Big Brother Take Note! Julie Saunders Interview

The Actress and founder of TSW talks to Tonya Blowers

Julie Saunders, founder and director of Acton’s very own youth theatre company, TheatreStudioWest, is an example of what might be termed ‘the extraordinary ordinary’. She has given up a successful career as an actress to dedicate her time and formidable energies to sharing her experience and skills with the young people of Acton. We are extremely fortunate to have her here, a necessary counter to that culture of celebrity that idolises appearance and notoriety over and above living a life that can serve as a model to others; a beacon of what is possible, a re-writing of what it means to be successful. She is an actress without an ego, a full-time mother with a part-time job, a black woman of mixed race (Chinese, Irish and Jamaican) who believes ferociously in access to all, regardless of colour and ethnicity.

There is no doubt that TheatreStudioWest has been a huge success. Now in its second year, Julie employs four teachers and sixty-six children are currently registered and attending weekly Saturday classes. There are over twenty-five children on the waiting list. Most of the children (about 90%) are local, and there are sixteen different ethnic groups represented: it is certainly a colourful, multi-cultural group. The kids range from 7 to 18 and, split into appropriate age groups, they do three and a half hours of dance, drama and singing, with a specialist teacher for each. Julie teaches the drama classes and oversees the morning’s activities.

‘I give them a tough time, they give me a tough time. They work so hard.’ Leading up to a performance, the kids work overtime – until three o’clock most Saturdays, with never a murmur of complaint. Julie meets up with some during the week to do text work – at seven in the evening she has to tell them to leave. Her aims for the company are ambitious: a musical version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream set in Brazil during Carnival.

Julie began reading Shakespeare, quite independently, when she was seven. She would put on plays at home, reading and reciting in her own little world, ‘Just me, I’d play all the parts. I went through the whole of Shakespeare…I just loved the sound of it. I thought it was beautiful.’ And she has always loved singing. ‘I used to sing everywhere, in the playground, in the bath. I was in plays all the time at Primary School. ‘The Happy Lion’. I played the lion obviously. I wasn’t hot in that costume, I was just in my element.’ Then without a trace of irony, she observes, ‘Some kids aren’t made for school. I’d be in the classroom looking out the window, thinking about Shakespeare.’

But at secondary school Julie’s mum put her foot down: no more drama. Fortunately, Julie’s old primary school teacher, Jacqueline Corner, was still looking out for her (‘we’re all supposed to have one teacher, aren’t we, who changes our lives?’) and told her about a drama course with Mary Moore that she could do alongside her A levels. She then applied to drama school and accepted a place at Webber Douglas (now the Central School of Speech and Drama). This then, must have been the answer to the dream she’d held since she was seven years old. But Julie is adamant, ‘No. It was the wrong decision. They should have told me to go away, live for a year and then audition. It was hell on earth.’ And then, in case I don’t get it, she repeats, ‘Hell on earth.’

The teachers would try to break the students down - and her in particular. ‘Be realistic. There won’t be any Shakespeare for you.’ Or, ‘There aren’t many black parts. You have an amazing voice. Why don’t you concentrate on singing and dancing?’ Julie was the only black woman in the school.

But worse than the teachers were her fellow aspiring actors. She was amazed at their behaviour. Since they were better off than her she thought they would behave better too. But for many of the students, drama school was an opportunity to get drunk and experiment. Julie’s eyes were opened: this was what was meant by privilege. ‘I was quite political also. Always going on marches and demonstrations.’ She was the odd one out in all kinds of ways.

As an actress, she says she learnt nothing. On the contrary, it has taken her a long time to re-learn how to act after leaving drama school. She just didn’t trust the people there. ‘You can’t be on stage with people you can’t trust.’ She mentions one actress in particular (now an ‘A’ list celebrity) who bullied her and made her life hell. When Julie got the lead part in Strindberg, this actress told Julie, ‘Maybe if I blacked up I’d get the lead.’

When I ask what is the legacy of this experience (to voice the recent Big Brother debate, should we call it racism or bullying or just plain nastiness?) she is clear, ‘It makes me look at the children I’m teaching very carefully. In drama things come out that wouldn’t come out at school. Most of the time they don’t even know what they’re saying. I’ll ask them, ‘Why do you say that?’ I’ll make them think about it.’

