Dominic Holland's "Eclipsed"

In Take 53 I flagged up the reality of life’s
landmarks and the general passing of time which affects us all, no
matter how far we run or how much Botox we inject.

And on this note, this week two things occurred – one that I
expected and one that I didn’t.

What I expected to happen this week was for Tom to
finish school – and for his GCSE’s to start. He’s not actually leaving school.
He is continuing on to the sixth form but what I mean, is that he is now free
to leave school, should he choose to.

And he must be tempted I suppose. Even though, our modern times
make school leaving a frightening juncture, as a parent I am relieved that Tom is probably as well placed as most kids of his age in terms of finding a path. And despite this, I am pleased that he wants to stay on at school. Whatever
happens to him going forward, I figure that he’ll be a wealthier adult for
having these last two years of his childhood than he will be without them – and
I don’t mean monetarily.

*

And given my woes about my age and place in the world what I
didn’t expect to happen this week or need were any further reminders
of my mortality – but a very real and painful one arrived
nonetheless.

Not entirely unexpected I suppose given that I have not
played football properly for nearly a quarter of a century – and the
5-a-side football craze that is sweeping the nation and netting dads who
should know better – well, it finally caught me recently and just three weeks in, it
dumped me firmly on my backside.

The exact injury is disputed but the pain is not. It is
definitely the calf muscle but is it ripped, torn, pulled or ruptured? I have
no idea and doctor at A & E doesn’t know either and didn’t seem terribly bothered
either. And fair enough I suppose. It was an accident but it was hardly an
emergency.

To the incident then – commanding the midfield like a general, I suddenly heard a whipping noise and felt a sharp whack on the back of my calf. Immediately I thought
that I’d been hit by a stone or possibly even shot. My first instincts were
to look for my assailant but he had managed to vanish, but because I was still so convinced that I had been assaulted, I settled instead for looking on the ground for the rogue ball bearing or bullet. Of course there wasn’t anything to find and I realised that if I had been assaulted, then it was by God and his message was clear – I am
too old to be playing football.

For my radio 4 series, The Small Work of Dominic Holland, I wrote a sketch about cavemen and how they might react if one of their clan suffered a similar injury and how they wouldn’t believe him with no blood, swelling and not even a bruise. So concluding that he was just a lazy bastard, the savages might even eat the poor bloke because he’s easier to catch than a mammoth.

And so it is now for me. At least a broken leg can be seen.
It shows up on an x ray and gets a cast. But a torn muscle gets nothing more
than Paracetomol and rapidly dwindling sympathy I’ve discovered. Regular readers of Eclipsed will know that I usually kick off the day by making my boys their sandwiches – which I can’t do now – so the Holland day now begins badly. We have a boy worrying
about his GCSE’s, an injured dad (or is he?) and a fed up wife – putting this
blog in doubt because it is indulgent, it takes up too much time and it
generates an income of exactly zero.

*

For now though, continuing with the theme of physical prowess and youth…

If Eclipsed is going to appeal and entertain, I am mindful never to appear smug about my clever kid and what he can do. I’m not an arts critic and nor am I his agent. One of the
strengths of this story is that the efforts of its ‘stars’ can be consumed
and judged by my readers for themselves.  You can
read my novels or watch my stand up. You might have watched Tom play Billy – or
you can see his film The Impossible in due course – and decide for yourselves on
the individual merits of us both.

But I can however big up certain feats that Tom has managed
already in his short action packed life – chief of which is the fact that he was
a ‘Billy’ – playing the role of Billy Elliot in the west end musical for nearly two years –something which resonated with me as I hobbled about the house this week and I was reminded of something that was said to me during his days at Billy.

Before I explain what was said, I need to put it in to context…

During Tom’s time in the show, the question I was most frequently
asked was – what it is like to see my son play such a role? And it is predominantly pride of course but also a decent heap of worry and discomfort thrown in as well.

I say this because the role is like no other. Somersaults,
back flips and running up walls not to mention a dance to close Act 1 called angry dance that is so exhausting, when the show first opened, the boys playing Billy would regularly vomit in the wings from exhaustion. A problem with two possible solutions; to tone the show down or to increase the boy’s fitness?

They went for fitness.

Damien Jackson is a key member of the Billy Elliot team. He was a professional ballet dancer himself and Tom remembers him with great affection as do I. Watching Tom being put through his routines in training one day, the fact that Tom was already established in the role didn’t mean that training eased at all and Damien was running Tom particularly hard.

He was wet through with sweat and typically concentrated, Tom did all that was asked
of him – and it didn’t make very comfortable watching for me at all. It isn’t
easy to see your kid in pain – something any parents of children
involved in competitive sport, will appreciate.

Such sessions are normally closed off to parents but somehow
I was there and maybe sensing my unease, Damien felt the need to put my mind at
rest and he told me something I have never forgotten.

Firstly, he told me that the role of Billy could only be
played by a child. That an adult dancer would not be able to run so many dances
so closely together plus act and sing as well.

