| This Is London Interview |
| Kemp: Fighting death changed my life by Lina Das When Martin Kemp walks into the room after our photo shoot, all piercing blue eyes and dimpled chin, you can almost hear the collective thud of assorted female jaws hitting the floor. He doesn't look like a man who suffers from a lack of confidence. Even at 40, with his hair dyed an odd shade of mahogany, he looks lean, fit and eminently snoggable. 'I was really shy when I was younger,' he says, as we all nod our heads sympathetically. 'People would probably laugh if they heard me say that, but it's true. I still am a little shy, if I'm honest, and that's one thing I miss about Steve Owen - his confidence. When I said goodbye to him, I made sure I kept a little bit of his confidence back for myself.' Steve Owen was of course Kemp's alter ego on EastEnders. For over three years, Steve Owen ducked and dived and eventually went out in a typically explosive EastEnders car crash that saw both him and his lovely tailored suits go up in a puff of smoke. 'The last six months of EastEnders were a struggle,' says Kemp, 'and when I watched Steve Owen's character on screen during that time, I could see that the sparkle had gone out of his eyes. I'd always wanted him to be based in reality, but towards the end, it started to get into too much of a formula. He was turning into a bit of a caricature, like Dot Cotton and Barry Evans, and I never wanted that for him. I wanted the buzz back.' He appears to have got it. ITV snapped him up, signing him to a two-year contract, rumoured to be worth £1.5 million. As the station's new Golden Boy, his first project for the channel, Daddy's Girl (due out this month), will soon prove whether Kemp's name alone can score ratings. It's his first undertaking since he left the soap, 'and although I definitely miss the routine of going to EastEnders and I miss the people [he still keeps in touch with Michael Greco, who played the improbably deep-voiced Beppe], I'm excited about the move to ITV. Am I scared about it?' Kemp snorts. 'Nah! What's there to be scared about? I've reached a point in my life where I've realised that the more you chase things, the less you get. I know what's important in my life now and what isn't and, of course, being sick changed my outlook completely.' Kemp is referring to the period in his life seven years ago when he was diagnosed with two brain tumours. The first was removed in an operation which nearly killed him, but the second was inoperable and had to be removed by radiation treatment which, if it had hit the wrong spot, could have left him blind or dumb. The treatment succeeded, which is why Kemp's current rude health is such a joy to see. 'It's been seven years since I had it and I'm still talking about it,' he laughs and then adds, 'not that I'm annoyed that you're asking me about it - it's just that there are feelings I had at the time that I never want to go through in my life again or even have to remember. The brain just doesn't want you to remember the dark times. It was a dreadful period, but I look back on it now and regard the tumour as the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. I was lucky in that it proved not to be cancerous and, as I say, it definitely made me stop chasing things. Instead of thinking: "Well, if I do this project, then I might land myself a £35 million film", I do things now because I know I'll enjoy them and because the scripts are great. I had the time of my life on the set of Daddy's Girl and I'm enjoying life full stop.' The struggle that Kemp went through to combat his illness is well-documented, from his first bout of surgery (where a metal plate was fitted to replace the part of his skull that, along with the tumour, was surgically removed) to the gruelling radiation therapy he had for the second. In between treatments, Kemp wrote his autobiography, True, a searingly honest account of his life and his feelings after his illness. 'The book was basically written for my kids,' says Kemp, clasping his hands together and staring into the distance, 'and I wrote it in case I didn't survive. I wanted them to know about me but I didn't want them to read something that was second-hand, so I wrote it myself in what was the worst period of my life. I worried that my kids would grow up without me, but a lot of the time, I was on so many drugs, I didn't know what I was thinking. It was a tough time,' he says, shaking his head, temporarily lost in his own thoughts. 'Do I worry that the tumour might come back? No. Never. It won't come back. Absolutely not.' Did he acquire a faith to get him through the toughest times? 'Not at all, no. My wife, Shirlie did though, although I don't know whether she became religious Ð she just became very spiritual and is so even to this day. She grabbed hold of whatever there was out there that could help her get through it. But I never acquired that kind of faith. To this day, I don't believe in life after death and I find it quite warming to think there's nothing out there. Anyway, if there was life after death, I'd only be worrying about my family.' Did Kemp go through a lot of therapy after his illness? 'Not a lot, no. I went in for cranial osteopathy and the guy who was doing it just started talking to me. When he did that, that's when I suddenly realised that I needed to talk about my experience to someone I didn't know, just listening to what I had to say. The guy gave me a lot of love but didn't know me at all, and in a way, it was just easier to talk to him than to family and friends. With people you love and care about, you can't always tell them the truth about what's really going on in your head and you can't cry because they get upset for you. So that was a great help to me. I've tried reiki too, although for me, it only works if the person doing it is someone I don't know. I mean, I've tried everything! My favourite thing is the flotation tank Ð you just wouldn't believe the feeling it gives you. I'd say I had a bit of a breakdown after my illness - you can't go through something like that and not - but I'm fine now. I go around to lots of hospitals and talk to patients who are having the same treatment that I did and I think they get a lot out of talking to me. When you're diagnosed, the scariest thing is the unknown because you automatically think you're going to die. But I came through it and it's good to show people suffering from the same illness that you can come through it.' |
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