When Penny began to have difficulty getting outside on her own, I bought her doggy diapers and a little doggy stroller. Every night before bed, I’d wheel her out of my Cardiff flat and into the elevator, with Tiger and Lewis tagging along behind, and we’d all troop onto the Roald Dahl Way at Cardiff Bay, where we’d take a stroll. I’m sure we made quite a sight – a man, two dogs and a beautiful blonde spaniel stretched out in a padded stroller, leading the way.
One night, Scott and I came home after dinner and Penny was having seizures. We knew it was time to do the one thing I did not want to do: say goodbye to one of the first loves of my life. Before there was Scott, before there was fame, before there were any other dogs, there was Penny. She’d grown from a puppy to a mother4 to the Grande Dame of my household. As I established myself in the theatre world and then in television, Penny shared in all my successes.
Scott drove to the vet’s office while I sat in the back seat, with Penny wrapped in her favourite blanket on my lap. In the car, she had another seizure, and I did my best to hold her even tighter. She nestled into my lap for a few minutes, and then the weirdest thing happened. She suddenly let out a sad, mournful howl, as if she knew death was near. I’m not sure how Scott and I made it to the vet’s office through our tears.
Penny’s favourite treat was fresh chicken slices from M&S. The day before she died, Scott had wanted to make Penny feel better, and he’d given her more chicken slices than she usually ate. As we were driving to the vet’s, Scott tried to tell me through his sobs that he may have inadvertently killed her with his sliced chicken.5
When the vet was ready to give Penny the injection, I cupped her little head in my hands, and I put my face right up close to her snout. I gently blew my breath into her face and I whispered over and over to her she was a good girl, my good girl. I knew Penny couldn’t see me clearly anymore, but until she slipped away, I made sure she could smell me, and that she knew I was with her until her end.
All our dogs have had very distinctive personalities. Of the three in the family now, Harris is the baby brother of the crew. He’s black and sleek, with boundless energy. He charges into everything – including regularly raiding the laundry baskets for socks and underwear that Scott and I later find spread across the lawn or dropped in the pool.
Charlie, our newest rescue dog, is the eldest, and is certainly the most neurotic of the three. He freaks at loud noises and is frightened of any confrontations with other dogs. When Harris is being too rambunctious, Charlie looks down his long regal nose at him, turns, and bounds away.6
Captain Jack, our Jack Russell, a rescue from Cardiff Dogs Home, had been abandoned in an apartment and was discovered only because his bark was so loud. Jack is the family thug, and a maniac for playing football. If you bring anything that looks even remotely like a ball into the house, you will have CJ at your feet the entire time, nudging you to play with him.
It most definitely doesn’t have to be a real ball. Whenever Carole took a swim in the pool during a recent visit, she’d don a black Speedo swimming cap, which Jack would then chase up and down the length of the pool, barking as he went, because her head looked – to him – like a ball skimming across the water. When she turned, he’d try to bite at her noggin. It was hilarious to watch.7
Tiger, a rescue from Dogs Trust, joined the Barrowman–Gill household in 2006. He was a gorgeous, red-haired spaniel, and he was certainly the grumpiest dog we ever had. He was only with us for about a year and we did our best to love him madly. Whenever we’d lift Tiger a certain way – to put him in the rear of the car or to help him up on the couch – he’d nip at us. Scott and I always assumed his mild aggressiveness was because of his past experiences. He’d been abandoned at a dogs’ home.
The night Tiger died, I’d been filming Torchwood. When I came home, I was having a lie-down in the bedroom. Tiger climbed onto the bottom of the bed and settled against my feet.
I’ve always believed that animals can be more sensitive and more connected to the natural world than we are. As many of you may know, I’m also very superstitious – and what happened next has always seemed like an omen to me. As I lay on my bed napping, a hawk swooped across the bay and flew against my window. I sat up, startled, and when I did, I noticed that Tiger was panting heavily. When I checked his gums, they were very pale. I knew he was in distress.
Scott and I took Tiger to the clinic immediately. One of the worst moments for me as a dog owner was when I had to leave Tiger overnight in that stark vet’s cage. I didn’t want him to think he was being abandoned all over again. As I reluctantly made my way out of the clinic, I kept calling back to him that we’d return, and that when he was well, we’d bring him home. I promised.
