-•✦--✦--✦•-
Monday, April 26th, 1999 — Rochester, Kent, UK
My impression on table reads was that it was boring as hell. I'd read the script a dozen times front to back and here I was about to do it all over again. Yet, I was proven wrong as soon as Julian called for the start. He described the first scene, making sure to really help us visualise the area.
"We are in a swampy area. Common reed is growing so tall that a boy hiding in it can barely be seen. Boy stands up and runs away. Boy's name is Pip and is seen in running away from an unknown threat. Every few steps he looks back to fearfully gaze at his chaser." Julian read lines not written on any pages.
These came directly from his imagination. Director's role was to come up with a vision and make it translate to film. As he read more and more lines, the floweriness of it was swapped for the words on the script and later the slug lines and action beats were shortened. There was limited amount of time in the day and we couldn't go too deep on everything.
However, Julian made sure to describe the environments we would be shooting at. It was a helpful information for actors, knowing it helped us perform better, imagine better. Department heads of the production sat around the table and were introduced one by one. Alice who headed the production design piped in with the shooting locations, making sure to add on to Julian's words with detailed information of the shoot needs like weather.
When we'd arrived at the table, we were provided with a new revised draft. Back then it put me off a lot. After all, I've had my own copy that I'd spent hours upon hours highlighting lines and making notes on every page. There were so many changes in the script, we had gone through so many gamut of colours that I must have missed half a dozen revisions. My hand moved as fast as it could to jot down details, highlight my lines and information about the locations. My image of the boring table read was quickly extinguished as I got more and more busy.
"This will be filmed in Thornham. An old coal barn has been transformed into a set of houses. Sunrise tomorrow is at 5:47 AM. " Alice the Production Manager would say,
"Area is marshy, with old boats stuck around the place. Child actors take priority, we'll film as schedule demands. We'll shoot on an overcast day. B rolls and exterior transition shots if the sun bothers to show itself." Julian would add.
That was the hardship in a production. As much as the first AD wanted to have stripboard of the whole principal photography scheduled, it all hinged on the weather. Stripboards were a scheduling laid out on a board with neat colours to indicate simple information at a glance. On this production, yellow stood for external day shoots. Whereas white stood for internal day shoots. White could be done at anytime really, lights were there. So, on the board, I saw so many yellows. No wonder, we had to depend so much on the weather.
"No, don't go looking into those boards. That way lie madness." Julian warned with a chuckle.
We got back to the reading. I didn't simply read the lines. I acted them out even while sitting down. My accent transformed to a working-class accent for all my initial lines. Before, my character Pip encountered Lady Havisham or spent time with Young Biddy and adopted the more genteel accent, I would use that one. Kent accent was quite close to working-class accents from London, but Sally had worked with me to provide details on the more historic version that was more appropriate for the Great Expectations era. I pronounced Sorry as Sorree, Thank you as Thankee. Bernard Hill had the role of Magwitch, an escaped convict, and he'd had a Manc accent that he swapped out entirely for a working-class accent so bumpkin that it was almost unintelligible. This man had played the Captain in Titanic and would go on to play King Théoden in Lord of the Rings. He was so skilled that I knew I would try to spend as much time learning from him as possible.
We read for three hours, broke for a fifteen-minute rest, and then read for three more hours. Table reads were important — I made sure to remember that. It wasn't simply learning lines or doing a run-through — it was understanding the story as a whole from the perspective of the actor who would bring it to life. Miss Havisham's lines being delivered — her facial expression — or lack thereof. Dorothea's annoyingly smug behavior — which perfectly matched Estella, the character she was to play. Clive Russell's kind and soft tones — owing largely to his kind eyes. It all informed me on how to act — as I was sure the others were also informed of their roles from the lines I read.
For example, Ioan — who was to play my older version — modified his accent to match mine more closely. That would be needed for the time-skip scene — before the Old Pip goes to London to become a gentleman.
It was a very tiring day — but I largely understood how everything would work from now on. It informed my role so much and cleared out all sorts of miscommunication. What a discovery. What had I missed by not being there for the table read of Tea with Mussolini?
Julian stood up and got our attention.
"We've got a scene to film on a foggy day in the marshes with Young Pip. This is the crucial opening — everything hinges on the weather. Once we get a favourable forecast, we'll scrap all prior shoots and make off to Fairfield, wherever we are in that day. Keep in mind we may have to spend the night at base camp if we're away from Rochester or Thoresby Hall and can't secure hotels in time. Though we'll warn you if something like that happens. Mind, many things have to go wrong for us to not be able to book a hotel."
