I’ve just been reading an old Shenton’s View blog post for The Stage, about audiences, and how integral they can be to a performance. He was looking at it from a fellow-audience-member point of view – clearly, in one evening, he suffered from the ‘cougher’ and from a couple of ‘talkers’ and ‘gigglers’. He found it so off-putting he requested to move seats during the interval.
Imagine then, what it’s like to be an actor with distractions like that from the audience. There is, for example, as well as the aforementioned offenders, the ‘boiled sweet brigade’. These are the folk of a certain age who will usually attend on a Tuesday or Wednesday night, or a matinee if there is one, they may have a rug to put over their knees while they enjoy the entertainment, and they will have brought a lovely bag of Werther’s Originals to suck on. There is little more off-putting during a quiet, emotion-ridden scene for an actor, than the sound of a boiled sweet being tentatively unwrapped. It takes forever and is never nearly as quiet as the opener assumes.
There are also the ‘whisperers’ – possibly worse even than ‘talkers’ although it’s a fine line. ‘Whisperers’, certain that they can’t be heard, may well share a running commentary alongside the action on stage, and fail to realise that when the house lights go down and the beginners take the stage, that it is time to shut up.
Audiences also feed off one another, although it’s unlikely they realise that they do. I’m always grateful when I’m in a play that isn’t billed as a comedy, but may have the occasional humorous line, to have a ‘laugher’ in the audience. This is someone who guffaws heartily at the slightest suggestion of a joke, and so confident and vocal is their amusement that the rest of the audience loosens up and is brave enough to laugh too.
In the recent production of Darker Shores that I ASM’d on, there was one particular performance where the audience, thanks to adverse weather, was less than expected and therefore somewhat scattered about the auditorium. There were no ‘laughers’ and due to the dispersal of the audience members, no one had the confidence to even chuckle. The actors literally had to battle against the silence that assaulted them at every turn and it was exhausting.
Then there is the opposite of that. I experienced, during my recent run of Skylight, a couple of audiences who were so involved I wondered if I’d wandered into a pantomime. At every performance I was gratified by the stillness and silence – boiled sweets were on hold, the ‘fidgeters’ were unmoving in their seats – they were truly engaged at every performance. Then on one occasion, when my character went to check her one-bar fire was working, I had two people call out “it is on!”. On another night, after my most ranting monologue, a woman in the audience half-whispered, half-shouted “Yes! Great!”. This is a phenomenon I’ve never encountered before but it amused me greatly! They, whoever they were, will go down in the annals of my most-favourite audiences of all time.
Showing posts with label Skylight by David Hare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Skylight by David Hare. Show all posts
Friday, 14 January 2011
Monday, 13 December 2010
Amazing Skylight review!
Skylight
By David Hare
19–27 November 2010
Skylight offers parts for just three actors, the chance to construct only one set, and precious little in the way of plot; but its focus on character, ambiguity, passion and regret sets a huge task, far removed from the mechanical delivery of lines and fulfilment of stage directions.
Kyra, played by Sarah Evans with restraint and absorbing truth, in her freezing, deeply unfashionable London flat, is a barely willing hostess to her former lover, Tom, for a single evening. The couple have plenty to discuss, but their communication is halting and fractured, veering from rancour to tender compassion, but with distrust and self-protection always sensed behind their words. Kyra’s emotions, and those of Tom, bubble and gush to the surface in a pool of recrimination, self-justification, painful insight and plain incomprehension. The currents between the pair force each to observe the other in full flow, and yet both actors managed to retain interest and sympathy throughout by carefully delivered gesture and facial expression.
David Morley as Tom, millionaire restaurateur, man of business, bereaved husband, abandoned lover and uncaring father, found the torture and loss which allowed the audience to empathize with a superficially unattractive character. Both actors delivered truly exemplary performances, and James Collins as Edward, in many ways the most likeable of the three characters, stood well in the company of his elders, beginning and ending the piece with the required blend of nervous flourish.
Jonathan Pitts, directing as well as designing the set, must take credit for assembling a pitch-perfect cast, but deserves far greater praise for enabling them to deliver the play in such a direct, personal and assured way. It is to his, and the actors’, credit that they clearly understood the complexities of the piece and allowed the audience to wrestle with the ambiguities on display without driving to a single conclusion or taking sides with either protagonist.
In bringing David Hare back to the town of his birth, the Stables has joyously reminded us that that we don’t have to travel to find theatrical excellence, simply appreciate what we already have.
By David Hare
19–27 November 2010
Reviewed by Martin Robinson
The Stables’ production of David Hare’s Skylight offered high-quality drama delivered with punch, subtlety and consummate skill by all concerned. The amateur roots of the Stables were completely invisible (not for the first time this season) and, but for the ludicrously low entrance fee, there was nothing to distinguish this production from the professional stage.
Skylight offers parts for just three actors, the chance to construct only one set, and precious little in the way of plot; but its focus on character, ambiguity, passion and regret sets a huge task, far removed from the mechanical delivery of lines and fulfilment of stage directions.