The next day, after exploratory surgery, the vet called and told us that Tiger was riddled with tumours. He’d likely been bleeding internally for a while. This explained why he’d always been so sensitive when we touched him. Poor Tiger had been ill for months. He died on the operating table that night, and never got to come home. I felt terrible about that for weeks afterwards.
Scott was alone with Lewis when he died seven months later. I was filming I’d Do Anything and I was on a training mission with all the Nancy contestants in central London.
Lewis had been sick for about a year with various cancerous tumours. He’d been having regular blood transfusions and glucose injections and all sorts of other treatments, and, bless him, he kept fighting back. Some nights, when he seemed to be fading away, Scott would pour a couple of teaspoonfuls of thick sweet yoghurt onto his hand, and Lewis would lick up every drop and then almost immediately he’d rally for a few hours. For a long while, Scott had been the primary care-giver for Lewis in London because I was filming Torchwood in Cardiff and was travelling back and forth a lot.
The day before Lewis died, Scott had come home and found Lewis particularly lethargic. He packed him up and headed to the vet, hoping another transfusion might help, but the next morning, when Scott went in to collect Lewis, the vet told Scott that Lewis had had a seizure in the night, from a blood clot that had migrated to his brain.
While I was finishing up filming the segment with the Nancy contestants – on a boat on the Thames, out of phone reach – Scott was saying his final goodbyes to Lewis. Scott remembers that Lewis was lying on his side in the vet’s cage, paddling his legs in the air like he was trying desperately to get up and escape out of there. Lewis looked so distressed that Scott knew he had to make this decision for Lewis as quickly as possible, even if it meant that I couldn’t be there with them. Scott climbed into the cage next to Lewis and as the drugs dripped into Lewis’s line, Scott recited in his ear all the silly gibberish phrases that had been their secret language for twelve years.
When Scott was finally able to reach me on the boat, we’d just docked. I told the contestants what was happening and Jodie said, ‘Fuck this stuff and go to your family.’ I knew then for sure she was something special.
The loss of Penny and Tiger devastated both Scott and me, but Scott was especially gutted by the swift deterioration in Lewis’s health and his death. This is one of the reasons why one of our newest family members, Harris – a black spaniel like Lewis – is being completely spoiled by Scott.
Penny, Tiger and Lewis were cremated. We sprinkled most of their ashes in all the places they loved in Florida and in London, and the rest we spread under a tree in our garden in Wales. We miss them all, and feel blessed that they enriched our lives.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘A NIGHTINGALE SANG IN BERKELEY SQUARE’
★
‘You’re an impossible thing, Jack.’
The Doctor ‘Last of the Time Lords’, Doctor Who
Six and a half amazing things about playing Captain Jack
1 He has changed my life.
2 He has touched the lives of millions.
3 He got me a ticket to ride in the TARDIS (and to straddle it).
4 He brought me face-to-face with Davros (sti
ll get chills).
5 He introduced me to ‘Sarah Jane’.
6 He introduced me to Catherine Tate.
61⁄2 And did I mention I got to be in, on and near the TARDIS?
Prometheus, the Greek god, stole fire from Zeus, gave it to humans, and allowed them to use it to establish civilization. Because, you know, it’s hard to invent the wheel, write poetry, make art, sing songs and dance when you can’t cook your dinner and your toes are numb. Because of Prometheus’s generosity – the whole bringing ‘light’ to humans thing – ordinary men and women back in the days of myths and stories considered him to be a pretty good god.
Unfortunately for Prometheus, Zeus was pissed at his disloyalty and his challenge to authority. Prometheus had to be punished. Poor Prometheus was chained to a big rock, where an eagle was sent to eat his liver.1 As if this wasn’t bad enough, because Prometheus was immortal, every day his liver regenerated and the eagle would swoop back and have another nosh.
As Captain Jack’s character has developed over the years, I think he’s becoming a twenty-first-century Prometheus, and in ‘Children of Earth’, the allusions and connections are even stronger. Both Prometheus and Jack are cunning, smart and immortal.
