Tara Fitzgerald promises to be a name we shall hear more of after
her dazzling stage debut last week in Our Song. The new toast of
the theatre talks to Robert Gore-Langston
It is not often that the theatre sees a genuinely dazzling debut, but
Tara Fitzgerald last Wednesday woke up to the sort of reviews she might
have written herself. The collective critical nostrils clearly scented
a star in the making during her performance in Our Song, the play
by KeithWaterhouse which opened at the Apollo Theatre on Tuesday night.
It is not as though she has been struggling away in the provinces before
she got this West End break. Extraordinarily, the opening of Our Song
was the first time that she had ever walked on stage in front of a paying
audience. Aged 24, two years out of drama school and with limited television
experience, she is now nightly holding her own against one of the profession's
most daunting listed ruins, Peter O'Toole. She is strikingly charismatic,
which has helped. Her vibrant personality comes with brunette, Kate Nelligan-ish
looks; her voice is a sexy baritone. One critic commented on her as a femme
fatale, which Tara defines as a woman who smokes but never has alight.
Whatever, matches certainly seem to be the key ingredient in Waterhouse's
witty play, in which an advertising executive crosses the generation gap
in romantic pursuit of a footloose young thing.
The show is really an adulterous odyssey, Send in the Clowns providing
its bitter-sweet theme tune.Since their affair is conducted on a diet of
booze, cigarettes and sex, one could justifiably accuse it of being an
upmarket replay of Waterhouse's extremely successful Jeffrey Bernard
Is Unwell(in which O'Toole also starred), only this time with champagne
and luscious crumpet. The last few weeks have been a whirl for Tara Fitzgerald,
bringing the show from Bath to London. The fact that the theatre business
is new to her is demonstrated by her endearing lack of First Night savoir
faire. Her bouquets sit around in their cellophane wrappers; her dressing
room - she seems to live out of carrier-bags - is reminiscent of a student
bedsit.
Refreshingly, she hasn't developed yet that tedious interest in her
own inner self that many actresses like to explore in interviews. You get
the impression that Tara Fitzgerald would rather have a drink and a laugh.
In fact she seems unsure of how to react to her overnight sensation. What
about those reviews? 'It's actually a bit like reading about someone else.'
she says. She is certainly keeping a scrapbook. 'You wouldn't believe the
money I spend on newspapers and magazines - for sentimental reasons. I
want to remember what all this has been like in a year's time.'
She may, of course, be out of work by then. Glowing reviews and showbiz
awards can be the kiss of death for promising newcomers, though in her
case one doubts that will happen. Our Song started life as a novel.
Tara Fitzgerald has so far worked on two other modern novels for television
-as Polly the twin-fancier in The Camomile Lawn (by Mary Wesley),
and as an inebriate seductress in Angus Wilson's Anglo-Saxon Attitudes.
She was noted - without her name being remembered - for sporting herself
in sex scenes in both, much to the delight of the tabloids. Indeed, nudity
has become her television trademark.
'It's a wonderful publicity pitch for the producers,' she says. 'I suppose
they've used me, but I've used them too. I don't need to do it. I don't
have a Godiva complex or anything!' she explains. She doesn't appear naked
in Our Song though she probably wouldn't mind if she had to. Michael
Redington argues she is a rare and once-in-a-generation discoveery. Being
the show's producer, he would say that. But the evidence of a natural-born
talent is in her performance, during which she effortlessly gets through
a lavish wardrobe in over a dozen high-speed costume changes. She combines
a moody resentfulness towards her prey with a crackling sexual voltage.
Above all, she is quite staggeringly self-assured for someone with no stage
experience.
'If I am going to fall in love with her, there has to be a reason,'
O'Toole is reported to have said when the hunt was on for the right actress.
O'Toole, Redington, Waterhouse and the director Ned Sherrin formed a committee
to choose the right girl. They auditioned scores of hopefuls. Tara Fitzgerald
was shortlisted and attended her fourth audition with a vicious stomach
bug. 'I was really green - I could hardly look people in the eye. I felt
they all thought I was the actress doing the heroic "I'm not at all well,
darlings' bit. Peter recommended I get some charcoal tablets.'
The tablets worked. The avuncular committee instinctively chose her.
'They've been great to work with. Peter has been really encouraging. It's
strange to think of all those people who have generated a real chemistry
but actually hated each other - Vivien Leigh complaining about Gable's
bad breath, that sort of thing. But Peter's wonderfully relaxed to work
with. He's like a floppy doll. I think if I had been with nervous or amateurish
people, it would have all been very different.'
Was Peter O'Toole, though, her type in real life: 'I don't have a type,'
she retorted with inspired diplomacy. Her Anglo-Irish background has many
theatrical connections. The Norman Rodway was once her stepfather and her
great aunt is Geraldine Fitzgerald (who was in the Olivier film of Wuthering
Heights), so she was brought up used to the company of actors at home.
Her mother - her domestic anchor in a boyfriend-less life - was, she claims,
always convinced of her showbiz aptitude. 'My name means "star" in Sanskrit,'
she says, laughing at the notion. One of the interesting things about her
performance in Our Song is the obvious empathy she has with the
lost, coquettish character she plays. 'I know plenty of people like Angie
in the play. She's very like an actress - in that confident, showy way.
Like her, I was a great party girl. Nightclubs have that nether world feel;
they are for lost people to go to and have an identity for an evening.
My drama school changed all that, but that clubby girl thing was me for
a while.' The future is more television drama; she has resisted so far
the blandishments of Hollywood after her success in the film Hear My
Song. She has an American agent, but she says she uses the film scripts
sent to her as jotting pads by the phone.'
Even in these difficult times, it is hard to imagine her fading away.
In the unlikely event that she does, she will long be remembered as the
girl whose debut made one hell of a splash.