December 2009 Archives

The pay may be poor, the jobs few and far between, but as an actor, the ability to cast aside shame and magnify the stakes a thousand times (plus the ability to turn on the tears) got me on this train home for Christmas. (Knowing how exhausted I am and the necessity to stop every five minutes to attend to my streaming nose, I thought it wise to start writing the blog early this week!)

Having left my railcard in my “important documents” box… and then having sent the whole thing home to Wales weeks ago, I arrived at Euston, picked up my tickets so carefully arranged in advance (for a mere £20 to avoid the extortionate £100-plus fares the rail companies think it is fair to charge over the festive season), and then slowly allowed my body to shut down as the realisation hit that I would be needing my “young person’s” railcard to actually board the train home.

“Oh no,” I said calmly, and sat down to ponder my options. Having reached no conclusion after 20 minutes of pondering, I turned my attention to the Burger King across the forecourt. If I was going to have to put on a performance, I had better have a sufficient supply of energy, I reasoned.

This week has such a strange feeling around it. It seems so strange to not be at home for my ‘Christmas Holiday’ from LIPA. To not be there when the tree is put up, helping my dad get the decorations out of the loft and the all round day of frivolity as the house is turned into its Christmas time alter ego.

I am still stuck in retail, and will be one of the unfortunate people braving the trains on Christmas Eve in order to make the 500 mile journey home.

However, with Christmas time there comes a whole host of pleasures that offer themselves for over-indulgence. Mulled wine and mince pies tend to be scoffed in huge quantities, shopping high streets become awash with frenzied shoppers and as the big day draws near the amount of perfume and jewellery purchased last minute by frantic husbands becomes increasingly apparent.

Bar the weather (!), this week has been distinguished by the amount of pennies I have handed over to the lovely people at Boots. My handbag looks like a mobile chemists. We are now four days away from opening night and I am still huskier than the Cadbury’s Caramel bunny (where did she go? Is there a vacancy?) Yesterday, as I growled my way through my solo, my colleague the dormouse likened me to Kathleen Turner in her performance as Chandler’s dad in ‘Friends’… All very flattering, but I am determined to regain those lost octaves before Alice enters Wonderland!

Through the Lemsip fog I have gathered that preparations are now well underway; the fabulous costume lady is knocking up Octopus legs, the feathers are being stitched to my slinky Queen of Heart’s number and a plastic bag of jellyfishes has made it’s way into the rehearsal room… (you’ll have to come and see!)

With one week to go, I hope everyone is feeling wonderfully festive and have found time to buy lengthy amounts of tinsel and attack friends, neighbours, relatives, dogs and cats under a weighty sprig of mistletoe. Remember though, it only counts if the sprig has berries!

Having been thrust back to auditions slightly sooner than expected this week, I was faced with two rather daunting but common problems - an “actors’ actor”, and a know-it-all. Let’s start with the quite irritating, but harmless, actors’ actor. Here, I’m referring to those actors who insist on telling you everything they’ve done since leaving college, be it a voiceover for Carol’s Cat Supplies on a Vietnamese radio station or Spear Holder Number Six in Hamlet in a frightfully experimental production in a car park in Romford, all the while evoking the spiritual, physical and vocal embodiments of Noel Coward. Short of a silken cravat and a smoking jacket, it may well have been the great man himself!

I’m all for a bit of crisp articulation and the occasional, “Dahling, it was fabulous, I mean we used a skull made of crisp packets and Hamlet entered in a Ford Mondeo,” but surely we must be able to step away from the make believe world our jobs prescribe and enjoy a bit of downtime? I gave this chap the benefit of the doubt. It was an audition, after all, so he may have been nervous. But I couldn’t help noticing people sort of glide away towards someone else in the workshop whenever his dramatic duologue style of conversation kicked in.

I’m feeling rather festive this week!

It’s for many reasons; firstly, I have been spending most of my days off with my girlfriend purchasing Christmas presents and wrapping them. Apparently I am inept at wrapping gifts but perfectly capable of doing some pretty amazing things with ribbons. Secondly I have my first acting job: I will be touring Austria with Vienna’s English Theatre until the end of June 2010.

This is really quite an exciting job. Not only is it a long contract which pays really well but it is going to be amazing touring around one the most beautiful countries in Europe for that length of time. So these blogs may have a lot more of a European twist come January.

I’m not pretending it will be the most easiest of times being away from my family, girlfriend and theatre company, but thanks to the wonders of modern technology I’m sure to find ways to stay in touch, which is why I am strongly considering purchasing a Macbook. As a musical director friend of mine puts so eloquently “once you go Mac you never go back”. Let’s hope it lives up to expectations.

There are only nine days and 16 performances of “Beauty and the Beast” to go before Christmas, and I am writing this on my last day off before the tour finishes. Anybody who still wants to see the show can find details on my website - we will be appearing in/near Manchester, Ludlow and Trowbridge on our final dates.

Unfortunately on Saturday we arrived at the venue to discover that there had been a mix-up and the theatre had advertised the show for the wrong time… so we turned tail and prepared for the three-and-a-half hour journey back home again! With such a long journey to and from the venue, it may not have constituted a day off, but we were overjoyed to be offered a bit of a rest! Much as we all love this show, we are utterly exhausted! I defy anyone with 11-12 performances six days a week including get-ins, get-outs and driving on top not to be fatigued after a couple of months!

It’s official. I am sick. I have been relegated to the sofa with a duvet, several clementines, a housemate who possibly looks even worse than I do and a scary looking letter from HM Revenue and Customs.

Do you remember when ‘the sick day’ was a highlight on your calendar? Not only that, it was the result of a lot of planning, absolute commitment and painstaking attention to detail. The amount of hard work that we used to put in to outwit our parents!