Julian went through more notes which I assumed came from his departments heads.
"Oh! Spring weather will be against us — so brace yourselves for chaos. Rain can ruin shoot days, but so far we've got decently clear skies in the long forecast. All company moves together — all scenes, young or adult, will be filmed whenever we're on location. We've planned shoots for twenty-two days with six slack days for contingency. This applies to everyone — give it your all! If we overrun the schedule, people start losing jobs and maybe even heads. Child actors get priority, given their limited hours available to work. To the rest of the cast and crew, I want to thank you — and apologise in advance for all the hard asks I'll be making from here on."
Murmurs of groans and cheers rippled through the room. We were about to start principal photography. Three hundred miles separated our farthest shooting locations — twenty-five trailers packed with equipment, cameras, and crew, along with buses to shuttle everyone. We were heading out on a tour through swamp and marshland to film a movie where the weather could ruin everything even if we performed perfectly at all turns.
Needless to say — I had Great Expectations.
—✦—
Tuesday, April 27th, 1999 — Rochester, Kent, UK
As usual, the filming day began with me having to make contact with the scariest people on set — the production management. Their priorities were different from most on set, largely because of how much money was on the line. And as you know, money is the most important thing in filmmaking. Creativity and ingenuity? No one cared if the film couldn't be made.
I was reintroduced to the two ladies by the production — one to chaperone me, the other to tutor me. Unfortunately, that was where all the fun ended. After my week on set in Italy, I'd forgotten that in other films I wouldn't usually be the only child on set. Dorothea Offermann, the annoying brunette, walked in and immediately looked down her nose at me. Imagine someone entering a room and souring the air in an instant. She smelled nice enough, but that was beside the point!
We set up in a trailer at base camp while the crew arranged the rest of the set. Our shoot wouldn't start until later today, but the adult actors could begin immediately. Maybe it was Dorothea's presence, or just the irritation of having a tutor, but I spent most of the morning sighing into the air.
"God, have you hopelessly fallen in love with me?" Dorothea asked in annoyance.
"What?" I said — completely thrown off.
"You're sighing with every breath you take. If you haven't fallen for me, maybe you should get that checked. Don't want to catch something from wherever bumpkinland you're from."
"I'm from England…" I muttered, too quietly for her to hear.
Then I sighed again. Arguing with her seemed a waste of energy. Unfortunately, I had to work with her. Only three to four more weeks to go — tick-tock.
I made a point of ignoring as much of the negativity sitting opposite me as possible.
#
"That doesn't make sense," Dorothea insisted, eyes fixed on her notes and the problem our tutor had set on us.
I looked anywhere but at her.
"That's fine, Dorothea. We can simply treat the letters as placeholders for the real numbers. Think of it as a puzzle. Best start with what you know — the corners and such. Then we have something to work with. Here…" the tutor explained.
I'd already finished my work long ago. This stuff was easy enough, but the tutor was oddly insistent on keeping us up to speed with schoolwork because we'd be taking the SATs at the end of the year. SATs in the UK — unlike in America — were for measuring my attainment in primary school. How ridiculous was it for me to attempt that? Well, I'd have fun scoring perfectly.
I was planning to test out once things settled down more. Whether I got Harry Potter or not, I'd test out shortly after 2001. In the UK, we are forced to attend school until sixteen, even if we test out. That meant my only option afterwards was to attend university or other programmes like trades or drama school. If I had a choice, I'd pick a music conservatory in a heartbeat. It was the only thing that truly spoke to me. But I might have to pursue business or science too, since they offered excuses for the future I was planning.
Recently, I'd been given the sides for a movie called Frequency — a role that had, unfortunately, already been cast before I could even submit my tapes. Still, knowing about it gave me revelations, and I enjoyed watching the movie in my mind. It highlighted an area I'd been neglecting — there was a scene where the protagonist from the future told his childhood friend about Yahoo's stock.
The film was a feel-good drama and a half-baked thriller, but all around decent and memorable. I was thankful it opened my eyes to stocks — even if it reminded me of opportunities I'd pissed away by not being active in my life. With all that being said, I couldn't help but not care about money, not yet anyway. I only cared about it in terms of the training it could provide me. Securing the roles I was chasing would be enough to ensure generational wealth. Then there was the looming economic collapse — actually the best time to become filthy rich. Needless to say, I wasn't in a hurry.
