February 2010 Archives

Good thinking Cole Porter!

“I will never have to work this hard again…”; a phrase that has come back to haunt me on several occasions. Be it devising with ‘Gecko’ Monday to Friday whilst popping off to sing G&S in the evening, crawling about on all fours as a leopard and various other Narnian creatures or perhaps running around the pass track of an arena in a gold thong, knowing full well the stage crew wouldn’t be waiting with a towel. And now once again, I find myself in another physically demanding challenge of a show, finding new puppet muscles and the equally new aches that follow - hoorah!

But isn’t that a wonderful thing? I’m learning an entirely new skill, which although physically draining, is fascinating and the practising of which only makes you want more - the desire to learn, improve and ultimately succeed proving stronger than the want to stop through pain or fatigue. Bizarre! But totally brilliant.

I suppose it’s a question of gratitude. Firstly, for being in a job and secondly, for being in a job that challenges you.

On a similar thread, a friend of mine has recently been offered a job. Lovely. He’s subsequently turned it down. Ouch. Biggest actor’s sin? I don’t think so, no. Again, he was extremely grateful for the offer, but having just finished touring the world for 12 months he didn’t want to be out of London for another year on tour - perfectly valid. There’s also a part of him wanting to step things up and go on to bigger challenges. Brave and ambitious. Many points.

It would no doubt have been the ideal job for another actor, but it wasn’t the right path for this actor at this time. And surely that’s ok? I often think that we are trained to an almost parrot like fashion and must always accept any job offered to us. Don’t get me wrong, at the end of the day, a job is a job and of course we don’t always have the luxury to choose, but even as a recent graduate I always ask myself why I want to take the job - what will I learn from it? Is it an ambition to work at that venue or with a particular director, choreographer etc..? Is it simply to pay the bills?

All are fine and there will never be a right and wrong answer and no one else can make the decision for you. A job offer is one of the best parts of the actor’s life but we should never be afraid to turn a job down if we feel that’s the appropriate choice, for whatever reason.

Tomorrow sees me take a field trip - my first since Year 11 - to some stables in Wimbledon. Packed lunch, kagool and clipboard are all packed so hopefully it’ll go without a hitch.

And as a parting thought, don’t we all love those “end of a long day, sweaty, tired, emotional, still have to put the bins out, have a shower and read script for tomorrow’s rehearsal” brain mash moments…. and then Love Actually kicks in on the TV?

Joy.

My mother has been on the phone more than usual this week. She also seems to have mastered the art of texting (quite the achievement!). Her concern is my lack of a nice winter coat. Apparently I will catch my death in this weather and my current outer wear is not at all suitable. So, my mission is to get one, and my progress is being closely monitored. So far, I have not been successful. Below is an account of why I have failed to get myself down M&S.

Saturday
The day is spent repeating the following phrases ‘World Excusive’, ‘Brand new’ and ‘Madame/sir (delete as applicable) would you care to try?’ whilst spritzing wrists, necks and blotters. Quite enjoying the day job at the moment actually, the promotion has a great little team and the day whizzes by. As soon as it’s time to clock off it’s up to Manor House to rehearse a staged reading for Theatre 503’s rapid response evening.

Sunday
Valentine’s Day; the boy done good and took me out for some posh nosh before he had to dash away to acting duties for Nabokov’s Present: Tense 14. Note to anyone who wants to get to the Southwark Playhouse - It is not where TFL tells you it is! Luckily an extremely helpful cabbie applied his knowledge and got me to the right place smartish (have never been so grateful for a lengthy queue). New Artistic director Joe Murphey’s first event for Nabokov was a great success. The article up for dramatisation, ‘SCIENTISTS READ THE MINDS OF THE LIVING DEAD - Brain scanner enables man presumed to be in vegetative state to communicate with outside world’ , provoked some really varied, thought provoking pieces from writers including Jessica Hynes and Daniel Kanaber.

For me, the highlight was the unabashed, joyous performance from Brigitte Aphrodite and team. A glittery, goofy coma victim’s unrequited love story erupts into a full on party and the atmosphere at the Playhouse is electric. I advise one and all to stalk her on the internet and let’s go to her next cabaret gig with big sparkly banners.

For those of you who follow the workings of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, you will know that it is now just shy of 24 weeks until the fringe starts. It is a daunting prospect for a producer of small theatre like myself. With this being my third year doing the fringe I always start by asking myself the same question:

Can we afford it?

My very first year producing a show for Sell a Door, which was the company’s debut performance at the fringe, cost little over £3,000. This is without most of the costs we have now - in fact the performers covered most things themselves, we merely paid for the theatre, the fliers and the props.

Last year our fringe budget jumped to £16,000 and thanks to some leniencies on behalf of our venue we were able to get away with utilising our box office, with very little upfront for the theatre.

This year our fringe season is going to set Sell a Door back around £22,000 and I can hear that nagging question in the back of my mind - can we afford it?

Four days in, and I’m already beginning to think that no amount of press ups or lengthy yoga sessions will prevent my arms from falling off before opening night. Tricky. But what an absolute joy to have two weeks to discover puppetry and play with the actual puppets before rehearsals start ‘proper’ - a fascinating yet hugely undervalued artistry in this country.

