PAUL: Hello, and welcome
to Regrets I've Had a Few.

I'm Paul Hunter, Artistic Director of
Told by an Idiot, and this is a podcast

where I talk to friends and colleagues
delving into what made them

the person they are today.

Hello and welcome.

My guest this month
is a writer with a unique voice

and a captivating theatrical imagination.

A long-term member of the extraordinary
Cornish theatre collective, Kneehigh,

his work has been seen across three
continents,

and he has most recently been
collaborating with us, Idiots,

on his own wonderful adaptation
of the classic horror comedy,

The Cat and the Canary.
Welcome, Carl Grose.

CARL: Hello Mr Hunter.
Thank you for having me.

PAUL: Hello, Carl.

This is obviously rather strange
because I'm sitting in the rehearsal room

at Chichester, which is now empty.

Everyone's gone over for tech.

It feels like some strange horror thing
is going to come and attack me

while I'm doing this Zoom,
but I'm sure of - I'm sure it won't.

Anyway, more of horror later.

Carl, it's wonderful having you with us.
Thank you so much.

I'm going to start as I always
do with my guests, and I'm going

to take you right back, if I may,
to your first live theatrical experience.

What did you see?
Where was it?

Was it with family or at school?

How did it all start?

CARL: I think the big one that I
can remember is, of course, Kneehigh.

I remember seeing them me being
from Cornwall, Kneehigh was part

and parcel of the cultural landscape.

I think I was 13.

I think I went to see a show
called The Last Voyage of Long John

Silver, and we went with our school
in the old Truro town hall,

which is now the Hall for Cornwall.

But it used to be this big old barn
of a place, very old, creaky hall.

I think we went on a matinée for school,
and I think I'd heard of Kneehigh.

You know, I sort of knew of them,
but that was definitely the first one

that I saw and I guess
the first show that I remember.

It was very interesting.

I absolutely loved it.

I didn't know who anyone
was at the time or anything like that.

I just went to see it.

When I eventually got to meet a few years
later, Mr. Mike Shepherd, founder

of Kneehigh, I said, "Oh, my first show
was The Last Voyage of Long John Silver".

He went, "Oh, that one wasn't very
good, that one." But it was brilliant.

It was this really strange…

It was about Long John
Silver, sort of, but I can only

remember certain characters.

There's a few things I remember
that really affected me.

One was that in the interval,
I bought a can of Lilt from the-

PAUL: Pineapple crush, as I think of it.
CARL: Yes, exactly.

I bought a can of Lilt, and we got back
to our seats and I didn't get to open

my can of Lilt until after the lights
went down and part two had started.

I'm going somewhere with this because
it was a formative moment and I was like,

Oh, God, I haven't opened it.

I tried to open it really quietly.

The part two had started and
I opened the can.

Of course, it was absolutely in a moment,
the one moment of pure silence.

All of the actors in this big, a couple
of hundred people watching and I went…

All of the actors, these Kneehigh
players, all stopped and turned out

into the audience and looked at me
and the audience laughed.

I guess I cite that as the first time
I was in a Kneehigh show.

Because they all stare at me.

Even though it was a silly
moment, I went, Oh, they can do that.

They looked at me.
That's what I think.

They didn't ignore it.

That was lesson 1.

The other amazing thing in the show was at
the end, it was all set on this island,

I think, and there was this big countdown
to an atomic explosion.

Long John Silver, I think it
was him, at the end, there was

this big, huge explosion.

Then on stage, I'm remembering this
- there's probably a lot more imagination

going on in this than I remember.

I'm remembering it with much more
bells and whistles on it.

But this character was standing on stage
and this giant skeleton hand,

which was bigger than him,
you hadn't seen this before in any

of the show, came from out behind the pros
arch, came across the stage and grabbed

him and dragged him off stage.

I couldn't believe that that idea
existed and also that they had hidden

this giant puppet hand with
the whole show and that it happened.

That really blew my mind.

I remember fighting heavily for a moment
in the show that I wrote Dead Dog

in a Suitcase for Kneehigh, where
at the end, I don't know if you remember,

but there was the end of the world, and
then there was this giant skeletal dog.

The dog has been traced through the show,
gets killed at the beginning, and then

you see it in various puppet forms.
Then it had this thing.

I had to really fight for that
because it was hard to design,

and they didn't know, it was expensive.

