Thursday 24 October 2013



Week 8

Milton Keynes




Theatre - check

Great crew - check

Audiences - check

Endless identical grey concrete buildings - check

Straight roads with confusing roundabouts - check

Concrete Cows - don't know, didn't see them

Milton Keynes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . .  Rock and Roll 

Ciao

Saturday 19 October 2013

THE BIG SEEP


Week 7

EASTBOURNE

Eastbourne . . . . . Land of the young free and single.

Eastbourne Tourist Information states:
"Whether you're planning a day out at the seaside, enjoying our award winning beaches and excellent sunshine record or a relaxing short break exploring Beachy Head and the South Downs. Eastbourne Tourism will help you find all you need for the perfect stay, from hotels to restaurants, shops, attractions to keep the kids amused, to great things to do for grown ups. As a holiday resort, Eastbourne has something for everyone!"
(Eastbourne Pier...)

This week I shall be mainly staying in The Big Sleep. A hotel owned by the legendary actor Mr John Malkovich. OF COURSE IT IS. Every room has a picture of Johnny Boy in their room. I have heard the location of the picture differs from room to room. My picture was above my desk so, whilst making tea and jotting down outlandish ideas and thoughts, I could glance up at Mr Malkovich and question whether he ever had to put KY Jelly on a saucer, so cigarettes on stage would be extinguished abruptly and safely. Where is the fake yoghurt? Has the fake boiler been removed from the wall? Has he ever had these thoughts? Given he owns a chain of hotels after an illusive acting career, he probably doesn't have to think. The assumption is the hotels were paid for by the Nespresso advert he did with George Clooney. Pocket money! I digress. Every morning when I awake from my slumber I make my coffee, doff a fake cap and exclaim "Good Morning Mr Malcovich."

It is probably the only time I will say good morning to The Big J.M, so I am making the most of it. Some people spoke of the photo being above their bed. It becomes slightly more sinister then, with undertones of 1984, Big Brother is watching you. Suddenly the sitting in front of his picture, saying good morning and goodnight takes on a completely different meaning. IS JOHN MALKOVICH TAKING OVER? IS HE ALWAYS WATCHING?

I covered the picture with a vest.

The curtains are truly something to behold. To be pure and simple, the curtain is a rug.
A big furry rug. It made one feel like I was sleeping on the wall. Looking down at the rug.I have nothing more to say on this rug debacle. I liked it. I won't be buying one but, I liked it.

I stayed up most nights and had good banter with the night porters on reception. One of the chaps, who called everybody Sir, (which is how it should be), could recite the entire Blackpool FC team from 1956. Pointless. But impressive all the same. I admired him. Then the other chap tried to trounce him by reeling off the 1959 Arsenal football team. I wasn't as impressed. It was basically exactly the same story just with different names. Hearing it twice in succession was a bit dull. Still, they were very friendly and we had great banter. #megabants

If I am honest, I saw very little of Eastbourne. On our free days I travelled elsewhere. I don't have anything against Eastbourne, I just had to be in other places. So, I will try and sum up what I did see:

 The beach looked good, when it wasn't blowing a gale with short bursts of torrential rain. I am exaggerating, the sun did come out and it was bright, warm and harked back to the glory days of summer we had this year. However, these glorious sunny summer days were matinees so we didn't see any of it. Mr Hill and Miss O'Kelly went for a swim. My sources tell me they were extremely tentative walking in to the sea at first. One can only imagine how cold it was, and the immediate freezing of the feet, the cold rushing up the leg. Then they submerged. Refreshing. It seems to be a recurring theme for certain members of the company to plunge into icy seas. They are made of far sturdier stuff than I. Give me a luke warm bath and I am LIVID.

I bumped into a friend who informed me there are a lot of mobility scooters to rent in Eastbourne, there are also several thousand hotels. They have a certain look about them. That quintessential seaside look, Victorian style with signs expressing all are welcome even if you aren't staying there. Everyone is welcome for tea, lunch, breakfast or dinner. Everyone and anyone. Oh come on in. Sorry I can't find a seat for the breakfast I paid for when I rented a room here for a large sum of money. "We apologise Sir, we have many guests here for breakfast today. 85% aren't staying here but we need more money to appease Mr Malkovich."
CURSE YOU MALKOVICH!!!!!! (If for any obscure reason Mr Malkovich reads this. I am writing it for comic effect. It is not personal and I am a huge fan. I know John Malkovich joined Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre, founded by his friend Gary Sinise. Worked solidly for 7 years before he showed up in New York in Sam Shepard's play "True West" and has probably done all there is to do in the theatre. And I bloody loved Johnny English.)

Our audiences were small yet perfectly formed. We were up against Cabaret with Mr Will Young. Not to be confused with Will Smith, a mistake Zac made every day! I know what you're thinking, that is the first mention of Zac in this blog, and you are also thinking hopefully it's the last! Our audiences thoroughly enjoyed their theatrical experience.

