by Joe Allan
During this time, he was, remarkably, still getting a few job offers and, although he was not landing any major film roles, he took the work where he could get it. He added his voice to the video game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City and returned to television after an absence of almost five years.
Danny was not coping well with what he perceived as a dramatic decline of his clout as an actor. He saw it as a professional fall from grace and his ego took a bit of a beating as he struggled to come to terms with his lowered status within the industry. His dissatisfaction came to a head when he accepted a role in an Asian television drama, Second Generation, which saw him acting alongside Parminder Nagra, star of Bend It Like Beckham.
Danny performed most of the made-for-TV film drunk or under the influence of one drug or another. On one occasion, he even invited a couple of his friends to the set with him. Between takes, he’d return to his trailer and rejoin the party, only pulling himself together when he was needed back in front of the camera. Again, the financial restraints that exist on most productions meant he felt confident he was irreplaceable once it was up and running. He was right, but he failed to realize what his bad behaviour was doing to his reputation. It’s relatively easy to avoid being sacked from a job you already have, but soon Danny would find himself considered virtually untouchable by many casting agents and directors. As with most occupations, but particularly true of acting, there’s always someone coming up on your heels who is just as talented. Danny looks back at this time in Straight Up, saying, ‘I feel truly sorry about the way I treated people back then, but I wasn’t myself. I would never disrespect the other actors, the crew and the viewers like that nowadays … The only explanation I can give is that I was dying inside without my family around me.’
It’s safe to assume that the phone in Danny’s agent’s office had not been ringing quite so frequently once stories of his drunkenness and drug use on set had begun to spread through the close-knit British television and film industry. One can imagine a state of high alert erupting when anyone did ring asking to be put in touch with him. But it was one unexpected call to his agent that would see his acting career scale heights unforeseen from his current nadir.
Danny’s relationship with Nick Love – who had given Danny a much needed helping hand by casting him in his debut picture, Goodbye Charlie Bright – had been professionally satisfying and the pair had got on well during filming, but in real terms any friendship had all but ended after their time together on set. The film’s relative financial failure had stalled Love’s career as a feature director for a couple of years and he was only now in the position to start work on his second film, a warts-and-all look at the controversial subject of football hooliganism titled The Football Factory.
Danny was a little shocked that a call from Love had come via his agent, rather than directly from the man himself, but he dismissed any initial suspicions as Love attempting to maintain as much of a serious approach as possible. He headed to their arranged meeting, at The Groucho Club in central London, with a sense of excitement, eager to catch up with Nick and perhaps discuss any upcoming projects he had in the works.
The meeting was a short, sharp shock rather than a happy reunion. It was immediately obvious Love was not the same carefree, affectionate and encouraging man he had worked with two years ago. Love instantly pulled a script from his bag and threw it on the table in front of Danny. In The Films of Danny Dyer, Danny recalled Love’s words: ‘F*****g read that. I can’t offer it to you now because you’ve become unreliable, and the producers don’t think you’re going to turn up every day.’ He explained that he was willing to fight for Danny, but he would only hire him if he cleaned up his act and auditioned alongside everyone else. With that, Love left. Danny was gobsmacked, and rather than ending the night in another drink- and drug-fuelled haze, he headed home.
As he travelled back to Stratford, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of hopelessness and began to sob uncontrollably. Love had delivered the ultimate wake-up call. The emotions engulfing Danny at that precise moment – the recognition that his reputation was in tatters, coupled with the regrets about his personal situation – delivered the spark he needed to reignite the fire in his belly.
As soon as he started on the script, it hit him like an armoured truck: this was the film he had been working towards his whole professional life. Danny devoted every waking hour to reading, re-reading and dissecting it. He was determined there would be no one in the audition room more prepared than he was; they were not going to steal the role of a lifetime from under his nose.
In the end, Danny faced stiff competition from one other actor, a relative unknown by the name of Tom Hardy. Although Love had levelled the playing field, insisting the best man on the day would win the role, when it came to The Football Factory audition, Danny had a distinct advantage – he was working class and knew these characters inside out. He’d spent time on the football terraces; he’d grown up surrounded by the ever-present undercurrent of danger that could erupt at a moment’s notice and he understood the heady mix of exaggerated masculinity, violence for violence’s sake and the unquestioning loyalty you were expected to show towards your own. Hardy’s parents were artists and writers and he’d received formal acting training at drama schools in London. While that might stand him in good stead later in his career, in this case it worked against him, and he failed to convince the producers that he could deliver the same raw edginess and simmering aggression Danny had shown in his audition.
Danny knew this role could be his last chance to fully realize his early potential. He had been thrown a lifeline by one of the few people who truly believed in him and knew how to snap him out of the self-destructive rut he had fallen into.
After an agonizing wait, Love called Danny and confirmed he had landed the role of Tommy Johnson, the lead character in The Football Factory. In his book, Danny recalled the director’s typically blunt words: ‘You’re in, boy. You f*****g dare turn up late once, or pissed, and I will punch you in the mouth.’
