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Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Erik Thomson. The Scottish-born, New Zealand-raised Australian actor, 59, has won an AFI Award and is a two-time Silver Logie winner. He’s best known for his roles in All Saints, Packed to the Rafters and Aftertaste.
All Saints, I made $8000 in one financial year.”
POLITICS
Some people feel artists should shut up and entertain. Others feel they have a responsibility to change the conversation. What about you? It’s a fine line you’ve got to walk. It’s a case of picking your battles, because people turn off after a while. With everything that was happening in Gaza, I thought, “This is wrong. We [as artists] must step into that [public conversation] immediately.” Entertainment can be a Trojan horse for important messages, too. This play that we’re doing – 84 Charing Cross Road [adapted from Helene Hanff’s memoir] – is a beautiful story about a decades-long, epistolary, trans-Atlantic friendship. It’s a window to another time [the postwar austerity of the 1950s and ’60s].
You’re a trusted face. You care about the world. Would you run for office? As I’m getting older, I might. You always put politicians “up there” as these wise, old people, but now … I’m there: I’ve lived, I’m informed, I’m engaged. In Tasmania, I’ve met people like Bob Brown and Peter Whish Wilson – Greens senators – through mutual friends. Obviously, Bob is a legend. Seeing people who are so committed to their cause and vision is inspiring.
Would I be right to assume your party of choice would be the Greens? Probably independent with Greens affiliations. Having to toe a party line isn’t really something I can see myself doing. I’m a big fan of David Pocock; he talks a lot of sense.
What would be your three biggest platforms? Wealth inequality, the environment and funding for the arts.
MONEY
What was money like for you, growing up? Both of my parents were from Scottish, working-class backgrounds. But Dad became a doctor and was the first in our family to become middle-class. So when I became an actor, he was horrified: “I finally get out of the working class, and you’re going to take us back into it, Erik! Go on, join the navy, be a teacher, become a doctor – whatever – but don’t be an artist!”
That almost sounds like a coming-out process: “Dad, I’ve got something to tell you …” It was a tough conversation to have. So early on, I really wanted to make money so I could prove to him that I could support myself.
You’re famous now. Does that mean you’re rich, too? [Laughs] Absolutely not. I did [about] 175 episodes of All Saints over four years [1999-2003], won a Logie or two and was nominated multiple times. Had I done that in America, I could retire. But the year after I left All Saints, I made $8000 in one financial year.
Oh, man. In Australia, celebrity does not mean money.
So how have you made it work? Well, [channels] 7 and Nine – back in their heyday, before the streamers arrived – had stables of actors they’d use. After All Saints, I went to Channel Nine for a show called The Alice for one season. I did five years on Rafters [Packed to the Rafters], then three with 800 Words on Channel 7. So I was working for a corporation, earning corporate money. That allowed me to buy a house, an investment property, look after my family, have international trips; I had constant work. If I ever got a TV gig, I’d use it to get my foot in the property market, as opposed to going, “Woo-hoo, I’m going to have a great time and party like it’s 1999.” I held on to that Scottish, working-class ethic.
BODIES
You’ve been candid in the past about your problematic relationship with alcohol. How do you reflect on those years of addiction now? On a day-to-day basis, it’s behind me. After playing Hamlet, you’d go to the bar, drink a few drinks and unwind that way. That’s OK when you’re 25. When you’re in your 30s, your body metabolises it less well. When you’re in your 40s, you’re carrying extra weight. That was about the time that I started my sobriety journey. I’ve had long periods of sobriety and falling off the wagon, but the desire is there to not drink.
When did you realise your relationship with alcohol was problematic? When I realised I was drinking for the medicinal aspect of it rather than the social: it’s a fast-track to relaxation. And when it was impacting my relationships. I got sober for the first time between series four and five of Packed to the Rafters. I became very aware that I was abusing the opportunity that I’d been given.
Do you have another vice now? Coffee.
When have you been most embarrassed by your body? When my son was about one, I was in my mid-40s. We went to Bronte and I was playing in the sand, walking around in togs. As we left the beach, I put my son on my shoulders and someone – a paparazzo – took a snap of me with my shirt off.
So violating. Yeah, and I was fairly heavy. Serious dad bod. I didn’t know about it until about six months later. I was at the dentist’s and picked up a magazine. There was a shot of this fat guy with a hairy belly, kid on his shoulders, and I went, “Oh, that looks like my son.” And then I went, “Oh, f—, that’s me!” [Laughs]
When was the last time that you were naked that didn’t involve sex or showering? Skinny-dipping in Tassie.
Wow, that’s brave. Yeah! It’s cold, but there’s nothing better.
diceytopics@goodweekend.com.au
Erik Thomson stars in 84 Charing Cross Road at Sydney’s Ensemble Theatre until June 13.
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