We also gave people the chance to see a 1960's show for 1960's prices. YOU HEARD.
That's right, on our final show we were selling tickets for 6 shillings or 30 pence to you and I. (Even though technically the change of the monetary system hadn't come into play and 6 shillings in the 60's would actually have been 70 pence. Ah well!) So we boosted numbers considerably and made £9.50. BOOM. COMING AT YOU LIKE A SPARROW IN THE NIGHT. Well I could rest easy that my weekly wage was covered. Also, on the final night, Eastbourne was celebrating fireworks and bonfires. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ?
https://twitter.com/LaurenWBarclay/status/388690407959584768/photo/1

Therefore, during The Public Eye, the ever looming prospect of World War III was sounding quite imminent. It was loud. Perfect night to commit crime. So I did.

(Yeah take that Malkovich. I turned the L off. Who wants a luxury stay at The Big Seep?)


Final point, something that has been playing on my mind for a long time. Just where is the museum of shops?


Eastbourne. DONE

Ciao








Saturday 5 October 2013

1365 FEET IN THE AIR



WEEK 6

MALVERN


(This is Paul Bouche (CSM) paragliding...honest)

WHAT'S THAT? I hear you cry. WHAT'S GOING ON? THE BLOG IS ALMOST A WEEK LATE!

That's right. It can only mean one thing. In the words of Eminem, "Guess who's back, back again . . ." The lyrics then state Shady is back. I am not Slim Shady. If I was Slim Shady I'm not sure I would be in Eastbourne writing this blog.

That's right rat fans. It is I, Charlie. (Not Roland Rat, which may have been insinuated with the rat fans comment.) SO! Just to confirm, I'm not Slim Shady and I'm not Roland Rat.
It's me - Charlie. Your resident blogger.

(Me. In a chair. In Malvern)

I would like to thank Mr Whatley for taking the helm of this Voyage of Blog. I will also take the opportunity to thank everybody for their support and wonderful welcome back into our lovely PEPE company. That is Private Ear, Public Eye. Not to be confused with Pepe the Prawn, star of The Muppet Show and many Muppet feature films. Lest we not forget the famous words uttered by him to Gonzo in Muppets From Space....
"Don't tell him or I will spank you. I  spank you like a bad bad donkey ok."

Yes! Two full paragraphs and not a mention of our whereabouts or show details. It must mean one thing, Mr Whatley's accurate and wonderfully descriptive Blog/Diary entries are over and it's time to get back to The Ramblings Of A Madman. LET'S GO!

Zac has just pointed out to me that I could also have mentioned Pepe Le Peux. Another wonderful and fully appreciated comment from our resident marginally entertaining Bear like man. I sit writing this and as I glance upwards, I see our hairy friend in the mirror, removing his trousers and laughing inanely with a gruff smokers gravel to his tone. I ask him politely to leave my bedroom. I'm not sure this is part  of the warm welcome back that I was expecting. It is unnerving and a bit scary. However, I am still trying to get him the offer of Dame somewhere, anywhere, just preferably several hundred miles away from me.
(Taking in Hayley's great set for Private Ear.)

So..........................MALVERN.

Well. Where do I begin? Malvern is famous for its hills and its spring water.  A wonderful pairing which I think sums up this beautiful part of our fair isle. It is simple, stunning. A pure wonder to see. The hills roll for miles, sometimes touching the clouds. Watching over Malvern night and day. You arrive at the picturesque train station of Great Malvern. It is something straight out of The Railway Children. One expects a station master to come out in full garb and blow his old silver whistle as a steam train rolls out of the platform, people waving goodbye to family and friends by waving handkerchiefs out of little windows a la Brief Encounters. This doesn't happen and it is just a Great Western train with no buffet cart, however that is the only thing to break the illusion. As a matter of irrelevant fact for you, when I was here a few months ago, I saw the first butterfly of the year. Little things one remembers forever. It is a climb up a small inclined hill to the centre of the town and the theatre. However, for a smoker, a small incline is the worst possible enemy. The place is not great for people whose lungs are struggling!

(Siobhan taking a picture of the lovely Malvern Hills)

The fresh air hits you at once, it is wonderful, breathing in and not taking all the smells that London has to offer straight into your nostrils. The theatre is great, a hive of activity, with shows  running simultaneously in two  theatres and a cinema which shows the selected best films out at the current time. No rubbish! It is old school. And I like it! People smile and say hello to each other in this town. The man in the coffee shop had  my order sorted after day one! Joyous.


Our audiences were lovely and the autograph hunters were out in force!! The show is awesome, with a fantastic pace and everybody really relishing in their characters.

This week Esther and I stayed in a turret. Yes you heard. A turret! We were a few minutes from the theatre, you turn the corner and suddenly these amazing houses appear. Some built into the hills, some overlooking miles of sweeping green landscape. We stopped and admired them and then, bang, there was our castle! I have stayed here before and was overjoyed to hear Esther had booked the same place. It quite literally was a castle! This huge imposing building which looks like something from English country novels where Lords and Ladies live! A massive oak door into the building, and within, gothic esque windows and huge oak beams. One thinks the only thing missing from this place is a moat and a drawbridge.

During the week I think everyone managed to climb the glorious Malvern Hills. Rupert took his bicycle. Brave. He managed to do a figure of eight around them. Esther, Zach and I decided to take them on during our Friday off.