Before I go on, please remember that this is simply my opinion and I welcome any and all comments/discussion which may arise from the following.

As reported in this week’s edition of The Stage, the production company behind Ben Hur Live has been declared bankrupt, which leaves many hard working and committed members of the cast (including myself), crew and creative team still due thousands of pounds of unpaid wages, which we are now very unlikely to see. What a huge shame. With contact from the producers becoming more and more vague, I only hope Mr Abraham is never allowed near another theatrical production ever again. The upset and grievances caused by his actions are wholly unacceptable, unbelievably thoughtless and with a healthy dose of upfront honesty could’ve quite easily been avoided as we would have walked after the first week.

On a lighter note, I arrived home last night to be greeted with a documentary about the Pineapple dance studios on the TV (Pineapple Dance Studios, Sky One). I have never felt so strongly about such a misrepresentation of this industry and the way in which dancers and performers have been represented. Yes, there will always be camp male dancers who feel they can out-girl a girl, but the supposed artistic director of the studios comes across as an absurd caricature of himself and in my opinion commands no respect from fellow performers. Perhaps it’s all for show — but if that’s the case, I really worry about his position to run such a renowned dance studio.

The opportunity to showcase the dancers that attend classes at Pineapple has seemed to pass him by and instead he has taken the time to seize the camera, stage semi-pornographic dance sequences in “Pineapple’s new and improved changing room facilities” and highlight a minority of crazed characters that have been hoisted upon some strange and undeserved pedestal. One of the featured “choreographers/popstar/best in bed” is portrayed as an embarrassing cartoon of a man and I feel sorry for any young dancer who feels the need to emulate him in any way. He undermines everything a professional dancer should take pride in.

The entire programme takes away the skill required of any dancer and fails to highlight that Pineapple was founded to provide a place for dancers to learn and improve - as opposed to buffooning around in front of a camera, bitching about fellow performers and topping up your tan every other whack of the leg. “There are people who do showbusiness, and there are people that are showbusiness”? Oh, please. Ridiculous.

After a good chat and a wonderfully successful evening at the Whatsonstage.com Awards, I’ve been banned from mentioning flip flops this week. But as I strolled along Drury Lane at lunchtime yesterday, the sun was willing me on to dive into the summer wardrobe and bring the flippety-floppety joy back to the streets of London. Sorry Paul. I can only apologise!

If I’ve not suffered RSI, fallen over a hay bale or been chased down Long Acre by a bunch of angry lycra clad amateurs hurling Pineapples at me, I look forward to next week’s instalment and wish everyone the best of luck with their Lent sacrifices.

Oh, what have I given up? I’ve decided to abstain from over-priced, over-crowded dance classes led by over-ego’d monstrosities. Take from that what you will.

At last some news from the tardy blogger! Since I left for Italy 3 weeks ago, getting on the internet has been the least of my worries - but finally I have some good experiences to share. (Because the bad ones don’t all make interesting reading). As I got on my flight at Stansted, I had little idea of what lay ahead. The extent of my knowledge was that I would be “workshopping” with 2 other girls for the first few weeks, and I blindly hoped that somebody from the company would find me at the airport at the other end!

The first few days in Italy were “training”, but in fact should have been called “planning”. I expected that perhaps in “training” we would be asked to explore drama activities practically, particularly as we have to rely so much on body language when teaching children who may have an extremely low level of English. In actual fact, the training days consisted of comprising a folder of paperwork with plan after plan after plan of activities and scripts and we were generally left to our own devices.

The Stage New Years party last Friday was something of a baptism of fire into the world of networking that comes part and parcel of this industry. Having never really gone about the business of actively making the acquaintance of people in the arts, my general excitement was mixed with panic before I rocked up to the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. Three outfit changes (midday parties pose quite the wardrobe conundrum) and five cigarettes had lead me to the conclusion there was not much for it but… well- going inside really.

At the recall for Shakespeare troupe ‘The Pantaloons’, it really struck me how high the standard really is out there. Which is both exciting and daunting when you’re doing your level best to think of an imaginative and entertaining way in which to convey a ‘dragon in a cave’ and you notice the competition sloping off to dig out their cellos/ukeleles/oboes (note to self- MUST learn more than seven chords on the guitar. Everyone knows those seven. ) Our group’s ‘dragon in a cave’ was notable not only for creative use of coat flapping but also for the clock that was knocked off the wall and smashed onto a fellow auditionee- who had her eyes closed in order to add to the cave-like atmosphere. It’s blood, sweat and tears in this business! Please note no actors were seriously hurt in the writing of this blog

Now, I didn’t get the part, but having spent the past few months doing the rounds at castings, I can honestly say my weekend with the Pantaloons was probably the most pleasurable and educational audition I’ve had to date. So often we hear horror stories, from the disturbing to the ridiculous (my housemate recently performed an ellaborate comic mime in his undergarments.)