Before hard-core Woodies protest, yes, I know the debate. Technically, Jack is not immortal because he can die … he just doesn’t stay dead. He rises, and he resurrects, and I realize that this may make him more Christ-like than Promethean, but I think that’s quibbling. Plus, I think the darker, roguish qualities in Jack’s nature make him more rebel than angel; however, I wouldn’t rule out Russell T. Davies’s connotations of either in Jack’s make-up. After all, every culture from ancient times onwards has myths of men and women who sacrifice themselves for the good of others and then reappear, resurrect, or – like the Doctor – regenerate.
To continue: in one version of the myth, Prometheus is chained naked to a rock face. In ‘Children of Earth’, Jack is chained naked to a rock wall. This was a gruelling scene to film, mostly because, although I could struggle against the chains, I had to be held in one place.
I made sure I had some fun with these nude scenes too, though.2 Before the filming of series three began, Euros Lyn, the director, asked me if I would be okay getting naked on camera.3 If you’ve watched ‘Children of Earth’, you’ll know that Jack is naked for most of the sequence that begins in the military jail cell and ends in the quarry where Jack, with Ianto’s help, breaks out of his tomb.4
The scenes in the jail cell were filmed first, and a few days before we were due to begin, Ray Holman, Torchwood’s costume designer, asked me if I wanted a jock.5 As you may know, I have no issues about baring my bum, but I did think about it for a beat or two in deference to my colleagues and the crew. However, in part of the sequence, viewers would see Jack in all his glory from behind. Ray, Euros and I therefore decided that if I were to wear a flesh-coloured jock, the strap of the jock would need to be digitally altered in post-production, so as not to affect the aesthetic of the scene.6 So why bother? The three of us concluded it wasn’t worth the hassle, and I declined Ray’s offer.
(As it turned out, though, costume and I still had to do a little tucking on the day of the shoot, because when Jack rises from the ashes and faces Gwen, Ianto and Rhys, ‘my boys’ were clearly visible.)
The temperature on the day we were set to film was typical of the Cardiff climate: bloody cold. After the set designers did their initial prep work of the scene, they realized the problem I was going to have was with a different set of balls – the balls of my feet. The rocks were razor-sharp, and after Jack emerges from his tomb,7 he must walk barefoot towards Gwen, Ianto and Rhys.
While the cameras weren’t rolling, a strategically placed towel covered my bare bits. As far as Gareth, Kai Owen (who plays Rhys) and Eve were concerned, underneath that towel was a jock – worn to protect their innocent eyes when Jack rises up8 from the rubble and walks towards them.
Cameras roll. Sound runs. Action.
Jack climbs naked out of the rubble and walks towards his rescuers, who, if you watch the scene very carefully, are not just smiling broadly because they’re thrilled that Jack is back and in one complete piece, but because I failed to tell them9 that I had decided not to wear a jock. Their expressions are priceless, and they get even better when they try not to acknowledge that I have Always sanitary towels with trimmed wings stuck to the bottom of my feet.
The relationship between Jack and Ianto has grown over the series to become one of the strongest plot threads that you’ll see in any dramatic TV show, and I’m so proud to be part of it given that it’s between two men. In ‘Children of Earth’, the subplot and the banter surrounding Jack and Ianto’s couple status brought humour and pathos to the episodes. I particularly loved the fact that in ‘Children of Earth’, the writers presented viewers with two distinct relationships at different points in their evolution – Rhys and Gwen contemplating buying a house and Gwen’s pregnancy, and Jack and Ianto becoming a more public couple – and each was given the same emotional depth.
Fans have been devastated by Ianto’s death and the tearing asunder of this iconic TV relationship. As a fan and as Captain Jack, I share their sadness, I really do – but I also like to think that Ianto and Jack’s groundbreaking relationship will have set precedents for similar partnerships to be created in other TV shows. Plus, never underestimate the power of an imagination, especially Russell’s. Who knows what (or who) is in Jack’s future?
Nevertheless, the filming of the scene in which Gwen identifies Jack and Ianto’s bodies was a heartbreaking one to film for the three of us.