Three weeks before the end of her time at Webber Douglas, Julie’s dream finally did come true – she was offered an apprenticeship with the Royal Shakespeare Company. ‘Can you imagine?’

I wondered how the RSC dealt with the issue of suitable roles for black actors. Julie gives an example. In 1989, Paterson Joseph, a talented black actor, played the King of France in Nicholas Hytner’s production of King Lear. When Joseph came on, two French people in the audience stood up and shouted out that France would never have a black King! The show was stopped and the two Frenchmen were asked to leave. Joseph went on, undeterred, to give his long speech and received a standing ovation (‘the audience response was fantastic.’) As a result of this, the RSC developed its Ethnic Minority Policy. But Julie says she ‘can’t be doing with that. Just cast the best person in the best role.’

It is this mixture of pragmatism, conviction and sincerity (in the sense of sticking to the truth of her own vision) that has enabled Julie to succeed even in the face of continued opposition – from friends, family, teachers, fellow students and, latterly, local councillors and community organisers.

‘If I can do it anyone can. I’ve whitewashed the opposition. They were always saying, ‘You’re gonna get hurt. It’s never gonna.. You never…’

‘If you can come from where I’ve come from.. .I’m not saying everyone should be an actress, but just to experience the love of language.’

Julie grew up in Chiswick though all her family are from Acton. She went to school in Hounslow. She comes from a classic background of what is now termed ‘child poverty’: her mother (whose background is Chinese Jamaican) brought up four children single-handedly after her father (Jamaican-Irish) left them.

‘My aim is access. To create a theatre company for children, giving them access to whatever knowledge I have, so they can explore and have fun. There has to be an end product so they can see it through from beginning to end. They can see how they’ve grown.

I’ve always been involved in education. It doesn’t matter where I go, children respond. I’d be rubbish in a school. There are different way of teaching. …It’s all gone in schools now. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to quantify the potential of learning through drama, theatre and storytelling.

‘For example, there’s a seventeen year old black guy I teach at TSW. We were rehearsing A Midsummer Night’s Dream and he looked up and said, ‘I never thought I could do this. I’ve always been told I can’t do this.’ I explained the themes to him and he said, ‘It’s just like real life.’

Getting TSW off the ground has been hard. ‘It was always going to be Acton. But behind the scenes it’s been dreadful. It’s not been hard to find the kids – there’s a huge need for these kind of activities, especially in Acton. Ealing Council has formally identified that there’s a lack of arts’ participation in Acton. We’re the only borough without an Arts representative.

Strange things have gone on. For example, the night of last year’s performance the stairs to the stage went missing. I had to have stairs built. Then the wood I needed to build those stairs went missing. Posters are always getting ripped down and defaced. 

I ask her why she’s stuck it out at The Priory? Julie says there are no other facilities. ‘The Town Hall charges £105 an hour. And the place stinks! There’s no dance studio. I’d move in a shot. I would go. Priory should be sold off for flats – it’s in a residential site and the Town Hall should be rebuilt into a theatre and a centre for community arts. It’s got a beautiful theatre. But it’s filthy. It was minus three in there when we did West Side Story.’

TSW’s performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream last week were a huge success with every performance sold out. A representative from the the Arts Council came and was hugely impressed, the Mayor was invited backstage to meet the young actors and several councillors came and loved the performance. Julie was disappointed but not surprised that only one Labour councillor replied to her invitation – to apologise for not coming. As a life time Labour supporter, Julie is angered and puzzled by this.

The next step is to get the funding. ‘Ideally no one should have to pay. Why will that not happen? It makes sense. If the kids are doing this they’re better off – happier, more confident, out of trouble, more rounded.

‘My dream is for a building just for TSW. In the day it would be multipurpose. Monday to Friday, there’d be computer training, ESOL, interview sills, what-to-wear, whatever. It would be a one-stop place for the whole thing. Then from 4.30 onwards there’d be after school activities – drama, singing, art, pottery, writing. At the weekend the whole place would be given over to being a complete arts centre.’

I ask her whether she misses the theatre now. She says straight away that she has a pact with her old friend and director, Philip Prowse, that she will play Cleopatra. But he continues to put her off – she does not look old enough yet.

That’s Julie for you, perhaps the only woman, definitely the only actress, ‘so into her 40’s’, who is disappointed to look younger than her age.

March 8, 2007