Kyra, played by Sarah Evans with restraint and absorbing truth, in her freezing, deeply unfashionable London flat, is a barely willing hostess to her former lover, Tom, for a single evening. The couple have plenty to discuss, but their communication is halting and fractured, veering from rancour to tender compassion, but with distrust and self-protection always sensed behind their words. Kyra’s emotions, and those of Tom, bubble and gush to the surface in a pool of recrimination, self-justification, painful insight and plain incomprehension. The currents between the pair force each to observe the other in full flow, and yet both actors managed to retain interest and sympathy throughout by carefully delivered gesture and facial expression.
David Morley as Tom, millionaire restaurateur, man of business, bereaved husband, abandoned lover and uncaring father, found the torture and loss which allowed the audience to empathize with a superficially unattractive character. Both actors delivered truly exemplary performances, and James Collins as Edward, in many ways the most likeable of the three characters, stood well in the company of his elders, beginning and ending the piece with the required blend of nervous flourish.
Jonathan Pitts, directing as well as designing the set, must take credit for assembling a pitch-perfect cast, but deserves far greater praise for enabling them to deliver the play in such a direct, personal and assured way. It is to his, and the actors’, credit that they clearly understood the complexities of the piece and allowed the audience to wrestle with the ambiguities on display without driving to a single conclusion or taking sides with either protagonist.
In bringing David Hare back to the town of his birth, the Stables has joyously reminded us that that we don’t have to travel to find theatrical excellence, simply appreciate what we already have.
Monday, 29 November 2010
O frabjous day!...
‘Callooh! Callay!’ I chortle in my joy!
Skylight is done and my life is, for a short time at least, once again my own. I will very soon be back at the theatre as I’m an assistant stage-manager on the theatre’s upcoming Christmas production of Darker Shores, but for now at least I have a few days off.
I can forget the reams and reams of lines I’ve been holding in my head for the past forever – not as easy a task as you might imagine as they are still assaulting me in my near-sleep, near-waking moments and will do so for a week or so yet I should imagine – and I can sweep the unhappy last few months under the dusty rug of things best forgotten.
I am however, a glass-half-full sort of gal, so have thought long and hard on what I can take away from the experience that is useful, and my overall umbrella realisation is that I now know exactly what not to do when Jak and I direct Irma V next year. A bit of a negative positive to be sure, but a positive nonetheless.
Despite the unfortunate rehearsal process, the run itself was a great success, excluding one performance where I dried so faked a crying fit to cover it up, and another where my opposite number dried, couldn’t hear the prompt, and I rewrote David Hare for a while in order to help him back to the script – in fact, even those two performances with their minor disasters were still good. We had some terrific feedback from audience members, not the least of which was how we’d managed to learn all the lines in the first place, and on from that, how did I manage to cook whilst remembering lines? To both these questions my answer was, and still is – I have no freaking idea!
The added bonus to the play being over, finito, done, dusted and heartily kicked to the kerb, is that my face is no longer displayed giant-size on the poster boards outside the theatre. No-one needs their head that big – literally, metaphorically or photographically.
...and so, her sigh of relief could be heard far and wide, whirling amongst the trees and skyscrapers and issuing forth across oceans and streams, and her smile, which had for a time become a stranger, once again made its home on her face.
Skylight is done and my life is, for a short time at least, once again my own. I will very soon be back at the theatre as I’m an assistant stage-manager on the theatre’s upcoming Christmas production of Darker Shores, but for now at least I have a few days off.
I can forget the reams and reams of lines I’ve been holding in my head for the past forever – not as easy a task as you might imagine as they are still assaulting me in my near-sleep, near-waking moments and will do so for a week or so yet I should imagine – and I can sweep the unhappy last few months under the dusty rug of things best forgotten.
I am however, a glass-half-full sort of gal, so have thought long and hard on what I can take away from the experience that is useful, and my overall umbrella realisation is that I now know exactly what not to do when Jak and I direct Irma V next year. A bit of a negative positive to be sure, but a positive nonetheless.
Despite the unfortunate rehearsal process, the run itself was a great success, excluding one performance where I dried so faked a crying fit to cover it up, and another where my opposite number dried, couldn’t hear the prompt, and I rewrote David Hare for a while in order to help him back to the script – in fact, even those two performances with their minor disasters were still good. We had some terrific feedback from audience members, not the least of which was how we’d managed to learn all the lines in the first place, and on from that, how did I manage to cook whilst remembering lines? To both these questions my answer was, and still is – I have no freaking idea!
The added bonus to the play being over, finito, done, dusted and heartily kicked to the kerb, is that my face is no longer displayed giant-size on the poster boards outside the theatre. No-one needs their head that big – literally, metaphorically or photographically.
...and so, her sigh of relief could be heard far and wide, whirling amongst the trees and skyscrapers and issuing forth across oceans and streams, and her smile, which had for a time become a stranger, once again made its home on her face.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
It's too early for the hangover!