And then he went on to say…

‘The boys playing Billy are the fittest kids in Britain. There might be kids as fit. Perhaps the kids who swim for their country but they won’t be any fitter. The kids playing Billy
are simply as fit as it is possible to be.’

I don’t know why this resonated quite so much with me – but I
know why I was reminded of it this week.

Because three years on, Tom is much less fit and so am I – I can’t even walk.

*

At Dance Works this week in London, the dance studios where
Tom spent years being trained for Billy, Tom was being seen by a choreographer for a small part in a film shooting this summer.  To his delight, two other Billy’s were there also and Tom was excited to see them both.

The choreographer started his session by asking – ‘Okay –
who was a Billy?’ Three hands went up which I expect might have worried the other boys but this is not my point.

What struck me was the amazing bond that Tom will have with
boys he shared a stage with in this extraordinary role.

Stand-up comics share a special bond, given the nature of
what we do and because we’ve all died on our arses one night and been a hero the
next. Comics are jealous sods in my experience. They enjoy other comics failures
much more than their successes but nonetheless they do share a bond. Recently I have been in touch with Paul Boross who was one half of The Calypso Twins with Ainslie Harriet no less. I didn’t know Paul very well on the circuit as we only shared few bills togther. But no matter, the fact that we have gigged is all that matters – and a bond exists.

So I can’t imagine then the bond between the boys lucky enough to have been Billy. The size of the show, their role and their youth. Being a stand-up comic is certainly nothing like the role of Billy. And this is my point. There are lots of ropey stand–up comics but there
is no such thing as a ropey Billy Elliot.

And whether or not these kids continue to dance or stay in
the business, they will always have amazing memories plus the knowledge that at
one point in their life, they were as fit as can humanly be – which is not a
claim any comedian could ever make – not one that I know of anyway.

Something happened this week which is noteworthy anyway but
especially in the light of a story that I have told before on Eclipsed but it
bears repeating here.

The threshold to becoming a ‘celebrity’ nowadays is much
less demanding than it was a generation ago. The bar has been drastically lowered,
allowing in all-sorts and this is a continuing trend. I was interested
to note that when Theo Paphitis appeared on Question Time his caption described him as a businessman and star of Dragons Den. I hope that Theo did not request the word star but I worry that he did. He is certainly a celebrity though. If celebrity is measured by recognition and penetration. And Theo even enjoys the hallowed position of being known by his Christian name alone. All that is really needed is Theo - and as such, he is up there with Madonna, Ashton, Prince, Brad, Clint and more dubiously, Jordan.

But is Theo really a star? Not really. Not in my book anyway.
And the function of determining who is a star and who isn’t has itself become a business.

In 1993 I was asked by The Evening Standard to appear in their feature, A Future Star – and of course I agreed. But then things went quiet.
A couple of weeks passed with no word from the journalist and with the deadline
looming, I abandoned my credibility and called her myself. She was contrite and
explained that I was no longer being included in the feature because according
to her editor, I was already a star.

A very dubious rejection - one laced with flattery which
counted for little at the time and none whatsoever now. At the time, I certainly
didn’t feel like much of a star and so I was more bemused than hurt and I made
a point to look out for the person replacing me in the feature.

It turned out to be a young Scottish actor who was turning heads and was tipped for big things ahead. His name was Ewan McGregor. And a  note to the editor concerned, if he’s a reader of Eclipsed or more likely that someone knows him – for your decision to cull me, no hard feelings on my part.

Your call was a good one – on both counts.

This is relevant because this week, after the screening of
The Impossible, Tom is being included in a feature called UK Stars of Tomorrow for the magazine, Screen International. This will be the 10^th edition of the feature which has included James McAvoy, Robert Pattinson, Andrew Garfield and Emily Blunt. Tom was interviewed
over the phone but I told him it was for our local newspaper, The Kingston
Informer – because his GCSE’s start this week and the last thing we want is for him to be told that he’s a future star.

There are no guarantees in show business. Just look at his dad, now writing a blog called Eclipsed.

*

Not that Tom’s life is anything like mine was when I sat my
O levels all those years ago. Last week, when JA Bayona, the director of The
Impossible was in town for the screening – and he invited Tom along to the launch of
the video for Disconnected, the latest single from Keane that he had directed.

Tom went along of course, as you do.

Now – speaking of celebrities and stardom, it is indisputable
that Keane must rank very high on any fame list however they are gauged. Keane have sold many millions of albums and continue to pack out stadia across the world and rightly so. As a self-confessed music ignoramus and because I am also unashamedly uncool, the Keane lads might not thank me for giving them my whole hearted endorsement.

I don’t buy music. I’m a speech radio and reading man – and my
music consumption is largely confined to the hideous compilation box sets which
I buy late at night on my way home from gigs. Usually four discs fiendishly
packed in to plastic cases that are normally broken by the time I get home – and the discs scattered under seats to be thrown out at a later date.

But Hopes and Fears was an album that I did buy (and sadly since
lost) and indeed it ranks high in my personal music chart and also features
large in the memories of the Holland boys as it was the soundtrack to a Portuguese summer holiday some years back.

