Hiking with a Box on my Head (and Other Strange Things I've Done Whilst Filming).

It's a well-known fact amongst actors who are first starting out that they may be expected to do some...slightly odd things for the projects they book without the help of an agent. I was no exception to this rule. Having now been back in the acting world for over a year, I've been reminiscing fondly (and at times, not so fondly) about some of the strangest things I've done for a role.

One of the very first projects I booked was a music video with an up-and-coming band called Avenue. If you haven't heard their music, you should give it a listen - they were top contenders for the New Blood slot at the Isle of Wight Festival. I spoke with their frontman, Pave, about the rough concept for the video and told him that I would love to be involved. The plan included a great deal of washable paint and a visual representation of how it feels to be boxed in whilst in a relationship. I didn't think much about what this might entail, so it was a fun surprise for me when I arrived in Epping Forest on the day of the filming to be presented with the box that I was to wear atop my head for a number of the scenes. A picture is provided below, for your amusement.

The box came with its own complications. I wasn't too fussed about the fact that my face would be hidden, as there would be shots later with it visible. The bigger problem was that there was a very precise angle it needed to be held at in order for it to look like a head. Unfortunately, because the artistic director and costume supervisor had decided to prioritise my comfort and cut out the bottom so as not to make me claustrophobic, there was now a little too much space for the box to slide - and slide it did. I ended up looking like a person with either an incredibly weak neck or an incredibly heavy head.

The other problem emerged when they asked me to walk a specific path through the forest with the box still firmly in place. It couldn't simply be a straight line - that wouldn't be engaging enough for the audience. No, it would be much better visually for me to walk down through a little dip, and curve up a slight incline around a tree, and then walk straight and out of frame. Oh, and this was, of course, on a trail bounded by brambles and nettles. Obviously. And because of the box-sliding issue, I would have to keep my head straight up and use only my peripheral vision to gauge where I was along the trail. No problem.

Despite truly being able to see nothing at all that even remotely resembled a path, I walked away from that shoot with minimal nettle stings and only one collision with a tree. I also learned the value of having a more in-depth conversation with the artistic director before working on a fairly conceptual piece of visual media. Lessons abound.

Since then, I've done a number of other unusual things for various projects. I've used both a crowbar and a hammer and chisel to try to break into a safe (unsuccessfully). I've eaten food that had gone tepid after being left out for 45 minutes for a restaurant's promotional commercial. I've been recorded in a panic room speaking to a therapist in laced leather trousers about a single moment from my life that has defined who I am. On the same project, I stood inside a mirrored cube and stared at my own reflection without speaking for three minutes. I've carried out a full conversation with myself when playing a doppelgänger (and no, this was not related to the conversation with the therapist, thank you). I've laid on a floor that was so cold in the wintertime that I had to be covered with a blanket in between takes so that I wouldn't shiver when the cameras were rolling. I've sung Christmas hymns at half speed in February because the production team thought it would be more dramatic. I've kissed a woman nearly twice my age.

However, none of these compare to what was possibly the strangest shoot that I've ever been a part of. It was the sort of shoot in which you know very quickly after arriving that you're in for a bizarre day. It was a project about Sir Isaac Newton being filmed in Cambridge by a one-man team who was very passionate about the great minds that populate history. There were two other young women there, about my age, that had arrived for an earlier call time. None of us had seen a script before we'd arrived to film what was advertised as a pilot episode for a new web series. We had, though, been sent interview questions about ourselves and our previous work, and had been asked to have answers prepared for each of these. It was all just a little...odd.

The man in charge of the project was in a fairly frenzied state when they all met me at the second filming location. He spoke alarmingly quickly to the person with whom he'd been corresponding previously about the space, ensuring that they knew we were here and that we'd stay within the agreed-upon parameters so as not to disturb their other guests. He then dashed off to get a bottle of soda and some ice, explaining that the heat had caused his blood sugar to drop. Unsure what to do, the other presenters and I found a few seats in the sunny courtyard and chatted amicably for a while. Some 40 minutes later, the director sprang back into action, telling us that it was time to take photos. He positioned us around the tables in different groupings, taking several snaps before rearranging us again. Once we'd cycled through all the possible permutations, he took individual photos of each of us in various places around the location. It wasn't fully clear to any of us why these photos were being taken, but we smiled for the camera anyway.

Once we'd all had our individual portraits taken, he announced that we would be moving to the interview segment of the day. We were to take a seat directly in front of the camera, one at a time, and he would ask us the questions that had been sent ahead of time. We each spoke about our past work, our education, and any upcoming projects we were allowed to share. He moved brusquely from one question to the next, not bothering to linger or inquire further about even the most interesting of tidbits we shared. When the interviews had concluded, we asked tentatively why that segment had been recorded at all, as none of us had any loose connections or relevant stories that could be linked to Sir Isaac Newton. He said that he had thought it might be a nice thing for people watching the episode to be able to get to know each of us a little better, and that it would be included in the content on his website. (As far as I can tell, nothing has been done with these videos since their creation.)

And then. It was time for us to return to the primary aim of the shoot; to inform the masses about the brilliance of Sir Isaac Newton. One of the other young women left for another shoot, so it was down to myself and the other presenter to put on a pair of Shein skirts and corset tops provided by the director, lace up some leather boots, and walk about various parks and green spaces for over half an hour until we found a suitable background for filming. It was only at this point that it was revealed there was, in fact, a script. It had been printed on A4 sheets of paper in large enough font that we could read off of it in a poor imitation of a teleprompter. We were each in charge of holding the "cue cards" for the other whilst the director filmed us reading them. We came to understand that the reason the script had not been shared with us was because he was concerned we might try to steal his concept and create our own video, usurping his originality. We could not stress to him enough that this would never happen. It also seemed, perhaps, a little hypocritical from someone who had copied and pasted the first four paragraphs of Sir Isaac Newton's Wikipedia page into a document, but I digress.

We completed the introduction to his satisfaction, and then were presented with one book each: the Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica, and the Principia Mathematica Volume 2. I was given the first. The other presenter was given the second. We were asked to read, verbatim, the first six pages. I tried to reason with the director, attempting to persuade him that even the greatest fans of Sir Isaac Newton could not possibly be interested in listening to me read six pages of dense text to explain his three laws of motion. I pointed out that most people watching would already be familiar with the three laws, but the language of the time and the many calculations that I would have to describe without a visual aid might actually convince them that maybe they didn't know these laws at all. I even mentioned that it could very well be in direct violation of copyright laws.

He was undeterred.

We read our six pages.

I was then asked to eat an apple in its entirety (bar the core), whilst he filmed me. I was allowed to flip through the pages of the Principia, for my personal entertainment, whilst I finished my apple. I was attacked by a bee during this time, which he inexplicably kept in the final cut of the video. Then, finally, we were told that it was a wrap. The other presenter and I returned our Shein Renaissance-inspired clothes to him and caught the first train back to London together, musing the whole way about the strangeness of the afternoon. She and I are very good friends now - shared other-worldly experiences tend to do that to people.

A brief note to all young actors who are just starting out: This was an amusing anecdote that I keep in my back pocket for dinner parties and questions about the weirdest things I've done for a shoot. At no point during this day did I feel unsafe. I was under a fairly comprehensive contract and would have been able to add in additional provisions in advance if I felt that the content collected might be used publicly for purposes that I did not consent to. If there is a project in future that you are on in which you feel that you are in danger or that they will be manipulating the footage in such a way that will harm the image you are cultivating for yourself, please speak up or leave the situation. Have friends that can come to collect you or people who will check in if any part of it feels dodgy. No job is worth the risk of your safety.