-•✦--✦--✦•-
Wednesday, April 28th, 1999 — Rochester, Kent, UK
"No, we want to show anger. Quiet anger." I insisted for the umpteenth time.
"But you look so constipated. Ballet is freeing. Even if you are constipated, you need to look elegant."
"Yes. You are right. BUT! Billy is different, he is repressed, his family doesn't like him dancing. Society doesn't like him doing girly things. I need to portray emotion. I mean… think about Swan Lake? They are portraying dark things, right?"
"Have you seen Swan Lake?" Aurélie asked.
"Well, no." I admitted, I'd seen Nutcracker during last Christmas. Which was to this day the only actual ballet I'd seen. "But that's beside the point. I want to portray my anger. I'm not just dancing, I'm acting too. This isn't just ballet either, this is tap, this is modern dance, this is jazz." I pointed out.
"Okay… Where did you see this choreography though? I want to have a read or see it if I am to help you better."
That was the problem now, wasn't it? I couldn't tell her that I was doing the choreography that would be in the final movie itself. I'd imagined working with a ballet teacher would have me learning her teachings. Yet, here I was teaching Aurélie the choreography and doing a terrible job at it. As much as I had trained at dancing, I couldn't perform some of the technical moves. Which was causing all sorts of problems. For crying out loud, we hadn't even started yet. Not really.
"Let's work on the simple things. How about you teach me how to do this?" I said, demonstrating Billy's special move. "If we get this, I can point out the choreography more."
Aurélie looked at me and shook her head.
"How do you know this is what you need to do? Do you even know if it's possible," she complained, "It's radical. Pirouettes and tapping at the same time? This is jazz. I'm a ballet and tap dancer."
She was a purist — a true ballet student.
"Please, just — open your mind. I need to fuse the two styles. How does this look?" I said, frustrated.
"Your spotting is terrible, I mean it has to be, right? You are tapping while pirouetting, it makes no sense."
I was frustrated — so frustrated that I felt like doing the angry dance Billy did in the movie. Aurélie was a passionate and talented dancer, but she was a purist. Billy was a futurologist, a mixologist, a — fusionologist? Was that even a word? It didn't matter, because it all made sense and the final product was in my head. I could see Jamie Bell doing tap and ballet together: a perfect mix. And while his spotting wasn't as good as his ballet spotting, it was still good. Spinning and tapping went in opposition of each other because my feet needed to make contact with the ground to tap. Ballet pirouettes needed long lines because I needed to spin.
Sitting down, I stewed in anger. Aurélie was trying out the dance moves I'd demonstrated in the mirror. We'd hired a dance studio and my running costs were increasing by the day. With the auditions already underway, I would be at a disadvantage. I was awaiting my one day off that the law dictated; child actors couldn't work for more than six days in a row. I planned on hopping off from Saturday's shoot and driving through the night to Newcastle to audition on the Sunday. Be back on Monday for the filming, as if I'd never left.
But, as was apparent to me, I couldn't audition in this state. I needed to impress, I needed to amaze. My only advantage over Jamie Bell was that I knew the choreography and the final movie. I could give the director and the choreographer exactly what they wanted right at my audition. It would skip the hassle of having to fight with Jamie Bell through callbacks for the role. My schedule didn't even allow me to be back in England for those because I'd be in Italy.
Then there were other problems. I needed to attend a Sunday service and sing with a choir — which I'd done once in London, but I needed more experience. If Franco could sweet-talk the mayor of Florence, the Duomo could open its halls so we could film a Sunday choir scene inside it. My performance had to be spectacular. Except I was tied to two productions already, and there was so much chaos in just Kent alone. We were almost done with all the scenes in Gargery House and the company would move as soon as my scenes were wrapped. I had so many things to do — and so little time.
"I've got it! Mon dieu, I've actually got it!" Aurélie laughed.
I spun round to see her tapping and pirouetting at the same time, her spotting nearly flawless. Spotting — keeping your head facing front while the body turns — was supposed to be difficult, but Aurélie made it look effortless even as she tapped her feet in a beat. Her head stayed forward almost the whole rotation, only snapping round for that split second each turn. It was nearly as perfect as her ballet spotting which, if you hadn't guessed, was already immaculate.
"How?" I said, staring at her feet with more concentration than I'd ever managed in any lesson.
"It's… so… simple!" she said, doing a full spin between every word.
I kept watching her feet until suddenly it clicked.
"Oh my god!" I shouted, grabbing her by the arms. She burst out laughing at my expression.