Oh... my... life. It's just over two weeks until curtain up on Skylight and it can’t come soon enough. It’s been immensely hard work one way and another, and not just because I've had so many lines to learn and the play is technically incredibly tricky, what with the cooking and everything – other factors, theatre-related and otherwise, have played a big part in making the last few months a less than wonderful experience.
It upsets me that I haven’t been able to enjoy the rehearsal process this time – normally it’s what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I suffer so badly with nerves that, believe it or not, being on stage in front of an audience is not why I do this, it’s terrifying, and curtain calls are my bête noire – I’d rather just finish the play and go home or up to the bar for a gin, without all that bowing and clapping nonsense! Fun rehearsals, a challenge and the chance to wear wigs and false eyelashes(!) have always been the draw for me – and although it’s been a great challenge for sure, for one reason and another it's fallen flat this time. They say, when you don’t enjoy something anymore, stop doing it, but unfortunately when you’re tied into it like this you can’t just walk away.
Right now, even though it hasn’t finished just yet, I’m in that ‘hangover’ phase – you know, when you had one (or several) too many the night before, and this morning you’re holding your aching head and rocking back and forth, swearing ‘never again’. I wasn’t planning to act next year as I want to concentrate on directing Irma Vep, but at this point, I feel like I don’t ever want to act again – my stress levels are at an all-time high and my finger nails are being bitten shorter by the day. I’m really hoping that’ll pass as acting’s been part of my life forever and I would hate to lose it.
Whinge, whinge, whinge!
I am, however, looking forward to immersing myself in the directorial side of things next year. I am currently getting to write, albeit not ‘properly’, as I’m putting together the audition notice. It’s a fine line between conveying your enthusiasm for a play and encouraging people to audition, and being overzealous and sending folk running for the hills. I hope I get the balance right!
Also, I’m enjoying a book by one of my favourite authors at the moment – Jasper Fforde. As a rule I find it hard to read when I’m learning lines, but as my lines are learnt now and I must derive pleasure from somewhere, I have picked up an old favourite. If you consider yourself a writer in any capacity, or simply love words and literature and you have never read any of his books before, you absolutely must. The man is a genius – if I’m not laughing at something funny, I’m marvelling at something clever.
Finally, I joined the Rach Writes Inaugural Writers’ Platform-Building Crusade the other day, a marvellous idea and a lovely way of knitting together the blogging community - pop along and join. And welcome to my newest followers who've found me via the Crusade!
It upsets me that I haven’t been able to enjoy the rehearsal process this time – normally it’s what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I suffer so badly with nerves that, believe it or not, being on stage in front of an audience is not why I do this, it’s terrifying, and curtain calls are my bête noire – I’d rather just finish the play and go home or up to the bar for a gin, without all that bowing and clapping nonsense! Fun rehearsals, a challenge and the chance to wear wigs and false eyelashes(!) have always been the draw for me – and although it’s been a great challenge for sure, for one reason and another it's fallen flat this time. They say, when you don’t enjoy something anymore, stop doing it, but unfortunately when you’re tied into it like this you can’t just walk away.
Right now, even though it hasn’t finished just yet, I’m in that ‘hangover’ phase – you know, when you had one (or several) too many the night before, and this morning you’re holding your aching head and rocking back and forth, swearing ‘never again’. I wasn’t planning to act next year as I want to concentrate on directing Irma Vep, but at this point, I feel like I don’t ever want to act again – my stress levels are at an all-time high and my finger nails are being bitten shorter by the day. I’m really hoping that’ll pass as acting’s been part of my life forever and I would hate to lose it.
Whinge, whinge, whinge!
I am, however, looking forward to immersing myself in the directorial side of things next year. I am currently getting to write, albeit not ‘properly’, as I’m putting together the audition notice. It’s a fine line between conveying your enthusiasm for a play and encouraging people to audition, and being overzealous and sending folk running for the hills. I hope I get the balance right!
Also, I’m enjoying a book by one of my favourite authors at the moment – Jasper Fforde. As a rule I find it hard to read when I’m learning lines, but as my lines are learnt now and I must derive pleasure from somewhere, I have picked up an old favourite. If you consider yourself a writer in any capacity, or simply love words and literature and you have never read any of his books before, you absolutely must. The man is a genius – if I’m not laughing at something funny, I’m marvelling at something clever.
Finally, I joined the Rach Writes Inaugural Writers’ Platform-Building Crusade the other day, a marvellous idea and a lovely way of knitting together the blogging community - pop along and join. And welcome to my newest followers who've found me via the Crusade!
