Lines intersect.
That’s my theory. And where they intersect new things happen. But my definition of a ‘line’ is quite loose. It could be a person, a place, an idea, a performance, a war. So these things cross over each other, and it’s in these meetings that we live. And, if you’re a writer, it’s at these convergences that you create.
Crouch End.
That’s where I live in North London. And from where I wanted to create stories, and work with actors, that came from all parts of the U.K. Just up from Crouch End is Muswell Hill where there’s a discount bookshop. That’s where I bought this New Yorker Compilation.
New York.
Obviously New York is the home of The New Yorker magazine. It’s a magazine that has been famed for the quality of its writing for decades. And the pieces that are most powerful are the long form essays.
So at some point in 2019 there I am outside the discount bookshop in Muswell Hill when I spot this compilation of articles written in the 1950s. The 50s is a decade I know very little about. And it’s The New Yorker, so the writing’s bound to be good. Also the book is cheap. I buy the book.
Korea.
One of the articles in the book is about a battle during The Korean War. I know very little about The Korean War. About the only thing that sticks in my mind is that, oddly, the American TV series ‘M*A*S*H’ was set during The Korean War. I say ‘oddly’ because when the TV series ran in the 1970s it seemed to be a response to the ongoing war in Vietnam. It was decidedly, and hilariously, anti-establishment, and anti-war. And it was incredibly popular. But the story in the book that caught my eye wasn’t about Americans in Korea. It was about the British. Or, more accurately, one particular British regiment.
Gloucestershire.
On the night of the 22nd April 1951, on the Imjin River 25 miles northwest of Seoul, the Gloucestershire Regiment – The Glosters – was attacked by 60,000 Chinese soldiers fighting for North Korea. It is an unbelievably heroic story. And to the vast majority of people in Britain, it is unknown. Most people in this country, I suspect, are even unaware that the British fought in Korea.
Anyway, fast forward to 2020, and for The Lockdown Theatre Company I’m looking for stories to tell from different parts of the country. And I remember The Glosters. So I write a script. Now all I need is an actor from Gloucestershire.
It’s hard to cast when you can’t meet anyone.
So I didn’t cast, I asked. One of the people who’d got in touch after my original post was Lesley Wilcox. She was from the right part of Britain. And she mentioned that she had coached young actors. I messaged her and asked her if she knew anyone who might be right.
She suggested Josh Harper. I emailed him. And then we talked. It turns out he wasn’t actually from Gloucestershire, but just across the county border in Wiltshire. That meant a Gloucestershire accent wouldn’t be a problem for him. Also I thought he’d have an affinity for the story because he was the right age to play a young soldier caught up in a war he didn’t really understand.
What also turned out not to be a problem for him was the acting. I won’t say any more than that. I’ll just say watch the film.
On responsibility. And respect.
When you tell a true story, there is a certain responsibility to that. And when the story involves real people, really dying, that responsibility is heightened. When I wrote the script, when I worked on the performance with Josh, I deeply hoped we treated the subject with the respect it deserves. But at the time, due to the lockdowns, there was no real way to check that.
However a year later I did manage to get the film in front of someone who had served with the Glosters before the regiment disappeared in a merger with another in 1994. Thankfully the film, apart from one small mistake, met with his approval. That meant more to me than you can imagine. I’d got it right. I’d treated the soldiers of The Glosters with respect.
From screen to stage.
Two years on from making the film I staged a fund raising show for young people’s mental health in the theatre of my old school. Four of the actors from the 2020 films delivered words I had written. Josh closed the first half performing the script ‘Hill 235’.
It destroyed the room.
Silence is not a single shade. It can deepen and darken. And when everyone in a room is transfixed, is riveted by a performance whose quiet power doesn’t let you look away, doesn’t let you breathe, the silence becomes a profound, living entity.
Lines intersect.
That’s the only way I can describe it.
Thank you, Josh.
‘Hill 235’ featuring Josh Harper.