"Good job, now let's see if you're still keeping up with Geometry. Oh, how are you doing, Will?" the tutor said, reaching for my notebook.
She made appreciate noises as she marked my notes.
"This is excellent work — you've got them all correct," she said.
I nodded in simple acceptance. This was all beneath me. I had a UKMT Gold medal for material much beyond this one.
Dorothea kicked me under the table. When I shot her a glare, I caught her expression — the kind that said she was absolutely not pleased. Apparently, Dorothea hated being shown up. Learning that lifted me in a way no gentleman should be proud of. I couldn't help but grin, basking in the joy of finally having something to fight back with. This annoying girl wanted to beat me at school — me. It was literally impossible.
I would hit her back with this after thrumping her for the entire production period. As they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. I also loved having the final word in. Don't blame me, blame my Mum.
—✦—
As soon as our classes finished, we were dragged onto the set by the second AD — me more than Dorothea, as her screentime was far smaller than mine. My grandparents were both there, along with a third person who seemed wildly out of place. She waved enthusiastically, her smile so bright that I had no choice but to grin and wave back. Aurélie had recently been "fired" because Gilles was doing all of us a favour. At first, I'd been in a hot pan with all three girls angry at me, but by the end Aurélie was hugging me while the other two looked on, smiling.
I was bleeding money for the privilege of training. One such recent expense was Aurélie's fee for dance lessons — she was due to join the Royal Ballet School after summer. Billy Elliot's goal was to join the Ballet School, and Gilles had thought it so juicy and appropriate that he just couldn't help "firing" Aurélie from his studio so she could work with me.
£550 per week, plus all her accommodation fees paid for while on set. I'd wanted her for my time in Italy too, but by then auditions would almost certainly be over. I was already jittery being stuck here in Kent. The auditions had started earlier this month at Newcastle Civic Centre. Aurélie's tutoring didn't come cheap, but for a private tutor who travelled alongside you, it was about as cheap as it could get. She'd imposed two conditions for the arrangement — one, she could be on set to watch the magic happen, which cost me only a word with the production coordinator. The second condition… well, that one worried me. But really, future Wilf's problems weren't my concern.
"Pip! Come here," Amanda the first AD called out.
I joined the huddle, which included only women except for Julian. The camera department was usually packed with men in sets around the world, but Julian clearly preferred women in charge of his team — all his ADs except one were female.
"Great. Wilfred's here. Five hours start running from now. We've got thirty hours of Wilfred from today until Saturday. Four and a half hours of rehearsal allowed. Let's get moving, everyone," Julian commanded.
I was handed new sets of sides and began receiving direction and information in equal measure from all sides. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. Last time I'd done a TV show, I'd had a tiny role — maybe ten minutes of screen-time, a few lines at most. Often, I was discarded on set and forgotten until I was needed for the next scene I was in. Leading roles, I now realised, received far more attention from the important people. After all, I was about to carry roughly a third of the movie on my own. Three acts — one entirely to myself, half of one shared with Ioan.
"We'll work in a sequential order on set. Meaning that we'll start filming from the first moment this scene's in the particular shoot location and work from there. Charlotte?"
"Opening scene start with Pip's encounter with Magwitch. But for this location, our first scene is different. He runs back home because he's been gone for too long, he's worried about his sister beating him. Scene 5 is next," Charlotte, the script supervisor, said.
"Lesley and Clive are in H&M, ready in ten." the second AD reported.
"Alright, chop chop everyone!"
Even on the set of Tea with Mussolini, I'd never had so much attention on me at all times. Chris, the only man on the team of assistant directors and coincidentally the most junior of them, acted more like my chaperone than my council appointed chaperone. He had a notebook page dedicated entirely to my schedule. How… curious?
First stop was the hair and makeup trailer. It had only ever been the makeup trailer for me in all my time acting. Today I had my first experience with the hair side of the department. Two women worked hard to attach extensions onto my hair, which had last been cut in a bowl shape in Italy. Once they were done, I saw that my hair was the longest it had ever been, reaching the back of my neck with the sides covering up my ears. Then I was made ugly with makeup, and Nicola mussed up my hair in artful ways. Continuity department — made up solely of Charlotte — came over to snap photos to ensure each scene was shot correctly without wardrobe errors. I couldn't even pay attention to most of what was being done to me because Julian came over to go through the scene and give me a rundown of what he expected from me in particular.
I couldn't nod or move with people fussing over me, so I made agreeable noises all the way through.