Monday, 11 October 2010
Spaghetti-flippin'-bolognese
It’s official – I am sick, sick, sick of spaghetti bolognese. As you may or may not be aware, Skylight (for which I am currently in rehearsals) requires me to cook on stage and create a meal of spag bol. Fortunately I am the only person required to eat it, as I believe it may taste nasty (I’m not the world’s best cook), but already the smell makes me queasy. It wasn’t my favourite meal to begin with, but I fear that cooking it several times a week, and it’s only going to get more frequent as the run approaches, is going to ruin the dish for me FOREVER. At the moment, at the end of each rehearsal, the director scoops up the results of my culinary experiments into his Tupperware and takes it home for his tea – I’m wondering how long it will be before he too is sick of the taste/smell/sight of it.
There are several practical considerations that have had to be overcome with this cooking-on-stage malarkey. For starters, the script requires me to chop an onion, but they make me weep and I can’t risk washing my contact lenses away in a flood of tears – so I am now using dried onions, which have to be soaked in boiling water and which, incidentally, smell extremely bad. I also have to chop a chilli pepper. The director has caved, finally, and provided green rather than red chillies. Seeing as in the second act I do have to eat some of the stuff, it’s vital to make it as mild as possible – a coughing fit would detract from the drama methinks (or perhaps add to it if I’m having an off night). But still, green chillies are hot to me – yesterday I was very careful during the scene not to put my fingers near my eyes or mouth once I’d finished with the chopping, but forgot when we were taking a break and had to run off sharpish for a glass of water. Talk about a situation ripe for disaster. We also nearly had a burning issue with the sauce and, although I am meant to ‘forget’ about the pasta boiling, I constantly have one eye slightly askance at the stove, just in case the water starts to erupt over the top of the pan. I am doing my best not to think about the myriad of things that could go wrong.
On another note, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken about The Mystery of Irma Vep, the play my friend Jackie and I are directing next year. Since I last wrote in June (can’t believe it’s that long ago!) things have moved on leaps and bounds. For starters, Jak, who is the queen of minutiae, did a marvellous job of a props list and a ‘dream’ budget. There tends to be a set budget at the theatre, regardless of the production, but thanks to Jak’s eye for detail we were able to prove that we would ideally need a slightly higher budget, in order to produce the play of our dreams, and we found out a week ago that it’s been granted. We had started to think of get-rich-quick schemes, including a bake sale in the foyer, but fortunately we, and the punters, will be spared this horror.
This is a huge weight off our minds, as we desperately wanted to be able to get some fantabulous costumes specially made. The play is a quick-change piece, with two male actors playing eight roles, including women – nearly all the costumes need to be adapted for quick-change and the dresses have to have ‘boobs and bums’ sewn into them. We’re setting it in the 1890s, which means floor-length hemlines, leg ‘o’ mutton sleeves and high necklines – in other words, a lot of fabric and a lot of expertise in their creation. All being well, we have found a willing costumier.
Not only do we need costumes, we also need costume doubles for rehearsals. The changes are such an integral part of the production that we want our actors to be able to rehearse in dress almost from week one. Because of this, we also needed to secure a much earlier audition date than would normally be needed, to give the costumier time to make the muslins before rehearsals start. Fortunately, we’ve managed to move the audition forward by a few months, which will give the costumier plenty of time to work her magic, and the actors a good amount of time to get familiar with their lines so they can be book-free asap and get to grips with their pretty frocks.
There’s so much to think about, and I don’t feel that I can give it my full attention at the moment due to Skylight. But the light is starting to show at the end of the tunnel for that. Come December I’ll be able to start concentrating on Irma V in earnest.
Also come December, I plan to start writing again. I had another rejection letter the other day, which was disappointing. They didn’t say why it wasn’t right for them, which leaves me in the dark somewhat, but them’s the breaks. I’m not disheartened – I never thought for one moment that this was going to be a walk in the park. I think, for now, I will swap over the stories that have been rejected and send them out again. I’m not sure they’re right for the publications, but I’d rather have them out in the world than not, and I’ve no time to write anything new at the moment. My poor brain is full to the rafters with lines and spaghetti-flippin’-bolognese.
There are several practical considerations that have had to be overcome with this cooking-on-stage malarkey. For starters, the script requires me to chop an onion, but they make me weep and I can’t risk washing my contact lenses away in a flood of tears – so I am now using dried onions, which have to be soaked in boiling water and which, incidentally, smell extremely bad. I also have to chop a chilli pepper. The director has caved, finally, and provided green rather than red chillies. Seeing as in the second act I do have to eat some of the stuff, it’s vital to make it as mild as possible – a coughing fit would detract from the drama methinks (or perhaps add to it if I’m having an off night). But still, green chillies are hot to me – yesterday I was very careful during the scene not to put my fingers near my eyes or mouth once I’d finished with the chopping, but forgot when we were taking a break and had to run off sharpish for a glass of water. Talk about a situation ripe for disaster. We also nearly had a burning issue with the sauce and, although I am meant to ‘forget’ about the pasta boiling, I constantly have one eye slightly askance at the stove, just in case the water starts to erupt over the top of the pan. I am doing my best not to think about the myriad of things that could go wrong.