As I sit in a branch of one of the world’s most loved coffee shops, it’s an utter joy to feel the sun hitting my face through the window. But enough Jilly Cooper for now, there are more pressing matters at hand.

The first being which theatrical delight will get my hard earned cash for a harder than is humanely acceptable seat. It’s currently a 3 horse race between Hairspray, Wicked and A Man of No Importance. Now, my main reason for this selection is having friends in each - so I would of course pay hefty ticket prices and travel to far off fringe theatres in far away boroughs, all in the name of friendly support.

However, the perks of knowing such theatrical folk bring the benefit of company or cast ticket deals - what a treat! Although I’d still need an extra convincer to sit through Mr Anstis’ Teen Angel, even at £15. Of course, I might play the rogue card and see what’s available at the National - always something on and regardless of what you see, give me a larger than normal glass of Sauvignon Blanc and I will quite happily sit on the terrace for many an hour enjoying the ambience.

The second matter of a pressing nature is the current BBC1 series, So You Think You Can Dance? Now, this won’t win me any friends or indeed land me a contract with Uncle Nigel any time soon, but I fail to see how the remaining contestants are the best Britain has to offer. Yes, they are very talented, accomplished dancers who will no doubt do very well, but there is a plethora of talent on show in the west end every night of the week; the likes of which would out-dance any of the contestants featured on the series.

Knowing that they are more than capable technically and in performance, why is it then that these dancers chose not to take part? With rumours abound that the producers were desperate for ‘stories’ from every one taking part I sort of feel it lessens the stature of the format. Some of the countries best dancers are simply just that - great dancers. Perhaps Mr Lythgoe will trust in the talent of next year’s applicants and allow some phenomenal UK dance talent to be showcased without the need to mention Harry the cat who’s lost his tail and has one final wish to see his beloved owner Joshua dance the tango.

And now for something totally different - that little gem of a venue, the Union theatre. With the transfer of A Man of No Importance to the Arts Theatre this week and the upcoming return of the all male Pirates of Penzance to the beautiful Wiltons Music Hall, they are a theatrical force to be reckoned with. Not only are they producing wonderfully entertaining theatre, but the variety of work on offer is second to none and it’s always a joy to head down to the Union in Southwark and enjoy the lovely company in the bar afterwards. If you missed these two great productions the first time round, book your tickets now before they repeat their previous sell out success.

This week marks my 25th blog which, according to folklore and the traditions of our fair land, prescribes that I am bestowed with many a silver gift. Although, as I failed to mention the previous 24 anniversaries and claim my paper, lace, rock, pepple, crayon or what have you, maybe I should hold up on the silver.

I’m gearing up for the start of rehearsals on Monday which currently involves re-reading the script and the novel it was adapted from, as well as evenings spent subjecting my housemates to many amusing horse related You Tube clips; all in the name of art of course.

The move to the East went well and we’re settling in and filling a wonderfully tidy and spacious house with mounds of unnecessary but familiar clutter - perfect. Til then, I hope the winter wear is still in easy reach after the deceptive short sunny spell and all is well and good wherever you are.

So Austria is pretty much a death trap for anyone of my clumsiness. Those who know me will be well aware of how useless I am on my feet; I believe the term ‘Winnie the Pooh on LSD’ has cropped up once or twice before.

I love being in Austria, but the constant blanket of snow at the moment means lugging all the equipment every day can be a perilous affair, especially for someone of my… disposition. So much so the bruise currently developing on my bum is about the size of Brazil and still seems to be growing.

One thing I do enjoy is finishing work between 1pm and 3pm every day, which means I have loads of time to relax and see the sights - usually from the window of a pub. Touring parts of Austria that are off the beaten track and away from the tourist spots means that there is a lot of local beer to sample. Good times!

Forgive me for my somewhat incoherent ramblings, but this week is rapidly descending into chaos, with sanity soon to be replaced with a big bowl of almost set raspberry jelly. Lovely.

On the upside, it’s great to be back in London, and despite the stresses of moving house and seeing another 320 members at NYT auditions, it was an absolute treat to catch Sweet Charity at the Menier last night. Such fun! Tamzin Outhwaite is particularly pleasing with the ensemble reading like a “Who’s Who” of the musical theatre great and good and by golly does it show. They work that stage ferociously and will no doubt continue to wow on a bigger stage…!

I have always looked upon the act of ‘warming up’ with a certain degree of scepticism. I believe a lot of people miss-use a warm up, they treat it like some act of marking their artistic territory; a sign that proclaims loud and clear that they are an actor and this is what they do.

Unnecessary screaming, singing of erroneous lines from songs, idiotic phrases and above all, that sense that the person partaking in these activities is somewhat “better than you are”, is something I abhor. It was a LIPA voice lecturer whom, to my regret, I failed to show enough respect to that stated it was a “warm up not a wear out”!

I choose to take a much more relaxed approach. I believe I have identified the key areas that I need to work in order to perform, mainly the articulation of the ‘L’, ‘S’ and ‘R’. I am lucky that my larynx is made of Teflon and my throat of steel and there is no shame in only working what is necessary; it is economical and it allows you enough time to be with your own thoughts.