(Esther and Zac prospecting...at the Gold Mine)

Naturally we drove quite a way up and parked up in a little car park. We loved the idea of climbing the hills but, we're not fools! The full walk would have ruined us! Probably not Esther, but Zac and I would have had an interesting time. Lighting cigarettes as we climb up steep sides of the landscape! We set off, passing old signs carved into stone, such as, GOLDMINE and a big arrow!! We established that the goldmine was probably no longer in use! Otherwise the area would have been heaving with Prospectors with sieves. Dishevelled looking with large bushy beards and a crazy look in there eye. But enough about Zac.

As we climbed further the sun shone more. We stood watching paragliders taking off and soaring around above us. Part of an elite club, a selection of people who have experienced what it is to fly. Men and Women flying! FLYING! What an experience it must be.
We climbed onwards and upwards, looking forward to reaching the peak of the hill with an air of success and achievement. When we did, the realisation dawned on us that there was a bigger hill in front of us.It stood, tall and imposing, like a chair for a giant. We set off again, determination within us. There were paths but, Zac bellowed, "DO AS THE ROMANS DID. WE GO STRAIGHT. STRAIGHT." We followed. He is perfect for a period drama, a bearded King shouting to troops, making inspiring speeches overlooking countryside of pure beauty. Or possibly a mythological God. Alas though, I don't think there were Gods of telling the same bad joke repeatedly. Also I believe the big hairy king god market has been cornered by someone called Brian Blessed. MAKE ZAC A DAME. SOMEONE PLEASE. IT'S A CALLING FOR HIM!

(The Worcestershire Beacon, reached only after much pain and agony)

We reached the peak! Glorious. We stopped at the monument informing us we were 1365 feet up. Apparently 1500 feet qualifies it for mountain status. Small fact there. Anything else you would like to know please don't hesitate to contact me. The sun was beaming and the wind was bracing. A perfect combination. We could see for miles.

Being close to the sky is a really cool feeling. It sounds bizarre but, the sensation and feeling of being close to clouds and the unknown above you is awesome.
That's my view and I'm sticking with it.

(The Team back to together in the pub (Wetherspoons) in Malvern)

Well I'm leaving it there! It is my first one for a while so I am getting back in to the swing of all this blog malarky. We left the quaint town of Malvern bound for the seaside delights of Eastbourne.

Thank you for reading.

Ciao






Oh. And this happened  . . . . . . . . . .








I give up.

Saturday 28 September 2013

Up to our ears in Bath water

WEEK 5

BATH

(The team, less Siobhan who was on the dance floor...)

Bath is a town almost too perfect, indeed so perfect that even her imperfections seem perfectly proportioned. The never ceasing hills- which don't go up- they only go 'down', the new high street by the station which although full of the usual chain shops- has been so carefully deigned that the new birck-work of their facade blends in like a pastel hue with the rest of the Georgian buildings.

The theatre is one of the crown jewels of the town, an original and working Georgian theatre, with back stage dressing rooms that cannot be equalled- where audiences sit in beautifully upholstered chairs and front of house staff greet you in their finery. It is a nice place to spend a week, even better to bring a show- or in our case- two shows. 
(Bath Theatre Royal)

Monday was significant as it saw the arrival of Paul, or 'Bouche' as he has become known. Paul is taking over from Mike as our Company Stage Manager. Not unheard of, it is still a little strange for such a key position to change mid tour, but owing to Mike and Paul's busy schedule it transpired that switch we must and further more we would have to do a changeover week- and Bath would be it. Bouche had just left a company of another touring show and came to join us for the Get-in and introduce himself to the show and the rest of the company. I imagine it can't be easy joining a group who have spent the past 6 weeks together on a show he had never seen, but you wouldn't have known it. He cemented his place in the team by proffering a large round in the 'Garricks Head' after the first night and never looked back.

I've spoken before of the trials touring companies have adapting to new theatres, Bath is a much more intimate space, although deceptively large with nigh on 850 seats- yet sitting in the auditorium, even at the back of the velveteen circle- you feel very close to the action. I think the whole cast enjoyed the proximity of a larger audience, hugely attentive to very nuance and beat within the play. It maybe took a show to get used to, but by the end of the week the shows were flying- and audiences laughing uproariously. In short it was a joy.
(Paul (Bouche) and Zac outside 'the place on a hill that was always open)

The audience seemed to give the cast a further shot of adrenaline through the week as decisions and characters became bolder, the play more dexterous, fleet footed and indeed quicker. It never ceases to amaze how much our audiences and the buildings that hold them effect the show- sometime for the good, sometimes for the bad- Bath and Shaffer fitted like a glove and our company relished every minute of it. The shows grew with the audiences.

(The action man of British theatre ZACHARY...in action at the props table)

Wednesday saw the celebrated return of Charlie (taking up the reins of the blog next week!), who ambled through stage door to a very warm welcome. It was like our little team was whole again as he immediately got to work seeking out his all important backstage chair and getting his bear hug from resident giant Zachary.