Anyway, Tom and his mum, Nikki went along to meet JA and
watch the video and as it happened, the band was there too. This should have been enough excitement for any 15 year old - but then JA showed a trailer of The Impossible to the audience, introduced Tom and then afterwards Tom, Nikki, JA and the band all went out for dinner.

As you do.

And it might not be terribly rock n’ roll – but just to say a
thank you to Keane – who were lovely guys and very kind to both Tom and Nikki. Consider your new album, Strangeland downloaded.

Unsurprisingly, Tom came home wide eyed with excitement, toying with the idea of giving up acting for a possible career in rock.

A quick google search revealed that Keane had been at school
together and formed the band when they were undergraduates at UCL – so a life lesson
right there for any young school-leaver with lofty ambitions.

And on this note, in a week when another DH birthday slid by
– another landmark is reached when my eldest son starts his last mandatory week
at school – with just his exams to come after which he is free to leave and adulthood
truly begins.

I vividly recall sitting in the Pleasance Courtyard in
Edinburgh with Harry Hill discussing life and its greater meaning. It was 1994
and I was about to get married. I am mindful what a cliché it is to ask where does time go – but in this instance it really does seem to have flashed by and yet now here I am – so a life lesson for me as well and no doubt, for us all? That we should savour our precious time and not continually think about tomorrow.

*

And I figure that Tom is lucky to have me as a dad – and not just because I have moved aside for him careerwise but because as far as his GCSE’s go – despite my best efforts, he doesn’t have much to do to outshine his old man in the academic arena either.

*

This blog is over a year old now and it was fitting with the
news last week that Take 51 had the highest readership to date – so my thanks to those who came along and particularly to those who’ve been with it from the beginning.

To corrupt a line from perhaps Kevin Costner’s best ever film –

As long as people keep reading - I will keep writing.

A prize to anyone guessing which film and what was the real line…

Yesterday, we finally saw the film, The Impossible – on which this entire story of Eclipsed hinges, so you can imagine that this particular Take is one that I have been most looking forward to writing – and now that I finally sit down to write, I honestly don’t know where to begin. I don’t have space in one Take to do it all justice and nor do I have an adequate command of the written word – but I will do my best.

A review of the film I suppose is the logical place to start…

And even as partisan and as invested in this film as I am –
let me state unequivocally that I think, The Impossible is a stunning film. A
film as stunning as it is important – and one which deserves to be a theatrical
event and for many different reasons. Although I don’t expect to make the
poster adorning billboards worldwide in the next 6 months – but just in case
the producers read Eclipsed and might need a heartfelt endorsement –

“The Impossible is a film that literally made me cry” Dominic
Holland

Allow me to try and explain.

Regular readers will know that yesterday is an end point of
an extraordinarily long process. I first read the script for Tom when he was
still playing Billy in Billy Elliot the Musical and I never believed for a
moment that he would be cast. Surely, the Holland family had used up our quota of good
fortune with Tom getting Billy, so a theatrical film to come? No chance!

Not the first time in Eclipsed that I have been flat wrong
and I am sure that there will be more to come.

If I was a more skilled writer, writing this Take wouldn’t be
so difficult and I might also be able to avoid using the word journey, but I
can’t because a journey is precisely what it has been, for Tom and for his whole family.

I could not begin to calculate the mileage – but a flight count alone taken by my family for The Impossible numbers over 85, taking in Asia, America and Europe – with a world tour to come for Tom at least.

So seeing the completed film embodies so many different experiences
for us all. Time apart, different locations, experiences, meeting so many
people and making so many new friends, all impossible to explain in this one
posting.

Not to mention that the film itself is a visceral watch – for its subject alone and the true story it depicts which is both euphoric and tragic of course. And then add in my families experiences of seeing the film evolve and then finally seeing Tom on screen with actors I am used to watching in movies – only now I also know them personally, as Naomi and Ewan – which itself still feels surreal – even down to last night in a Soho restaurant, the director, JA Bayona handed Tom his phone because he had placed a call to Naomi in New York. ‘Hey Naomi, how you doing?’ Tom said as casually as you like, and why not? They are work colleagues after all.

The screening was held at the Soho Screening Rooms. As well
as JA Bayona, many people were also there who have become firm friends including producers, cast, crew and tutors but the most important person present was The Impossible’s Angel, Maria Belon, whose story is The Impossible.

The film is so called because of what happened to Maria and
her family. I was so pleased that she came to London for Tom’s first viewing. Naomi plays Maria in the film and sitting next to Maria having dinner
last night, even having just seen the film and experienced its making, I was
still full of questions for her and admiration also. Maria is a beautiful lady.
Incredibly dignified and brave. What happened to her family, the speed and confusion
and what Maria personally endured is really impossible to fathom and yet here
she is now – full of life and vitality.

This is Maria with Tom’s mum. The two mum’s of Lucas, the
real life Lucas - who at just 10 years old, experienced something I cannot imagine coping with – and the boy lucky enough to play Lucas on screen.