The moment needed lots of tissues and a bit of humour to get Gareth, Eve and me through it.
Cameras roll. Sound runs. Action.
Gwen kneels next to Jack’s draped body, which is spread out among all the dead from the 456’s attack on Thames House.10 She steels herself against what she’s going to find. She gently lifts back the sheet. And I pop up in a fake beard and moustache, belting out ‘Everything’s Coming Up Roses’ – with jazz hands.
Another poignant and brilliant experience I’ve had on a set as Captain Jack was the filming of ‘Journey’s End’: the finale of Doctor Who series four. All the Doctor’s companions – Catherine Tate’s Donna, Billie Piper’s Rose, Noel Clarke’s Mickey, Freema Agyeman’s Martha, Elisabeth Sladen’s Sarah Jane, and Jack – came back to help the Doctor save the world … again.
I never feel complacent about filming on Doctor Who – because no matter how many times I’m invited back, for a big or small part, I’m thrilled. I love the fact that Captain Jack has become a mate of the Doctor. Every time I step on the Doctor Who set, time morphs for me to late on a Sunday night in front of a TV in a small suburb of Chicago, and I’m ‘Wee John’ curled up on the couch – with a cushion poised for maximum scare coverage – watching the Doctor battle Daleks, Autons and Davros.
For me, playing Captain Jack on this episode in particular, and in the series in general, has given me many memorable moments. One such was when all the companions were standing unified on the TARDIS, and we were all controlling it. Unless there’s some kind of special anniversary episode in the future, when we all lumber onto the set with our zimmers leading a charge, such a gathering will never be seen on the TARDIS again.
Another was the moment when Sarah Jane and Jack came face-to-face with Davros. For my money, Davros was always more diabolical than the Master, darker than Darth Vader, and more evil than the Joker. Davros is the pinnacle of villainy, and Jack and the Doctor kicked his arse. How cool was that?
I realize that writing this next paragraph may plunge me even deeper into the valleys of geekdom,11 but here goes anyway. I think the scene where Davros shoots Jack and he falls, and the Doctor, and everyone else watching, knows that Jack can’t die, is an immeasurably important one when it comes to the Doctor’s perception of Jack and their relationship. By using Jack in this way, the Doctor is finally admitting that Jack may not be a c
ompletely ‘impossible thing’ after all. The Doctor has finally accepted Jack for who he is – no longer only a ‘fixed point in time and space’, but a complex, deeply flawed, compassionate … human being. As a Doctor Who fan, filming this scene was like playing with live action figures – and I was one of them.12
Liz Sladen, who plays Sarah Jane, and I were standing together on set when Davros first came out from effects. Instinctively, I grabbed her hand and immediately she squeezed mine back. Davros freaked out both of us, and for a few seconds we stood and stared in terror as he moved in closer and began to speak.
The first time I met Liz was a couple of years earlier: I was in the lift going up to my flat in Cardiff Bay, which was also where she lived when she was filming The Sarah Jane Adventures. I apologized for my gushing even before I’d gushed.
‘I’m really pleased to meet you. I’m a bit gobsmacked that I’m standing in front of Sarah Jane.’
‘The feeling’s mutual,’ she replied. ‘I love Captain Jack and John Barrowman.’
I offered that maybe Jack could do some work on The Sarah Jane Adventures some day, because I think they’d have good fun together, and I meant it. They would have an intriguing chemistry because Sarah Jane doesn’t like or use violence and, well, Jack does.
Then there was the day I first met Catherine Tate, on the Doctor Who set. One of the ADs said, ‘Catherine, this is John Barrowman.’
I couldn’t help myself. I walked right up to her and said, ‘Aw … rieeght,’ mimicking the yob character she made famous from The Catherine Tate Show.
I regretted it immediately. I wished for a black hole to open up and swallow me right there – or, better yet, I thought about crawling inside the TARDIS, seeing the light and letting myself be disintegrated. Instead, I put my head in my hands, and moaned.
David Tennant stepped up next to me, and in a hushed voice he said, ‘Don’t worry. We’ve all done it.’
I Am What I Am Page 17