We ended up spinning in circles as we hugged each other, hopping up and down with ridiculous excitement. Aurélie had cracked the tapping-while-pirouetting problem by ignoring the usual physics ballet demanded. Anyone who's spun on a chair knows the trick — arms out, you're slow; arms in, you shoot round and round quicker. Ballet works the same, physics applied. We'd start the pirouette with one leg extended, then draw it in mid-turn to whip the spin into speed!
Aurélie solved it by never extending the leg but just simply hopping for every revolution. Legs generated the power for the spin, pirouette was still fast but I spotted the glaring weakness. She lost momentum quickly. She had to fight against the physics which helped ballet dancers. Her method came with the solution: just hop one more time — hop with every pirouette.
"It is just sautilé! Just like this, we start from fourth position. Then pirouette. But no fouetté en tournant! Can't kick out the leg. You lose power but we just jump again! Hehe!" Aurélie laughed cutely.
She bounced into a pirouette, demonstrating the sequence with that effortless, floaty elegance she seemed able to summon on command. Her feet barely kissed the floor before she was spinning again.
"You're a genius! Thank you! Thank you…" I said, backing away to give myself space to try out the move.
I managed it on the first go — scrappy, uneven, but undeniably working. The second attempt was cleaner, the third smoother still. Each try burned the movement deeper into my muscles, the rhythm settling in my mind. The memory of the movie replayed itself behind my eyes, and for the first time the move that I'd struggled over clicked together. A secret hiding in plain sight because I didn't have the technical know-how.
I tried to copy it.
"How are you doing that? Oh wow." Aurélie said, genuinely stunned.
I was hitting two half rotations inside a single whole pirouette. Sounds impossible, but it wasn't — not if you saw it. Mid-turn, I let one leg drop before the revolution finished, switching legs halfway through and hopping again to complete the spin.
"No loss of momentum!" I declared proudly.
"Amazing!" Aurélie laughed, clapping her hands together.
The rush of suddenly mastering something that had felt unreachable only minutes before — it was intoxicating. I wanted more. I wanted to learn everything.
We'd solved the biggest obstacle in my path. Mixing styles of dances was a tough cookie to crumble if you didn't know where to start. Perhaps a choreographer who worked in theatre may have been better choice than someone like Aurélie who was a complete ballet purist. But we'd solved it together with guile and tact. Now we could start actually training for my audition.
"We have to go now, or you'll be late!" Aurélie said as she looked at the wall clock.
I didn't even mind it. Leaving on a win was better than the last few days.
Hours of practise, hours of banging my head against the wall stuck on the first step. Only took two days to get to a point where we could even crack one move. Only so many hours in a day with only so many days left…
—✦—
"Brilliant. Brilliant work, everyone." Julian called out.
"You've got to go now, I reckon." Clive said.
I shook my head. Julian was obsessed with getting the photography done in the shortest amount of time possible. Unlike The Children of the New Forest, which had finished filming within three weeks, this would go on for a maximum of four weeks.
Julian was a different sort of director too, he did more takes and spent more time directing his actors. Where Andrew Morgan got efficiency by not giving a single damn about the end quality, Julian seemed to extract it using highly detailed pre-production work.
Locations didn't come for free though and he had to be in Edinburgh for the scenes that Ioan and Justine would shoot for the last half of the movie. Edinburgh in this case was going to play 19th-century London. Imagine being the city that barely managed to look like London of hundred years ago. That didn't enthuse me about seeing the city but I was not going to be needed for that last push of the filming. My part would wrap within the allotted 22-28 days.
"Thanks, old chap." I smiled at Clive.
I swear, half his lines were that expression.
"Now, you're making fun of me." He said in a low voice.
For an actor the man was such a gentle soul. He was the most appropriate person for the world we were portraying but just didn't fit the modern world of entertainment we were a part of. I walked off to find my grandparents. They were sitting with Dorothea's mum, who was way too sweet to have given birth to a daughter with such a rude quality.
"Are you done with the shoot?" Nain asked.
"No, there's a few more scenes to film but the sunset is almost over. They've got to get some shots with Ioan so we don't spend an extra day out here."
"Where are we off to next?" Clive — my Grandad — asked.
"Thoresby Hall in Newark." Dorothea put in smartly.
She appeared carrying a tray like she was born doing it, handing steaming cuppas to the adults with an air of ceremony more appropriate to the period of Great Expectations than the set here. I narrowed my eyes only to notice Aurélie following behind with her own load. Traitor!
"Thank you, dear. You're lovely, you are." Nain complimented.
Dorothea shot me a triumphant smile over her shoulder.
