The Making Of

The Table

Scotland 2009

My hands were numb. I stuffed them in the pockets of my puffer jacket as I looked out across the field, at the elaborate film equipment and gatherings of people working busily to set up the shot. No one tells you when you go into acting that the majority of your time is spent waiting around. Standing in cold fields or on uncomfortable sets, all for the sake of a two minute shot.

The film was called 'Junk'. It was artsy and brooding, with limited dialogue and heavy, dark themes that meant I'd spent the past week feeling low. Even when they shouted cut, when we chatted between scenes or wrapped for the day, there was a sense of sadness that followed me everywhere.

After the scenes in the field, we drove back to the house we'd been filming in. They changed my clothes and I sat with the director as he coached me on what he wanted from the next scene. I was nervous, trying to push down the feelings of panic that were squeezing my chest and turning my stomach.

'Are you alright?' he asked, noticing my hands shaking.

'I'm fine.' I nodded with a smile. 'Just... getting in the zone.'

I sat on the floor of a dinky bathroom with a camera close to my face. On the edge of the bath, the prop guy had set up a line of vitamin powder. I looked down at it and grimaced, shaking away the unwelcome thoughts before falling into character and waiting for them to yell action.

I did the scene 5 times. Each one getting a little more dramatic and unhinged. I'd snort the fake cocaine and fall back, slowly breaking down into tears. By the final take, I was exhausted. Relieved to get out of the tiny room and insisting I was fine to the crew as I pushed through them.

It wasn't until I got back to my hotel room that night when everything hit me all at once. Like a freight train. I lay on my bed and cried myself to sleep.

London 2009

I felt like a proper working actor. Travelling from one end of the country to another, living off coffee and the occasional cigarette, forgetting what it felt like to have a full night's sleep.

I walked into the room to see everyone already there. They were chatting amongst themselves, discussing the script and warming their hands on polystyrene cups. I made eye contact with Mark and waved from across the room before setting my bag down and pulling up a chair at the long table.

'Coffee?'

I looked around to see a man standing behind my chair. 'Oh are you the tea lady?' I joked.

He laughed. 'Yeah. Actually, they offered me an acting job but I said nah, I'd rather make the drinks.'

I laughed too and reached out my hand. 'I'm Adrian.'

'Martin,' he replied as he shook it. 'So, coffee?'

'Er, yeah. Black please.'

He grimaced. 'Sicko.'

I chuckled to myself as he walked off towards the drinks table. I turned around, letting my eyes wander across the array of faces - some familiar, some new - trying to match them to the names in my script. One face I did recognise was Benedict's. He was standing with Martin at the drinks table, chatting quietly before taking two cups from him and making his way over to me.

'Courtesy of Mr Freeman,' he said as he sat down beside me and slid the cup across the table.

'Seats everyone, let's get started,' said Steve as he sat down next to Sue.