(Rupert and Steven are very excited to see Charlie again, who is also excited)

Yet after the matinee we were to be bereft again as Mike left us, his very swift handover to Paul now complete- we had saw him off with a drink in the pub on Tuesday night- but before we knew it we passed on a few hugs and Mike- our CSM who steered us through rehearsals, technical rehearsals, opening nigh and a trip over the Irish sea was gone. Missed but not forgotten- we are hoping we will see him before the tour sees out it's days come mid November.

(Steven's dressing room door!.
.. might be running short of pictures this week)

Wednesday also saw our first pre show chat with audience members, run by the Bath Theatre Royal institution that is Ann Meddowes- who has seen a generation of actors and plays pass through the doors of the theatre. Ann expertly guided Stephen, Rupert and myself through a fascinating (or relatively interesting) and we hope insightful (at times) journey into the process of staging the plays, performing them and indeed experiencing them. I

The other major arrival, and shame on me for not mentioning it sooner, was the arrival of 'The Goose'. This is not for those familiar to the Birdsong blog- the estimable Liam McCormick, but rather the arrival of Jasper's newest and shiniest motorcycle. It is very attractive, very fast (I think), very loud (I know) and shipped all the way from Italy. The Goose was proudly on display outside stage door, indeed Jasper departure into the Bath night was always accompanied by the Goose's roar. So welcome also to The Goose who I believe is to you our merry touring company for the next few weeks.

(The Goose at leisure)

Other news involved a trip by Rupert, Siobhan and myself to the Bath Thermae Spa on Friday afternoon (4pm-6pm to be exact). Which maybe wasn't the best time for it, full of 'relaxing couples', everywhere you looked. Accustomed to our large and palatial dressing rooms, suddenly we were met with pools full to brimming with bodies 'relaxing'. Now personally I find this 'relaxing' rather hard work. Granted the roof top pool had a nice view, but surrounded by fellow bodies 'relaxing' it was surprisingly difficult to actually 'relax'. Indeed there was no activity to accompany any 'relaxation'. We had a two hour pass, but despite a visit to the restaurant I managed only 1 hr and 20 minutes and left more stressed than I had arrived having drawn the conclusion that 'relaxing' is not an activity in it's own right. For those in Bath and with £26 in loose change, it can sort of be recommended, but not on a Friday afternoon and not without a waterproof games console or book. Rupert scored highest on relaxing skills and lasted the longest and congratulations must be proffered.

And so to the verdant Green Hills of Malvern we ambled on Sunday to the sounds of the 70's on radio 2 and from where Charlie will take back up the reins of the blog and guide you through to it's safe conclusion in Ipswich.

Adios. Mea Culpa. 

Monday 16 September 2013

Over the water to the Emerald Isle

Week 4

The Gaiety Theatre, Dublin

(This is Siobhan, she is in Ireland, her country at The Gaiety and delighted!)

ALL EYES ON TOUR

Our time at The Yvonne Arnaud seemed to end before it had even begun. Two weeks melted away like the fading summer sun that warmed us all as we performed our first 8 show week which included a Friday night press performance in front of all the national critics.

We bade this lovely welcoming theatre adieu on the Monday and departed to our various homes with the plan to assemble en masse at various intervals at Ireland's most beautiful theatre- The Gaiety

(Esther, Steven and Siobhan arriving at Dublin airport)

The first move is always the most difficult. From having a team of 20 people to get everything ready for the first performance- when you arrive at the theatre, as Zac did, at 9am on a Monday morning you find that you are in fact all on your own! In fact Zac had left home at 4am to arrive bright eyed and bushy tailed at 7:30am at Dublin airport. Zac was in fact the forward party to be joined later in the day by CSM Mike and the tech team at the theatre- but nevertheless it is always a bit of shock to the system. A new country, new theatre with a set and group of actors who have all got very used to a theatre in Surrey.

The Get-In as it is called is very aptly named, does in fact what it says in the tin. You get the set in, some big shows can have up to 2 weeks to get everything ready, shows like ours have somewhere between one and two days. We had allowed a day and half with the actors and remaining stage management arriving later on that Monday evening.

Zac and Mike manfully got the set down the rather long and scary back alley to the theatre's dock doors as the rest of us met at the departures desk at Gatwick. You can see from the picture above, that although we all knew that we were off to work, there was a slight sense of giddiness- a feeling that maybe we might be off on a little adventure. Even seasoned travellers and touring dab hands can admit to feeling a tinge of excitment at jetting off (on a snazzy Aer Lingus plane) to foreign climbs. As the rest of the country awoke to grey skies and a distinct feeling of back to school blues- here we were off to  entertain our way around Dublin.


The office had sorted some lovely apartments about a mile out from the city centre, as Charlie will no doubt tell you on subsequent blogs- having a nice play to stay can make all the difference when you are away from home. Particularly if you are out of the country- so thank you Willa for making us all comfortable at the South Dock apartments. The first thing however on our collective minds on arriving was not to sleep, it was rather to get out and sample a bit of Dublin's legendary night life. We found ourselves a short walk from the newly opened Bord Gais Theatre, which is the polar opposite of our Frank Matcham designed theatre up the road. The Bord Gais stands on a newly renovated part of the town off one of the canal walks- and we found a little restaurant and settled down to enjoy the experience of once again being away from home and living out of a small suitcase.