"Sorry, Pip. We had no idea you were coming. You'll have to get one for yourself."
"Thanks, I'm not thirsty." I said flatly.
"Wilfe, did you know that Estella here dances too?"
"You've never told me that! Oh, I'd love to see you dance." Nain said as she took little sips from her cup.
"A lady doesn't brag. Though, it's etiquette to learn dancing and I have a sure enough feet for it." Dorothea said elegantly.
"Estella is so talented. I'm so proud of her." Maria — her mum — added.
Dorothea only liked being called her character name while on set — even by her own family. So, being a fair person who appreciated justice in this world, I simply had to call her by her real name.
"Dorothea, care for a competition?" I challenged.
She lifted an eyebrow, her face otherwise frozen like a porcelain doll.
"Oh?" she asked, pulling the fakest surprised expression I'd ever seen.
"Yes. Aurélie here is a student of Royal Ballet School—"
"I'm not yet, I will be though!" Aurélie corrected.
"Accepted and signed. Makes no difference. She can judge us as there's no one better than her here."
"They've got a dance instructor here for Ioan and Justine." Aurélie added.
Dorothea and I ignored her.
"Strange way to ask a girl to a dance." Dorothea pointed out.
"Oh, how exciting!" Nain chuckled.
"I'm not asking you to a dance!" I denied, "We will dance separately. In turns!"
Dorothea glanced at her mum, at my Nain, then at Aurélie — some silent girls-only discussion happening without a word. That stupid telepathic powers of their kind! I checked my Grandad for support and attempted to converse with him and only got a shrug in turn. Brilliant.
"I accept. What does the winner get?"
"Err— pride! Of course, that means a lot to you, does it not?"
Dorothea gave a thoughtful purse of her lips, then nodded once as if approving a proposal in Parliament.
"Okay, I'll play. And if I win, you must refer to me as Estella and pay respect due to me as a lady." Dorothea said in that cut-glass accent of hers.
"Agreed."
Nain clapped merrily from the side.
"Oh, I'm looking forward to this." She said in glee.
I noticed Grandad frowning as if I'd set myself up for failure.
"I love it when kids make friends." Maria said.
"We're not friends!" I blurted at the same time as Dorothea.
"See, they're like twins!" Nain chuckled lightly.
I shot Dorothea another stink-eye.
Frankly, I was starting to make this expression way frequently. Why was she always watching while on set? Didn't she have something better to do? I would have killed for some extra practise time but she spent her time under the shade and gossiping with the production crew. They had jobs for gods sake. Any self-respecting actor would spend their time enriching themselves and improving their skills.
I had to win.
"Company moves tomorrow. How about we do this duel when we're in Newark?" Aurélie asked.
The shoot had wrung me out today, and with more scenes ahead I didn't dare argue. I'd have to squeeze in a bit of solo practice before bed. There was no way I'd underestimate Dorothea — she needed taking down a peg or two.
"As it comes, duels have choices of weapons, do they not?" Dorothea asked no one in particular. "As the challenged, I have the right to decide the terms of our duel."
"Sure and I'll beat you in any dance you choose." I piped up.
"Really? Then how about…" She paused, then smiled as if unveiling some masterstroke. "Improv. Aurélie decides the music and can change it freely. We can impro using any style we choose. Short dances and in turns, like how they do it in America. Dance battles."
"How would we even score that?"
"Do you have to ask? Staying on beat, technicals, energy. Dance is emotion, have you heard of it? Winner is the one who can tell their truth better. Aurélie has the final say for being our better."
I caught faint murmurs from the adults nearby, a mixture of amusement and interest in our childish games. Made comical by Dorothea's accurate and posh speech.
The idea of dance battles was new to me, but revelations helped me as usual. Even if they'd hardly given me much to go on in this case. I'd never competed properly, but it felt like useful prep for Billy.
"Acceptable." I nodded.
"Oh, I choose the date too. I need a few days. I don't practise while I'm on set. Mum, do we even have dance shoes?"
"No, we don't. We'll have to purchase them." Maria shook her head.
"Fine—"
"I also get Aurélie to rehearse with me." She cut in.
"Okay, won't change a thing though." I smiled.
Dorothea only gave a slow shake of her head, the sort adults used when a child had said something hopelessly naïve. I felt the same way about her confidence. She was a full-blown narcissist; people like that always overestimated their own limits. All I had to do was beat her so thoroughly she'd stop looking down on me — quite literally too, since she was annoyingly a bit taller. Girls and their stupid early growth spurts.
