I'm not really prepared for quite
such a close-up of Javert.
He 'dies' at 10.15 pm six nights
per week and the curtain is somewhat after that, so when I get to the Palace Theatre a
little early, Michael is still in costume and full make-up.
The cadaverous features of the
one-we-love-to-hate are happily relieved by the big smile and warm welcome as his wife
Stephanie (pretty, fair-haired and American) ushers me in. Michael hands me a glass of red
wine (who told him?) and nips off to take the curtain calls. Once back, he can take
a quick swig himself and relieved on the costume by his dresser, he settles in front of
the mirror in a towelling robe and starts to reveal the real face under the greying wig
and pallid mask.
As we begin to talk, I feel as if I am in the company of an old friend, although in fact
we have only met once before - in Dublin in 1994 - but this is an Irishman and I, who spend a lot of time in Ireland,
know the warmth of the people very well. I can’t recognise particular regional accents however, so which part produced
this tall, broad-shouldered hunk with the glorious voice?
‘I was born in Turner’s Cross in Cork and went to a normal Catholic school, not very enthusiastic about the arts
unfortunately, but I used to sing in Cork in the Vienna Woods hotel. I’d written a song on which my mother sang
the harmonies and one Sunday night,
the resident pianist suggested I should audition for a group called
the Montfort Stage Company. They were a semi-pro group who did most of their shows in the
Cork Opera House. I thought I’d go along and was waiting for about an hour. It turned out the director of this
theatre group thought I was one of the member’s boyfriends, so he’d ignored me and I was sweating it out wondering
what was going on. But that’s how I started and then I went on to get a teacher’s diploma with LAMDA and I
was teaching in Cork for about a year.’
Having appeared in leading roles in many Irish productions including Camelot and Mame, Michael
wanted to further his education in the business and his opportunity to do so arrived while he was in yet another
musical, No, No, Nanette. The choreographer, Michael Sims, suggested that he send over his tapes and
CV to Stephens College in America, which is very small and intimate.
‘All the teachers there are ex-Broadway and know their stuff. The fees are $26,000 (£16,250) per year and I
was a scholarship student for three years. That was incredible but sometimes I wondered why I was doing it.
It was academic work in the morning from 8.30 and then classes. When your business major was finished,
then your psychology major finished and then you had to go to rehearsals.at 3.30 if you were cast in a play.
If you were not cast, you had to go and build sets. They worked you hard, but looking back on it, it was a great
experience.’
He graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in theatre arts to add to his ALAM with honours from LAMDA.
It was, he says, great training for doing something like a West End run. He’s rarely off and has a reputation for that
level of reliability. So with two qualifications under his belt, he took off to a lake in Northern Iowa called Okoboji
by which is one of the oldest Summer Stock (repertory) theatres in the U.S.
‘People like Joan Crawford and Sally Fields studied there and to show you how far out it is, it was mentioned on
The X-files! We did up to nine shows in ten weeks. You were rehearsing one show during the day and
playing another one at night, all the time working with Broadway directors and Broadway guest artists, so they
were full-scale professional productions. Everyone complained and bitched that they were working us too hard.
Sunday morning was the only time we had off and then at midday, you were back in to strike the set - which could
take until 3 am.’
The dressing room lights begin to flicker on and off. No, it isn’t the Palace ghost, but the stage door staff warning us
not to outstay our welcome. Having explained that, Michael fills our glasses and continues.
‘I once had to strike the set in the early hourse before giving an interview on the radio at 7.30. I was booked to
talk to an Australian Radio station about our productin of A Little Night Music in which I was playing count
Carl-Magnus. Afte only four hours sleep, it was hard to be positive and I found myself saying “Oh yes, it’s wonderful,
wonderful” to every question! You can tell I’m not great in the mornings - not many actors are when they work
in theatre.’
At the end of his engagement, Michael came over to London, found himself a little flat in Brewer street and began to
look for work. He had one contact in London, Larry Oates (sadly no longer with us) who got him on the audition
list for Anything Goesand for Les Miserables. On the Wednesday, he had to sing ‘Who is that man,
what kind of devil is he?’ and on the Thursday, ‘I know too well’ in a totally different style. So what happened?
