco and me.
It was soon clear we needed the use of a second boat, since my beat up fourteen-foot runabout with the outboard would fit just Prince Andrew, Wendy, me and Coco (had to have Coco in the number one boat) Plus Steve, of course.
I asked a friend, the larger than life Aussie John 'Just do it!' Miller, if he'd skipper a second bigger boat and follow us with the security guys.
"No worries, mate," he growled. "Just don't expect me to put on shoes jest 'cos he's a prince, will yer?"
Within the hour we were all on our way. No one except security knew where Prince Andrew had gone, so there were no paparazzi about. HRH had taken Wendy's advice to come disguised as Groucho Marx so that no one would pick him out as a Prince, and was suitably hidden behind sunglasses and a baseball cap.
As we docked at Cottage Point, Coco leapt from our small boat and ran down the jetty towards the restaurant, where a very irate manager immediately waved her away with a hand.
"Hey! No dogs, mate! Health regulations," he shouted.
However, the moment he recognized Prince Andrew striding towards him his attitude changed radically. So much for disguises!
I informed the manager privately that Coco was Prince Andrew's guard dog and had to be 'a leap away from HRH' at all times. I've never told Prince Andrew I lied in this way, but he's probably far too busy to think of reading my autobiography. We'll see.
Coco sat at Andrew's feet throughout lunch and was even brought a plate of tender chicken morsels by the manager.
Another amusing incident occurred during the lunch.
Wendy, who was sitting next to Prince Andrew and opposite me, gave me one of her subtle 'look over there!' glances. I did so and noticed Rutger Hauer of 'Blade Runner' fame sitting at a nearby
table.
Prince Andrew picked up on Wendy's glance, glanced at Rutger and told her Rutger was one of Sarah's favourites. "She'll be disappointed that she missed him," he said.
Rutger Hauer and Coco up the Hawkesbury River for lunch.