Look at Wee Jackie go. Four-foot-nine, 43 years old, gabbing non-stop, grafting non-stop, her Sunday name – Jacqueline – tattooed on the back of her neck, she shoves that wheelbarrow around the garden like Glasgow’s own Sisyphus. She’s a force of nature in whose life nature has become a positive force.
IN a year notable for strong performances – Mark Rylance in Wolf Hall, Vicky McClure in This Is England, Stellan Skarsgård and Nicola Walker in River – there is one man who, curiously, stands out. Curious, because standing out should not be his thing. He should, by rights, be a character actor, a comic player… Read more »
Picture the scene. A rehearsal room near Edinburgh’s Botanic Gardens. Six men squeezed into the tiny space. They are mostly middle-aged, a little pouchy round the eyes, paunchy round the middle. You would not mistake them for the Beatles in Hamburg. One of their songs seems to be about slippers. They look familiar, though, the… Read more »
When Carrie Fisher goes missing right before an interview, you have good reason to worry. This, after all, is the woman who stopped taking her lithium during a holiday in Australia, had a psychotic episode, and took an impulsive trip to China because it was only six inches away on the map. Her press officer… Read more »
Jings, these actors look familiar. Eleven of them, conga-lining their way across the floor of a theatre studio in Glasgow, not yet in costume, but imagine them in silhouette; imagine them in pen and ink. The little woman at the back, holding the teddy, is in her mid-fifties and not quite five feet tall. The… Read more »