Who said young people today have no ambition?

Meeting 23-year-old Chris Dingli and 24-year-old Malcolm Galea is like meeting two energetic dynamos. They are so full of plans, goals and forecasts for the future that they make me gulp in shame.

We met for dinner at Zeri’s, since this Paceville restaurant doesn’t open for lunch. Our host is Mark Zerafa, the chef and owner who opened this place two years ago and immediately made a hit with his Mediterranean cuisine. He comes out personally to show us his selection of fresh fish and describes so many delectable ways he can cook it for us that we are spoilt for choice.

The place is busy, with a large group of Chinese tourists and a constant stream of other diners who have obviously been here before.

Malcolm and Chris arrive straight from a rehearsal of Snubbed Actors Inc., a play written by Malcolm and which stars just the two of them. In a perfect example of art imitating life, it is about two actors who keep getting turned down during auditions, and who therefore decide to write their own play and cast themselves.

“We had both been commissioned to act in plays just before we did the Panto but they fell through. We felt so let down, thinking ‘what if our lives end up like this?’ So I decided to write a play about it and we would do everything ourselves.”

That was how Snubbed Actors Inc. was born and despite everything going wrong that could go wrong (“two days before the show opened, new pages were still coming in”) the play opened at St James last June to good reviews.

The story reminds me of Ben Affleck and Matt Damon who did something similar with Good Will Hunting.

When I tell them this, Chris and Malcolm argue good-naturedly over who gets to be who, “I’m Ben because I’m the good-looking one,” says Malcolm with a grin.

Due to popular demand they are putting the play on again on 3, 4 and 5 September.

The premise of the story is very much tongue-in-cheek.

“We are both dressed in a purple shirt and white cut-off trousers. Purple is unlucky on stage which is why we chose it – so if the play is not good, you can blame it on the purple. It is a bit commercial, because if nobody wants to come and watch it, what’s the point?” Malcolm adds.

Our waiter arrives with the starter – Malcolm and Chris have chosen baby octopus with ragout. I decide to just nibble on galletti and a dip.

As they give me a rundown of their respective CVs it turns out that despite different beginnings, they are uncannily similar.

Malcolm’s family migrated to Australia when he was 10 and they returned to Malta when he was 15.

“I went to an area secondary school where people are expected to find full-time jobs as soon as they finish. I got my ‘0’ levels and went to Sixth Form,” says Malcolm, in his fast-talking voice.

Chris had a more middle-class upbringing, but there was one thing they did have in common: ambition. Both had part-time jobs at the age of 15, “we wanted money” is their succinct answer.

Malcolm points out: “If you want to get where you want in life, you either have to be very lucky, or just do it. I used to write in my diary and at the start of each year I would wonder which of the days would have bad things written in them. I thought ‘wouldn’t it be great to just have good things written and live it?’ So I mentally ‘wrote’ my diary. I see where I want to go and with my writing I make sure I end up there.”

Ah, the power of positive thinking.

These two are a formidable duo who feed off each other’s wit and humour, constantly interrupting each other with anecdotes and finishing each other’s sentences. Theirs is a long, enduring friendship which started at sixth form, has seen them through university and continues now that they both have steady girlfriends (it helps that the ladies also get along with each other).

By the time they were 19 they were both acting at the national theatre, choosing to do many

projects together.

“I’m a writer,” Malcolm begins.

“Good excuse for a job,” pipes in Chris who, despite his slight frame, has a surprisingly deep voice,

This jibe doesn’t faze Malcolm; since writing is what he has always wanted to do he sees no point in getting any other kind of job. He makes ends meet as a radio and club DJ while an upcoming 39-episode sitcom on NET TV about four friends, will represent his first real paid writing job. Focused and meticulous, Malcolm is the type who leaves nothing to chance, planning everything carefully. His is a one-track mind when it comes to his future as a writer: “Failure is not an option,” he tells me.

So far, his plans have fallen into place: he won the MADC one-act play by using a careful strategy: writing a play that would be attuned to the audience.

“From past experience I knew that it would be an MADC crowd, so there were a lot of in-jokes. I knew that there weren’t many male actors available, so I wrote it for one boy and three girls. The budget was zero so I based the play in the actual theatre where it was being performed. You have to work with what you have.”

He was given the chance to write last year’s Panto, and played one of the dames (the other dame was, of course, Chris). Following in the footsteps of Panto scriptwriter Alan Montanaro was not easy, but Malcolm pulled it off and came up with a hilariously funny script.

“I knew that if I really wanted to be a writer I had to prove myself very early on. You can do a hundred stage plays, but if you do Panto, you get immediate recognition.”

There is also a greater chance of failing badly...

“Yes, I knew that,” Malcolm agrees. “It was very intimidating and because Alan was taking a year off, a lot of other people did too! So, there I was, a new writer with a new chorus of just 14 instead of the usual 24 and two new dames as well. But I’ve always had a kind of step ladder in my head of things I need to write, and this was one of them.”

Chris points out: “He’s very methodical, he doesn’t just write a Panto. He carefully analyses what kind of jokes would go down well.”

As the dames Frida and Fekruna, Chris and Malcolm brought the house down and despite the usual Panto mishaps of cast members coming down with flu, things catching fire and people injuring themselves, it was, as they say, all right on the night.