But I kept going back to that moment
when I said, Look, it's really about when

I first saw Kneehigh, I want some kid out
there to go, "whoa, look at that image".

It all came from
that long John Silver moment

of just knowing that they had hidden
this thing, and it was this surprise they

kept at the end to blow you all away.

PAUL: Well, that's a brilliant early memory.

What a theatrical encounter it was, and
obviously we'll talk later about Kneehigh

and your brilliant work with them.

But yes, I can totally
understand why opening the can

of Lilt was a big theatrical-
That's all it took.

What's a Can of Lilt?
Exactly.

Opening a can of Lilt,
set you on your track.

That's how, yes, we'll return to that.

You grew up in Cornwall, of course.

Was there any sense of theatre
or show business in the family at all?

CARL: No, my dad was a motorcycle
mechanic, and my mum worked in

a residential home when I was a kid
and a waitress and care assistant.

They were very non-theatrical.

My dad often said that
my granddad, his dad, who I never

met, was very theatrical.

But in a way that I think he
spent a lot of time in the pubs of Truro.

My dad I just said, "Oh, you're like him.
That's all right."

PAUL: The mystery of your grandfather.

CARL: I know, yeah, who I never met.

Apparently, he was very…
PAUL: Tell a tale, I imagine.

CARL: Yeah, exactly.
PAUL: As indeed you do, rather brilliantly.

But I suppose I'm interested in, at 13,
you see this brilliant Kneehigh version

of Robert Lewis-Stevenson classic.

At what point does - I assume,
performing comes first before writing?

Was it a desire to perform?

CARL: No, I mean, I had latched
into writing in primary school.

I remember the last
year of primary school.

I mean, this is only looking back
on it, but in the last year of primary

school, I remember my first moment
where I couldn't stop writing.

It was a story.
It was a short story.

PAUL: What was it called?

CARL: I can't remember.

I can't remember what it was, but again,
it was another of those wonderful moments

I was, I think, like possibly all of
us who do this stuff, I was blessed with

a very astute, observant teacher who…

This is only looking back
on it, but Mr. Butchart was his name.

He was in the final class of primary
school, and we had to just write a story.

I can't remember what it was,
but I remember not being able to stop.

I just couldn't stop.
He said, "Okay, pencil's down.

We're now going to move on to…

We're going to do some maths now".

I went, "Oh", like that.

He put his hand my shoulder
and went, "You can carry on, Carl".

Even then, he knew that I
was a horrific over-writer

and- desperately wanted to carry on.

I often thank him for that, he
spotted it quicker than I did, actually.

PAUL: Also, what a wonderful simple gesture
to make, a very simple thing

"you can carry on, Carl".

That's a brilliant way of encouraging.

I love the idea that you
wrote and couldn't stop.

I think that's a fantastic…

So writing's there
from a very early stage.

I suppose at what point did you think, is
this something I could do professionally,

writing performing, whatever?

What was the journey?

Did you go away to college or to study?

Or how did that next step happen?

CARL: A number of things converged, I suppose.

I was really into writing.

Like I said, it wasn't theatre.

It hadn't come into my head,
really, at that point.

But I was reading a lot of
Stephen King as a kid, and I thought I

want to be like Stephen King.

I want to write horror novels.

That, he was, still is a huge inspiration.

I suppose, really, what
I really got into was cinema.

I was, as a kid, reading that stuff,
watching things I really

shouldn't have been watching.

That was a real inspiration.

I wanted to make films.

I was very interested in the idea of
I'd like to write and make my own films.

But when I got to...

And I also did drama.

I did GCSE drama and met
some mates in secondary school.

When I got to sixth form, when there was
theatre studies, it was really...

I mean, there was no film courses
or anything, really, when I was...

Back then, there was one or two, and I
tried to get into a couple

of them, but didn't manage to.

But weirdly, when I was doing theatre
studies, I was like, well, I can write

something and I can direct something
and I can get some friends together

and we can tell this story.

But it's just not with cameras.

It's this thing called theatre.

I started doing that, really,
in sixth form when I wrote my first play,

which was called Bile, which when
I was about 16, they had this brilliant…

It wasn't part of the class, really.

It was an extracurricular thing.

If you wanted to, you could
ask and write your own thing, and

they gave you, I think, 50 quid budget.

