Madam Chair, Members of the board, Headmaster,
teachers, parents and above all fellow Campbellians,
thank you very much.
Wow… you’re a handsome lot aren’t you? It only
feels like a short while ago I was sitting where you
are listening to someone else’s story. But it’s been
20 years since I left … 20 years … don’t they go by
in a blink … I hope that makes me qualified to talk
to you today.
First of all, let me congratulate all those here today
who have won a prize. You should feel extremely
proud of yourselves.
It is such an honour for me to be invited back to talk
to you fine folks. It’s really wonderful to be back in
this old hall - it holds very fond memories for me; a
place steeped in so much history – we need only look
at the many faces on the walls, these ghosts, to be
reminded of that. And to remember what a privilege
it is to go to school here. Not everyone has that
opportunity in life. We should never forget that and
hold it dear in our hearts as we move forward. Ne
obliviscaris, as the old motto goes.
Campbell wasn’t just where I went to school; it was
also my home. I don’t mean that in any poetic sense,
it literally was my home…My dad Michael Caves was
a boarding housemaster/math’s teacher/rugby
coach here for many years and my mum Naomi
taught the little ones in what was Cabin Hill. So we
(my brother, sister and I) grew up on site. These
buildings, these fields were my playground. And
what a playground it was. I was hugely into sport, so
you can imagine, I was in heaven. I used to play
touch rugby with the boarders on the grass area in
front of the McKinney’s old flat – gone now. Not the
McKinney’s - they’re still going strong, thank
goodness - what was our pitch is now the new
boarding dept. It’s changed so much since my time
here. But that’s life. You gotta roll with the changes.
As I said, dad was a rugby coach and fanatical about
it to boot, (pun very much intended) – he started
coaching the 1sts back in the dark ages when they
still used a pig’s bladder for a ball, then when the
knees went a bit he took on the Medallion XV (he’s
not here so I can say this). This was really the only
time we crossed paths in school. He was a math’s
teacher you see and I was beyond hope when it
came to mathematics. He tried his best to get me
there but I just couldn’t see it. I got a B at GCSE
(which was a triumph for me) and never looked
back.
So, Dad gave me a framed speech, which hung on
my wall for many years; in fact it hangs on my wall
to this day. Some of you will know it I’m sure, it’s
called You’ve got to pay the price and the words
belonged to Vince Lombardi – coach of the Green
Bay Packers American football team during the 60’s,
leading them to great Superbowl success. Now, I’m
not going to read you the whole speech, it’s a locker
room speech; you know the score, we’ve all heard
ones like it in films, and I bet some of you here today
have been on the end of a few yourselves. His main
point is that the price of success, of winning, is hard
work and total commitment to the cause at hand.
Which in turn means sacrifice. He says,
“Football is a lot like life in that it teaches that hard
work, sacrifice, perseverance, competitive drive,
selflessness and respect is the price you must pay to
achieve any goal that is worthwhile”.
Now I certainly never played competitive sport to his
level, but I admire the sentiment behind these words
enormously and, moreover, I think they are very
relevant to whatever career you go into. Notice that
he doesn’t mention talent. How’s that? Surely only
the most talented people succeed? I’m afraid not. It’s
not just about talent. Talent comes further down the
list. He swore by the three A’s my dad – attitude,
attitude, attitude. The motivational guru Zig Ziglar
(what a name) said, “your attitude, not your aptitude
will determine your altitude”. Having an ironclad ‘will’
that simply refuses to give in. And that usually
means you take the guy or girl with the heart of a
lion over the brainboxes. “But”, continues Lombardi,
“if you’re lucky enough to find someone with a lot of
head and a lot of heart, they’re never coming off the
field second”.
So I’d say to you boys – whatever you choose to do
with your lives commit 100%; do it with your whole
heart. It may sound corny but if you can look
yourself straight in the eye and say, “I tried my
absolute best and I know I’ve done a good job”
then that’s the greatest prize of all. So those of you
here today who did not win a prize but tried your
best, I congratulate you too. Keep on keeping on, as
John Lennon sang.
My journey to becoming an actor was unexpected
and it went against the grain. Big time. I’d been put
through an expensive/extensive education to come
out the other end ready for a “real” job… So it was
most unexpected for my mum and dad…”he wants
to be a what? An actor?? God help us! David wants
to be an actor, we’re very worried about him…” On
some level, they probably thought I had failed them
or worse, that they had failed me. Of course, this
couldn’t be further from the truth. They supported
me both financially and in spirit every step of the
way. I owe them and my grandparents a heck of a
lot. Harry S Truman said,
“ I have found the best way to give advice to your
children is to find out what they want and then advise
them to do it”.