I said earlier that the film is important and this is because
of the event that it represents – the tsunami of 2004, which is no understatement
to describe as a seismic world event. For me, personally, it is up there with
911 and Princess Diana’s death in so far as I can vividly recall where I was
when I heard about it. Occurring on Boxing Day made it even more resonant, the day
that the word tsunami became a new entry in the vocabulary of the everyman like me. So many other factors added and built upon the story and the horror. The sheer force and anger of nature. It’s power and speed turning a paradise in to an instant hell. And with so many tourist destinations crushed, it became a story that instantly involved and concerned
the whole world.

The film begins with a caption. I don’t recall the exact
wording but it is concludes with ‘the tsunami… changing lives of families
forever.’

And I realise that this includes my family as well, something
which I could never have imagined when the terrifying story unfurled in real
time all those years ago. And I don’t say this – that the tsunami has changed my
family’s life – because of what I am expecting or hoping for from the
future. I say it because of what has happened to us already. Seeing Tom in the
film of course but also meeting the Belons and the other friends that we have
made and the memories we have.

Writing this blog for over a year now, perhaps I am as
involved in this process as much as anyone and so I end here by saying how privileged
I feel to be able to write it – something which I am not always comfortable
about for some personal reasons but also conscious of the people
whose memories of the tsunami are not happy ones at all.

The many people for whom the tsunami is still a trauma leaving holes that will never be filled and that for these people, if they watch this film will have tears of sorrow in contrast to my tears of joy yesterday.

I hope that the sentiment in this take that I am trying to convey is clear and has come over – and just before I sign off - Tom is at school today which is a good thing but also feels a little strange. I never enjoy a sportsman using the phrase, it hasn’t sunk in yet – but now I’m a little bit more understanding of it. And I am eager for Tom to get home from school because I want to tell him again how I feel about him and what he’s done. I told him last night, of course I did, but I need to tell him again and any dad will undertsand why.

we’re all seeing a movie tomorrow in London – regular readers will know which one – so short Take today – proper Take on Friday…

First up, my thanks to @josephburne for letting me know
about the release of the new trailer for The Impossible this week.  Billy Elliot
fans will no doubt be pleased (as is Tom) that his back flip has made the edit.

A comment that I sometime hear about this blog is that the story
of father and son and their divergent careers is just not big enough – which I find bewildering and I wonder if people still feel this when
they see this trailer and particularly the aerial shot of the tsunami surging inland
– a shot which costs many millions of dollars alone. And I am keeping up my end
of this story as well. In Take 47 I discussed my latest one man show at a
village hall in Hampshire. I couldn’t publish a photo at the time because I was
abroad – but I publish it now to demonstrate the show business chasm between father and son.

Son in movies – Dad in village halls – how much bigger can
it get?

Timing of Eclipsed is another issue for some - with people reasoning that the story is premature because the film might not be a success which of course is true. There are no certainties in film and whilst I hope the film is
a great success commensurate with the enormous efforts of so many people – but no matter because my story remains the same whatever happens.

Tom and my whole family have had an incredible experience –
which continues weekly and whatever happens to The Impossible, Tom’s life and mine are
comically opposite and a story I am pleased to recount.

*

And on this note, this week Tom signed with an American agent
called William Morris Endeavour or WME for short. His agents in London set the
whole thing up for him for which I am grateful – to a point!

I won’t big up WME here or list any of their illustrious
clients – but it is safe to say that they are players – which is a good thing
and I have quickly discovered a bad thing as well.

Because this weekend, four screenplays hit my in-box. They
are not offers for Tom – but projects to consider and gauge his interest. Tom GCSE’s are
pending and getting him to read anything that he isn’t going to be examined on
in June is impossible. Never mind that these scripts could be an earner for him
and render his GCSE’s obsolete. So it falls to me read the bloody things – and assess
which projects Tom is interested in or not?

And on this, how the hell should I know?

I’ve been trying for years to get a film made and the likes
of WME have been impenetrable to me. And suddenly I am advising a client of
theirs. With as many mistakes in my own career, I worry about helping Tom with his – which is frankly pressure I don’t need.

*

During the Talent season on television I feel increasingly
marginalised by my family. I have never watched an episode of the X Factor. As
I write, every cruise ship afloat (and there are thousands) have people on board
who can sing very well indeed. Much better than the average person at least and
herein is the problem with singers. Lots of people can sing really really well, plus
the country has enough singers already. It’s physicists that we’re short of –
so as well as these shows offering people false hope, what I really object to about these
talent shows – is just how bloody loud they are.

How can any studio audience be so excited that they feel the
need to scream so loudly and so often? Chasing me and I imagine many other
dads out to their sheds where it might be cold, but at least it’s quiet.

Over coffee this week, I even out curmudgeoned Sean Hughes –
who told me that I was being prematurely old – which coming from Sean, hurt a little and made me worry a lot.

Anyway, another problem for me is that with catch up TV and
chip recorders, these shows now can be on at any time and quite literally all of the time.

This week I relented and sat down to watch The Voice –
Britain’s most popular show and the show that my family love. And I think I did
pretty well. I watched almost an entire episode until two women had a screaming
contest which was just too much for me and I left.