That was the first play
I wrote, and I really loved it.

That was the beginning
of writing for theatre.

Then at the same time, I was in things,
and then me and my friends formed

a little theatre company in Truro
and I would then write something

every summer and we would all
cast of sometimes 20, 30+.

We'd all mooch around from,
book some village halls and just turn up

and no one would come and see it.

But we just did these shows for nothing
around the village halls of Truro.

PAUL: It sounds like some wonderful Cornish
Commedia troupe travelling through

Mevagissey and all of these places.

There's more people
on stage than in the hall.

What's it?
CARL: It was definitely that.

PAUL: I like that.

Inevitably, we return to Kneehigh
after your experience with the can

of Lilt and the skeleton hand.

How and when
were you invited to join the company?

What were the circumstances?

CARL: Well, I was doing A-Level Theatre Studies.

The RSC did a brilliant youth theatre
project across the whole country,

which was called the Antigone's Project.

They were doing the Greek plays, and
they split the UK down into six regions.

Cornwall was one of them.

Each region would get a local director
and a local playwright and students

from all the different sixth form
colleges doing theatre studies.

One or two would be chosen to join this
big group, and then we would make a piece

of theatre inspired by Antigone, which is
a play about youth versus authority.

The brief was it had to be
about where you were from.

There was Cornwall, there was
London, Scotland, Solihull,

bizarrely was the other region.

PAUL: I can't imagine there's
much youth against-

CARL: I was invited by my teacher.

PAUL: No, I was about to say, I can't
imagine there was much youth

against authority going on
in Solihull, but I could be wrong.

Anyway, back to Cornwall.

CARL: Yeah.

I was lucky enough.

Another great teacher nominated me.

I really didn't want to do it.
I was very shy.

I was, I really didn't want to go off
on my own to do this big year-long

project, but I did do it.

Our director and writer, our director
was Mike Shepherd, who founded Kneehigh,

and our playwright was Nick Darke.

I was just getting to know them,
and I'd seen Nick's play that, Nick

had just started working with Kneehigh.

He'd come back from London,
and they'd done Ting Tang Mine, and they

were starting to do very exciting things.

That was all snowballing
as an interest for me.

I got to meet them.

Then we did this brilliant series
of workshops over a period of months.

Then Nick wrote this play called Hell's
Mouth, a brilliant comedic satire

about Cornwall set in the future.

I have to now admit, I didn't
know where this was heading.

PAUL: I saw Hell's Mouth.

CARL: Really?
PAUL: Yes.

CARL: Back in - ages ago.

PAUL: Maybe it was a revival then because when I
joined Kneehigh for the first time

in the 2000, so 24 years ago,
and I took over in The Red Shoes,

there was a version of Hell's Mouth
because I remember Mike on a motorbike

coming -but that also was a revival
of the original, I assume.

CARL: Yeah, that was Yeah, that was a revival.

They did a landscape
theatre version of it.

This one, we're talking '92 here.
I've still got a t-shirt.

We did it in 1992.
God done that.

I've got the t-shirt.

It was this wonderful piece of
youth theatre about Cornwall, we did it,

toured it around Cornwall and took it to
the other place in Stratford upon Avon,

and we saw the other shows as well.

It was a wonderful thing.

That's where I met Nick
and I was starting to write.

I'd written my first play, Bile, and
I'd given that to him to read, and he was

very lovely and enthusiastic about that.

I didn't quite know this,
but I think they liked me.

Mike liked me.

When I then went on to form
my own little theatre company and we were

doing our own shows, I had written a play
called Scorched, which was probably

inspired by Hell's Mouth earlier.

It was about Cornwall and the ice caps had
melted and Cornwall was now an island.

It was this weird, there's the last
surviving members of Cornwall

hanging onto this pinnacle of rock.

The last show, Nick and Mike
came to see it, and at the end, Mike

came backstage and he said,
Oh, that It was really great.

I went, "Oh, cool".

He said, "Yeah, we're doing Nick's new
play, The King of Prussia".

I went, "Oh, yeah".
He said, "Yeah.

Somebody's dropped out
and we're looking for someone".

I said, "Oh, yeah".

I said, "Well, I'll keep an eye out".

PAUL: Put the word out.
CARL: Exactly.

He said, "No, no.

