A Day With Ben Whishaw, From Diner Coffee to Onstage Scars

11:15 am I wake up between 10 and 11 and then venture out for food. Mark is writing music for a TV series, and he’s trying to synchronize his work times with mine. We’re both semi-nocturnal at the moment.

11:40 am This diner is called Hector’s. My dad visited a few weeks ago, and we took him here. I first came to America with him when I was 11. Then, as now, I’m amazed by the vast scale of everything. Like the enormous cups of coffee.

Noon Mark and I don’t talk a lot in the mornings — we’re neither of us very good in the morning. Sometimes we’ll read our books. Or sometimes we’ll just gaze out the window, each in our own world.

12:30 pm Mark loves CVS. I don’t know why. And the book is Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem. Doing The Crucible has made me reflect on how quite moral human beings can end up doing despicable things.

1:19 pm I love churches, especially urban churches like this one, that are somewhere on the cusp of being ugly and beautiful. It makes sense to me that a religious building should have both those qualities.

1:47 pm I may in fact be addicted to buying books; on bad days, I think of quitting it all and working in a bookshop. I was very taken with this table of translations; I bought one by Yukio Mishima and one by Peter Handke.

6:10 pm I love the journey to the theater on the subway, seeing everyone go about their lives. Ninety-nine percent of the time I go unrecognized. My voice is suffering at the moment, so I’m drinking gallons of water!

6:32 pm This is the auspicious entrance to the backstage of the theater. Basically a gutter. I think people have this notion being an actor is glamorous, but I don’t find it to be. It’s an odd life.

7:03 pm An hour or so before curtain, we all do this vocal warm-up. It’s led by our youngest cast member, Elizabeth Teeter, who is 14 and quite brilliant. It involves some squatting and stretching and trilling and tongue-twisting.

9:27 pm My Act Four scars. It’s a chance to sip a bit of warming tea, made by my wonderful dresser Tim, and to gossip a bit with our hair and makeup artists. We’re arranging a games night to celebrate the midpoint of the run.

10:47 pm It is quite tiring playing this role, but I am energized by the play. I feel all sorts of things when I step offstage, but initially, Survived another one! Then, in the shower, I start listing all the things I could have done better.

10:50 pm I wear a lot of makeup in the final act, which, despite my best efforts at scrubbing it off each night, has turned the bedsheets an unpleasant brown. Mark insists I find a more effective body wash.

11:28 pm I’m not great company after the show; I usually want to sit and be quiet for a bit. I try to exit unnoticed through the back door, but a few people have gotten wind of that and wait for me. Mark waits up for me.