I meet Mathew Horne in the lobby of a London hotel. It takes every single fibre of my being to resist shouting ‘GAVALAR’ at him. I just about restrain myself from doing the robot as he approaches.
Famous for his role as Gavin in Gavin & Stacey, the iconic comedy penned by Ruth Jones and James Corden, Horne is an actor many people would be excited to share a drink with. I’d probably make Gavin & Stacey my subject on Mastermind. I once detoured the drive back from a family holiday to stop at Barry Island. Yes, I’m a super fan. Interviewing Mathew Horne is a very good day at the office.
Gavin & Stacey has formed 17 of Horne’s 24 years professional acting. Letting go of the show is monumental: “The whole shoot was emotionally charged because everything we were shooting, we were doing for the very last time.” Many of the team, including the crew, had worked together since 2007. The feelings that coalesce on a long-standing show’s finale are strong and conflicting: “It was bittersweet in a weird way. It was so joyous to be back together and to know that we were shooting something really good.”
Horne is aware the show reaches beyond wrapping: “It was tinged with a bit of sadness because for a lot of people, myself included, it’s been such a fundamental part of my career and therefore my life. Gavin & Stacey has defined my career and will continue to define my career. That’s really amazing. It’s also very meaningful.” He tries to summarise the feelings flying around the iconic street in Wales on the last day. He struggles. “It’s quite hard to process. Quite overwhelming.” The last shoot sounds indescribably poignant. “There were a lot of tears. From everyone.”
Often, when I speak to actors, they speak of their teams becoming like family. Viewers love to imagine cast members as best buds. Cynically, I have reservations it’s just good PR but I’m delighted to discover this show isn’t faking it: “We were, and are, an on-screen and off-screen family.” He speaks of the team with a fondness you would your own flesh and blood.
Particularly, his on-screen mother, Pamela, played by Alison Steadman. When I mention my love for their relationship, offering up a poor ‘my little prince’ impression, Horne interjects: “That’s how she signs off all her messages! She signs off all her texts, ‘Mum.’” One of Alison’s sons is the same age as Horne. “She sees me as a sort of surrogate son. Likewise, I see her as a surrogate mother.” Horne lost his own mum six months prior to filming the last special. He was going through a tough time. Steadman was a confidante and loving support. “My friendship with Alison is so important. She is very, very dear to me.”
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In other ways, the show and real life couldn’t be more different. Unlike perception, Horne isn’t an Essex boy. He grew up in Nottingham, spent time in Scotland; now lives in central London. I am surprised to learn he never visited the Shipman’s hometown: “I’ve never even been to Billericay!” he says, explaining the entire show shoots in Cardiff. The magic of television.
After years watching Horne as Gavin, I wrongly assumed he would be similar to the character. As we sit across from one another, laughing and chatting about his career, the difference between him and the protagonist is pronounced. His voice is different, his vibe different. There’s a blue-eyed glint of Gav, a smattering of Shipman, but I am aware of the acting talent he possesses to transform into the series lead. When I inquire about what ways he resembles Gavin, he shakes his head, raising an eyebrow. “Gavin was a stretch!” he says with a raspy laugh. “He’s very traditional. My life hasn’t exactly panned out in a traditional way.”
I dive in for details about the episode hitting our screens on Christmas Day. The cast haven’t even seen it yet. He’s excitable, almost fidgety talking about it – I’d be nervous about slipping an embargo for one of the decade’s most anticipated TV moments. I know if he tells me anything confidential, he’ll have to shoot me. He shoots me a smile instead: “You can expect that it is the finale. There will be no more.” I ask for moods, feelings, something, anything! “All I can say is… it is the perfect ending to the story of those characters.”
Which scenes were the best to shoot? “We shot all my favourite scenes in the last special.” So elusive. He’s killing me. I press again for tidbits. Can we expect one last singalong from Smithy, Gavin, Pam and Mick in the hallway of the Shipman household? I prompt him with a ‘Step into Christmas’ memo. “Oh, that was one of my favourite scenes to shoot actually!”
Will we get another one of those, at least? “It was a while ago now. I can’t remember.” A twinkle in his eyes. He’s such a tease. I understand. He’s not going to spill. I wouldn’t. Instead, I dig for details about lead-up conversations. The call about the finale came in January from Corden. This was the first Horne or anyone else heard of it. Corden was straight on the blower with Horne, in Smithy-style. His words: “Are you aware of the work of Ruth Jones?” Horne chuckles. He knew at that moment exactly what was on the horizon.
Horne was one of the first to finish the script: “When we were sent it, I just had to sit down immediately and read.” He added comments into the Gavin & Stacey WhatsApp group. (Yes. That exists. Perhaps the most iconic group ever? Who do you think sends the most GIFs? My bet is Rob Brydon.) The cast collectively chimed in with messages of gratitude for Jones and Corden.
He lights up talking about the writing: “I would always be excited to be doing any episode of Gavin & Stacey, but when I got the script, it was just…” he pauses, glowing with pride, searching for the correct vocabulary: “It’s a work of art.” He mentions Corden’s chatter in the run-up: “James keeps saying to lower our expectations. He’s being very cautious and humble. But I didn’t write it, so I’m allowed to say it’s a masterpiece.”
Was the finale always planned? No. Not even with the last special left on a cliff-hanger? “I genuinely don’t think they had a part two at that stage,” Horne tells me. Jones and Corden were very firm about not returning unless they had the right story and the perfect script: “They didn’t know what was going to happen; they certainly took their time working it out.”
