Tom Hollander

A daunting experience

Tom Hollander’s first meeting with a theatrical agent didn’t turn out quite how he expected

Tom Hollander’s first meeting with a theatrical agent didn’t turn out quite how he expected

It was the late Eighties and it paid to be brash. But I wasn’t brash I was green. Just down from university and wearing a second-hand double-breasted suit I had a meeting with London’s Most Powerful Agent. On Wall Street, Gordon Gekko. In Soho, Michael Foster. A man whose legendary temper had caused him, telephone in hand, to break his own finger while dialling. The extent of his rages were matched only by the size of the deals he got for his actors — deals rumoured to be so huge that other actors binge-drank at the thought of them.

A week before, I had received a note while backstage at Richmond Theatre, halfway through a performance of the amusingly titled Sheep Go Bare (the 1988 Cambridge Footlights Revue). It was the kind of note young actors want to get from powerful agents. It was scrawled in red ink. It said: ‘You’re great. Call me.’

I walked into a swanky office building on Wardour Street suitably named Paramount House and entered the offices of Duncan Heath Associates. At the switchboard sat an extremely attractive girl with no clothes on. I froze and stared at the floor. A life in showbiz was clearly going to be even more exciting than I had hoped. While pretending to study the poster for A Room with a View on the wall behind her desk, I sneaked another look at her. Actually, she wasn’t completely naked. She was wearing underwear, and an expression of complete indifference. Over her underwear was a ‘dress’ made from white string. Not very much string.

Once in the agent’s office I sat on a low chair in front of an enormous desk. It was difficult to see over it. I was excited but disadvantaged.

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