On another note, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken about The Mystery of Irma Vep, the play my friend Jackie and I are directing next year. Since I last wrote in June (can’t believe it’s that long ago!) things have moved on leaps and bounds. For starters, Jak, who is the queen of minutiae, did a marvellous job of a props list and a ‘dream’ budget. There tends to be a set budget at the theatre, regardless of the production, but thanks to Jak’s eye for detail we were able to prove that we would ideally need a slightly higher budget, in order to produce the play of our dreams, and we found out a week ago that it’s been granted. We had started to think of get-rich-quick schemes, including a bake sale in the foyer, but fortunately we, and the punters, will be spared this horror.
This is a huge weight off our minds, as we desperately wanted to be able to get some fantabulous costumes specially made. The play is a quick-change piece, with two male actors playing eight roles, including women – nearly all the costumes need to be adapted for quick-change and the dresses have to have ‘boobs and bums’ sewn into them. We’re setting it in the 1890s, which means floor-length hemlines, leg ‘o’ mutton sleeves and high necklines – in other words, a lot of fabric and a lot of expertise in their creation. All being well, we have found a willing costumier.
Not only do we need costumes, we also need costume doubles for rehearsals. The changes are such an integral part of the production that we want our actors to be able to rehearse in dress almost from week one. Because of this, we also needed to secure a much earlier audition date than would normally be needed, to give the costumier time to make the muslins before rehearsals start. Fortunately, we’ve managed to move the audition forward by a few months, which will give the costumier plenty of time to work her magic, and the actors a good amount of time to get familiar with their lines so they can be book-free asap and get to grips with their pretty frocks.
There’s so much to think about, and I don’t feel that I can give it my full attention at the moment due to Skylight. But the light is starting to show at the end of the tunnel for that. Come December I’ll be able to start concentrating on Irma V in earnest.
Also come December, I plan to start writing again. I had another rejection letter the other day, which was disappointing. They didn’t say why it wasn’t right for them, which leaves me in the dark somewhat, but them’s the breaks. I’m not disheartened – I never thought for one moment that this was going to be a walk in the park. I think, for now, I will swap over the stories that have been rejected and send them out again. I’m not sure they’re right for the publications, but I’d rather have them out in the world than not, and I’ve no time to write anything new at the moment. My poor brain is full to the rafters with lines and spaghetti-flippin’-bolognese.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
ET go home!
My posts are a little scattered at the moment - apologies for that. I’m working a lot, which is great, but it leaves me little free time, and what free time I do have is being taken up with rehearsals and line-learning. One of my fellow actors and I recorded our lines last week, so now even my car journeys are all about the play – when I wake up in the morning, it is with the fuzzy residue of odd sections of monologue in my head – I feel like I’ve been taken over by an unwelcome alien. Sod off and let me sleep in peace ET!
Our new actor started with us on Monday, after our previous ‘Edward’ decided, quite fairly, that Skylight was one play too many for his busy teenage life. It’s a relief to have the new guy on board, but something of a drag to have to go over the six weeks of wasted rehearsals again – not his fault, of course, and he seems to pick things up quickly, so I have moderately waist-high hopes that rehearsals for the two scenes I share with him will be less like pulling teeth than last time.
On Saturday I had the most amazing day in London. My lovely friend Alexis took me for lunch at Tate Britain, which was delicious, highly recommend it, and then – the highlight of the day for me – we went to The Globe to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. It was my first time at the theatre and it is safe to say that I was blown away.
The structure itself is impressive and really does make you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, and the acting, as you would expect, knocked my socks off. The director created a colourful and fabulously fun production with some lovely touches and details that were hilarious. And seeing as how they are so limited with what they can do set-wise, they made very clever use of the space with some nifty little twists. Alexis and I are planning to book up to see everything they do next year – I am newly excited about Shakespeare and want more!
After the theatre we went to Tate Modern – again, another first for me. I have a friend who is doing an MA at Goldsmiths and spends much time at the Modern – I fear I will have to sit down with her and ask searching questions, as I found that much of the work, particularly the installations, left me confused, bemused and unmoved – particularly the heap of old clothes pinned to a wall by a garden statue. It was all a bit far-fetched for me – I had never thought of myself as someone who only liked ‘pretty’, recognisable pictures, but perhaps I am. Mind you, splotchy bowls of fruit and brown-gravy depictions of historical scenes also leave me cold – so maybe I’m just a fussy so-and-so!
And finally… I had my first rejection letter yesterday. I feel surprisingly unfazed by it – possibly because I had just assumed that is what I would get. I feel that I have been initiated into the world of the professional fiction writer. However, the editor who wrote to me did say that although the story I had sent wasn’t right for them, she enjoyed reading it and thought it was well written, and has asked me to send some more of my work. I have no doubt that everyone receives such platitudes, but regardless, it did go some way to softening the blow. So now I just have to find the time to write something else to send… hmm.