In 2019, Corden planted seeds while shooting the previous special, asking Horne and team when might suit a finale. Three years was mentioned but got derailed with the pandemic, not to mention Corden and Jones no longer living in the same country. Ruth lives in remote Scotland and Corden, at the time of writing, in LA. Given the distance, the cast thought it could be years, if at all, before a script. “You can’t write an episode of Gavin & Stacey over Zoom! It just wouldn’t work.” Horne says Jones was secretly flying Stateside to work on it: “They weren’t being withholding or anything; they just really wanted it to be right. Only once they had the script did they make the calls.”
I ask Horne to cast his mind back to 2007. Could they sense this show would become so monumental, so magical? “No, I don’t think any of us thought that. It was a new script, a minor channel. Comedy is black and white, it’s either funny or not. Something might be funny on set, but television goes through lots of people and processes to get the final product. So, you have no idea if things are going to work until the end.”
He recalls Corden filming season one, mumbling: “we’re supposed to be making a comedy!” head in hands, despairing. Even if the team had inclinations it would translate to laughter, its huge impact on the nation was unexpected. “You couldn’t ever predict that it would be so meaningful to so many people,” says Horne. We discuss how the show might fare if released today. “It’s very specifically of a time. I don’t think it’s dated but I think it was the perfect sort of alchemy of all those people coming together and what society needed on the television.”
How does Horne cope with the show’s phenomenal success? “It is all consuming. We never could have predicted the level of love … you can’t forearm yourself for it!” He tries to protect himself and loved ones as best he can. Horne is intentional in keeping himself hidden. I ask how he balances a public persona with desire for anonymity: “I don’t want people to think, ‘Oh, not him again,’” he says. “I’ve always been quite a private person and I’ve done my best to maintain that. Definitely more so as I’ve got older. I like staying at home more. I’ve got a family now.”
He became a father in recent years. “My son has changed my life. It’s amazing. I love him so much. I didn’t know it was even possible to feel that amount of love. He keeps me busy. And really tired.”
When I meet Horne, I’m astounded by his energy: he describes 4am wakeups, intensive rehearsal days at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. We meet at the café of another theatre, the Barbican. He tells me the word Barbican literally translates to ‘fortress’ in Old English.
Most of Horne’s career has been in comedy. Even in his current theatre work, Jamie Lloyd’s The Tempest, his funny bones are prominent. He plays Trinculo, a jester providing comic relief within the play’s drama. I ask Horne where his penchant for laughter started. At a young age he became obsessed with Tony Hancock. Later, Steve Coogan. “I grew up watching Laurel and Hardy and classic sitcoms of the 1990s.”
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He mentions Birds of a Feather, One Foot in the Grave, Alan Partridge. “When I was about nine, I performed this sketch I wrote myself, with just me in it. People were laughing and I thought: that feels good, that feels really nice! I should try and do that a bit more!” After studying performing arts and drama at university, he went on to perform stand up in his twenties before working on shows including The Catherine Tate Show, Bad Education and Horne & Corden, alongside the role of Gavin.
He’s currently adoring the live collaboration of theatre. It’s the first time he’s worked on Shakespeare since he was 18, but he’s not intimidated by it. He’s excited: “It’s great to be back in a rehearsal room with a new bunch of people.” The cast is impressive, including Alien’s Sigourney Weaver. I ask about Jamie Lloyd, a director famous for blending old-world theatre with modern-day film and TV casts. “Jamie Lloyd is a bit divisive with people, but I think he’s a fabulous director and I love his shows.”
We look towards his future more generally. Like any creative, nothing is set in stone. “There are times when it’s a little bit scary for all actors,” he says. “The pandemic did untold damage to lots of people,” he sighs. “The industry is in real flux.” He thinks theatre is settling down but feels like TV isn’t there yet. “Streaming changes everything but even streaming is changing. I’d just be really happy if I got a job on the telly again,” he says. I am shocked to hear this talent currently working on a huge West End Stage is saying such a thing. No show, not even the iconic Gavin & Stacey, offers a life-time guarantee.
It’s not all uphill, though. Horne is working on two projects simultaneously and has many doors ajar: “I am in a really good place,” he says. “I am so privileged to be working on Gavin & Stacey and The Tempest at the same time.”
He is enjoying the present: “I want to be able to enjoy the work and not think too much about what’s coming.” He mentions he’d like to write more. He’s making movements to get work made. Thinking the interview complete, I reach for the phone to stop the recording. “Oh, and they are remaking Narnia! I’ve always wanted to play Mr. Tumnus since I was a little boy!” He winks. “Make sure you put that in!” Greta Gerwig, if you’re reading, I’ve got a very lovely and very worthy fawn over here. Special skills include: the robot.
I’m successful in withholding all robotics during the interview. I empathise with how annoying it must be with people shouting ‘Gavlar!’ on the regular. He agrees. He says even Gen Z are at it, but he is nothing but grateful for the show’s love. “It’s a multi-generational show,” he says. “It seems to be transcending all.”
Despite the lack of teasers for the finale, I do manage to get something exciting out of him. This might not be the end of working with the cast. I ask if he has plans to work with any of them again. “Possibly one of them,” he smirks. I look into his eyes, waiting for the answer. “James and I have been talking about some theatre. That is an on-going conversation.” And from one final cheeky look, I know that’s all I’ll get.
The word meaningful pops up, over and over throughout our discussion. It’s the way I feel about our interaction. I want to hold the hug goodbye with Mathew Horne for longer than is socially acceptable. He is a man seeking meaning in all his life and in work. He knows this specific show is impossible to match.
“There’s something very special about Gavin & Stacey. It’s very aspirational. Very pure. I can’t think of a better representation of love, family and friendship in British television. It’s what everyone wants. And it’s why we are here on Earth.” And I, for one, agree. Safe to say, there will only be one thing occurring on my box this Christmas.
Gavin & Stacey will air its final episode on Christmas Day on BBC One and BBC iPlayer.