First, you had to choose your day carefully, and of course, in advance. Only then could you pave the way with a half finished dinner and a general demeanour of ‘I’m pretending I’m alright, but actually I’m not feeling too hot’. A voluntary early night was always a nice touch to add some gravitas and to serve as evidence in your favour should you be cross examined at a later stage. At the first glimpse of sunlight, up to noisily go to the bathroom and pour a couple of glasses of water down the toilet and a hot cloth to the forehead to feign temperature. All this is preparation for the slow stagger to your parents room for an “I don’t feel very well… ” in order to get yourself sent back to bed for an hour. As the countdown to school bus arrival ticks down, the brave little soldier would come out and would really want to go to school… This is where it was make or break… As a final touch of flair, the waterworks as you ‘resolutely’ buttoned your coat would guarantee a triumphant ‘sickie’. The prize: at least six hours of daytime TV and the knowledge that you’ve got another week to do your Geography homework.

As a working woman, sick days suck. Firstly because you’ve already seen every episode of Murder, She Wrote. Secondly because you’re not earning next month’s rent.

But mainly because you’re actually disgustingly ill.

And, as it’s the festive season, lets add, “…oh so still”. An interesting and varied two weeks for me, a bit of all sorts split between the disappointingly naff Disney-festooned streets of London and the some what more enjoyable welcome of the countryside.

With the ‘postponing’ of the tour, I’m able to enjoy a whole three weeks at home over Christmas - this is unheard of in the past six years of my life, so a massive hurrah on that front. Lots of hedge cutting, log chopping, dog walking and at last Christmas decorating to be done, as well as the obligatory evening of re-threading baubles with invisible thread as the aforementioned dog would have no doubt enjoyed chewing/eating/juggling with them when they came down last year. This will of course be enjoyed with a bottle of wine and a mince pie or six.

I’m drawn back to an article that was in The Stage a few weeks ago, most possibly in Mark Shenton’s blog, reminding us of the definition of amateur - meaning “non-professional, as in unpaid”, as opposed to an outright stand in for “bad”. (It was a piece by Theatre503’s James Barry in our November 12 issue, and not available online - Ed.)

Upon my return home, I was in a wonderfully supportive mood and headed out to see my old amateur operatic group perform Scrooge, taking my mum and younger sister along in the hope of some festive cheer. Despite the cast giving it their all, it was all a bit, yes, ‘amateur’ which pains me, it really does. This is only because I have seen them produce some outstanding shows which wouldn’t look out of place on a West End stage.

I found the amount of response to last week’s blog quite overwhelming and I hope that everyone can find some use for the links listed. The Stage’s lists are particularly useful and forever growing.

Whilst meeting up with a few friends last week we were discussing “the distinct lack of work” - this roughly translates into “the distinct lack of our dream job”. If ever the fact that there are too many actors and not enough jobs didn’t register with us at drama school it certainly does now.

The one thing we have noticed is the amount of jobs for British actors overseas. There have always been the cruise ships and adverts abroad, but there are more and more international theatre companies looking to employ English speaking performers. As you read this I’ll be attending a recall audition for such a company which could potentially whisk me away to Austria for six months and my fellow blogger April will be joining my partner on a tour of Italy in the New Year.

Although we have had our male understudy with us all week, “Beauty and the Beast” has been fairly uneventful since I last blogged, despite the whole cast having to adapt to an entirely new energy and a character which the understudy played so utterly differently to the regular actor! It is always interesting to be kept on your toes though, and as a result this week has flown by.

My weekend was spent packing up the remains of my room here in London - since I am bound for Italy post-Christmas and will be touring away with Beauty and the Beast soon, I am sending all my belongings back to North Wales until May next year when I hope to return to London. I must say, I am looking forward to saving a little on rent! (London-living wannabes be warned - it is not the high rent that will catch you out; you can find somewhere affordable surprisingly easily - it is the cost of travelling around the city that will cripple you!)

I was interested to read the feature “Twist in the Tale” posted on the Stage website a couple of weeks ago, about making misquotes of reviews illegal. (You can read more about this, including an example, in the article itself.) I myself have been a “victim” of this - without wanting to cause trouble, I won’t post the details here. But if you are feeling nosy and wish to Google me, you may just come across a quote (which, I may add, I don’t think is entirely accurate!) from way back when I was 17, which one day may just come back to haunt me!

Next week, Beauty and the Beast will be coming to Theatr Brycheiniog in Powys. There are only a few remaining shows open to the public, so if you want to catch it please visit my website for details - final venues include theatres in Sale, Trowbridge and Ludlow.

Lesson learned and now etched into my psyche (alongside the words to all of the Spice Girls raps from the first album): Do not wear tights to a Musical Theatre rehearsal.

Doesn’t matter what denier they claim to be, or how near to black ‘nearly black’ actually is; they will not retain your dignity whilst you roll on the floor like a log as ten year old boys jump over you in a hectic ensemble dance number.

Besides having potentially exposed myself to children and a wry Musical Director, (the immensely talented Patrick Rufey; Guildhall graduate, current head of MT at Amersham and Wycombe College, and composer of the fabulous score), rehearsal number one has got me really excited about what’s to come. The script crackles along and is as wonderfully zany as the land Carroll conjures up in his book (it’s been adapted by director Josh Sills).

Twitter comes under a lot of bad press. What with Stephen Fry apparently losing interest only to return with his tail between his legs to the regular outburst of Katie Price, Twitter can sometimes scare people off.

However, I am an avid user of Twitter and think it is such a powerful tool to promote not only yourself, but also to keep up to date with recent events in the artistic calendar. I attended an audition recently that I heard about through Twitter and my theatre company regularly updates their status with recent reviews and recent news.