"Remember, everything rests on you. Gail had a lot of trust in you, and you were great when I saw you in the callback. Bring the same energy and we'll do great together!" Julian said, his passion leaking enough for me to notice.
My enthusiasm shot up to two hundred percent at that. Having more responsibility thrust on me was invigorating. I'd always been regarded as a child by the adults around me, so when Julian spoke so earnestly and expected so much of me, my motivation went through the roof. In that moment, I could have run through walls for him.
"There you are, Pip," Nicola said with a light tap on my shoulders.
I stood to look at myself in the mirror. A tattered jacket sewn and repaired with fabrics of every colour and type — though unless you came in close, you'd only describe the whole thing as brown. My hair was matted and messy, dirt coloured my face, and my trousers sported holes of various sizes. I looked a proper Dickensian protagonist, alright. My grandparents fussed over me, and Aurélie even joined in to make cooing noises. I looked quite cute, in a sort of orphan-on-the-side-of-the-road-you-want-to-pick-up-and-pressure-wash-with-a-hose kind of way.
"Is this your usual clothes?" a familiar voice asked.
My enthusiasm dropped off a cliff.
"It's my first costume," I explained.
"Mine is a fancy dress, you know. All white, silky and poofy from all the lace and whatever they make it out of." Dorothea said, smiling.
"Good for you," I let out.
"Well, it's fitting for the both of us, I suppose." She said rubbing my tattered jacket between her fingers, "Let's walk, shall we?" she said, starting to walk.
I noticed that she made sure to wipe her hands after touching me. So irritating. I studied the second AD, who actually started to lead the way for her, and had to follow.
"Sorry, see you guys soon!" I said, waving goodbye to my entourage.
My grandparents had much fewer issues with being on set out here in England. Folk here spoke their language. Aurélie was having a jolly ole time. People's first time on set could be noticed by everyone — the magic was special, but so quick to fade. I hoped that she'd enjoy it completely.
"I came over to see how you'd perform. Table read didn't tell me much. After all, bumpkin accents are easy for bumpkins to do," Dorothea said with her signature smirk.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered.
"Have you read the book?" Dorothea went on.
"What book?"
"Great Expectations, of course," she said with a roll of her eyes.
I really didn't want to speak to her, but I had to make some effort to connect with my colleagues. She might be rude, but I had to rise above my dislikes. Trying my best with someone as rude as her might help me when I had to deal with the infamous Hollywood stars that tabloids kept printing about. As it happened, I'd read the book but didn't like it because all the characters were annoying, superficial and selfish. In fact, Dorothea acted almost exactly like her character Estella was described. She was cold and cruel, easy to fire biting remarks at others or put people down for being beneath her. Though, at least she didn't use her mean words in the ways Estella did.
God, I was actually excusing her behaviour for not being as bad as Estella, a fictional character. There was something seriously wrong with me.
The marsh in Hunstanton had a walking trail of packed earth. But if you went back to the beginning of the trail, there was a dirt road that forked away, which folks drove down all the way to reach the coast. Right by the coast stood the Old Coal Barn, it had long since stopped operating. Distant towns no longer needed coal to cook their food or keep warm at night. So now the Old Coal Barn looked more like a massive house, because a new set was built and connected over to the old barn, which itself was dressed to look more homely by the set designer of our production.
"No, not that one. Just this," the second AD pointed us over to another room of the house but held up his hands to bar the way of Dorothea.
"Estella, you've got no scenes today. If you want to watch, you can stand there with the rest of the crew."
Dorothea nodded silently and almost seemed to glide to the directed place. I watched her walk away when she suddenly stopped to give me a meaningful glance without any words. The girl unsettled me with her every move.
Tearing my eyes away, I took note of the shoot location for the foreseeable future. The three different buildings connected together to make up a hall house which used to popular in the British Isles in times long past. Since the Old Coal Barn was so massive, the final house looked more like a house for giants. But camera magic would work to make it seem smaller. Trick was to never place a person next to it and Julian planned on keeping to that promise.
Thus, the new "Gargery House" looked impressive and real enough from afar, but from this close up I could tell that it just wasn't right — too perfect or too rough, paint marks everywhere or no paint at all in places the camera would never see. Smooth and uniform materials that made things look boring and unreal if one were too close.
Old Coal building was too big, too limited in functions, too old and dusty. So we were instead shooting in the smaller set that had been built up from scratch. Inside, I saw wooden rafters, stone walls, exposed brick and a fireplace. Precisely one of them was real — the fireplace, because it couldn't be faked without costing more money. Rest were painted acrylic, plastic and foam. This purpose-built set also had advantages of being modular enough to have its walls removed for more access for the cameras and dollies. Hell, even the roof could come off for an overhead shot, if that's what Julian wanted.