I feel less aggrieved at Britain’s Got Talent. I enjoy the
variety though I don’t like the auditions where somehow it is okay to mock people with mental frailties or at least people pretending to have in order to secure their “15 minutes”.

But this week on BGT – the Holland family had a great moment.
Having recorded the show and charging through the adverts at 32 times normal speed
– we all caught sight of a family friend, Oakleee Pendergast.

Oaklee plays Simon and Tom’s younger brother in The
Impossible. Oaklee is a smashing kid and during filming, he became a good
friend to my youngest, Paddy. This is Oaklee in a current Weetabix commercial aired
during BGT this week and at 32 x normal speed, we nearly missed it.

Advertisers must be irked by the power of our remote
controls, but I would like to say and I wonder if the Weetabix people even noticed  a tiny spike in sales of their honey Weetabix in the south west London area this week. The first box I bought was in support
of Oaklee but the second box was because the Holland boys like them – and this
is good enough for me.

*

Incidentally, just on Sean Hughes out-youthing me in a
Leicester Square café – with our over- priced and disappointing coffees finished,
Sean looked at his watch and said that he was keen to get away in order to beat
the rush hour – and this pleased me no end. Presumably he wanted to make sure
he got a seat on the tube where as I am still okay to stand. And it won’t be too
long now Sean before you get seats offered to you by well-mannered youngsters,
so something to look forward to.

*

To finish, I would like to return to the theme that I began
this Take with…

Next week is a landmark for my me and for my whole family – when
we all go in to London – to a private screening room in Soho to watch a
theatrical film – which I am proud to say that I happened to work on – and all over the world in fact – as a professional chaperone!

Twenty years of endeavour in the film industry will next week all suddenly
seem worth it.

And this is a both a big story and a timely one – and why next weeks Take 51 is likely to be Friday.

Until then…

Being a desert where almost nothing grows, the
super-rich United Arab Emirates need to import absolutely everything to
create and sustain their rather unique way of life. A burgeoning Asian
workforce to build and service the hotels, malls and palaces, half the world’s  luxury goods and it seems most of its cars and now rather fortunately, there is also a need for comedians to entertain the western professionals who live there  also – which most recently included Andy Robinson, an old friend and circuit
stalwart, newcomer and now new friend, Michael Fabbri and Dominic Holland, somehow the old timer on the bill!

This picture of the bill certainly doesn’t do me much justice and
I wasn’t aware of the trench I must have been standing in – but despite appearances, neither fellow comedian looked down on me. Quite the opposite in fact, as I had a captive audience to really explain the crazy story and events that underly the story being chronicled on this blog, Eclipsed.

Comics are somewhat obsessed with status and the naturally hierarchies that form – which can be oblique but are always glaringly apparent nonetheless. They start with running order and lead on to the bigger picture and dare-I-say-it, the career. Other
projects, real or imagined? Television? Daytime, primetime, own vehicle? A novel? Publishing deal or not? Film? No chance. Sitcom? Unlikely. Playing which venues and to how many? And so it goes on…

And even allowing for embellishments and downright lies, by the time we collected our luggage at Doha airport – one thing was irrefutable, my son Tom was doing the best of all of us.

And day 2 in to the tour, I was given an insight to my
future when en route to Dubai in the promoter’s car, we were each interviewed
on a local radio station. Michael was severely hung over and in-pain and his strained
answers meant he quickly passed the baton on to Andy who answered lots of
questions that he’s been asked many times before. Who inspired him? What can
the audience expect? Does he adapt his material? Does he like Dubai? Der…

And then the phone was handed to me…

“…and finally, we’re joined by Dominic Holland. Now Dominic,
someone tells me that you have a famous son…”

For ten minutes or so, I answered questions about my progeny
much to the amusement of my fellow tourists and so-called friends. Even Michael perked up from his stupor explaining that my discomfort was way more effective than Alka Seltzer.

Which is my fault of course. I am writing a blog after all and I assured myself that I want the blog to be read and so it’s a good thing that the radio reserachers had found it.

But then it transpired that they hadn’t. It was my Wikipedia page (which I have nothing to do with) – and  not my blog (which I have everything to do with) that led them to Tom and away from me.

But it’s the same end point I assured myself - always looking for the positive – something which I am adept at each January and do progessively less well as each year proceeds.

Interview over and there isn’t much consolation from the guys and I explain that this is something I am already entirely comfortable with.

Why else would I write a blog and call it Eclipsed?

Neither of them are convinced but I don’t expect them to understand. They haven’t procreated yet. They don’t know that I’ve been a dad for fifteen years already - almost as long as I have been trying to get a movie made – and as such, they have have no real understanding of the joy and the pain that this story causes me.

*

Late one night, after a show, we rocked up at a cinema. A limited choice on offer, Bruce Willis sealed the deal, buying three tickets to see The Cold Light of Day.

Given my recent experiences of Tom making The Impossible and all that has happened since, not to mention my own film experiences, I like to think that I have something of an inside take on the movie business – and on this particular movie I really do.