Food for thought.
I left Campbell with 3 A-Levels and being on course
to become a teacher and follow in the family
business, so to speak, I went to St. Andrews
University to study Mod Langs. Part of my degree
course was to teach English in French schools near
the Swiss border - terrifying; utterly terrifying, to be
dropped in a foreign land, totally alone with
everything I owned in 2 bags… My spoken french at
that stage was poor. My spoken Norn Irish wasn’t
much better. I didn’t open my mouth for about 3
weeks. What I did do was listen, observe and pay
attention to everything. Then slowly, slowly I came
out of my shell and joined the party. What am I
saying? You just have to take the plunge sometimes
– Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid
… Well, I think they did.
It was relatively late in the day, I guess, when I
decided acting was for me. I caught the bug at St.
Andrews doing every play and musical going instead
of translating the French medieval literature I was
supposed to. I sweated blood over those Grease
auditions – the triumph in landing the role of
Kenickie felt better than any graduation day.
Something had been ignited in me. Daniel Day-Lewis
calls it “the fire within”. And when I returned from
teaching in France, I knew I owed myself the chance
to give it a go.
A lot of actors say they always knew it was what
they wanted to do. Not so for me. I had no idea of
the how. How did you go about it? I’d heard of RADA
but how did anyone go there? Didn’t you need to
have loads of cash? Didn’t you need to be part of an
acting dynasty? How would a skinny wee lad from
Belfast get in there?? Well, he wouldn’t as it
happened...I tried though. God loves a trier right? I
went to Lamda instead – I’d RADA go to Lamda, as
the saying goes – Rada go to Lamda… keep up…My
partner Lisa is here and she did go to RADA but
nobody’s perfect… Well, actually she is to me. And
you should see this girl act…boy oh boy
So I went to Lamda and did a 2-year postgrad.
You’re there to learn and hone your craft. They
teach you voice, movement, physical theatre, text
excavation, introductions to Shakespeare, phonetics,
which the linguist in me found fascinating – a whole
term spent trying to do a Geordie accent and all I
can say is ‘Kentucky Fried Chick’n and a photocopier’
(can you count the glottal stops in that sentence?
Answers on a postcard). But mainly they focus on
getting you primed and ready to go out into the big
bad industry and make a living.
In all honesty, it took me a while to find my groove
there, but once I let go I had a good time. I was
quiet, I was painfully shy (still am) – I didn’t speak to
a girl till I was about 25!!! And there was a lot to
take in for a wee Belfast boy but it was good for me
because you had to let go of your inhibitions and be
free. Get up, have a go, put yourself out there and if
it didn’t work, so what? What’s the worst that could
happen?
More than anything, I think drama school brought
out a courage in me I didn’t even know I had.
As important as it was, and as much as I enjoyed
my time there, most of the learning comes after.
Most learning is done in hindsight, I think. You’ll
leave here and years later something one of these
poor, long-suffering members of staff said to you will
suddenly hit home …and you’ll say ‘that’s what Mr.
McKee was on about in English class! Finally I
understand!’ I might say that it was Mr. McKee who
introduced me to poetry and it’s only now as an
actor that I’m fully grateful that he did. “Between my
finger and my thumb, the squat pen rests, snug as a
gun …” Seamus Heaney. Wonderful stuff. Thank
you, Mark.
And what about you artists sitting out there - what
do scary words like success and failure mean in an
artistic context? Sure, an artist can be deemed
“successful” by peers/critics but what does that
actually mean… Money? Fame? Number of Twitter
followers? I think the true artist doesn’t do it to be
famous or to get rich (trust me, there are quicker
ways!) but because it’s in their soul; they sort of
have to; and Soul Food is usually a good measure of
success. I think it’s worth saying though at this
juncture that focusing too much on success can be
a dangerous game. Someone once said that success
is like the mountain that keeps growing ahead of
you as you hike it – be careful you don’t miss the
little things along the way. Life’s really about the
little things. There’s nothing bigger. As for failure,
well, it’s just a word. Never a person. Listen, being
an artist has always been difficult because
inevitably, somewhere along the line, it involves a
struggle – do I nobly pursue my art to feed my soul
even though at times I literally can’t feed myself?