"So much fire! I love this." Aurélie laughed.
"Pip! Costume change for the next scene." The Second AD came over to collect me.
More scenes to get through. I scratched at a mosquito bite. I didn't want another day here — now I understood why hardly anyone lived near marshes: bugs. Always bugs. Still, I couldn't help grinning as I sat down for my next outfit. I'd crush Dorothea like the bug she was.
"You've got an evil smile, you know that?" Nicola said.
I tried to smooth my expression out, but the corners of my mouth kept tugging upward. I would commit the face she makes when she lost to me. It'd make up for me suffering her company.
—✦—
At eight, my scenes were finally wrapped. Thirty minutes before a mandatory call by my chaperone to put an end to the day. Director had cut it close. At least Julian seemed happy with today's takes. We'd had multiple takes of scenes so editors could have an option or two. And overall, the director seemed pleased with keeping on schedule.
"We're on schedule. Company moves tonight, crew will be shuttling through the night. Cast can leave in the morning, we won't need you guys for a day while we set up shots."
Cheers were markedly silent today. No one liked having to work long hours but crew often drew the short sticks. If we had early morning shoots, they started at dawn. If we shot at dawn, they'd start at night. Such was the need for the rigging, electrical work and blocking out a scene.
Nain appeared in the doorway and swept me straight into her arms, holding me with that fierce warmth she possessed.
"Wilf, god, are you fine, cariad?"
"I'm okay, Nain." I said.
"Oh, poor boy, you sound positively drained." She guided me towards the exit of the set with maternal fussiness. "Let's get you back in bed, tuck you in real nice."
"You've got to tell him," Grandad muttered from behind her, arms folded.
"It can wait until tomorrow," she insisted, not slowing her pace as she led me away.
"What is it?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.
"Your phone's been ringing." Grandad explained.
"It's that dreadful agent of yours," Nain cursed, hands going down to her hips. "Always wanting you off and working. He's bad news, he is."
She'd been muttering like that for weeks now. She hated how many auditions I was doing, how many films I'd ended up in already. Children needed to be children, apparently. Meanwhile Dorothea had done thirteen productions and she was only a couple months older than me. If anything, I was behind. I needed to catch up.
"Where's my phone?"
"You can talk to him tomorrow. We'll get you a light nip and you need to have your kip," Nain insisted, ushering me towards Grandad's car.
"I need to talk to Adrian. It's got to be Sally he's calling me about."
"Sally this, Sally that," she huffed. "I've told you she's off in Italy."
"She should be back soon. Their shoot is on a break." I informed her.
"Fine, give him that brick." Nain said, unimpressed.
Grandad passed the phone over, the old thing felt heavy in my palm. Perhaps, I needed one of the newer ones with the nice colours and thin bezels. I immediately jabbed speed-dial. Adrian was number one — higher than even my Mum.
It rang and rang, a whole minute, before he finally answered.
"Who's this?" Adrian said groggily.
"Are you sleeping already? It's only eight."
"Wilf! I've got to sleep early so I can work early. Americans and all that." He yawned.
"What did you call me for? Is Sally back in London? I want her in Newark."
"Sally? Oh, she's here. Yeah. You really want her to drive to you?"
"YES!" I snapped, rubbing my forehead. "I need her to teach me a Durham accent, Geordie if she can't. It's important. I also need that actor I asked you about."
"You're really serious about this? I thought it one of your big talks, nothing serious."
"I am! Adrian, I need you to take this seriously. Billy Elliot is huge! It's a role tailor-made for me."
"Fine, fine. I'll get on that." I could picture him waving the words away. "You're really making me work hard for that ten percent. I can't be your manager always."
"I'll get one but only when I'm big enough."
"Heh, maybe you'll get there." Adrian chuckled.
God, was he ever serious? After a full day of shooting and tutoring, I was beyond spent. I took a deep breath, reigning myself in. Adrian was still in my corner — snapping at him wouldn't help anyone.
"I've called you up for an audition," he said. "You've got a callback — well, it's really just an audition."
"Audition? I'm too busy filming." My frustration slipped out before I could stop it.
"It's what you wanted and you also said it was important." He pointed out,
My irritation vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp jolt of energy.
"What is it?"
"Untitled by Cameron Crowe."
"Untitled?"
My mind shot straight back to the audition tapes for American films. Almost Famous hadn't been titled yet. It was still going by Untitled.
This was massive.
"Yes, they want to fly you to New York. Gail Levin, the casting director, said it was urgent. They just cast a new boy, Patrick Fugit. Not sure what sort of racket they're running this late into the game. But it's first big role for the young actor, first film credit too now that I think of it. You and some boys that look like their new star have been called in."