Of course this week was very much Siobhan's home coming- and we were reliant on her inner GPS and local knowledge to steer us in the right direction. As she assured us that Lanigans public house was surely the next on the right (for the third time) maybe some may have questioned her, but not us, and fortunately just moments later we were tucked up in Dublin's oldest pub just in time for last orders sampling a pint of Guinness.

As Tuesday dawned we were faced with the serious task of fitting a performance that had worked for a 550 seat venue into a venue twice that size. With three levels and conversely a stage that was far more narrow- the actors had lost about 3 metres of width which meant all their moves would be seriously affected.

(The Auditorium of the Gaiety, this time minus a Siobhan)
Zac, Mike, Lauren and Esther were in early doors and had quite the task of getting everything ready. The actors arrived in at 4pm and had themselves only an hour to acquaint themselves with the new space
(The set, or part of it taking shape on the Gaiety stage)

As the director, the task at this stage is simply to try and ensure a consistency in the staging in spite of the various factors that are changing around you- ranging from the aforementioned size of the stage, auditorium, acoustic, changes in lighting, sound- backstage space etc etc. This can be a vey trying process, but in this case we have a hardened group of old pros. Zac did a sterling job replicating Tony's lighting, Lauren sorting out Dom's sound design, Esther doing a thousand jobs backstage and Mike overseeing everything. The actors to their credit did a rather sterling job without complaint at adapting their performances- once again it struck me as a great privilege to be working with this merry band.

(Here is the merry band at work reworking the play)

With all the buzz of activity it was easy to forget that we had a pretty much full house watching what we think was to be the Irish premiere of these plays. Never before seen, to our knowledge, in Ireland. There are many references to 60's London in both plays, phrases like, 'you mean like Andrews Liver Salts', 'Gin and French' and mentions of Soho nightlife, 'Norwood', 'Isleworth' and 'Putney' all drew peals of recognition, nostalgia and laughter amidst audiences in Guildford. In Ireland there were big questions as to how such references would play- and further more of course how the plays themselves would work.

First nights at The Gaiety are always special affairs, ushers stood on the street outside the front of the theatre selling programmes, red carpets, VIP's, Alan the long serving theatre manager charming the crowds in his dapper shirt- and lots of people of all walks of life of all generations flooding into the three levels of this old queen of a theatre. Tonight was no exception and there was a palpable sense of  these audience members having absolutely no idea what to expect as Rupert appeared mid dance to the 'Hippy Hippy Shake'. Watching at the back it was very hard to tell how it was being recieved, the audience were laughing, Rupert and Steve were playing it well- but clearly it was a big adjustment and maybe some of the control was lost to the exuberance of the occasion.

Yet of course the director is always too critical, and a director who is on stage can hardly comment properly. And yes, that was another change, as Mike is a man of many jobs and responsibilities- the director had offered to stand in for Charlie until his return. Charlie although only seen briefly on stage during the transition (now called a 'coup de theatre' by Charlie Spencer in the Telegraph...well done Chrissie and Hayley!) plays a crucial role backstage- so the stage managers are working doubly hard and I am doing my best not to bump into the furniture during this complex 3 minutes of stage time. 5 entrances timed to music, dressing Steven, putting on a moustache and rolling out a mat...trying not to be the one to bugger it all up. 

Fortunately except forgetting a chair...(sorry Mike), we pulled it off and the second half started with a bang...although for the first time not greeted with the applause we had got so accustomed to in Guildford. It was just a further sign of how much audiences and venues can shape and change a performance, the applause in itself created a beat- and as the actors on stage and off- you sort of begin to get accustomed to where these beats- laughs/silences/gasps/round of applause etc come and they get absorbed quietly into the rhythms of the night. We all learnt a lot from our first night- and celebrated by embracing the joys of the legendary back stage 'Green Room' which is essentially a little pub with green leather couches festooned with posters and faces of the amazing shows and people who have populated the stage here in the last 100 years.

(Jasper and Steve discoursing in the Green Room post show)

Naturally Siobhan had friends and family in, in fact Siobhan had people in all week- I think we worked out she single handedly brought in 30% of the entire audience on Saturday night! So we all sat back- for the first time as a whole company since our opening night and toasted the Irsh premiere.

We came in the next day did a few tweaks and played another large and appreciative house- this time both plays were played by the cast with renewed vigour, control and dexterity. I listened from the wings with a big smile on my face as the laughter pealed and the team operated on stage and off with oily efficiency.


Thursday saw the first understudy rehearsal, this meant that Zac, myself and Esther under the auspices of Lauren and Mike spent a complicated three hours working our way through The Public Eye. It is a tough job being an understudy. As Charlie has ably explained, the job requires you to learn up pages and pages of text, then put those words to moves you have no time to rehearse on stage and face the prospect of always being needed to stand in- sometimes with only a moments notice. It is a nearly impossible job. Esther and Zac are doing a sterling job- but it is hard not to get daunted by the job sometimes. As I stood trying my best to ape Steven's performance, the pressures of the role of understudy hit home- so next time when you head to the theatre- don't forget to spare some applause for this indomitable, crucial and massively undervalued role.

