Julian Clary

How did it come about that you are starring in Cabaret?
They first approached me about doing it about six months ago, and I came to see it and loved it. But I couldn’t see myself doing it—there are too many songs to sing! I got very sad, because I’d always fantastised about playing this role. But then, just a few weeks before I started, they spoke to me about it again. I was just finishing publicising my novel and was wondering what I am going to do next. I came to see it again, this time with James Dreyfus in it. I’d seen his understudy before, who was much more musical theatre-y, full of high kicks and dancing and things I couldn’t do. James was fantastic, and I suddenly could see a way of doing it. But I was still very worried about the songs. So in the spirit of adventure, I said OK—then I had sleepless nights, wondering what on earth I had done this time. At the first day of rehearsals, we did a read-through, and they packed me straight off to see Mary Hammond [a well-known West End vocal coach]. I went every day for three weeks, and she built up my confidence. She doesn’t mess around, she tells you if you’re wrong, she tells you what’s OK, and so here I am!

Julian Clary as Leigh Bowery in Taboo

Are musicals something you’ve always loved?
I do quite like them, but I never thought I’d do any. When Taboo came along, I thought that was such an off-the-wall show that I could get away with it. I’d been to the first night of it and just loved it. Matt Lucas played the part of Leigh Bowery then, before [Boy] George took over himself, and it was George who phoned me and said, “How’s about it?” It was a great part. Leigh Bowery was just art on legs, so I could mess around. He actually interviewed me once way back in the early ‘80s and used to come and see my act apparently. But I can’t see myself doing Oklahoma! next. This one and Taboo will be my lot, I should think.

You’ve been stretching yourself in many new directions lately: dancing on TV, writing a novel and now a big musical role. Was this part of some sort of game plan?
I sort of put things down to doing Strictly Come Dancing, which opened my mind to the possibility of doing things I didn’t think I could do. I don’t think I’m reckless, but I’m much more daring than I used to be. I suppose in 10 years time, when I’m nearly 60, I don’t want to think, “I could have done a musical once, but I said no because I was scared.” I think you have to get on with life. I like my life because it is so varied, but I don’t seem to plan it particularly. If you trust to the universe, things come along. What I do may be sort of all over the place, but I never get bored. I also do a children’s voice-over for The Little Princess series—it’s for pre-school children, so it’s a totally different thing with no innuendo or anything required or indeed allowed. Just today I recorded a story for Classic FM. It was a mad, mad surreal Spike Milligan-esque version of Dick Whittington. I did ask the writer if marijuana had been involved in the writing of it, but he denied it.

Julian Clary and Amy Nuttall in Cabaret

You have gone from cabaret to Cabaret—from appearing as yourself to now playing a character. How different has the process been?
I was always determined before to be myself. I didn’t understand acting where people love to forget themselves and be someone else. With my thing, it as all about me. But maybe I felt by my mid-40s that I had made that point, and there were other interesting creative energies to pursue. And with Cabaret, the more I get to know the show, the more amazing I think it is—especially [director Rufus Norris’] production, which is so dark. I don’t think I’d want to do a teeth ‘n’ smiles one now.

How are you finding it to be in this show now?
The cold terror is starting to leave me. For the first week of two, I was terrified. Although you’re very supported by a lot of people, there’s no escaping. I tripped over my words in “The Money Song,” and it was mortifying. I had to make up the odd verse the first few nights, but it’s just not acceptable, whereas in my cabaret guise of doing my own act, I can do what I want. My bread and butter has always been improvising, and I had to re-train my brain not to do it. I think it got very used to being able to mess around and be a bit anarchic, but it doesn’t work in this. It’s very disciplined, and you have to concentrate. You can’t let your mind wander.

Julian Clary in Cabaret

Writing is also very disciplined, presumably.
Yes, and I was very good: I couldn’t sleep if I hadn’t done my 1,000 words a day when I was in writing mode. I liked the way it builds up, till you can’t remember what you wrote at the beginning. I also like writing jokes in a book—they last, as opposed to doing a joke onstage where it’s lost once you’ve had your laugh. You don’t get the immediate gratification that you do in the theatre, but it’s there forever whenever anyone reads the book. The other thing that is so different is that it’s just between you and the reader when you write: it’s a one-on-one form of communicating, whereas the stage is a mass market. But I loved it. I have started the next one now. As soon as I had finished it and sent it off, there was this big hole in my life, so I immediately started writing the next one.

And you’re back in London now amongst people instead of alone in the country with just your computer for company.
That’s another reason I wanted to do this. I’d spent so long in the country writing, and your world gets very small. It’s very lovely, but I thought it would be nice to be part of a big company again and right in the heart of London’s glittering West End for a while. I like change and I like contrast. It stimulates me. And I’m very excited doing it every night. It never leaves me; I find myself waking up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, and the songs are going around in my head. They’re not even my songs!