#gaddell

sorry yeah back again on jamie and richard. what do you mean that richard gadd had jamie in mind the entire time he wrote niall—kept envisioning him playing niall, but felt it was a long shot; after all, he's the jamie bell, what are the odds he even knows about richard—that jamie'd ever even talk to him? but somehow richard gets to sit down with him—flies out to LA in fact—and there is jamie. more lovely than anything richard conjured up in his mind, and more than ready and willing to take the role, only with 1 stipulation: richard plays older ruben. and while richard kept picturing jamie for niall, ruben has always escaped him—been just a blurred vision of someone made up of distinct features—so this throws him for a bit of a loop. but it feels right. and, in a sense, sitting across from jamie, looking him all over, hasn't richard slipped into ruben in this moment? isn't jamie a bit niall, too? yes. yes, they both are themselves but not quite. it already feels addictive. and this newly born relationship only continues to grow: in table reads, where richard keeps finding himself in awe of how jamie works; in the makeup van watching jamie talk to the younger versions of them, encouraging and supportive; on shooting days, where jamie throws himself into everything with everything he's got, as though each take is his last on earth—richard never doubted jamie, but seeing it is vastly different than believing. their days are full of existing in rooms together but seperate: big puffy jackets on to keep warm, headphones over ears, both listening to music to get into the proper headspace. richard runs around talking to everyone, making sure they're okay, his pink pen never far from his grasp; he knows this show needs to be perfect and he's confident in each and every person in it. jamie and he share a dedication to their work that feels singular; where richard annotates the script over and over and reworks things fluidly, jamie is an actor who can disappear completely into someone else and still can't quite believe he's doing it right—take after take, chasing some version of the scene only he can see—so richard finds himself stepping in to soothe his worries; jamie is spectacular. acting alongside him is the most electric thing richard has ever felt. or, is it that ruben feels being beside niall is electric? richard is starting to feel they are one and the same thing. despite the show being as heavy as it is, the two of them laugh and find time to play footie; the days blur together to form an amalgam of warmth. richard spends each of them trying to remember each moment, to solidify them into memory so when it's all done he can keep them for himself. he already misses jamie and what they've done and feels silly for feeling so. wonders if this is how ruben felt when niall was preparing to leave for uni. the show wraps and there are no words to describe what they've all accomplished. interviews start and richard is without jamie and it feels odd to be talking about the show and ruben and niall without him, but richard does it anyway. afterwards, alone in hotel rooms and airport lounges, he finds himself consuming every interview jamie gives, reading and listening to his words over and over, feeling them settle somewhere deep inside him. each time, the same strange relief washes over him: jamie understands exactly as he does. when he speaks, richard hears his own thoughts reflected back at him. what a wonder it is to be understood like this; to have chosen and been chosen right back.

I'll never be over Richard Gadd talking about Jamie Bell as a muse that wouldn't stop haunting him until he eventually gave in and got in contact, only for said muse to ask him to play the role opposite to him. Almost cosmic if I say so myself.

richard gadd casting jamie bell in his head as niall in half man and then not only getting him to join the show and portray him, but also getting so lucky in jamie understanding the story and the character as much as richard himself is actually insane when you really think about it