Friday could well be made memorable by a cracking performance from the company to a delighted (and delightful) audience, alas for me it was made unforgettable by a visit to Dublin's '40 FOOT' sea swimming pool.

To reach it you had to board the DART train from the centre for about 20 minutes following the coastline past Sandymount and beyond, a short work from the station and you start seeing red faced, smiling, wet haired folk walking in your general direction. Accompanied by a slightly mad girl from the west coast of Ireland (you know who you are Siobhan O'Kelly) we were assured that the water was 'lovely' and 'not cold at all'. Naturally there are no changing rooms, so whilst the small number of hardy Dublin folk change quickly and without embarrassment, the more naturally retiring West Britton (Englishman) played a delicate game of hopping in and out of his swimming shorts trying to shield his modesty.

 (Siobhan looking demure, the director looking and behaving less so)


Eventually with Siobhan already in and swimming like a little frog, I traced my way down the stone steps into the icy water. It was truly freezing and it was only due to the peer pressure from an Irish gentlemen shouting repeatedly, 'GO ON!' that I plucked up the requisite courage to fling myself into the Irish sea. It was er....refreshing, and as I said unforgettable...

(I have no memory of this moment)

Hyperthermia was fortunately avoided by a a hastily consumed bowl of soup before travelling back into the theatre for the aforementioned evening show followed by the requisite pint of Guinness surrounded by yet more of Siobhan's friends.

In fact by this point in the week the rest of the cast and company could only sit back in sheer bewilderment at the number of family and friends of our leading lady who attended from all corners of Ireland. The audience for matinee and evening shows were quieter in numbers but as we stood out to take our bow in the evening the sheer volume of cheers and applause made it feel to those of us on stage that we were at a concert of One Direction. We took the cheers (meant for Siobhan!) and headed off for a quick half pint in the theatre's pub- as Jasper, Rupert, Steven myself nursed our pints in quiet reflection of another week completed suddenly the doors of the green room flung open and within moments the place was full of what have been about half the audience- with early flights in the morning- there was an intention to get an early night, but such was the effusive atmosphere and good will from what must have been Siobhan's whole family that we stayed on chatting until well after one, by which point the technical team had finished their GET OUT (the opposite unsurprisingly of the GET IN) and we shared a final pint in very fine company at a very fine theatre.

(The Green Room at 10:06pm on Saturday Night)
(The Green Room at 10:10pm on Saturday Night)
(This is what happened to the English)

The theatre might not always have been as busy as we would have liked, but our Irish audiences made us feel welcome and appreciated, it is always an honour to be at the historic Gaiety theatre and my thanks as ever extend to all it's staff and crew who made our week so very memorable (and to Siobhan who single handedly provided us with an audience)

(Here i am posing on the now empty Gaiety stage at the completion of the get out, luckily it's very dark so you can't quite make me out)







Saturday 7 September 2013

'Going dark on stage...'

Week 3

Technical rehearsals
(OR there is no 'I' in team!)

Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford



I should begin by explaining that our resident blogger Charlie is having a few weeks off. He received some bad news earlier in the week and thus the onus falls on the director to hold the blogging fort until Charlie's return to us in Bath. Charlie we miss you and our thoughts are with you.

Before you can open a show to the general public first you must spend a few days locked night and day in a theatre (inevitable the sun shines gloriously during this period) adding sound, light and all the backstage cues for the stage management team. The cast have to adjust from having been in a rehearsal room without any set to suddenly having a working (hopefully) set complete with doors, windows and other surprises.

For this show we were given the luxury of working at the brilliant Yvonne Arnaud Theatre in Guildford. If you have had the pleasure of visiting the theatre here in Guildford you will know that it is place that likes to do things properly. The ushers that show you to your seats wear smart bow ties and crisp white shirts, they serve great food and they employ fantastic people. From the front of house team to the backstage staff- it is such a luxury during a busy technical period to have the support of a theatre like this- and my thanks and admiration are sent out to everyone who helped us open our shows here.

(Siobhan posing in front of another picture of her posing at Guildford's Yvonne Arnaud Theatre)

Monday was a day spent putting up the set (supervised by Hayley- designer in chief), rigging sound (Billy Connolly look-a-like-  and sound guru Dom) the lights with Tony (Lighting Designer and father to be (due any day now!)), putting the finishing touches to our mammoth props list (the super Claire Auvache), fitting the costumes with wardrobe supervisor (and the best dancer in the company- Toni) and making sure everything would be ready to start the 'technical rehearsal' proper on Tuesday.

For me it's such an exciting day, suddenly the set which has for many months been just a small model comes to life- in a matter of hours. The vision which you balance in your minds eye of how the action will unfold against the cold backdrop of a barren rehearsal room- suddenly takes a massive step forward. Like a child in a toy shop, I spent some hours sat at the back watching our whole team working as the show began to take form.

