David Wenham unveils two new knockout roles: one from the mind of Anton Chekhov, the other fuelled by a $1,000-a-day cocaine habit
Marrickville Bingo Hall set him on the road to stardom.
SeaChange made him an Australian TV sex symbol. And
The Lord of the Rings transformed him into a pin-up for nerds worldwide. Now David Wenham - actor, lawn-bowler, failed ventriloquist and charity man - unveils two new knockout roles: one from the mind of Anton Chekhov, the other fuelled by a $1,000-a-day cocaine habit.
David, I believe Belvoir was where your love of performance began?
I was 11 when a teacher suggested to my parents that they should send me to drama classes to curb my disruptive ways in the classroom. The next Saturday I was acting, and thereafter it became a ritual of my youth to see a show at the Belvoir on Sundays and, if I was lucky, another at the Opera House on Monday after school. My parents never owned a car or drove in all their 87 years, so we'd get on the old 423 bus from Marrickville into town. Magical trips, they were.
How did those early shows inspire your own performing?
I always loved putting on shows - when you're the youngest of seven and five are older sisters, you've got to get noticed somehow! I did puppet shows and magic shows... even ventriloquism. My doll's name was ‘Dan' and I used to write these scripts and my schoolmate hid under the table and supplied Dan's voice.
Where's ‘Dan' today?
Still with me but he's locked away in a storage cupboard and his mouth is half hanging off, so he's even more terrifying now than when I was working with him.
Marrickville is pretty hip now, what was it like in the 60s and 70s?
Back then, Marrickville was the most multicultural suburb in Australia and Anglo-Saxons comprised just 5 per cent of the suburb's population. In the community and at school I was a minority and I loved that. It was a very harmonious, inclusive existence and that exposure to so many different cultures is something I treasure.
Is it true little David's bed was at the foot of the family's dining room table?
Yeah, but I had terrific parents and an incredibly happy childhood. Not having much money or space meant I had lots of time to escape with my imagination.
Is your acting a quest to return to that childlike state?
I do try to get back to that place in my acting. As we mature and grow older we collect a lot of baggage and lot of that stuff you collect on life's journey gets in the way of acting. My kids can imagine a character and transform in the blink of an eye. It's so simple for kids, so complex for adults.
Oranges and Sunshine is about adults dealing with broken childhoods isn't it?
It's a film about the Forgotten Generation, a case uncovered in the late-80s where thousands of children were deported from the UK to Australia on the promise of ‘oranges and sunshine' but subjected to hard labour and institutions instead. These kids had their childhood ripped from them, and as someone from a loving family with a couple of daughters myself now, I found their stories very affecting.
So much so that you embarked on a road trip to ‘find' the character you play?
I flew to Perth and this gent drove me up to Bindoon on a trip that mirrors the one in the film. When I first read the script I didn't understand this guy, couldn't fathom his motivation. He surprised and confused me. Only by hearing heaps of his stories on the road did I understand why he responded as he did.
Your highest profile roles have been fantasy figures - Faramir in TheLord of the Rings trilogy, Dilios in 300, even Diver Dan in SeaChange. Is there a burden of responsibility in playing a real-life character?
Responsibility isn't at the forefront of your mind when you're ‘in the moment'. But I think you're freer as an actor when you're only bounded by the limits of your own imagination. Playing a real character you can't go too far beyond those boundaries or the character ceases to be recognisable or truthful doesn't he?
Let's talk about your greatest real-life performances, which I've grouped as ‘the Good, the Bad and the Ugly', starting with the Good: Father Damien...
An experience that still affects me profoundly. Paul (Cox, director of
Molokai) and I lived on the island of Molokai with people who had leprosy, or Hansen's disease - we were the first to ever do so - and the community opened their arms to us. People who'd never allowed themselves to be photographed now offered to put themselves on screen to show the world what leprosy was really like. The 55 or so we filmed are now down to a handful of survivors but I think of them all so often. They were the most extraordinarily happy people. Despite being so horribly disfigured on the surface, something within them was pure and beautiful.
Now the Bad: your chilling break-out performance as Brett Sprague in The Boys, a performance you're on record as saying you'll never surpass?
Nor want to. I wouldn't ever go back there and enter that sort of territory again. That film took me to a particularly dark place I don't ever want to return to. Maybe I went too far. I remember Toni Collette being not even able to be on set with me. In the middle of a scene she ran off saying "I can't look at him..."
Lastly, the Ugly (but hilarious): an AFI-winning turn as Johnny ‘Spit' Spiteri in Gettin' Square, a character inspired by your Kings Cross neighbours.
I live a stone's throw from the Wayside Chapel and I help out as an ambassador, lending an ear or spruiking the good work of Graham Long(see TOI May), every chance I can. Whenever I'm at the Wayside, people talk to me about Johnny. There's even one particular guy who accosts me on Darlinghurst Road to accuse me of stealing his identity! I can't argue with him, I just have to nod in agreement. Johnny is the product of sitting around the Cross finding the funnier foibles of the thousands of people up there in dire straits living rough on Sydney's streets.
Then there's Andrew Fraser, the criminal lawyer-turned-convict you portray so brilliantly in Killing Time, a 10-part TV series so hot that subjudice laws currently prevent anyone in Australia seeing it. Is Fraser good, bad or ugly?
I don't know, but what I do know is that his conflict is the essence of great drama. Preparing for
Killing Time, I read Andrew's books and watched hours of footage and listened to hours of radio interviews, but I made a conscious decision not to meet him because he's a very seductive, charismatic character and I didn't want to feel compelled to portray him in a light he approved of. Objectivity was crucial. So even though he was desperate to talk about himself, I didn't meet him... until, through one of the producers, he asked us to dinner. At the time Dianne (Glenn, co-star) and I were questioning why Fraser's wife stayed with him through it all. So we met them and it cemented the reasons we suspected. But it was tactical.
Did you learn such tactical acumen hustling money at lawn bowls? Selling insurance? Photographing racehorses? Or bingo-calling at Marrickville RSL? These odd jobs led to a debut here at Belvoir, notable for you being...
Nude!
The Headbutt began with me walking on, having a shower and wrapping a towel around myself. Then Glenn Butcher came on, whipped the towel off and we launched into the first song... with me totally starkers.
Twenty years on and you're back at Belvoir with Judy Davis for The Seagull.
And fully clothed! It's very exciting - I haven't been on stage since
Jerry Springer: The Opera in 2009. Chekhov's play is wonderful but Judy was the main attraction. She is one of Australia's true greats, an extraordinary actress, super-intelligent, extremely generous and with incredible instincts as a performer. You could give Chekhov's text to 20 different actresses but none of them will wring the full depth out of character and use the intricacy of language Judy does.
Adam Cullen said his 2000 Archibald-winning portrait of you captured "the economical way David conveys emotional intensity". Is that your secret?
Look, the best advice I ever received on acting was from [late great Aussie actor] John Hargreaves, and he got it passed down to him from [fellow LGAA] John Meillon. It was:
"Listen. Listen real. Think. Think real." So simple, yet most actors don't do either. See, listening and hearing are two different things and acting is comprehending what the person is saying, thinking how it makes you feel and responding. That's the key to really honest, truthful, compelling performance.
From here.
