The Hidden World of Voice Overs – Two
Posted on October 8, 2010
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Walk into Space and it was literally like another world. Tucked away
in a back street somewhere unknown in Soho, it was an ordinary door in
a mock Georgian buidling. Gail Porter had a flat above. But inside,
you were greeted with what can only be described as the set of a Sci
Fi movie. think Star Trek meets Blakes 7 meets the Millennium Falcon.
really.
The people who worked there we all beautiful. Lycra clad girls in
impossible heels, dishy engineer guys who held down colossal salaries.
You were instantly offered exotic drinks, and you’d sit on a sofa so
space age it was impossible to sit on, waiting until your called to do
the voice.
A feature of the post facility which voice-overs who have been around
a bit know of is the ubiquitous runner. these are students or normally
friends of staff or children of directors who are finishing university
or half way through studies. They work for nothing and will do
anything you ask. A fun game I always play is on the way to the
facility, you note a restaurant selling something like sushi or
noodles or tapas. Then, when you are approached at the facility by a
runner asking you if they can get you anything you perform what I call
“the runner challenge”. This involves pausing, and staring heavenwards
as if you are captured by a higher arc of spiritual thought for a
brief moment. then you pause again, look them straight in the eye and
say…..” what’s your name?”. they, unused to being engaged personally
or treated as anything other than a body who will do anything and go
anywhere in order to grasp the silver chord that is a job offer in
this extraordinary parallel universe, are completely taken aback.
“er….Eric.”.
“What are you studying Eric?”.
“Music and multimedia at Coventry”.
“Eric do you know what I really fancy?”
“er…..no?”
“Would you mind terribly getting me a passion fruit juice bucks fizz,
and ……..I really fancy……..oh no don’t worry”
“Its no problem” says Eric who is now mentally scrambling to figure
out what a bucks fizz is seeing that his full lifes experience of
booze has been Thunderbird, Carlsberg and something else at freshers
week that he was too pissed to remember let alone pronounce…
“Well Eric, to go with the fizz….you couldn’t rustle me up a plate
of tapas could you?”
“Sure….er……coming right up”
I go back to reading Hello magazine on the sofa while all hell breaks
loose in the kitchen.
Eric” Oh shit do you know what a bucks fizz is. there’s some actor
outside who wants it made with passion fruit juice and he wants a bowl
of tapas”
“quick grab the computer we’ll google it it can’t be that hard to find”
“oh great there s a Tapas place round the block. What’s the chances of
that – quick you figure out the bucks fizz and I’ll go and get the
Tapas”
By this time I have been called in and am reading the script. it’s a
TV ad, and it’s about 6 lines. in my head I have figured this will
take 20 minutes at the most before I am out and onto my next session
somewhere else, and we are already 5 minutes in. So we read, and they
produce me and the whole thing is coming together nicely. then they
ask me to do a take and I hear the words…..”Richard that’s great I
think we have all we need. thanks so much. you’re free to go.”
oh crikey. I’m outa here. So I grab my coat shake hands, and head
downstairs. I press the exit button, the door opens and as if emerging
from the pub after a good afternoon drinking session my eyes are
blessed with daylight. I stride off towards Poland Street, and am
passed by Eric sprinting like Usain Bolt in the other direction with a
plate of food balanced precariously like he’s in an egg and spoon
race.
I don’t catch his eye.
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