—✦—
"Slate 1A, Take 1," Julian announced.
"Action!" he called out.
I walked in slowly. Lesley Sharp and Clive Russell stood on their marks, playing my sister and her husband respectively.
"Hang it right, man! Hang it right!" Lesley slapped at Clive before getting frustrated enough to take over the task herself.
I took tiny steps until I was in the room. On cue, Lesley — or rather Mrs Joe — turned around.
"Where have you been?" she asked, full of accusation.
Before I could reply, she was off to hear herself speak.
"Look what I've got before me while you were out for yer leisure. You tell me directly… what you've been doing!" she said, pointing at the dirty dishes and the dusty home.
I couldn't answer on the account of her grabbing at me, shaking me and shoving me away. I tried to aim for the corner, to get away. Lesley started to slap me on the buttocks when I'd turned. I stood cornered and Joe came over to sit beside me in show of emotional support.
Mrs. Joe, Pip's sister leaned in close,
"Well? Or I'd have you out of that corner if you was fifty Pips, and he was five hundred Gargerys." She said with disdain,
"I… I've been down to hear the carols." I blurted out, as if I'd only just made it up because of course Pip had come up with the lie.
"Carols, is it?" she asked, her eyes going mad with the whites showing. I flinched at her movements, fearing another strike.
"Perhaps if I weren't a blacksmith's wife and a slave with an apron never off, I should've been to hear the carols. But too busy I am, bringing you up by hand! Why do I do it?" she demanded as if she wanted to know the reason.
"I don't know, sister," was all I could say.
"I don't… And where's it brought me, this being your mother?"
But she didn't wait for an answer. Lesley's eyes judged the dingy house around us. It was home for Joe and me but Mrs. Joe could only see a prison around us.
"This house, this apron and 'im." She pointed at Joe, "That's all!" she barked, and left with an angry trudge.
That was an unhappy woman with her lot in life if there ever was one.
"I hope you sang your heart out, old chap. Glad tidings and all that." Joe burred in the old accent, kindly smile that ran in complete opposition of my own sister.
"I gave it out, Joe." I said in an equally rough accent.
Since Lesley had gone, I sat down and visibly relaxed. One man and one boy, we made a pair of sorry old chaps.
"Cut! Okay, let me get the crew on this. I'll be back in a minute," Julian called out.
I couldn't be excited despite the success of the scene. We were not filming yet, no cameras were running though they'd moved with us for practise. I knew it would take some time until Julian was happy with the blocking, his cameras, and the characterisations of all the actors present to call action for real.
"Gordon, come here!" Julian waved over a rough looking guy. "Lesley, speak to Gordon here on how to hit Wilfred better. I need the action to look better. Look at Camera 2 for the angle and brainstorm something that won't actually hurt the boy. Off there in that corner, off you go."
Once they'd gone, Julian grabbed Clive's shoulder. "You've got that part perfectly down. No need to overact, I've no direction — a beat husband's easy one to portray for us beaten lads, innit?" he teased.
Clive faintly smiled and shook his head.
"Now you," Julian said, beckoning me to another corner. "How about we add some tears for when you're beaten? H&M have got tear sticks you can use to simulate tears. Simple transition and editing could have you crying in moments. I want Pip strong! Think of it as not wanting to cry but you couldn't help it with all the beating. Pip is a strong and brave boy — he's from the old times when men were supposed to swallow their pride and not show any weakness. Clive's character does the same thing when his wife beats on him. That's just how the time was, so keep that in mind. Nathalie! Call Nicola over for—"
"—Excuse me!" I cut him, "No need to get the tear sticks. I can cry on cue. When do you want me to start crying in the scene?" I asked.
Julian gave me a long look. "You're asking when exactly to shed tears? Lad, you've got to be real confident with yourself to claim that talent. Fine, let's do a few run-throughs. We'll fine tune your performance and see."
And off we went. Honestly, Lesley was perhaps the best cast actor on today's set. She was so overpowering that a dialogue between her, me and Joe felt more like her doing a monologue. It fit her character well. Best of all, her performance was just right — her eyes looked crazy and her intensity and anger at the world and her fate showed but more importantly it was balanced and believable. Not dramatic or comical, tough balance to achieve with such a character. Her shouts had even left droplets all over my face from being so close to her. Spittle flying everywhere. I couldn't even be mad — this was a non-issue in theatre. We were a fair distance apart on stage. Meanwhile, filming with a 16mm camera pointed at us than normal people ever stood to converse, such was the cost of movie magic. It was merely the hazard of the duty.