‘I was offered both shows! Larry advised me to go for Les Miserables and John Barrowman got
Anything Goes. So I played Combeferre and the Factory Foreman for a while before Cameron Mackintosh
asked me to play Javert on the tour, which was really nice as it was going to Manchester, Edinburgh and Dublin.’
Dublin was a particularly busy time for Michael. Coachloads of people came up from Cork to see him and he was kept
busy with the publicity machine of stories about the native-born Javert. There was a back-stage bar which was,
Michael says, ‘a brilliant thing where we mixed with crew and musicians and we all talked to each other and knew
what we were about, so we never needed rehearsals. Backstage after the show, people would appear and say
“I’m your sixteenth cousin once removed” or somesuch and you’d be saying “Oh, really?” and you were off again.
It was quite exhausting but I love talking to people.’
He’s a very sociable man, enjoying his red wine (but never before the show) and in Ireland, his Murphy’s - he
certainly isn’t bitter! The lights are flashing again, so rather than be plunged into darkness, we take ourselves
off to Michael's favourite Chinese restaurant. It’s just a quick walk from the theatre and we settle ourselves in the
empty downstairs room for some privacy. Michael is a regular and obviously popular customer, dealing with the
ordering for us before recounting a bit of fun they had with the walk down of Les Miserables one Christmas.
‘I wear that great long coat, so I left my trousers off and wrapped the tricolor round myself over the black shorts I
wear under Javert’s trousers with the idea that as I walked back upstage I’d do a bit of a flash at the cast coming
downstage and get them laughing. But I’d forgotten that the coat has that great vent up the back and as I ‘flashed’
upstage, it swung open and audience got the full benefit of my tricolored rear end with bare legs and boots.
The joke was on me!’
After the tour of Les Miserables, Michael joined the short-lived Out of the Blue which had a
memorable, although somewhat confusing, cast. (How many 6’2” Japanese people do you know? How did a
Japanese man and a white woman produce a black daughter?) It had some great music but just did not work.
‘People don’t usually like to talk about flops, but I’m proud of that one. I was asked two or three times and turned
it down at first. Even once I agreed, I then swapped roles with David Burt. We had three weeks of previews and had
only played for three days before we were actually given our notice. My agent spent all the commission on an opening
night meal - I think he felt sorry for me! We had a great time eating oysters and drowning our sorrows. All the critics
were coming past our table and giving the show the thumbs down. But I am still good friends with many of the people
involved, particularly Simon Neaves (musical director) and Chris Walker (arranger) to this day and proud of the way
the cast worked together to the last second of the last performance.’
Michael is also known for his work in concerts. With the RTE Concert Orchestra for the 1994 Dublin Proms
he sang Rodgers and Hammerstein, including the very difficult 'Soliloquy' from Carousel. With the same orchestra,
he took part in the Celebration for Jack Charlton. He was also in the V.E. Day concert in Hyde Park and, at the
request of the Queen, changed the lyrics from ‘wet themselves with blood’ to ‘soiled themselves with mud’
as it was felt that the former was not very celebratory. It was, he says, a good day with terrific hospitality in place
backstage. He was involved with Living on an Island which is reviewed in this issue and with the glorious
Gershwin concert which aired on BBC 2 on New Years Eve. Apart from the one album already released,
he has stockpiled material for two more, but likes to concentrate on one thing at a time.
‘I’ve struck up a bit of a partnership with a guy who owns his own studio in Devon and I like the creative process
involved. At the moment, we’re working on something that he’s written and it is up to me to decide where we go
with it vocally. I like his lyrics and I like the stories that are in his lyrics. We’ve been working on it for a couple of
years and it is a really good experience.’
It promises to be a pretty special album when it comes out and the good news is that after Les Miserables,
Michael has another concert planned for the spring. But you won’t find him racketing around in London nightspots
waiting to be recognised. He’s much too down-to-earth for that nonsense.
‘I like to be a regular person, I don’t like to be put on a pedestal. My free time is spent doing normal things
like eating, drinking and talking to people. Stephanie and I take our dog for walks. And I love to cook - I make a
great garlic and potato soup which is perfect for cold weather. You start with two whole heads of garlic, a pile of
potatoes, olive oil, stock cubes and six pints of water - - ‘
Sounds good to me, especially in the winter we’re having.
Lynda Trapnell