Meanwhile some of the cast were upstairs with their suitcases working with Charlotte my associate director fine tuning lines and timing in a rehearsal room- which to make them feel at home- was even hotter than the one we had left in London!

(Rehearsing in the greenhouse on Monday with Rupert and Siobhan)

That evening we went for a bite to eat, actors and creative team all together- all excitedly speculating about what the next few days would bring.

The theatre full of the detritus of a technical rehearsal

...In fact before we get to the technical rehearsal itself- I should mention that The Theatre being run by such thoughtful folk (thank you Carmella) put some of the team up at a lovely hotel just up from the hight street- called The Mandolay- it had the big advantage of having a lovely bar with a terrace with a heat switch. This meant that we could retire and continue chatting long after the music hours- in the hub bub of rehearsals it is surprising how little you get to relax with your colleagues- it was one of the real pleasures of the week- that after long hard days to come back to a nice hotel, have a drink and compare notes. So thanks to The Mandolay (they do a mean Mojito)- your contribution to production week was small but perfectly formed.

(The view from the directors desk mid tech)

Then suddenly two days and 5 sessions later pass without a moment to think. A tech session is approximately 3 hours. So that sounds like 15 hours. That sounds a lot. It isn't. Even for a play as seemingly technically unchallenging as these ones...Two acts, Two locations, 4 actors...easy?...No. As Charlie mentioned we have a fiendishly complicated live set change which he spoke about last week to contend with as well as an amazing reveal at the end- all of which involve flying things on lines in and out- combine that with precision timed lighting and sound cues and lots of furniture moving and you have a recipe for a big director and production manager (Nick) headache. We got there. Just. By thursday at 12:30pm we had just about got the actors through to taking their bows...we had to rush through a few bits- but as with all techs you never feel you have quote enough time.

(Here is Mike, CSM, talking Rupert through something very important...probably)

During this time, Dom our sound designer consumed lots of beastly food and we all drank lots of coffee and we all got very tired and we all had lots of creative problems but what made me proud of the team is that despite all the stresses- to the outward eye- if you were to come and sit in watch from the back of the stalls- I can guarantee that you wouldn't have noticed anything untoward. What makes this group special is that they are all top pros, they knuckled down, they solved the problems and they moved forward. Thus despite the strains and lack of sleep by the end of the week the best way of describing the process was that of it being 'a team effort'. The words on everyone's lips. It's one of the joyous things about making theatre.

(Red. Nice and just over 500 seats and Steven Blakeley warming up)

We staged a dress rehearsal, we took some photos, we took notes, we gave notes, we had a drink at the hotel, we didn't sleep very much, we drunk some more coffee and then...then before catching your breath you hit the opening night...except it was 2.30pm and it was a matinee on a Thursday.

Odd. I have never had a show on a Thursday afternoon, but the audience were taking their seats and the house lights faded and the curtain went up and Rupert came on swaggering as Ted in The Private Ear and we were off. Owing to the late August bank holiday where we would normally get into the theatre in a Sunday, we ended up losing a day and a performance and so it made sense to open in the afternoon- and why not? 

I was sat at the back. I confess to feeling a little more nervous than usual. During a dress rehearsal you can stop, you try not to, but there is a safety net- as soon as the audience come up- the safety net disappears. More importantly these plays have not really been seen in 50 years, there was no way of knowing how they would be received by a live audience. All these months of planning and hard work and now is the moment when you see whether they would work. Further more there is nothing you can do until the curtain comes down. As the director your trust and faith is fully in the hands of your cast and stage managers. So I sat, I held my breath and hoped.

It went well, the audience were maybe a little quiet, the shows were still a little too long- but it worked. The ending needed work, but in the main for a first show- it was about as good as we could have hoped.

Job done!? No. Not yet, Lots more notes- some of which we didn't have time to implement until Friday.  A couple of hours, and then in comes the evening audience, this time filled with some friends, agents and theatre supporters- an opening night then. 

Breath barely caught and back into watch the shows again, quicker, better, tighter, funnier. The scene change was a triumph and even earned its own round of applause- delivered brilliantly by Charlie, Esther and Zac and the rest of the cast. Siobhan, Jasper, Steven and Rupert really started making the roles their own and we watched in the darkness of the auditorium- as tiredness gave wake to a small sense of excitement that our plays were being enjoyed by a paying audience.

(Scene change in action! Photo by Alastair Muir)

Now if this was Charlie's blog- I would be mentioning that the real event of Thursday was not the shows opening at all. But rather ZACHARY HOLTON'S birthday. 75 years (nearly) in the theatre world. Zac has already received too much airtime in these blogs- but after a few shows working elsewhere it must said that is a pleasure to have the big friendly giant (BFG) back with us. He is a theatre man through and through and in these plays alone he works tirelessly with Charlie, Esther, Mike and Lauren backstage, undertsudies and will light the show on tour. So Zac. Thank you...and never mind that your birthday upstaged our first night party- you did a good speech (and a good bear).


