Mark Farrelly writes and performs in shows which aim to lift the lid on the lives of well-known figures from British public life. Comedian Frankie Howerd, playwright & novelist Patrick Hamilton and film director Derek Jarman have all come under Mark’s spotlight in recent years. So, too, has gay icon & raconteur Quentin Crisp, who the Sheffield-born actor will next month play when his critically acclaimed solo production, Naked Hope, returns to the Midlands. 

What’s On recently interviewed Mark to find out more about his shows and career...

You’re bringing Quentin Crisp: Naked Hope back to the Midlands this spring, Mark. Tell us a little bit about the play...
It’s an up-close encounter with one of the most remarkable, brave and witty figures of the 20th century. Quentin was openly gay from the 1930s onwards, and was routinely beaten because of this. But he refused to hide his true nature, which is something we all should learn to do. After John Hurt played Quentin in the TV film, The Naked Civil Servant [1975], Quentin became famous and travelled the world doing one-man performances in which he elucidated his advice on how to live a truthful life. He did so with tremendous wit, and I recreate part of that performance in my show, as well as exploring his earlier years.

You’re also performing another of your plays, Jarman, in Warwickshire. Again, can you provide an idea of what audiences can expect...
You can expect dynamism, inspiration and spontaneity. Derek Jarman was a wondrous polymath, a writer, painter, gardener, filmmaker and activist. He lived a life without boundaries or convention and is a beacon for anyone who wants to express themselves without restriction. He also showed tremendous, heart-breaking courage in dealing with and dying from AIDS. So you get a thrilling, funny and authentic encounter with this man, who still has so much to teach us.

Your plays have proved hugely popular. What are the secrets of their success?
Honesty. I’m playing characters who were utterly sincere and spoke pure truth. That’s a surprisingly rare commodity in this world. I also choose people who are funny, because we all need a laugh, no? Perhaps above all is that I speak directly to the audience all the way through, in all my work. There’s no fourth wall. I allow the audience to feel seen and valued.

As the actor appearing in the shows, which play has given you the most pleasure to perform?
I don’t have a favourite because they all provide particular pleasures, otherwise I wouldn’t have performed them almost 400 times collectively. Also the audience is, of course, different for every show, so each performance feels fresh. You never know what you’re going to get!

How did your career as a playwright come about?
Despair. I went through some great losses and setbacks about 10 years ago, and felt so broken that I tried writing to help myself out of my misery. I chose figures like Quentin Crisp, who I felt had something to say, not only to me but to an audience. Then I found that I rather liked writing. And also, words and wit are more powerful when born of suffering, which is something known by all the characters I play.

Did you make a conscious decision to forge your writing career around biographical plays about interesting people in the public eye, or did you have the initial idea for your first such play and then, once it had been successful, decide it was a genre to return to?
I wanted to write about Quentin, and also the novelist Patrick Hamilton. After that, the ideas to write about Frankie Howerd and Derek Jarman very much came along organically. It’s not been a very conscious or chosen path; I’ve just written when I’ve felt the urge. I certainly never write something because I anticipate that it will be a success or ‘sell well’, which would be a big mistake.

How do you decide which real-life people to write about?
I have to be struck by some aspect of the person’s life, and maybe that’s also a part of myself that I need to develop or enhance. For instance, I much admire Quentin Crisp’s stoic endurance and Derek Jarman’s artistic iconoclasm. I’ve often said that although the plays explore the lives of well-known figures, they are also a veiled form of autobiography, in that I’m simultaneously exploring my own life as well as that of the characters. As the saying goes, the unexamined life is not worth living.

Which of the plays proved to be the most challenging for you as a writer, and which, relatively speaking, was the easiest?
Perhaps The Silence Of Snow: The Life Of Patrick Hamilton was the toughest, because it was my first. Possibly Quentin was the easiest because Mr Crisp left behind such immaculately crafted language in his books, and I wanted to get as much of that into the script as possible.

For many writers, breaking the fourth wall is not an option, but as you’ve already mentioned, the characters in your plays speak directly to the audience. What’s your motivation as a writer/creator for breaking with that particular convention?
I detest the fourth wall. I think it traps performers and represents a blind alley in which theatre has become stuck. Shakespeare constantly broke the fourth wall. We seem to have lost the art. Live comedy does it. Live music does it. Panto does it. And that’s why they are all more popular than most fourth-wall theatre. I need to connect. I hunger and I burn to do it. And I think audiences do too.

You’re certainly on a roll, Mark. Are there any other public figures about whom you’d like to write a biographical play in the future?
The answer is currently no. As I said, it has to be organic, and nobody leaps out at me presently. Who knows? Maybe I’ve already written my last play. And if that were the case, I’d genuinely be grateful for what I’ve had. Then again, a new idea might whisper to me tomorrow afternoon. I’m content to let things take their natural course.