For Danny, this was more than just the relief of landing his dream job; it was a chance to get back on track and validation that he still had at least a little clout as an actor. He knew his reputation had taken a battering and was determined to use The Football Factory as his rehab. He was painfully aware he couldn’t mess this up and threw himself, heart and soul, into the job at hand. He (more or less) gave up alcohol and drugs, determined not to allow anything to distract him or lead him astray.
Danny was introduced to the other actors, including Tamer Hassan, who would play Millwall Fred in the film. Hassan owned Greenwich Borough Football Club and allowed Love to use it as a location for much of the film. He was a straight-talking South Londoner who had witnessed the Millwall football hooligan scene in his youth, and he and Danny hit it off immediately. After feeling like an outsider for so long, alienated by his working-class upbringing, Danny was eventually meeting people in the industry who shared a similar background to his and who he felt comfortable with on and off the film set – and that started with the director.
With The Football Factory, Love was trying to shine a light on a subject few people fully understood. Football hooliganism was not something that touched the lives of the average person, save for the odd sensational tabloid headline or shocking piece of news footage. Love wanted to explore a phenomenon that saw normal family men leave home on a Saturday afternoon, lose themselves on the terraces and in the pubs surrounding the stadiums and then return home to their wives and children for dinner.
Love bravely used several real football hooligan gangs as extras on the movie when it started shooting in April 2003. These were truly dangerous characters – as if to illustrate their involvement in the violence sometimes associated with the sport, some still had their police tags on and others were awaiting trial. Complete with their beer bellies, tattoos and missing teeth, they were what gave the finished product its unique authenticity and meant the set could be a lively and unpredict
able place. Danny, always keen to be ‘one of the lads’ when filming, was, for him, in the unusual position of trying to keep clean and sober at work. He would hang out with the gangs, who’d turn up with their cans of beer and cannabis, but only take a sip of what they offered, pouring the rest away when they weren’t looking. There was certainly a bubbling rivalry between the rival groups, but it was all carefully diverted by Love and his team of stuntmen into the film’s many action-packed fight scenes.
The director’s major achievement with the film was managing to translate the unexpectedly affectionate bonds between these violent men, their camaraderie and the loyalty they show one another. As with Goodbye Charlie Bright, the film was essentially a love story between two men – two straight men, but a love story nonetheless.
The whole experience was an unmitigated success for Danny. He was back, recharged and firing on all cylinders. He summed it up in Straight Up, saying, ‘The film was a complete joy for me. I jumped out of bed every morning just to get on set.’ Compare this to the Danny who had been struggling to even get to work just six months earlier and it’s easy to see that he had finally learnt an important lesson: acting and drugs are not a good combination.
Danny had been right to put everything on the line for this film. He was a revelation in the role. His character, Tommy, feels trapped by the culture of hate and brutality he is a part of, questioning his place in a cycle of violence where danger lurks around every corner. It’s a complex portrayal of a young man torn between accepting what he knows and his desire to break free from his fate, and the film saw Danny deliver his most accomplished performance yet.
Danny’s enduring reputation as a hard man has its roots in this film, but he is adamant that this character, and the many that followed, couldn’t be less like the real him. In his autobiography, he states, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever started a fight in my life. I’m an easy-going bloke and proud of it.’
The Football Factory would eventually be released on 14 May 2004 to modest success, turning a reasonable profit within its first few weeks. The box office may have been adversely affected, however, by an unusually large number of bootleg copies of a rough cut of the film being leaked prior to release, but many believe this was a deliberate attempt by the film-makers to build an early buzz around the film.
It worked, and the picture hit a chord among its target audience. The movie’s tabloid-baiting subject matter saw it attract more than its fair share of newspaper column inches and it provoked discussions and fierce debate on the subject of football hooliganism that lasted for a long time to come.
The real legacy of the film was cemented as Danny, Nick Love and other key members of the cast embarked on a publicity tour that saw them showing the film to confirmed football hooligans all over the country, holding question and answer sessions afterwards on their respective home turfs. Eventually becoming a cult classic on home video and DVD, the movie sparked a wave of imitators and copycat titles, but it still stands up today as the definitive big screen exploration of the football hooligan phenomenon and so-called ‘thug culture’.
The film saw Danny’s fan base, and the fame and attention that accompany it, increase exponentially. He had just about become used to the unique crowd that worshipped Moff, his Human Traffic character, but The Football Factory’s hardcore were something else. These were not peace-loving clubbers, they were real hard men, and an altogether much scarier crowd.
Professionally, making the movie put Danny back on top of the world. And it wouldn’t be long before his personal life was similarly back on track.