What about if you do it?" I was like,
"What?" I was like, "Oh, God".

I just started to go
to Dartington College of Arts.

I'd just done this first year.

Anyway, needless to say, I left Dartington
College of Arts and joined Kneehigh.

That was the first show, really.

That's how it came out of the
youth theatre show and knowing Nick

and meeting Mike and all that.

PAUL: Then the incredible journey began.

As you say there, the relationship with
Nick Darke and that ongoing relationship.

I imagine in the early days, some
brilliant mentoring that was going on.

CARL: Absolutely, yeah.

PAUL: Then, as I just mentioned,
my My first encounter with Kneehigh…

Actually, it wasn't my first.

My first encounter with Kneehigh
was when I auditioned for a Nick Dark

play, The Riot at the National.
CARL: Yes, right.

PAUL: I didn't get it.
Mike was directing.

I often remind Mike of this.

Anyway, I didn't hold it against him.

But Emma and Mike then invited me to
go down and join the company of The Red

Shoes, and we did it in the Acorn.

No, what's that theatre?
CARL: I remember.

That's where I first met you.

Didn't you rehearse it
in Mevagissey in the Jubilee Hall?

PAUL: We did.

Coming back to our first meeting, you were
touring a version of The Three Little

Pigs, I think, at the time.
CARL: Oh, yeah.

PAUL: Then you came and watched
a run through and we met.

I think we obviously
retired to the local pub…

Well, probably one that
your late grandfather had gone to.

We really clicked.

I think even then, I think we were talking
about movies and various things.

Then, of course, our paths, you
were always in and also indeed writing

some extraordinary work for Kneehigh,
Tristan and Yseult, The Bacchae.

I'm remembering Cymbeline,
of course, which you were in

and you adapted from the Shakespeare.

Obviously, that starred
our wonderful friend and colleague,

Hayley Carmichael, who set the Idiots up
with me and is currently in The Cat and

the Canary, more about that in a moment.

I'm remembering you telling me
that some audiences in Stratford

weren't so happy with how
you'd adapted it, if you believe.

Because there was obviously,
it wasn't a straightforward version.

I loved it.
I thought it was a wonderful production.

But you did make me laugh when you told me
about how some of the audiences reacted.

It reminded me of a film which you know I
love, the great Ernst Lubitsch movie,

To Be Or Not To Be, set in 1942 when
the Germans have invaded Poland,

and it's all set within a Polish theatre
company,

and one of the actors is full of vanity,
and another character says

to her at one point, says,
"What the Germans have done to Poland,

you have done to Shakespeare".

CARL: That is literally what, I won't
I'll say what was written down because

it's a bit disgusting, but we did receive
some feedback cards from our audience.

PAUL: Along those lines?

CARL: It was very much along those lines,
but a little bit more…

aggressive

PAUL: We don't need to go there.

However, of course,
our paths then run parallel.

Occasionally, I'd be invited to be
in a Kneehigh show, we'd hook up again.

Then I remember we were invited
as the Idiots to do a version of Beauty

and the Beast at the Lyric.

At that point, I thought, actually,
it'd be great to work with Carl,

and brilliantly, you were up for it.

We collaborated with a wonderful
company, Lisa Hammond, playing

Beauty, Javier Marzan as Heineken
the dog, I seem to remember.

That was the beginning of a
collaborative relationship, I suppose,

which brings me to the question, because,
of course, you

brilliantly collaborate with Kneehigh,
you collaborate with us, but you also

write very, very brilliant
individual plays, which is you.

How do you find that balance
between something more collaborative and

something more singularly driven by you?

CARL: I suppose the plays, they're
more personal.

They're certainly much more difficult.

They take 10 times longer to write.

I love them because they are a challenge.

I really love creating original stuff.

But as you know, it's great fun
to take something that pre-exists

and find your own show as we're doing
with The Cat and the Canary.

Our show feels like a new show, but it's
like we do have, you know, my adaptation

of John Willard's original play, which
provides a foundation, at least.

But with the plays, you are having
to create a foundation as well.

It does take longer.

But I suppose I find an outlet through
those plays talking about Cornwall

and identity and my family.

I suppose they're just
a bit more personal, really.

Yeah, a different world
to explore in a way.

PAUL: I adore those plays that
you've written, and obviously

the relationship with Simon Stokes.

