Introducing Tonia Sotiropoulou

An interview with the Greek actress.

What links Skyfall, the highest-grossing film of all time, with Berberian Sound Studio, the winner of the most awards at the 2012 BIFTAs? If you look close enough, you’ll see that it’s the up-and-coming Greek actress Tonia Sotiropoulou.

Four years ago, Sotiropoulou moved from Athens to London to pursue her career. She has just finished playing the part of Gilda in Future Cinema’s The Shawshank Redemption. Here, she talks about living in London, how she landed the role in Skyfall and what she finds appealing about independent film.

What were you doing in Greece before you came to London?

I did my first movie while I was in drama school with a director called Nikos Perakis who is very well known in Greece. After studying, I started working and doing TV. I’ve always wanted to do cinema and I’ve always wanted to move from Greece and go either to America or to England. At some point I realised it was time for me to go and accomplish what I thought I could accomplish. I decided to move to London because I love the way the industry works here. You have the chance to do American films, European film and English ones as well. So I moved to London. I started having acting coaching classes for two years because English is not my mother language so I had to work on it. I did accent softening and all the boring things actors have to do – well, it’s not boring for us but for other people who are not in the profession it might seem a bit weird.

What was the first role you landed after moving to London?

I did seven short films and some web series but the first part I got in a feature film was in Berberian Sound Studio. Statistics say that for a good actor you get one out of thirteen auditions. Berberian Sound Studio happened a year-and-a-half after I moved here.

How did your involvement in Skyfall come about?

I was originally auditioning for another role, one of the main parts. I didn’t get that but the casting director told me that there was another part that I would be suitable for. Eight months of my life passed, I did some other projects and then I got invited to audition for the small part I did in Skyfall and I was lucky enough to get it.

What do you like about living in London?

Everything is anarchy in Greece, not only now with the crisis, but it’s always been this way. It’s a different kind of mentality, maybe because we have sun. But it’s relatively an easy life to live. In London you really have to work hard because it doesn’t matter how much networking you do or how many people you know, you have to be disciplined. You actually have to go through auditions and you have to work on yourself and your craft a lot more than you do in Greece. I really like it because it has changed me completely. I have become a lot more disciplined and I’ve found a peace within myself and in my life. I’ve found my base and I feel more at home when I’m in London. When I return here, I’m coming back home. And when I go to Greece, I feel that this is the place where I grew up, but I don’t feel like I belong there. I feel like I belong here a lot more.

Berberian Sound Studio was a low-budget, independent film, while Skyfall was a massive blockbuster. Which of the two – independent film or blockbusters – interests you more?  

Of course I feel enormously proud that I’m a part of Bond. Even though mine was a small part, just working with the people involved, just breathing next to a huge director like Sam Mendes, is a huge lesson for an actor. But somehow I feel we have accomplished a lot more with Berberian Sound Studio. You make a film like that with a low budget and you put so much love into it, you believe in it, and then it works out and you see that people actually accept it, love it and you win awards. I love independent films because they don’t point at themselves for the whole world to see – like a Bond film does, for example. It’s something more personal. And when an independent film is accepted and appreciated, it’s a huge satisfaction. I think through independent films you have the chance to make more personal projects that mean a lot more to you than a blockbuster can. With big budget movies, people are betting a lot of money on you and you have to deliver, and so you have this anxiety. With independent projects you know you’ll have your crowd but you know it’s a loyal crowd. You know that they came to see the movie because someone told them that it’s interesting. It’s not because you have to see it in the way that you have to see Lord of the Rings just because it’s Lord of the Rings. You conquer people and that’s a wonderful thing to do as a director, as an actor, and as a production company.

In Skyfall and Berberian Sound Studio, you’ve been involved in two hugely successful films. What is it about a relatively small project like Future Cinema that appeals to you?

Acting is my job. It’s what I love to do. Especially with Future Cinema – when will I ever get to play Gilda again in my life? Also, it’s the interaction you have with the audience. I really love what I do. I want to see myself developing as an actress. I don’t believe that I’m an artist just yet because I don’t believe I’ve accomplished something that is miraculous. I believe that everything I’ve had to do had a certain amount of difficulty to it but it’s something that is manageable. I really love acting. All the rest – how people perceive one, or being a celebrity – it’s a part of this industry and people identify it with success. But for me, my job finishes when I hear the director say "It’s a wrap". I know that my job ends there.

Editor's note: This article's photograph was originally incorrect - depicting Berenice Marlohe rather than Tonia Sotiropoulou - and has now been corrected.

Tonia Sotiropoulou as Gilda in Future Cinema's The Shawshank Redemption. Photograph: Laura Little
Alamy
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Why serving wine at room temperature is a myth

There is no such thing as room temperature: there are simply different rooms. 

As a child, I loved Aesop’s Fables – all except one. Like most children, I had an aggrieved sense of adults’ perceived superiority, and enjoyed seeing them outwitted or outthought, in fiction at least, by fellow inferior beings: children, ideally, but animals would do.

Voltaire thought that fables were invented by the first conquered race, because free men have no need to dress up truth in allegory, and maybe he was right: Aesop, after all, was a slave. But children have been shackled by dependence and freed by imagination since time began, so who knows? Perhaps the form was created by them.

The fable I disliked involved a Satyr and a Man. The latter blew on his fingers to warm them, then on his porridge to cool it; the former, appalled, refused to fraternise further with a creature who could blow hot and cold with the same breath. Even to my immature self, this seemed unjust. The Man was adaptable, not dishonest; the ambient temperature had changed, and his actions with it. And who is a Satyr – half man, half goat – to accuse others of being neither one thing nor the other?

It turns out that most modern wine waiters are Satyrs of a sort. If I had a pound for every bewildered burbling about “room temperature” when I’ve asked for a wine, often red, to be cooled, I would buy myself a Eurocave. (Actually, I already have one, and it stores all my wine at a beautifully consistent 12 degrees. But it is full, so I would buy another.)

There is no such thing, Satyrs, as room temperature: there are simply different rooms, and just as I despise a wine chilled beyond all flavour perception to a degree that could be termed English Stately Home, so I desire never again to sit in a breezeless interior in midsummer while someone serves red wine that practically steams in the glass.

The vine is an exceptionally adaptable plant, stubbornly digging its roots into chalk or sand or clay, and the eventual result is a liquid that contains, when well made, something of both the land that nourished it and the hand that made it.

Humanity, too, is malleable, often to a fault. We shuck off cardigans or pull on thick coats, and sometimes we do the one while wishing heartily that we were doing the other, and we drink something that briefly transports us to the place we yearn for. It is only Satyrs who lack imagination, although adults sometimes need theirs refreshed.

Voltaire agreed. “The Man was absolutely right,” he wrote scornfully of this fable, “and the Satyr was an idiot.” I suspect he and I would also have concurred on the question of wine temperature, although, if so, Voltaire had a problem. He was in the habit of serving his guests wine from Beaujolais, just south of Burgundy, which is made with the Gamay grape. If there is one red wine that needs to be served chilled, to about 11 degrees, it is this one. But for his own enjoyment, the great philosopher cravenly reserved fine Burgundy, and the aromatic complexity of that wine would have needed a couple of degrees more for its perfumes and flavours to evaporate sensuously into his hovering nostrils.

I picture him chilling the wines uniformly, then warming the contents of his own glass with a discreet exhalation of breath. Moral failings, as every Aesop reader knows, come in many forms. That is what separates us from the animals.

 

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear