Paddy Considine is suffering. He put his back out the other day, lifting a basket of groceries at the Co-op down the road from his house in Burton upon Trent. He is clearly in a bit of pain but is seeing the funny side. “A lovely lady carried my shopping to the car for me because I was in such a bad way. I think she was in her 70s,” he says, grinning. “Not that age matters.” As she loaded up his bags, Considine, bent double, thanked her. “She hurled my shopping into the boot and said: ‘I’m a tough northern woman.’” That cracks him up.
Actors talk a lot about keeping it real, but I don’t suppose many of them do their weekly shop at the Co-op in Burton. Considine’s realness is perhaps the essence of his quality as a performer. He is not the most famous British actor, or the richest, but he is one of the most respected. “The thing about Paddy is that he can’t lie,” said Olivia Colman, who starred in his 2011 directing debut Tyrannosaur, talking to the Guardian last year. Watching his films back-to-back I actually find the rawness of some of his performances almost unwatchable. He doesn’t scrimp, putting all of himself into every part, dragging it up from somewhere.
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