The Black Rider has turned out to be something of an epiphany for everyone involved: it has certainly given me opportunities in a world which has always excluded the ‘musical theatre’ actor.

The original audition came from John Cannon, casting director of the RSC, who had seen me at the Bridewell in Songs For A New World, a timely reminder that you never know who is in the audience! The filmed auditions were both strange and oddly nurturing. The video tapes were then sent to Robert Wilson (the Director) in Indonesia, Bent Klausen (the Musical Director) in Denmark and Tom Waits and the ACT Geary Theatre in San Francisco. Marianne Faithfull was already on board and by the time of my second audition, talk was that Robert Downey Jnr would also be in the cast. This could either be heaven or hell, I thought!

Come the first day of rehearsals at the Barbican, I joined a cast who were a veritable melting pot of different disciplines.

Robert Wilson joined us into the second week of rehearsals. He is a tall man, physically intimidating, with a contained, intense and powerful energy. He speaks slowly and passionately interspersed with a cough or a sigh. Most unnerving of all, he is not afraid of silence! His vision is pure: tremendous physical tension is demanded along side a relaxation of breath. Angles of arms, fingers and even eyes are exactly choreographed. Yet within this tight box of direction, I found great freedom. In audience talk back sessions, I would later use the analogy of a Bonsai which is allowed to grow and attain beauty within the confines of its clipped roots. “Listen with your eyes” was a favourite and typically cryptic maxim of his. He is attracted to opposites: tension and release; form and freedom; silence and explosion. He holds these opposites within himself: behind the serenity there always appears a held violence.

He has no time for naturalistic theatre, it being, in his eyes, the domain of film and television. “Theatre”, he demands, “should have its own language”. He immerses the audience in waves of symbol, texture and colour (there were more than 700 lighting cues). His is also the theatre of betrayal, rather than cosy entertainment.

In the rehearsal process he shared his vision thus:

“There are three ways ‘the following moment’ can be played

- this moment can either perpetuate (be the same as the previous moment)

- illuminate (enhance or explain the previous moment) or

- betray (undermine the previous moment).”

It is his choice always to betray. His definition of a charismatic actor suggested an artist who could go any of these three ways at any given moment. He is both wonderful teacher and extraordinary director.