The reality of travel, bureaucracy and family life when a child actor works internationally
The Idea and the Reality
The idea of a child acting career is easy to romanticise.
People imagine red carpets, glamorous locations and the excitement of seeing a a young actor travel the world for their work. Sometimes that image isn’t entirely wrong. There are extraordinary moments: opening nights, film premieres, remarkable locations and the quiet thrill of watching a child realise they are part of something creative and collaborative.
But like most things in life, the reality is rarely just one thing or another.
Behind every young performer working internationally sits a family quietly reorganising its life. School arrangements are negotiated, travel plans reshuffled, and inboxes fill with documents carrying titles such as parental consent declarations, school confirmation letters and labour permits for minors.
The creative industry may run on storytelling, but the practical side runs on paperwork.
Quite a lot of it.
When the script also requires a suitcase
One of the less discussed realities of young actors working in film and television is how quickly a role can reshape the geography of family life. Productions move constantly. A project that begins with an audition in a London living room can suddenly require weeks — sometimes months — of life somewhere else entirely.
This week, for example, one young actor from our academy is in Berlin working on a television production.
Back in the office, meanwhile, we are assembling paperwork for another child who may soon be filming in Italy and France. The forms arrive in two languages. Passports are scanned. Emails circulate between production offices, schools and local authorities while everyone tries to make sure the right documents are in the right place at the right time.
And then there are the conversations that begin before a contract even exists.
Recently I found myself speaking with a parent about the possibility of relocating their family to New Zealand for three months because their child is steadily climbing the audition ladder towards a role filming there. Three months away from home is no small decision for any family to contemplate — particularly when it means trading what should be a British summer for a New Zealand winter, not the most cheerful prospect when you already feel as though the sun has barely made an appearance for half the year.
When work separates the family
One of the quieter consequences of this kind of work is that families sometimes have to divide in order to make it possible.
Later this year I will be relocating to the wilds of North Wales for six weeks while my younger son, Artie, works on a production filming there. Meanwhile my eldest will remain at home navigating the rigours of Year 10 assessments while also attempting to keep his rugby commitments intact.
Like many families in the industry, we will temporarily split ourselves across two places because that is the only practical way to support both children at the same time.
In our case we are fortunate to have a degree of flexibility. Like many people working in the arts, our household already operates on a freelance rhythm. My husband is a musician and composer, and the nature of creative work often allows schedules to bend in ways that more traditional professions cannot.
But it would be disingenuous to pretend this is true for everyone. Many parents simply cannot step away from their jobs for weeks or months at a time in order to accompany a child working abroad. Work commitments, siblings and family responsibilities make that impossible.
Which is precisely why the industry needs support structures around young performers.
The privilege of international work
None of this should obscure the extraordinary privilege involved.
Film and television are global industries. A set is often a small international community — directors, technicians and performers from different countries collaborating to tell a single story.
For a young actor, this can be an incredible education.
They witness professionalism up close. They learn patience, discipline and teamwork. They experience creative environments that stretch far beyond the classroom.
And occasionally they see parts of the world many adults never have the opportunity to visit.
Several years ago one of our ten-year-old actors was cast as Tomika in the international tour of School of Rock. The production travelled across Asia for three months, moving between cities while the children performed to packed theatres night after night.
Every child in the cast travelled with a parent. Families lived together in hotels for the duration of the tour as the production moved from country to country.
For the children, it was extraordinary. They were performing in major theatres, exploring cities many adults only ever dream of visiting, and experiencing the thrill of live performance on an international stage.
But the reality for the parents was a little more complicated.
Three months living out of hotel rooms, navigating unfamiliar cities, managing schoolwork, and maintaining the strange social rhythm that develops when an entire group of parents who did not necessarily choose one another find themselves spending every day together.
Parent burnout on tours like that is very real. Not because the experience isn’t wonderful — it often is — but because even extraordinary opportunities carry their own pressures.
Seeing incredible places and sharing those moments with your child can be unforgettable. But it helps to prepare yourself for the other side of the experience as well.
The paperwork nobody tells you about
International work with children requires organisation long before anyone steps on a plane.
Parents quickly learn that it helps to know exactly how much time is left on everyone’s passports, where the birth certificates are, and which drawer contains the growing collection of official documents that productions may suddenly request.
Schools also become an essential partner in the process. Having a trusted person in the school office who understands the industry and can turn around letters or confirmations quickly can make an enormous difference when a production deadline appears with very little warning.
Over the years I have had the unique privilege of seeing just how varied schools can be in their response to young performers. Some institutions guard attendance rules with a zeal that can make the Gestapo look positively accommodating. Others recognise that there are young artists in their midst and actively support and champion them.
It is worth finding out which type of school you are dealing with — and building that relationship early. When a licence application suddenly needs to be issued quickly, you do not want that to be the moment you are introducing yourself to the school office for the first time.
Families who prepare ahead of time tend to navigate these moments far more smoothly.
Extending the family
At HAYA we recognised early on that international work would sometimes require solutions beyond the immediate family.
Over time we have built a strong and trusted network of licensed chaperones who can accompany young actors when parents cannot.
Many of them are familiar faces from the academy — young, energetic assistants who already know the children well, but who are also properly trained and licensed to supervise them professionally.
In effect, the HAYA community becomes an extended family.
For parents this offers something invaluable: peace of mind and choice. If a role requires travel abroad but a parent cannot commit to that time away from work or family life, they know their child can still be supported by someone responsible, trusted and familiar.
It ensures that opportunities do not disappear simply because logistics are complicated.
Keeping perspective
Occasionally a HAYA parent will look slightly alarmed when a rehearsal or headshot session requires a trip into London. One can almost hear the familiar Coronation Street meme echoing in the background — the Mancunian cry of disbelief: “London?!”
It’s not uncommon to meet parents who feel uneasy about their sixteen-year-old navigating the Tube alone or catching a train into the city.
Which is slightly ironic when you consider that, under UK licensing rules, that same sixteen-year-old could technically be put on a plane to South Africa to film a commercial without the supervision of a parent or licensed chaperone.
The acting industry has a curious way of stretching everyone’s sense of geography. I would gently encourage parents to start stretching that mental muscle early — because the world, whether we like it or not, has become a very small place.
Compared with Berlin, Sicily or Auckland, Euston begins to feel very close to home indeed.
Keeping perspective
Occasionally a HAYA parent will look slightly alarmed when a rehearsal or headshot session requires a trip into London. One can almost hear the familiar Coronation Street meme echoing in the background — the Mancunian cry of disbelief: “London?!”
It’s not uncommon to meet parents who feel uneasy about their sixteen-year-old navigating the Tube alone or catching a train into the city.
Which is slightly ironic when you consider that, under UK licensing rules, that same sixteen-year-old could technically be put on a plane to South Africa to film a commercial without the supervision of a parent or licensed chaperone.
The acting industry has a curious way of stretching everyone’s sense of geography. I would gently encourage parents to start stretching that mental muscle early — because the world, whether we like it or not, has become a very small place.
Compared with Berlin, Sicily or Auckland, Euston begins to feel very close to home indeed.