Plymouth was where I encountered him
and a strong, brilliant,

strong relationship between the two
of you, a director to writer.

I remember being invited
into a workshop on your Grand

Guignol, which was wonderful.

I suppose what feels, what I've always
loved in those plays, and indeed,

when I collaborate with you, is a fierce,
poetic anarchy that runs through a lot

of what you write, which I like,
and it's always often very funny.

I suppose it brings me to a late Kneehigh
show, which is one of my personal

favourites, which you mentioned,
Dead Dog in a Suitcase, which was

a reworking of The Beggars Opera.
Is that right?

CARL: Yeah, that's right.

PAUL: I just thought it was such
a brilliant political - it was

quite moral work in a way.

It was quite interesting,
but wildly theatrical.

I just wondered how you approached
reimagining the John Gay original with

that because it felt like such a unique
piece of work when I saw it on stage.

CARL: Yeah, that one was a real...

That was a very important show
for me in terms of Kneehigh

because I wrote my own plays.

Then in Kneehigh, I also…

If I was in a village hall,
I did a lot of the village hall shows

with Mike, which were very anarchic
and just three people on the road.

Sometimes I would just provide a,
a structure, or I'd write bits

or we'd all write bits.

Then I would write a lot of stuff for Emma
as well, which was always very bespoke

to her production.

She would have the story
or the folk tale or whatever,

and I'd go in and write stuff.

But Dead Dog was really important,
I think, for me because it felt like

a colliding of writing for Kneehigh,
but also writing for myself

and writing those plays.
I was given...

I asked.

I said, I would love much more time
to write something because time is what

we have, and I don't need to write this
in a manic six weeks before rehearsals.

If I had more time to write, I feel
like I could really develop the world.

The Beggars Opera is a musical,
so it was the first time, really,

that I had to figure out
how to write with lyrics as well.

I mean, I'd done one or two songs
in there, but there was

like 45 songs in the show.

I think some of them,
maybe two or three lines.

But it was a really thrilling
and really brilliantly nerve-wracking

experience because Charles Hazlewood,
who came to us with the project,

he wanted to compose it,
and he knew The Beggars Opera inside out.

He didn't know, really, he was like,
well, this is new to me.

I said, "I've never written
this amount of the lyrics before".

But we really, in the spirit of,
let's just go for it, we went for it.

PAUL: You really went for it, Carl.

Trust me, I saw it a couple of times.

I think that's one of the
things I loved about it.

The same to Mike, I think,
wonderfully directed by Mike as well.

CARL: Yeah, absolutely.

PAUL: I suppose another thing which brings me
to The Cat and the Canary, I think one of

the great things about your writing is I
think actors really love your writing.

I can see it in the room as we've been
working this and the space for people

to play and the opportunities for
them to play within what you've written.

Do you think you, having spent many years
performing has influenced that or not?

I don't know.
CARL: Yeah, absolutely.

I think the big piece of advice, I was
already doing it, but the big piece of

advice Nick Darke gave me was you got to
be an actor before you can write plays.

It just happened that's the way it
played helped.

I write stuff that I would want to…

When I'm writing, I do act it out.

You want to make sure
that it's fun for people to play

and that it has a rhythm and give people
particular moments and things like that.

Yeah, it's definitely…

PAUL: Two things about that.

Coming back to the great Ernst Lubitsch,
apparently when he made all his films,

he would demonstrate to the cast
how, exactly how, he wanted it

played in the scene.

So he would play every character
to Jimmy Stewart, The Shop

Around The Corner and all.
It always makes me laugh.

But it brings me to a little question
on regrets, tie in with our title.

Do you have any regrets about not
performing anymore, or is that

a thing of the past now?

CARL: I do a bit.

There was a period when
I stopped and I was like,

I very much enjoyed just writing.

I think I really love writing,
and it's what I do now.

But just recently, I've gone...

I just had a little like,
Oh, maybe I could do it.

Because I was actually offered a part
in my own play over the summer.

I wrote a play called
The Kneebone Cadillac and we did it with-

PAUL: I'm glad you didn't have to audition.

That would have been even harder.
CARL: Well, maybe I might.

I did actually audition to play myself
in a radio play.

Claire Grove, radio producer, I said,
"Well, obviously, I'd written myself into

this radio play called 49 Donkeys Hanged.

