The Prince Regent is late. Not because of arrogance, or drunkenness, or because he was in a laudanum stupor, or having a romp with a mistress. But just because he forgot. “Absolutely no excuse, oh dear,” he says, apologetic to the point of mortification. “Look in your diary!” he adds, castigating himself. “I should remember an interview with the Guardian – especially for this film.”
The film is Peterloo, Mike Leigh’s historical epic about the massacre that took place at St Peter’s Field, Manchester, in 1819, when yeoman cavalry charged a huge crowd of pro-democracy protesters, an event that, as well as being shocking and significant, was also instrumental in the birth of this newspaper.
He is Tim McInnerny and he plays the Prince Regent, the dissolute son of George III who became head of state after his father’s insanity made him unfit. Although, to be honest, it is difficult to marry the two. On screen is an obscene, obese, pampered future George IV who, as well as providing some darkly comic relief, horribly encapsulates everything that is wrong with society in Regency Britain – absolute power, inherited wealth, a metropolitan elite that doesn’t know, or care, that people in other parts of the country are going without a voice or food (you don’t have to search hard to find modern parallels in Peterloo). And here – admittedly in an eccentric private members club in central London – is this modestly dressed, thoughtful man (he does a lot of pausing and erm-ing before speaking) who has dashed guiltily from his Holborn flat, politely asked for a black americano, and then muttered that some humble pie would be good, too.
A fat suit, lead-weighted for extra authenticity, and a lot of makeup went into McInnerny’s transformation into the prince. “I said, only half jokingly, to Marion Bailey [who plays the prince’s mistress in the movie: ‘I think I’m pretty unrecognisable. If I’m bad, people won’t necessarily associate it with me.”’
He is pretty unrecognisable, but certainly not bad in the sense he meant. Quite the opposite, in fact, although it might be over-egging it to say that McInnerny steals the show when he isn’t in very much of it. But the last of his three scenes – in which he shares a tiny sofa with Bailey, who feeds him sugared jellies as he is informed of the events in Manchester – is one of the film’s grisly lingering images.
He put a lot of research into the part, read a lot of books (“all of which are completely contradictory”), made 50 foolscap (foolscap!) pages of notes and wandered around London marvelling at his character’s imprint on the capital. Then, rehearsing with Leigh for eight hours a day, the pair worked out how the Prince Regent walked and talked, building the character together.
McInnerny, 62, borrowed from real people in his own life. “Preferably not famous people, but Mike did allow me a little latitude with that because he said you are playing a prince so it is kind of appropriate that some of them are famous, who might be useful to use as sort of background fodder. I won’t say who those people are.”
Oh go on, why not? “Because … they’re not necessarily going to want to be associated with the Prince Regent,” he laughs. “Think of … ha ha ha, I don’t know … tall, overweight, intelligent people of my generation.” Ah-ha, and who you might have worked with early in your career? “Indeed, yes, and we’ll stop right there.” Who could he mean? Rowan Atkinson, Tony Robinson, Hugh Laurie, Miranda Richardson … none of them quite fits. Who could it be, I wonder? Whoever, McInnerny is keen to point out his prince is a mixture of many people, including contradictory versions culled from different biographies, lots of non-famous people, and a bit of himself too.
McInnerny was in Blackadder, of course, as Captain Darling in the fourth series, and – more memorably still – as Lord Percy in the first two. Foppish fool, alchemist, discoverer of “green” (a tiny bit like gold, but worthless and a different colour). McInnerny stopped doing Percy because he didn’t think there was anywhere else to go with it, plus he wanted to avoid being typecast as a toff. He hasn’t entirely succeeded; a decade on from Blackadder, playing nice Max in Notting Hill cemented his social standing in many minds. “I suppose whatever is most successful becomes what people think of as your trademark,” he says.
In truth, he isn’t very posh. Born in Cheadle Hulme, in Cheshire, his father was a civil servant attached to the RAF and got moved around sites looking after transport for the Ministry of Defence. A lot of his childhood was spent in Stroud, Gloucestershire, which is where his mother was from. “We were in accommodation that was rented by the civil service, so it was kind of a civil service version of a council house and, you know, six kids, dad went to work on a bike, not posh at all, upwardly mobile lower-middle class.” His mother insisted that they spoke RP and, because the family travelled around so much, McInnerny did not pick up any accent. He has a neutral voice, which is useful as an actor, he says. “I have a very good ear and can pick up anything when I’m allowed to not play solicitors,” he adds, perhaps with just a touch of sadness.
There have been many, varied roles in theatre, film and television. He was the voice of Renault for a while, and acted in a pop video for Kate Bush, a hero of his. A couple of years ago, he was in the brilliant Channel 4 Operation Yewtree-inspired drama National Treasure (“pleasingly difficult, and you thought: this is why I became an actor”). And he was Robett Glover in the past two seasons of Game of Thrones, which allowed him to be bitter and bearded (although still a noble). It all tends to come back to Percy. At one charity do McInnerny was at, a woman turned up with her own “green” (actually, her child’s plasticine) that she wanted to be photographed with Percy.
McInnerny knew Leigh socially but had never been directed by him before, and he says that working with him was an eye-opener in terms of the level of investment required. “When you meet him for a role, what goes through your head is, ‘This is not going to be like any other way of working you’ve ever done before,’ not to the same extent anyway. So I thought: ‘If I don’t do this, if I find some way of talking myself out of this, then I will never be able to call myself a proper actor, basically.’”
Even after he started he had doubts about doing “this proper work”. “Instead of which, he invests you with a great deal of faith. Once you’ve been given the job, it’s like: ‘Well, of course I can do this because otherwise he wouldn’t have chosen you.’ It’s a wonderful thing.”
Mostly he is proud of the film because it is a history lesson that is not taught in school. “Why are we talking about all these great kings and queens but we’re not told how these ordinary people having a legal protest, without any weapons, were cut down with swords? It’s kind of extraordinary. I think a lot of people won’t believe it happens in this country.”
Even now? “I think it’s saying there are lessons to be learned. I don’t know; the kettling of marchers can lead to violence. Things get out of control very quickly if you don’t respond in a human way.” He says actors can be pleased with their work, “but it’s very rare to feel proud of being in something and that it is important. That’s how I feel about Peterloo.”
McInnerny describes himself as a “romantic socialist”. The current government isn’t a government: “If the Labour party could get their act together, they could walk all over them.” Corbyn is an honourable man, he says, but not statesmanlike, and there have been too many missed opportunities. Brexit is “embarrassing and shameful”, he says. “As far as I can tell, the economics of it doesn’t work, but also culturally, it’s like we’re happy to be parochial, are we? It’s the opposite of what I try to do in my job.”
He wasn’t on the People’s Vote march last weekend, because he was on his way back from filming, otherwise he would have been. He had been in Northern Ireland, not for Game of Thrones but for a murder mystery for Channel 5. He hasn’t been in Game of Thrones since series six. There was no violent death, no explanation, just no call from HBO about which he’s a bit cross. “It’s kind of disrespectful,” he says. “Not just to me, but to the audience. It’s like nobody will notice Lord Glover has fallen off the edge of the world.”
It is time for photos, in the alley outside. “I haven’t been able to do my normal cosmetic preparations,” he says, joking I think, before apologising, again, for being late. “Flaky fucking actors,” he mutters.
Even that is not the end of it. Later, an email arrives, further apologies from the Prince Regent. OK, you’re forgiven, this time. Put the revolution on hold.
Peterloo is released in the UK on 2 November