(Here is Zac and Charlie mid pre show prop check)

In fact this blog is beginning to feel like a grooms speech at a wedding. Thanking everyone but saying very little- but it is maybe easy to forget the paddling legs beneath the surface of a theatre production. So much work goes unnoticed- and is only ever noticed when it goes wrong. Our DSM Lauren sits camera shy, but totally focussed at prompt corner- never missing a beat or a cue (except when her trigger button fails...), Esther as well as understudying Siobhan is busy helping with Rupert's hair, Siobhan's hair and all the costumes; Mike is overseeing everything and that doesn't even mention all the resident in house staff led wonderfully by Lisa. I am indebted to you all.


(Charlie's seat backstage- we'll keep it warm for you until you return we promise!)

The first few series of performance allow the cast the chance to wear the characters in in front of an audience. I've said it before and will do so, no doubt, again. But you (our audience...are you coming by the way?) play a pivotal role in the show every night. Your attention, laughter, good will and presence is enough to transform a performance- equally sometime we need time to get to learn how you work- so timings, riding the arc of the play- it's rhythms and musicality all need time to bed in with an audience there in the room with you. So there was a bit of tweaking that went on over the final few shows of the week- pruning, improving, making it better- basically.

(A shot from The Private Ear, photo by Alastair Muir)

So that's it. Saturday reached and then before you know it the bulk of our team all depart onto their next jobs. Hayley, Toni, Chrissie, Charlotte, Claire, Nick, Dom, Tim and Tony all departing into the night their notebooks moving onto the next show- but their work is proudly now on display at The Yvonne Arnaud and then on tour.

My final work is to our author, Peter Shaffer whom we hope will visit us in the near future. These plays were written over 50 years ago- in some ways they are very much period pieces, yet in front of an audience the strength of reaction, the sheer joy, heartbreak and wit displayed is a continuous delight. Good writing always wins out- we have a great team, a great cast and no less than two fantastic plays by one of our great playwrights. What a rare priviledge.

 Lauren and Zac having a well deserved snifter in the nearby pub-


Do try and catch us on tour. www.originaltheatre.com


Alastair

Thursday 29 August 2013

'For goodness sake, I've got the hippy hippy shakes . . . '


Week 2


Where to begin? Two words. Zachary Holton, my fellow understudy. Some say he is the sage of british theatre. I am inclined to agree, if the sage has been left in a cupboard with no sunlight or water for several months. However, for a piece of dying sage, he is immensely dainty. A big friendly dainty hairy giant. Or, BFDHG for short. He would be a wonderful dame. (If this could be arranged I would be the most grateful man. Seriously. Someone please offer him dame.)
#betterthanbiggins not #lowbudgetgandalf.

 At the start of the week we began with 'The Transition'. An intricate set change from Private Ear to Public Eye. This involves the full company transporting you from Bobs dank flat into the swanky office of Charles Sidley. Did that. Easy. Moved on with the day...

 No.

It seems we found all the props. And yes we took the last lamp. (Referring to a humorous comment made in Week One Blog! Not ground breaking comedy. Light hearted.) It was confusing, complicated and sometimes very dangerous. I'm not talking about wheels falling off chairs . . . Chairs falling over when sat in . . . Un Safe Chairs . . . No.


...It was time for the room of no air or soul. The strobe lit oven! A room where even the air con has to given in to the heat and quit its job. It was time for this rehearsal room to meet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Chicken Soup.

It wasn't great. I imagine you don't get offered soup in a sauna for a reason. I digress.

I don't want to spoil anything by talking about The Transition. However, I will say this. It was tough but it is now beginning to look like a well oiled machine! Set and Prop Ballet! (The chairs have been made 'safe'.) There is slow motion! I've said too much.


(Here I am between Zac about to move a table)

This week Jasper discovered that we were casually using, as a prop, a Mont Blanc pen worth rather a sum of money. (Enough for several chairs. Zac checked.) People were shocked and surprised. I gasped but then sighed with relief when I realised Alastair had been chewing on the spare Parker pen, which to the eye looked similar, but to the wallet, was very different. It was safely returned home.

Rehearsals were full on. One play in the morning, the other in the afternoon. Every day. Intense. Scripts are merging in my mind. Amidst this was costume fitting time for our amazing cast. The costumes look super. Completely spot on 60's. With tailored suits, bright yellow knitwear and very chic dresses. We have also acquired some set. Not only the precarious looking chairs but also a sofa bed. Which broke within 2 hours of using it. Call in the power drills!

At the end of the week it was fantastic to watch both plays back to back with all the creatives. Much laughter was had and the truly poignant moments were emphasised by the silence that fell upon all who were watching. (It might have been the 8 extra bodies in the tiny oven room resulting in lower levels of oxygen.)

Oh, and Mike our company manager. Some call him Mike The Boiler but we don't mention it. He thoroughly enjoyed the plays. I assume he was thoroughly enjoying them with just his ears as his eyes certainly weren't watching! Zzzzzzzzzzzzz! It was the heat!

The plays look great and we can't wait to get to the theatre.

(Here I am on a chair watching the plays pensively)

(I must also mention that Siobhan sneezed whilst sat on the sofa bed the other day and also took a suspicious photo next to a sleeping Mr Blakeley. We will find the photo and put it on the blog.)