She said, "Well, who are we
going to get to play you?"

I said, "Well, I could do it".

She went, "Well,
you might have to audition".

I think she was pulling my leg,
but it was a bit of a desperate moment.

PAUL: You got there in the end.

CARL: I got there in the end, yeah.

But I almost was in Kneebone
and I thought, That'd be brilliant.

But the logistics of it were a bit tricky.

But that was the first time
I realised I was like, Well,

maybe I should just have a little part.

PAUL: You've obviously piqued my interest, Carl,
so I'll have to have a think.

Carl, it's been great chatting.

I like to end our episode in a particular
way which revels in your love of horror

from an early age, and indeed mine.

We've probably watched,
I'm a bit older, but similar

times, films we shouldn't see.

One of which I remember watching
when I was about 10, perhaps, was

Nick Roeg's film, Don't Look Now, which
scared the bejesus out of me when I was-

CARL: Yeah.

PAUL: I always said the thing
that scared me most in that film wasn't

the little figure in the red macintosh
and some of the more overt horror.

What really frightened me was the two
women, the two older English

women, one of who is blind,
and she says she can see the dead girl.

That really freaked me out.
Anyway.

CARL: Yeah, likewise.

PAUL: I'd like to finish with
a little horror quiz for you, if I may.

CARL: Oh, okay.
Blimey.

All right.

PAUL: There's seven questions, I've tried
to mix them up a bit, but here we go.

Question number one,
starting with Nick Roeg.

Nick Roeg's masterpiece, Don't
Look Now, is based on a short story

by which famous Cornish-related author?

CARL: Daphne Demaurier.

PAUL: Correct.

The terrifying movie, The Babadook,
was written and directed

by which Australian artist?

CARL: Jennifer Kent.

PAUL: Correct.
These are too easy Carl.

What is the name of the character,
Shelley Duvall plays in The Shining?

CARL: Wendy Torrance.
PAUL: Correct.

In Jacques Tourneur's 1942 extraordinary
film, Cat People, the central character

comes from which European country?

CARL: God, I was going
to watch this at the weekend

because I haven't seen it for a while.

France?

PAUL: No, Serbia.

I'm glad we caught you out with one, Carl.

We couldn't have a clean streak.

Which two actors star in
the 1982 remake of Cat People?

CARL: Oh, Nastassja Kinski?
PAUL: Yes.

CARL: I haven't seen it.
There's none I should say.

Nastassja Kinski, I know, is in it.

No, I don't say Susan Sarandon,
but she's in The Hunger.

PAUL: No.
I'll have to give it you.

Malcolm McDowell.

CARL: Oh, right.
Okay.

Yeah, I didn't know that.
PAUL: It's worth a look.

It's not as good as the original,
but it's worth a look.

What instruction did Alfred Hitchcock
give to audiences before they saw

his seminal film, Psycho?

Well, I think there's two things.

I'll give you a point for
what you're about to say, I think.

Say what you're about to say.

CARL: I'm sweating now, Paul.
PAUL: You were about to say you couldn't what?

CARL: Say it again, sorry.

PAUL: Sorry, you were about
to say they couldn't...?

CARL: They couldn't leave?

Was it that they couldn't leave?
PAUL: No.

He said two things.
CARL: Or talk about the ending?

PAUL: Yes.

Please don't reveal the ending is one.

The other stipulation was,
It is required that you see Psycho

from the very beginning.

CARL: Okay, yes, of course.

PAUL: That was it as well.

Finally, in Told by an Idiot
and Chichester Theatre's co-production

of your wonderful adaptation of The Cat
and the Canary, which character

says, "Thank God, you're alive".

CARL: That is Susan Sillsby, isn't it?
PAUL: Correct.

CARL: To her niece, Cicely.

PAUL: To her niece, when she comes
out of the secret passageway.

That's all I'm giving away listeners
about The Cat and the Canary.

CARL: No more spoilers.

PAUL: Carl, it's been wonderful chatting.
Thank you so much.

I will see you in about 10 minutes time as
we go to start our technical rehearsal.

But thank you very much.
Brilliant.

CARL: Thank you, Paul.
Great stuff.

PAUL: Cheers, mate.
All the best.

PAUL: Dear listeners, if you've enjoyed this
Idiot podcast, please spread the word..