harkness-jack

“‘Do you want a choreographer, John?’ asked the director, James Hawes. Silence. I mean absolute utter silence – a silence so big a Chula warship could have towed a fighter jet through it and there’d still have been room for the TARDIS. The crew was knackered. Their day was pushing twelve hours. The last cup of tea was cold and the biscuits were all gone. I was fried, and I needed to get to London within the next two hours if I was going to make my flight to Florida, where my partner of fourteen years, Scott Gill, and I were spending the holidays with my family. To ask for a choreographer would slow down the entire process, and we’d run into overtime, to say nothing of what message my response would send to the crew about me as a performer. I looked at Billie. She smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s your call, John. I’ll follow your lead.’ And so, on top of a Chula warship, I danced to my own tune, to my own steps, the way I’ve been dancing for most of my life.”


— John Barrowman, Anything Goes.

‘Do you want a choreographer, John?’ asked the director, James Hawes. Silence. I mean absolute utter silence – a silence so big a Chula warship could have towed a fighter jet through it and there’d still have been room for the TARDIS. The crew was knackered. Their day was pushing twelve hours. The last cup of tea was cold and the biscuits were all gone. I was fried, and I needed to get to London within the next two hours if I was going to make my flight to Florida, where my partner of fourteen years, Scott Gill, and I were spending the holidays with my family. To ask for a choreographer would slow down the entire process, and we’d run into overtime, to say nothing of what message my response would send to the crew about me as a performer. I looked at Billie. She smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s your call, John. I’ll follow your lead.’ And so, on top of a Chula warship, I danced to my own tune, to my own steps, the way I’ve been dancing for most of my life.

— John Barrowman, Anything Goes.