Our new actor started with us on Monday, after our previous ‘Edward’ decided, quite fairly, that Skylight was one play too many for his busy teenage life. It’s a relief to have the new guy on board, but something of a drag to have to go over the six weeks of wasted rehearsals again – not his fault, of course, and he seems to pick things up quickly, so I have moderately waist-high hopes that rehearsals for the two scenes I share with him will be less like pulling teeth than last time.
On Saturday I had the most amazing day in London. My lovely friend Alexis took me for lunch at Tate Britain, which was delicious, highly recommend it, and then – the highlight of the day for me – we went to The Globe to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. It was my first time at the theatre and it is safe to say that I was blown away.
The structure itself is impressive and really does make you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, and the acting, as you would expect, knocked my socks off. The director created a colourful and fabulously fun production with some lovely touches and details that were hilarious. And seeing as how they are so limited with what they can do set-wise, they made very clever use of the space with some nifty little twists. Alexis and I are planning to book up to see everything they do next year – I am newly excited about Shakespeare and want more!
After the theatre we went to Tate Modern – again, another first for me. I have a friend who is doing an MA at Goldsmiths and spends much time at the Modern – I fear I will have to sit down with her and ask searching questions, as I found that much of the work, particularly the installations, left me confused, bemused and unmoved – particularly the heap of old clothes pinned to a wall by a garden statue. It was all a bit far-fetched for me – I had never thought of myself as someone who only liked ‘pretty’, recognisable pictures, but perhaps I am. Mind you, splotchy bowls of fruit and brown-gravy depictions of historical scenes also leave me cold – so maybe I’m just a fussy so-and-so!
And finally… I had my first rejection letter yesterday. I feel surprisingly unfazed by it – possibly because I had just assumed that is what I would get. I feel that I have been initiated into the world of the professional fiction writer. However, the editor who wrote to me did say that although the story I had sent wasn’t right for them, she enjoyed reading it and thought it was well written, and has asked me to send some more of my work. I have no doubt that everyone receives such platitudes, but regardless, it did go some way to softening the blow. So now I just have to find the time to write something else to send… hmm.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
Yes, I am still alive
Lordy, life's a little hectic of late - sitting down to write has completely fallen by the wayside. I have a story all written, helpfully critiqued by members of the forum I'm on, but have I found the time to polish and send it out to a magazine? No, I have not - it's gathering dust on a shelf and looking very sorry for itself. I am going to endeavour to do something about that this week.
Rehearsals for Skylight are coming along, although I came back from my holiday to discover that one of the actors had pulled out. Frustrating, as rehearsals up to that point had just been for me and him, so all the work we'd done is rendered somewhat obsolete. Another actor is auditioning tomorrow evening I believe, so hopefully he'll be great and we can start all over again. Deep joy, because it was so much fun first time round! On a more positive note, rehearsals with the other actor have been good so far. My concern overall is just when am I going to find the time to learn my lines? Of which, I might add, there are MANY!
There is always a point during the rehearsal/performance process when I ask myself why I am putting myself through it. Usually that occurs on dress rehearsals and performance nights, when I'm waiting in the wings to go on. With this play, I am asking the question already, which bodes well does it not?!
Rehearsals for Skylight are coming along, although I came back from my holiday to discover that one of the actors had pulled out. Frustrating, as rehearsals up to that point had just been for me and him, so all the work we'd done is rendered somewhat obsolete. Another actor is auditioning tomorrow evening I believe, so hopefully he'll be great and we can start all over again. Deep joy, because it was so much fun first time round! On a more positive note, rehearsals with the other actor have been good so far. My concern overall is just when am I going to find the time to learn my lines? Of which, I might add, there are MANY!
There is always a point during the rehearsal/performance process when I ask myself why I am putting myself through it. Usually that occurs on dress rehearsals and performance nights, when I'm waiting in the wings to go on. With this play, I am asking the question already, which bodes well does it not?!
Saturday, 24 July 2010
Trial and error
Trying to recreate a picture, it turns out, is nigh on impossible, so we ended up with a different image altogether. It's going to be black and white, there may well be more flesh on show (although nothing X-rated I should point out, I'm really rather a modest lass when you get down to it) and I look a lot crosser. Not a hint of a smile in sight. I don't know why I look cross, I wasn't aiming for cross - I actually think the photographer caught me in an unprepared moment when I was feeling annoyed that I couldn't pull quite the same expression as last time - I mean, how hard can that be? Apparently, very. So anyway, there you have it, this old photo will never see the light of day other than on here. When the new image has been poster-fied I shall upload a copy.
First rehearsal last Sunday was good - there are an awful lot of props involved and trying to read my lines whilst unpacking shopping bags and making tea for two proved awkward. However, by what can only be described as a small miracle, I had my lines learnt for that scene for the second rehearsal on Wednesday, which made life much easier. I should point out that being off book by any sooner than six weeks before first night is unheard of for me, and it's unlikely I'll manage it ever again, so this was indeed an impressive coup.