His relationship with Joanne had hit rock bottom during the previous twelve months. He was still trying to be a part of his daughter’s life, but was almost completely estranged from her mother. It had reached the stage where the former childhood sweethearts wouldn’t even acknowledge one another when Danny turned up at Joanne’s house to collect Dani. As time went on, both Danny and Joanne had started seeing other people. While Danny admits his relationships away from Joanne were mostly casual affairs, with girls who liked to party and wanted to be seen with a version of the man they recognized from the papers, he’d finally realized the only woman he really wanted to be with was Joanne, the mother of his daughter. Joanne, on the other hand, had started a more serious relationship, hoping that by moving on she could give Dani greater stability and a degree of normality in her home life. Eventually, their frosty relationship began to thaw as Danny persevered in his attempts to restart some vestige of cordiality. Danny started to feel some of the old spark the couple had shared when they first started dating back in their teens return and he was finding more and more excuses to visit Dani, while secretly hoping to spend more time with Joanne as well.
In a bizarre twist of events, the pair, who were still both involved with other people, started having an affair. They were sneaking around spending time together, until eventually they realized they were better off as a proper family, and decided to get back together. It can’t have been an easy decision for Joanne, but there was no doubting Danny’s sincerity, and the two reuniting was undoubtedly the best thing for their daughter.
Over the years, their relationship would hit a few more minor bumps, but from here on in, Danny was completely committed to Joanne. He told the Mirror, ‘She is a good East End girl . . . I totally adore Joanne and I’m a lucky man.’ He revealed their bond was now virtually unbreakable because they had been together since they were kids and gone through so much: ‘When we [have] split up, we’d still see each other and then we realized we were meant to be . . . I love her to bits.’
During the period after completing filming on The Football Factory, but before it had been released in cinemas, Danny found himself rejuvenated and ready to keep working. Although word was beginning to spread about his renewed commitment and resolve to work hard, he was still not the first name on everyone’s list during casting sessions and the offers of work were not flooding in.
One project from this period, however, that many of Danny’s biggest fans are unlikely to have seen, was a short film called Wasp, which features one of his most understated and natural performances. (It’s also the answer to one of the best quiz questions of all time: ‘Which Danny Dyer film picked up an Oscar in 2004?’) Danny had been approached on the set of The Football Factory with a script by a young film-maker, Andrea Arnold, who had been commissioned to make a short film by the UK Film Council and Channel 4. Danny loved the story and when he met with Arnold, they clicked immediately. He agreed to take part in the film as a favour – he was only paid £250 for his role – and was intrigued by Arnold insisting she wanted to use real working-class kids and untrained actors to fill out the rest of the cast.
Released in 2003, the film focused on the plight of a single mother with very little money and no hope of escape, trying to look after her brood of four young children. Danny played a boy who asks the girl out on a date, not realizing the kids she has with her are her own. The girl keeps this secret until the end of the film, only revealing the truth when confronted by Danny. The audience’s expectations are turned on their head when Danny’s character, instead of running a mile, picks up the whole family in his car and buys them all chips.
Arnold had an unusual method of casting her actors, hanging around a local estate and approaching the children she thought would work well in the film, before asking them to take her home to meet their parents. While this may seem foolhardy, it was a strategy that delivered an extremely raw and engaging set of supporting performances. The casting of the other adult role was more conventional, and the girl would be played by an up-and-coming young actress called Natalie Press.
Wasp was a simple but extremely effective piece of story-telling. Arnold’s style of direction involved long, uninterrupted takes, with the actors left to improvise within the basic structure of the scene. This technique, while artistically rewarding, could be tiring for the actors – especially if they were waiting around off-camera. Danny admits his patience
was wearing thin as the film’s night shoots were particularly arduous for the four inexperienced kids, who grew tired and increasingly restless. But Danny soon understood the advantages of this method once he saw some of Arnold’s edited early footage. She had managed to capture some startlingly visceral, intimate and completely natural moments between the children and the adult actors, giving the film a subtle, yet powerful, intensity.
It was a beautifully made film and was an instant hit on the independent film awards circuit, showing and competing at countless events. The film eventually picked up awards at the Sundance and Toronto Film Festivals before being nominated for the Best Live Action Short Film at the Academy Awards in 2004. On the night of the Oscars, Danny was out of the country filming a documentary, but had been understandably excited to see his image, in a scene from the film, being projected in front of thousands of the most famous and influential film-makers and actors in the business. The fact that the film actually won the award rounded off a unique experience for him.
After filming on Wasp had finished, Danny was still waiting for The Football Factory to be released and money, or more accurately the lack of it, was starting to become a bit more of a problem. Danny was obviously overjoyed he had managed to reunite his little family unit, but the profligate lifestyle he had been enjoying over the last couple of years with Davinia Taylor had left him short of funds. He was now the main breadwinner again and he needed to keep working. While it was obvious he wasn’t going to be heading back to labouring or temping, he needed to find new ways to make a living.
Thankfully, Nick Love had informed his regular company of actors he intended to sustain the momentum he’d built with The Football Factory by jumping straight into pre-production on another of his own scripts. As soon as he’d completed the final edit and promotional duties on The Football Factory he would be prepping a new film, The Business, with the intention of shooting it during the summer of 2004.