But it wasn’t until early in to the film that I realised it was shot at the same Spanish studios whilst Tom and Naomi Watts filmed for six weeks in the summer of 2010. Having not seen a Die Hard and  being way too young for Moonlighting, Tom wouldn’t recognise Mr Willis but one day – he did see a bald ‘cool looking guy’ visit Naomi on set – who seemed important with people fussing and pointing - enough then for me to assume that it must have been Bruce himself. 

Anyway a little way in to the film, my jaw slackened as I
tried to imagine how Bruce said ‘yes’ to the project and just how much he must have been paid. I also wondered what my fellow comics were making of it and I worried that they might be enjoying it. There is always a moment on leaving a cinema where people share opinions and hopefully agree - and as things transpired, this wouldn’t be necessary.

The Cold Light of Day ranks as one of the weakest films I have seen in years, at the end of which there is a fleeting cameo for Colm Meaney meeting the lead, Henry Cavill in a scene which is clearly designed to leave open the possibility of a sequel – which provoked spontaneous laughter from all three of us.

What a relief. We were all like minded enough and there was a good chance that the tour was going to be a great success.

*

Whilst away I received an email from Spain asking me about
my twins who were both used as extras in The Impossible.

The film used over 5000 extras and with the 3 unemployed Holland boys kicking around set, it made sense to use them - for a post-tsunami scene featuring a tent full of dispossessed children, hoping to be repatriated with their families.

The email was news that one of my twins had made the edit and one hadn’t. A problem then…

But they also needed to identify which twin was on screen for a contract and a credit – and attached to the email was the c/u up of the Holland boy they needed to identify.

This is my son, Sam - and I have made a mental note that Harry, my twin on the cutting room floor, will have a big part to play in Eclipsed going forward. Not much of a consolation I know, but what else can I do?

*

To finish, I need to make a very exciting announcement and then take you back to the middle east very briefly.

In a couple of weeks, the waiting will be over when we finally get a screening of The Impossible in London - just a 100 minutes or so of film – but an event which has left an indelible mark on all of my family whether the film is a hit or not.

And on this, back to Dubai, to thank Andy and Michael for being such good tourists.  We laughed a lot and we even cried!

As trust grows, I was able to share the story of Eclipsed in much more detail and discuss things that I have not been able to mention on this very public forum – personal things and also some of the things occurring in Tom’s life since which will all become apparent in due course anyway.

And sitting in a cafe one day, I recounted a particular hospital scene between Tom and Ewan. I wasn’t in Thailand for the filming but I saw it in Barcelona and explained it in Take 16 for those interested.

Writing this blog, I am well practised in recounting this story in its minutae – and I am grateful now that I diarized a lot of it as it happened. In Barcelona, in a sound studio all alone watching this extraordinary scene I sobbed my heart out. Because of the nature of the scene, but also because it was my son and what might happen to him going forward and the fact that he’s growing up and naturally moving away from his family.

And explaining all of this, I became emotional as ever, explaining this particular scene and it’s real life context because the film is based on a true story – and as charged I can be, Michael’s eyes moistened also and all three of us had a little Eclipsed moment – in the world’s most opulent mall in the middle of the dessert.

Dubai has the highest tower in the world called the Burgh Kalifa. It’s mightily impressive especially if tall towers are your thing - with the highest observation platform on earth – and naturally, I wanted to take my turn looking down on the world from the highest manmade structure on the earth.

In a word, “dissapointing”.

Spectacular, for sure – but it’s impact is severely dented by the fact that the observation deck is little over half way up the building – with offices and I’m guessing, gawdy appartments above.

It was still high though – much higher than the Empire State Building although no where near as cool – but here is my point – and apologies in advance because I am about to get heavy and contemplative…

It is nothing like the natural highs that life can provide.

Like my pride in seeing ‘that scene’ in Barcelona, but also the kinship that comes with being on tour with two great guys – united in the unusual cause of trying to make people laugh.

Thanks to Duncan and Gayle for putting the shows on. To the punters who came along and especially to those that laughed and finally to Andy Robinson and Michael Fabbri.

As the saying goes – what goes on tour, stays on tour… unless you blub like a baby when one comic boasts about his over-achieving son…

Still here in Middle East – so without access to photos, links and my family of course – Eclipsed is being rested this week – albeit the story itself is continuing and gathering pace – and will resume next weds.

My thanks and until then…

As I write, I am in Abu Dhabi for a series of 9 gigs over
Easter – and this  being the Easter
Holidays, my comic timing is dubious. It could be considered timely for a dad
to four boys looking to get away for a bit. Or unfortunate timing for a dad who
would rather be home over Easter with his family. Those of you who have been
with Eclipsed since it began a year ago will know which applies to me.

*

Abroad as I am, I am unable to complete links and add images. I don’t have my old school mate, Taps on tour with me and without him I can only really type with any confidence, so this week, it is just me and the written or typed word!

*

Regular readers will know that Tom is currently being
courted by several ‘talent’ agents from Los Angeles. Three of whom have now made
the trip to London to chat and shoot the breeze with a fifteen year old kid. A
bizarre situation for Tom and a strange and comic situation for me. Comic
because not only are they coming to see Tom, but these people are all big hitters
and not people I could easily get round a table with – that is without the talented
appendage that is my eldest son.