I'm also not sure whether I mentioned that I will have a working kitchen on set and will have to not only really make cups of tea (getting the kettle to boil on cue should be interesting), but I will also have to rustle up an edible spaghetti bolognese. Fact is, in real life I can't cook, so I am faced with a double whammy here - remembering my lines whilst endeavouring not to burn onions.
I am, it has to be said, somewhat concerned about the logistics of this - there are many, many things that could go wrong. Let's hope they all happen during rehearsals and not in a performance. On the plus side, my family are looking forward to being able to come round for dinner and enjoy a meal they can actually eat (the last attempt, many months ago, having ended up in the bin - yes, I really am that bad). Surely after four months of cooking the same dish, I'll be able to make one I'm not scared to serve up to my nearest and dearest without fear of poisoning?
Friday, 16 July 2010
'Are you ready for your close-up?'
It's been a funny old couple of weeks. I've been working a lot, which is great - it's always a comfort when you're a freelancer to see a few pennies rolling in!
I have found the time for a creative venture or two, although unfortunately no writing. I have spent a large chunk of my day today critiquing the work of fellow writers on the forum I'm a member of - it's been fun, and hugely interesting, to read so many pieces of great writing, so many individual takes on everyday ideas, and so many unique ideas turned into clever stories and moving poems. I feel very honoured to be able to share my work with such a talented group of people. Not that I have any to share so far this month! Perhaps tomorrow I will find some time to sit and write something of my own.
I went pottery painting last week - it's a lovely way of passing an afternoon. There is a small and friendly farm shop near my home, where I'm now something of a regular. They set me up with my little table and my paint and brushes, supplied me with some marmalade on toast (an excellent source of energy when painting), and away I went. I have taken photos of my finished items, but they're a present for someone, so I shan't post the pics until the present has been given, just in case I spoil the surprise! I met and chatted with some nice people during the course of my afternoon, as when folk pop in for a cup of tea, they invariably wander over to take a look at what you're working on and conversations ensue. One lady I spoke to was a self-confessed Bloomsbury addict and we had a great chat about Vanessa Bell and Virgina Woolf, and it made me keen to get back to Charlston Farmhouse, which, if you haven't been, is a truly inspiring place.
Also last week, I went to see a play called The Boy Juliet. It's basically Shakespeare in Love, but unfortunately without Joseph Fiennes. It was a good production, the set was very clever and held it's greatest surprise until the end, when the back panels, which for the duration of the play had been the rough wooden boards of a barn or similarly rustic rehearsal room, opened out towards the back of the stage, revealing a misty darkness lit by a line of tea lights. The cast walked away from the audience and out into the darkness, the candles, of course, denoting the edge of a different stage, as they commence their production of R&J to a different, imaginary audience. Very clever indeed. The script (by Royce Ryton) was basic and slapstick in places, but produced laughs and did its job. Perhaps not the highest praise, but I think I've seen plays and read scripts that have been cleverer and made more of the English language. That said, I've also seen a lot worse. A terrible play called The Man Who Left the Titanic, springs to mind.
I went to see this a couple of weeks ago, and actually left at the interval in favour of going to the pub for a gin. The play was a two-hander, about Bruce Ismay, he of the White Star Line who hopped off the literal sinking ship into one of the lifeboats. The script contained no drama, but appeared to be merely a vehicle to convey the facts of the case. The performances were lack-lustre and the actor playing the ghost of Andrews did an excellent job of carrying the show, as Bruce himself seemed deeply uncertain of his lines in places. It's a touring production - should you find it coming to a theatre near you any time soon, I'd be inclined to give it a miss. The pub was much more entertaining.
This week I went to the photographer's studio to have my photo taken for the publicity for Skylight. I have never sat for a professional photo before and found it to be an unusual experience. There were lights upon me from many angles, and a silvery space-age contraption that looked like it had been designed by NASA, was stuck under my chin. The resulting photos, however, made me wish I could take all the lighting and photographic paraphernalia with me everywhere I go, as they clearly work miracles. Once the poster has been designed and I have a copy in my hot little hands, I shall scan it and upload it here so you can enjoy my discomfort. First rehearsal on Sunday - I'm feeling quite excited about it.
I have found the time for a creative venture or two, although unfortunately no writing. I have spent a large chunk of my day today critiquing the work of fellow writers on the forum I'm a member of - it's been fun, and hugely interesting, to read so many pieces of great writing, so many individual takes on everyday ideas, and so many unique ideas turned into clever stories and moving poems. I feel very honoured to be able to share my work with such a talented group of people. Not that I have any to share so far this month! Perhaps tomorrow I will find some time to sit and write something of my own.