Some of you may know that a few years back I
landed a job in BBC’s Silent Witness. For those of
you that don’t, this year marks its 20th season and I
play a cage-fighting forensic scientist. What, you
don’t know any? To some this marks my ‘lucky
break’ – success, if you like. But before any of that, I
travelled the world doing plays with a theatre
company called Cheek by Jowl, busting a gut for 8
shows a week; I was unknown to the industry and
getting paid peanuts, but here’s the point - I didn’t
have much money but the soul food was rich and
that is a rarity in the acting world, believe me,
maybe in any world.
CBJ’s director and my mentor is a brilliant man
called Declan Donnellan – and no, I’m not talking
about 50% of Ant & Dec (that’s Donnelly – he gets it
all the time). He taught me many many things about
acting, to be sure, but really his teachings are like a
user’s manual for life and I’d like to just share a few
with you if I may - 1. Get rid of the ego - It’s not all
about you. The best times come from fulfilling other
people’s needs, not your own. 2. Look out not in –
take your inspiration from the outside world not the
inside you. Out there, the possibilities are endless;
in here, they are limited. 3. Don’t be afraid – fear is
the biggie – it’s like bindweed that just keeps
growing if you let it. So when fear rears its ugly
head, boot him behind where he’s out of sight.
It was Declan who made real what I already knew in
my heart to be true and encouraged me to see the
world through the artist’s eyes. I think that’s the role
of the actor - to see things. Not only to see things
but to see them as they really are. We live in a mad
world, and it’s hard to use that word specifically, but
it’s actually mad. You only have to turn on the news
to see that. So we need artists more than ever to see
things as they really are because nobody else does.
If you want to be an artist, in fact whatever you
want to be, never view your own work as a failure.
And don’t let anyone else try to convince you that it
is either. We can waste a lifetime self-critiquing,
being too hard on ourselves and others, when
actually we need to move beyond judgment to
acceptance. The great Persian poet Rumi wrote,
“somewhere out there, beyond ideas of right and
wrong, there is a garden. I’ll meet you there.”
We’re all acting really. To quote my friend Declan
one last time, “Living well means acting well. Every
moment of our lives is a tiny theatrical performance”.
Shakespeare wrote it in “As You Like It” when
Jacques says,
“All the world’s a stage
And all the men and women merely players
They have their exits and their entrances
And one man in his time plays many parts”
Look at your teachers; they’re acting, aren’t they? –
Think about it – they’ve prepared their own script,
they stand in front of an audience (you) all day long
putting on a show, hoping you’re paying attention to
their chosen topic and occasionally telling someone
to switch off their mobile phone…. That’s acting,
folks!
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not encouraging you all to
be actors – God forbid – there’s too many of us out
there as it is and I need all the roles I can get! But
there is an undeniable connection between acting
and life which takes us back to those words of
Lombardi - words like courage – be bold and mighty
forces will come to your aid; commitment – commit
to the role you play/the job you do; truth – whatever
it means to you strive for it everyday; respect – for
yourself and others; attitude – never give up. Find
that best side of yourself - nurture it and share it
tirelessly. Don’t waste time, start now. In the
immortal words of the late, great Mr. Bowie, “Give
me your hands cause you’re wonderful!”
People say that your school days are the best days of
your life, and I know it’s hard to believe that when
you’re here, but it really is true. So to those of you
staying on, make it count.
And to you young men going out into the world, with
your whole lives ahead of you – I wish for you the
greatest of success, whatever that success means
privately to you. Nobody else can make that call –
enjoy, relish and embrace the choices you make.
And if and when you mess up, because we all mess
up – admit it, own it and move on.
Look up from your phones; make human
connections, not virtual ones. It isn’t about how
many Twitter followers or Facebook friends you
have. None of that matters; it’s who you are as an
individual on this planet; the way you see the world;
the footprint you leave behind. Be daring; be
different - and the big one - amongst the highs and
lows, please don’t forget to be kind. Kindness is a
dying art and the single most important quality in
this world and one that is sorely lacking.
I’ll leave you with some words that inspired me when
I was starting out….
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who
points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the
doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit
belongs to the man or woman who is actually in the
arena; whose face is marred by the dust, the sweat,
the blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes
up short again and again; who knows the great
enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself
in a worthy cause. Who at best, knows in the end the
triumph in high achievement; and who, at worst, if he
fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his
place shall never be with those cold and timid souls,
who know neither victory nor defeat.”
Good luck, thank you for listening and please join
me in thanking and celebrating the unsung heroes –
the teachers, the coaches and your parents.
.