"When do they start shooting?"
"May 24th."
All my excitement vanished. I was available for a week and a half maybe. But then I'd have to go be in Italy. June 7th, we'd start shooting again. There was no way I could commit to it, I'd have to drop out of Tea with Mussolini to shoot it. As much as I wanted to be in this film, there was the novelty of being in a movie with the Three Lionesses. Another big consideration was that of ruining my reputation with Maggie Smith. It just wouldn't do.
"I have Great Expectations AND Tea with Mussolini. You know that." I pointed out.
"Yes, and believe me, I was the first to tell that to this lady in New York. They know you're already in two films. Gail put me in touch with the director. I've spoken to Cameron Crowe himself. He assured me they're shooting sequentially — you'll be in and out. 'First to shoot, first to wrap,' that was his exact words. Oh, and they loved your tape. Audition tape featuring Cher? Ha! He went on and on about it. The point is, you won't be on set for long. They just need you and a few other kids for a day of auditions and some costume fittings to try out the visuals."
I tried to keep my excitement in check. This was a massive role, a proper cultural phenomenon that people would remember and revisit endlessly. Something close to my heart, both as a performer now and in terms of the revelations-me. But our current shoot wouldn't finish until the 19th of May. And that's if everything ran smoothly. If we fell behind, I could be stuck here until Tea with Mussolini started filming.
I had to be realistic. My roles were still small; Wilfred Price wasn't a proper movie star yet. Productions had millions of pounds riding on them. I was too minor to pull out — and more than that, I wanted a reputation for keeping my word. If I agreed to do something, I had to see it through. My dad had taught me that.
"I can't. I want to… but I just can't," I said, my frustration swelling before collapsing into a hollow sort of emptiness.
"They'll sort it, Wilf, they really will. It's a Universal picture; they know people. Even visas can be arranged quickly. But we need to get on top of it," Adrian promised.
God, I hadn't even thought about the visa. Even working in the UK was a headache; I needed licences for filming, chaperones, tutors, council approvals. Who knew what hoops we'd have to jump through to get me to America and on set.
"But I can't go to the audition. We're filming six days a week."
"You can fly out once your shoot wraps for the week and you get your mandatory rest day. You'll be back before filming starts. Now, where's the boy who wanted all the roles? I'd like a word with him," Adrian said. I could practically feel the smile through the phone.
God. I'd been having the same dream about driving off to Newcastle for the Billy Elliot audition, with the exact same idea — only we'd actually be driving there.
"How long's the flight to New York?" I asked.
"Eight hours. You can get some kip on the way," he replied.
"Heh, thank you, Adrian. You remembered what I said," I said, realising he was fighting my corner.
"There aren't many actors who chase me down like you do. Everyone wants the roles, but they don't ring me enough until I start dreading that ringtone," he laughed, a deep, belly-vibrating chuckle.
"I've told you, when the roles come, they come fast. But remember, you've gone nearly a year without landing anything. That's just how the business works. And, listen, Wilf — it's fine if you don't want to do it. I can tell you now, it'll be a tight squeeze. Even if you agree, you'll have to convince your mum. Your nan won't even take my calls anymore — I gifted her that phone! So, be ready for your family to reject the idea. You're still a kid; they have the final say. Oh, you've not got the role. So don't be too excited either."
Adrian — what a man. He pushed me when I was reluctant but pulled back when I was on the verge of saying yes. I couldn't have asked for a better agent.
"I'll call you back," I said.
"You do that. But drop me a message. I need to wake early for work, then grab some sleep before I start talking to New York again. They're five hours ahead of us. It's a faff, I tell you."
"Thanks, Adrian. Good night."
I clicked the phone off and wandered into the quiet, lost in thought.
"I told you, Adrian's not good news. Look what he's done to the boy," Nain complained.
"It's fine, cariad. Honestly, it's fine," Grandad said, giving my Nain a reassuring squeeze.
I hadn't really considered it, given how much support my family had always shown me in chasing my dream. But now the cracks were showing. Nain was firmly against me taking on more roles — at least not so close together. Grandad, as always, was easygoing, but between the two of them, I knew who held the final say.
Then there was Mum.
We spoke daily on the phone, though I'd refused to go back to Chester. She missed me terribly as I missed her. After her miscarriages, and with her son off making films, even the most pessimistic outlook suggested she must be growing tired of me constantly dashing off for work. The call I needed to make next would have to be handled with a delicate touch.