I went pottery painting last week - it's a lovely way of passing an afternoon. There is a small and friendly farm shop near my home, where I'm now something of a regular. They set me up with my little table and my paint and brushes, supplied me with some marmalade on toast (an excellent source of energy when painting), and away I went. I have taken photos of my finished items, but they're a present for someone, so I shan't post the pics until the present has been given, just in case I spoil the surprise! I met and chatted with some nice people during the course of my afternoon, as when folk pop in for a cup of tea, they invariably wander over to take a look at what you're working on and conversations ensue. One lady I spoke to was a self-confessed Bloomsbury addict and we had a great chat about Vanessa Bell and Virgina Woolf, and it made me keen to get back to Charlston Farmhouse, which, if you haven't been, is a truly inspiring place.
Also last week, I went to see a play called The Boy Juliet. It's basically Shakespeare in Love, but unfortunately without Joseph Fiennes. It was a good production, the set was very clever and held it's greatest surprise until the end, when the back panels, which for the duration of the play had been the rough wooden boards of a barn or similarly rustic rehearsal room, opened out towards the back of the stage, revealing a misty darkness lit by a line of tea lights. The cast walked away from the audience and out into the darkness, the candles, of course, denoting the edge of a different stage, as they commence their production of R&J to a different, imaginary audience. Very clever indeed. The script (by Royce Ryton) was basic and slapstick in places, but produced laughs and did its job. Perhaps not the highest praise, but I think I've seen plays and read scripts that have been cleverer and made more of the English language. That said, I've also seen a lot worse. A terrible play called The Man Who Left the Titanic, springs to mind.
I went to see this a couple of weeks ago, and actually left at the interval in favour of going to the pub for a gin. The play was a two-hander, about Bruce Ismay, he of the White Star Line who hopped off the literal sinking ship into one of the lifeboats. The script contained no drama, but appeared to be merely a vehicle to convey the facts of the case. The performances were lack-lustre and the actor playing the ghost of Andrews did an excellent job of carrying the show, as Bruce himself seemed deeply uncertain of his lines in places. It's a touring production - should you find it coming to a theatre near you any time soon, I'd be inclined to give it a miss. The pub was much more entertaining.
This week I went to the photographer's studio to have my photo taken for the publicity for Skylight. I have never sat for a professional photo before and found it to be an unusual experience. There were lights upon me from many angles, and a silvery space-age contraption that looked like it had been designed by NASA, was stuck under my chin. The resulting photos, however, made me wish I could take all the lighting and photographic paraphernalia with me everywhere I go, as they clearly work miracles. Once the poster has been designed and I have a copy in my hot little hands, I shall scan it and upload it here so you can enjoy my discomfort. First rehearsal on Sunday - I'm feeling quite excited about it.
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Inspiration blockage
I have an idea for a story - it's full of joy, sorrow, history, romance, familial duties and pressures, teenage rebellion - it has potential I think. But can I write it? Can I heck as like.
I've started - there's an opening to be sure, but now what? I've written a couple of middling paragraphs, shuffled them around a bit. And I know how I want it to end, but haven't attempted to put that down on paper as yet. It's like doing a dot-to-dot with an invisible pen.
I need to write this story - it is too early on in this fledgling fiction writing career of mine to be thwarted by writer's block and a lack of inspiration. The question is, do I slog away at it, or do I put it to one side and try and write another?
On a different subject - rehearsals for Skylight will be starting in just over two weeks, and the issue of publicity has arisen, i.e. the poster/flyer/programme image and the photographing thereof. Turns out, the publicity image for this particular play is... my face.
Hadn't reckoned on that.
I've started - there's an opening to be sure, but now what? I've written a couple of middling paragraphs, shuffled them around a bit. And I know how I want it to end, but haven't attempted to put that down on paper as yet. It's like doing a dot-to-dot with an invisible pen.
I need to write this story - it is too early on in this fledgling fiction writing career of mine to be thwarted by writer's block and a lack of inspiration. The question is, do I slog away at it, or do I put it to one side and try and write another?
On a different subject - rehearsals for Skylight will be starting in just over two weeks, and the issue of publicity has arisen, i.e. the poster/flyer/programme image and the photographing thereof. Turns out, the publicity image for this particular play is... my face.
Hadn't reckoned on that.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Call me Kyra
After an amazing audition on Sunday, I have just found out that I have, once again, landed the part of Kyra in Skylight. And thanks to the casting of a superb male lead, I feel confident that the play will be good, if not great, and I am finally looking forward to doing it. I had started to fear my enthusiasm would never return.
Having turned down the role for various reasons earlier in the year, I was caught in a strange limbo land of not being entirely sure I wanted to reaudition (even though I had said I would) but also not sure that I wanted anyone else to play the part either. It was all dependent on the right chap playing opposite me, and I do believe, having seen him in Equus earlier in the year, the director has bagged himself the right actor for the job. Hurrah!
I now await my rehearsal schedule...
Having turned down the role for various reasons earlier in the year, I was caught in a strange limbo land of not being entirely sure I wanted to reaudition (even though I had said I would) but also not sure that I wanted anyone else to play the part either. It was all dependent on the right chap playing opposite me, and I do believe, having seen him in Equus earlier in the year, the director has bagged himself the right actor for the job. Hurrah!
I now await my rehearsal schedule...
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