In my experience of show business, these agents are the kind of people
who are rarely available. Their assistants are trained to know who gets through
and who doesn’t on the phone. Or perhaps, it’s with the wag of their jewelled finger and…

‘I’m sorry, but s/he’s in a meeting right now…’

And this week I was sitting in ‘this meeting’ during which a
couple of times my mind drifted and I imagined their other clinets sitting on the phone being
told that their agents were unavailable – only this time it was true, they really were
in a meeting and with me!

Obviously, LA being 8 hours behind and not yet open for business,
this would not really have happened but you see my point?

Just ahead of my leaving for the Middle East, we  were under some pressure to make a decision. Unsurprisingly, Tom didn’t have a clue. They had all told him that he was fabulous with a bright future, so really, what’s not to like?

But it is an important decision if he wants to pursue this
acting malarkey. This is his life, his career and his agent and so ultimately he would  need to decide. Only he couldn’t and neatly he deferred to me.

Dad, you’re in show business, you know what to do?

I have been with many agents over the years. Some huge, some
small. Some have let me go. Some I have left. And none of the relationships have
been terribly successful. But then, as a client, I have never been particularly
hot. Not really. At 15 I was an extra in a TV film, not a leading role in a
major cinema film and as such I figure any of them could do a good job.

Nikki my wife though is more absolute, preferring one agency
above the rest. And her instincts have been good in the past. If it wasn’t for
her, Tom would never have danced. Never have been Billy and never played Lucas
in The Impossible.

But she’s not in the business though. Not like I am. She
doesn’t understand the nuance of show business, not like I do, so the decision
is on me then.

And what did I do? Answer at the end…

*

Tom’s charmed life continues this week as he is accepted in
to the Brit School, the only state funded academy for the performing arts – inspired
by the Alan Parker film, Fame which has a special place in my childhood.

Tom auditioned a month ago for the school and while I was
hopeful for him, I worried that his career to date might count against him and
that the place might go to a kid with more to gain or more harshly, more in
need.

This would have been understandable and I was prepared for – and
given the situation re LA agents, I think Tom would have recovered quickly
enough from the disappointment. As it was, he has got a place and he is delighted.

The school has a long list of illustrious alumni including; Adele,
Jessie J, Amy Winehouse, The Feeling, The Kooks and katie Melua.

I confess that I am more familiar with some of these names
than others, but nonetheless, Tom is delighted and that’s good enough for me.

*

I might be typing away sitting in a palatial hotel in Abu
Dhabi right now but the world of Dominic Holland is not all glamour –as my gig
last Saturday demonstrates beautifully.

I have said all along that the story of Eclipsed has been a
fluke. A story that evolved with father and son playing their respective roles perfectly
– creating a funny story that I feel compelled to write.

The story started to occur to me as an idea as I sat in the
stalls watching Tom play Billy in Billy Elliot the Musical – a time that
coincided with me doing gigs for an organisation called Rural Arts.

Rural Arts take the arts and comedy to remote rural areas where
entertainment is still largely confined to lambing.

Hopefully, you can see now where I am going with this?
Whilst Tom was playing the west end, I was doing gigs in village halls and this
encapsulates Eclipsed.

People have advised me that I must not run myself down in
writing this blog and I agree. I have had – what is a great and on-going career. But
that said, the facts state that the show biz lives of dad and son could not be
more divergent and present a story worth telling.

This Saturday night marked the very first rebooking in the
career of DH playing village halls and my thanks to the people of Whitchurch in
Hampshire for turning out again.

I couldn’t really recall the gig from the first time around. Even
when I parked my car, it was a blank and it remained hazy even as I got in
to the room – upon which my spirits sank because the room was
foreboding.

Comics are funny about rooms. Size, shape, size and make up
of audience and as I saw what was ahead of me, every warning bell in my comic head
was sounding.

As I write, I have just finished a show in Abu Dhabi where I
was required to be on stage for 20 minutes, the standard comedy set.

The good people of Whitchurch were expecting 90 odd minutes of my time. The audience were already sitting patiently and they filled me with dread. Arranged in trestle tables. The demographic was heavily on the retired side with the front tables a sea of grey. In front of the stage is the buffet dinner that will follow my performance. Quiches, salad and
pre-cut bread that was rapidly shrinking before our eyes.

The whole thing was achingly uncool and backstage I thought
of Tom and our meeting with the LA big hitters and I wondered how I had ended
up in a hall in a village with a show to do. Actually, my apologies because
Whitchurch is actually a town and I should explain also that I feel exactly this way
ahead of every Rural Arts gig. Nothing personal Whitchurch.

But then I bounded on to the stage and all was well again. An audience
is an audience and no matter their age, they were great and the time flew by, for
me at least. Ably led by Margaret in the front row and not forgetting Muriel
who in the second half insisted on telling the whole room that she was 83 for
which she got a huge cheer.

I enjoyed the gig a great deal. It was hardly an earner but so
what? Because it is the essence of Eclipsed, the gigs in the ‘country’ now seem
fateful and I have some great stories to tell which will highlight the varying
careers of father and son.

