This Much Is True

They hurled me into a phoney space ride, which I was informed would soon be leaving Earth. They were all trying to jolly me along, cajoling me: ‘Oh, come in, Miriam. You’re in a flying saucer!’ I stood there in this ‘flying saucer’, swaying and jiggling. I’m not good on ‘rides’, and I quickly began to feel queasy. I explained to the lady astronaut who was in charge that I needed to get off. She tried to stay in character: ‘Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, the spaceship is on its course now; we can’t deviate and we’re already three miles above Earth.’ I felt her grasp of reality was shaky. ‘If you don’t let me exit immediately, I’m afraid I’m going to be sick on your foot.’ Cue an immediate emergency landing and I was able to get out.

I thought it was one of the most crass and untruthful places I’d ever been to. For example, they have scaled-down replicas of all the great wonders of the world, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Palace of Versailles, the pyramids at Giza and so on. But the Leaning Tower of Pisa hardly leans at all; it’s just ten foot tall. Then, next door to it, they have a restaurant, selling the food produce of the place that you’re looking at: a pizza restaurant next door to the Tower of Pisa; a sushi restaurant next door to a model of Mount Fuji. Visitors go in their tens of thousands and then declare they’ve seen the Leaning Tower. No, of course they haven’t! They’ve seen a reproduction of it in the most vulgar way. I really hated it. And I said I did. I’m afraid I voiced my profound scorn for Disney World.

I did get close to a real spaceship in Florida later, when a space shuttle returned to the Kennedy Center and we were invited to watch it land. At 4 a.m. we sat in the bleachers and this incredibly tiny little space module, so much smaller than I would have imagined, came down from the sky, and then just went bump, bump, bump along the ground right in front of us, coming to rest in the field. From it, four weary white-suited spacemen emerged, a little wobbly. The shuttle didn’t look like a plane, or a rocket — in fact, it resembled a large hair-dryer. I couldn’t believe it had made such a momentous journey.

I did find that exciting. It was real and it beat EPCOT any day. For me, reality is the key. I’m not interested in the phoney. I don’t want it in any part of my life. Disney World is a colossal waste of money. I think it’s shameful — the fake, giant Mickey Mouses; the awful food; the endless queues; the shops full of overpriced junk that, of course, all the children must have so the parents end up bankrupt. Everything pumped up with sugar. The world can be a shit place sometimes.

Harry Potter

I’ve been a working actress for over fifty years so it is a decidedly odd feeling to know that, whatever else I do, however acclaimed or successful I am, I will go to my grave best-known for being Professor Sprout. I acted in those films twenty years ago, but I am still stopped in the street by kids and Harry Potter fans all the time.

My agent Lindy called to say that I was being considered for a part in the second of the series of films and she had scheduled an interview with the director and the producer. She was really excited about it. I was less so: I have never enjoyed, and am not interested in, fantasy or science fiction: as I said, I like reality; I like the here and now.

Lindy assured me that everybody was reading the books and this could well be the next Big Thing. She was right. It’s always fascinating to be part of a movement and, of course, Harry Potter did become an extraordinary wave that swept the world.

I was told that I was being seen for Pomona Sprout, the Professor of Herbology and Head of Hufflepuff House, which at the time meant nothing to me, because I hadn’t read the books — and I didn’t have time to read them before the interview. I know it was naughty not to have read at least Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, the first (and shortest) book of the series, before the interview, but I wasn’t going to pretend I’d read every word; I was either right for the part, or I wasn’t.

I went to meet David Heyman, the producer and founder of Heyday Films, and the director, Christopher Columbus. They were charming, friendly and made me feel very welcome. I confessed that I didn’t know much about the series, but if they wanted somebody who could act a teacher, there was no question that I could play the part. ‘I give good teacher,’ I told them. (I didn’t tell them that I don’t particularly like children though. That would have been unnecessary.) They gave me a page of script to read; I didn’t think that it was terribly distinguished writing, in some ways it was rather banal, actually, but I read it, and that was that.