“I am too young to play a dame by myself,” says Chris, “so that was the only time I put my foot down and insisted that the other dame should be Malcolm; it had to be someone I knew well. We had presented the Student Fest together at university, which is very good training because if they don’t like you they throw tomatoes; they love tearing someone down.”

I asked Malcolm whether he ever has any doubts that what he has written is actually funny.

“All the time!” he exclaims. “After a few rehearsals it becomes stale and the cast stops laughing, so you have to keep reminding yourself that they did laugh at the beginning. That is why comedy is such a challenge. If you’re in a theatre and nobody in the audience laughs, you’ve had it.”

Our waiter brings us the main course. Chris and I have a mixed plate of oven baked fresh tuna, giant prawns and sea bass, while Malcolm just had the tuna. Flavoured with balsamic vinegar and coriander, it is just as delicious as Mark had described it.

Chris fell into acting just by chance; he took part in something at Junior College, realised he enjoyed it and was actually quite good at it. The MADC Panto as part of the chorus was his next step and he hasn’t stopped since. He has no qualms in choosing theatre over any job:

“While I was doing Cabaret, before joining the British High Commission, I was working at another place and they were not going to let me leave work on the night of a performance! I was so late that they were doing the drum roll, which was my cue to enter and I was still putting on my make-up, with five people trying to dress me! So that job had to go.” The role of the flamboyant Emcee could not have been further removed from Chris’s own low-key personality.

“It’s usually played by someone much older because he’s supposed to have seen and lived a lot of life. In fact I think Tony Bezzina took quite a risk in casting me, but I read about the time and the stories that Cabaret is based on. I didn’t watch the film because you tend to copy what you see and I wanted the role to be mine.”

Were people surprised by your performance?

“Yes, very. That was the first major, high profile role that I had,” he says, quietly pleased.

Like Malcolm, Chris is equally determined and after countless attempts and numerous auditions, he has finally secured a place at the Weber-Douglas Academy of Dramatic Arts in London. He’s resigned from his job at the British High Commission and is going to fulfil what has been a lifelong dream.

“It’s a post-graduate course, so by accepting him they have taken it as a given that he’s got the talent based on his stage experience in Malta,” Malcolm says, as proud as if he had been accepted himself.

According to Chris, Malta’s theatre scene, although amateur, is considered to be of a very high standard even in London.

Chris has always tried to stretch his talents in a wide range of roles: from the sleazy, amoral Emcee to a stuttering young man in TV’s Dejjem Tieghek Becky.

“I didn’t do television for the exposure, I just wanted the learning experience of working in another medium,” Chris points out.

Having said that, his role has made him an instantly recognisable face and Malcolm delights in telling me how Chris was mobbed during a recent visit to McDonald’s.

In Like Totally Weird, Chris played a teenage boy heavily influenced by violent movies, who is on the verge of becoming a psychopath, “I was scared to do that role because I had to be intimidating which is hard in a large theatre like the Manoel. There was also the danger of coming across as a caricature, I had to find a careful balance.”

Malcolm, too, has been through the TV drama drill: working on Villa Sunset and Viva l-Ministru. He glosses over these, preferring to mention his work as Sidon on Helen of Troy on which he has every actor’s dream: a film credit.

Chris had a part too, as “sailor at tiller” – “you can see my elbow,” he quips.

Those who watched the mini-series will remember Malcolm as the guy who was buried up to his neck in sand in order to get him to talk. It turned out to be unintentionally funny for us, of course, because he screams his head off in Maltese.

“I was tempted to add a few choice swear words,” he recalls.

In the classic funny man/straight man tandem that makes up many a comic partnership, their comedy styles complement each other.

Malcolm is the talkative one, sometimes too talkative “I tend to put my foot in it a lot of the time,” he admits. He panics and needs everything to be perfect – his is the more verbal kind of humour that relies on witty repartee.

Chris, on the other hand, is more relaxed, loves physical comedy and has an enormous range of facial expressions. They take it in turns to play the “straight man”, adopting the required deadpan expression that makes a joke even funnier.

Together they make a great team, especially on stage, capable of ad-libbing outrageously, knowing full well that the other one will pick up the new direction immediately and carry on.

“During Panto we were coming up with new jokes in between scenes, going on stage and just doing them. I could never do that with anyone else,” says Chris.

The future is beckoning each of them in different ways. Malcolm is now engaged (after carefully planning how to pop the question, of course) to his actress girlfriend Angele.

He is also busy writing the words for the masquerade musical 1565, which is being presented at the MCC in February. Music will be by Mro Paul Abela.

It is yet another ambitious project, another step in the ladder of Malcolm’s “plan” to always do something bigger than before. It is as if he has a mental checklist, Panto – check, sitcom – check, musical – check.

“My ultimate plan is to write shows and adverts for television full-time for abroad but still be based in Malta. Then, instead of doing other jobs to fund my writing, I can work part-time on that film which will take me to Hollywood or Cannes.”

Chris, meanwhile, can’t wait to start his course.

“I don’t know what I’m going to be doing when I’m 35,” he says. “I just know I’m going to be in London.”

He is patently feeling restless in Malta and can’t wait to leave this tiny place. They both point out the obvious limitations here, although they agree that it is a good testing ground – “let’s face it, if you can’t make it in Malta, forget about anywhere else.”

After years of always doing everything together, their paths are diverging, slowly but surely. There is one thing for sure, however – when they are old and grey neither of them will have any regrets because they didn’t go for their dreams