*

And so to my decision…

Well, given how the last ten years have been bumpy – from The
Royal Variety show to Whitchurch –  not
to mention my misadventures in film, I am terrified about making any decisions
on behalf of Tom.

Frank Sinatra famously said, ‘Regrets, I’ve had a few…’

Well, Frank, I’ve had loads and I don’t intend to add to them
by making mistakes for Tom. So I bottled the decision of course and deferred responsibility back to Tom’s agents in London.

These people are experts in the world of show business. They
know best.

What do I know? I’m just a comic. A bloke who can make
people laugh…

*

Not being home until the following week, I suspect that
there might not be a Take next week – and if so, my apologies in advance.

Not many more dangerous and terrifying professions than
being a comedian. Soldier and bomb disposal expert? Definitely. North Sea
fisherman? Probably.

Back on the comedy circuit, this week I played the Glee Club in
Cardiff – a city completely regenerated in the last ten years, as are many of it’s people it seems. In town on a sunny Saturday afternoon, there was a noticeable presence
of heavily muscled men in pastel vests giving the city a general feel of being one big Wham video. A tan in Wales is suspicious even in August, so in March to
see so many bronzed ‘Gods’ was completely incongruous.

On stage is Mick Ferry – an excellent compere, effortlessly
making hay from anything that the front row can provide? I’m back stage ready
to be announced. I can hear but I cannot see and I register that Mick has identified a pregnant lady in the front row.

Mick announces me and I am suddenly in to the lights, my
working day has suddenly begun. Immediately I am heckled. It is more exuberance than
malice from a man with tattoos on his scalp but I’m not unduly worried and a
couple of quips, the audience laugh and my assailant waves the white flag. All is
well – until I spot the pregnant lady in the front row and I decide to chat to
her. Straight away I can sense that something is wrong. A comic’s instinct for peril
is as keen as a young deer’s breaking cover in a forest. My pregnant lady looks ashen and turns to her heavily tattooed husband for support. What the hell is the problem? And then I spot the actual pregnant lady sitting a few seats across to my left. This lady is
blonde, pretty, petite and obviously very pregnant. I now realise that my pregnant lady is not pregnant at all. She is just fat.

So now I am in a hard place.

I quipped around the issue for a moment or two but sensing the growing fury of the lady I decided that abandoning my credibility for a simple apology was the way to go – and I spent the next twenty minutes playing catch up with 400 people.

Local references are always a good ploy to galvanise an audience and looking out at the heavily muscled men in vests, I was joined on stage in my hard place by a very large rock…

Like I said, one of the scariest jobs in the world.

*

The previous evening, at our Cardiff hotel, drinking with
Mick and another comic, Gavin Webster we finally got on to talking about films and
being men, it quickly meandered to include sporting heroes as well; a good
opportunity then to flag up a Ken Loach film I had enjoyed called Waiting for Eric – the Eric being Mr Cantona of course, surely one of the best football players Europe has ever produced.

Mick quickly corrected me – apparently, it was Looking for
Eric.

Are you sure? I was pretty confident of myself. I
know my films. Ken Loach’s Raining Stones had a big impact on me as did Kes although I haven’t enjoyed many of his underclass case studies of late.

Yeah, definitely, Looking for Eric, Mick said, I should know because I was in it!

Obviously this settled it. It was Looking for Eric, of course it was – a film which is worth watching just for one scene alone, when the film’s thugs get their comeuppance.

And this is one of the things I love about the comedy circuit, for the characters encountered and just the funny things that happen, off stage and hopefully on-stage as well.

*

A good week for Tom. He had a very successful meeting with a
UK film director and this week, another two agents are flying in from LA to
meet him – I will meet them as well of course but only in my capacity as the boy’s
dad and not as I would like, as a player myself.

This might seem a little odd. Let me confirm that it is. And it is my life but at
least I can write about it. A cathartic release for me and hopefully
entertaining for my readers.

*

More mundanely this week the prospect of Tom’s GCSE’s encroached
a little more. O Levels to anyone of my age but it isn’t just the name change that
is different. For a start, Tom is doing a GCSE in sports science. It was PE in
my day with no option to bag an O level as payment for the trauma of the showers for the under-developed boy! The course involves the candidate being filmed playing a broad array of sports to a certain level. Included in Tom’s choices is tennis.

I presume a demonstration of the major shots is required.
The serve, volley, backhand, forehand and smash and others besides that I don’t know the names of.

I doubt though if negotiating the net is one of the requirements even though most of us have at some point tried to hurdle the thing – and we can all remember
Becker and other famous players leaping the thing to console their heart broken opponents.

And because Tom has a high degree of gymnastic ability and
is young and supple and strong, I would imagine that he can negotiate the net much better than most. Certainly better than me at his age – and now my uptight hamstrings make an attempt entirely impossible.

So here then is Tom in all his majesty. A good idea to have the sound
up…

Hardly A * material – unless considered in the
context of being an actor and “a star” – and even then, still only potentially – just like his old man in fact….