"Okay, let's take a five. Don't go smoking if you are to be within a dozen feet of our Pip! I don't want you all reeking right before a take and ruin it," Julian warned.
He didn't take a break himself — instead tightening up angles and discussing future photography with David Odd, who was responsible for camera operation in our little production.
I came out to an overcast sky. The custom-built set was a very hot place. The weather outside hadn't warmed too much despite May right on the horizon, but I was wearing a jacket made of what felt like a dozen layers. The real factor that had me sweating was the lights. There were massive, heat-ray-like lamps all around the set, each carefully angled to give the impression of sunlight passing through a window. Light from windows you see on films — those soft glows or the angled moonlight that looks beautifully composed on camera — none of that's real. There's always a light behind diffusing material, a blanket or a bedsheet, creating the magic. Though this was a proper production instead of my studio back in Hanover Gardens, so they probably used something better than a bedsheet. Point is, these lights got real hot.
"Sweat will do you some well for the scene," Dorothea commented.
I'd forgotten about her, and she instantly ruined all the serenity I'd gained while cooling down.
"Do you mind?" I asked, incredulous at her behaviour.
"No, I don't mind. You're half decent. Maybe… quarter decent. I've got a tip, though. You've got to work on your mouth movement. How open it is affects your look and emotion. When you went inside the house, your mouth was closed and drawn in a line. You need to open it slightly, grind your teeth together. Hold it for a few moments and it'll look like your blood's been drained. I learned that on the set of All Quiet on the Preston Front. Experience — I have plenty of it. You're welcome, by the way."
That had me stumped. On one hand, I hated how she turned my request to bugger off into an invitation for her to pass down advice. But she was doling out genuinely good advice. Half-open mouth, tightened jaw — it would tense the muscles and make the face look more gaunt, more scared. Pip's sister was an abusive woman, so it fitted perfectly. Pip always gave cheerful, rosy lies to avoid her beating him. The idea wasn't just helpful here — it would be helpful in the next scene and the next. In every scene.
"Uhh, thanks?" I said, looking at her in wonder.
She gave me a dry look, then rolled her eyes. "Can't have you ruining a film I'm in," Dorothea said, and walked off shaking her head.
"She's really crazy, that one," I muttered under my breath.
I focused on my task, now with the added element of keeping my mouth in the right shape. My custom method could handle it — I just needed to be aware of planned actions. It was similar to having planned emotions and character. Tightened jaw, scared expression, then I'd wince as Lesley grabbed and slapped my buttocks. Teeth clenched together, eyebrows drawing close in pain. I needed to cringe and wince when she tried to hit me, then close my mouth to brace for impact. Yes… this was great. This was brilliant!
I shot the receding girl another look. She may be rude, but she had a trick up her sleeve, didn't she?
"Wilfred, you ready?" Julian asked.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. This was going to be a marathon, not a sprint. I needed to nail it every single day. So many people's jobs depended on me and all of them doing their own perfectly in turn. No more distractions, no more getting unsettled by rude girls with an ego the size of this planet. It was time for Wilfred Price to disappear and the Young Pip to enter. Orphan boy, innocent, naive to a fault. That was the base of Pip. As the filming continued, I would add more traits — Pip would become more ambitious, more prone to lying, more angry.
Character traits were notches to my belt. The method with no name needed to be perfect so I could slip the prong between each notch. It sounded tough, going from early Pip to later Pip as we passed through new locations to shoot on. It was going to be easy at first, characters developed all the time. Tough part was going back to the beginning. A few days from now, I'd need to portray the first version again.
I tried to remember the scene. Remember Lesley's mean words, crazed expression and slaps on my buttocks. Sharp sting of a fake slap that turned out real. I took in a deep breath, taking in the smells around the set. Snapshots of my character would be tied to my memories, memories to smells and other sensations.
Next important thing was the emotion. I slipped in the emotion of being surprised by Dorothea when I came out for air — it seemed to fit the current Pip the most. There would come a time when Estella was cruel to Pip. I would attach all the bad memories I had of Dorothea to that Pip so my acting became more authentic when I needed anger.
"Wilfred, are you ready?" Julian asked yet again,
"I'm ready," I replied.