There's comedy in tragedy, and tragedy in comedy. There's always light and dark in most jobs. Whether it's framed as a comedy, drama or tragedy, you try to mix it up within that. You can work on a comedy and it's not laugh-a-minute off set. You can work on a tragedy that's absolutely hilarious.

The different variables involved in anything creative, really, are massive. When it comes together, it just clicks, I suppose.

I was lucky, I had support from Mum and Dad - they said as long as you work hard, anything is possible. I never thought past those two things - that I liked living in imaginary worlds and that it is possible to do that for a living.

It's a real testament to the amount of skill and talent involved, across the board, whether it's the production design, the construction, the costume design, the other actors, the way it's shot, the directors we had on it, or obviously John's writing. When things do go well, it sometimes seems easy, in a weird way, but it's actually down to a lot of cogs working in a big machine. But, I'm certainly happy to be going back. I'm excited to carry on.

I hope I'm always lucky enough to be able to work in theater, TV, and big films and small films. I think there's advantages and disadvantages to all of them. The fact that this was a small film without much money and without much time made it rich in energy and momentum and drive when we were actually making it 'cause that's all you've got. You've just got the story and the people.

The story revolved around this universal identifiable fear that we must all have, at some point, when you commit yourself to being with another person, to have and to hold until death do us part. It's a huge thing. I just felt like it was a brilliant examination of what would happen, if the person that you trusted implicitly and thought you knew every follicle and pour of, inside and out, started to not be that person anymore, inside. Physically, they're still there, but they're not there mentally.

None of us really know where we're going.