Theatre on film is so often dry and reverential. Leave it to Rushmore's Max Fischer to bring nuns, the Viet Cong and bucketloads of excitement to the stage
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First, a little personal history. I first took to the boards as a shepherd in a primary school nativity play where, aged six, I staggered around gaping upwards at a non-existent star with a teatowel on my head; my dad, in his own words, "laughed so much I nearly fell off the bench". I was too shy a schoolkid to be much use whenever the yearly show came round: mumbling a single line, or walking awkwardly across the stage for a brief cameo appearance. One year the drama teachers got a little ambitious, and put on a play about the Crimean war; the exact title escapes me,...
• More from our Why I love ... series
Reading on mobile? Click here to watch video
First, a little personal history. I first took to the boards as a shepherd in a primary school nativity play where, aged six, I staggered around gaping upwards at a non-existent star with a teatowel on my head; my dad, in his own words, "laughed so much I nearly fell off the bench". I was too shy a schoolkid to be much use whenever the yearly show came round: mumbling a single line, or walking awkwardly across the stage for a brief cameo appearance. One year the drama teachers got a little ambitious, and put on a play about the Crimean war; the exact title escapes me,...
- 9/27/2013
- by Andrew Pulver
- The Guardian - Film News
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