The second production I did at College was entitled Lysistrata by the Greek poet and playwright Aristophanes. The play was written as an anti-war piece, and it involves the Greek female population getting together and deciding that they can end the fighting by withdrawing sexual favours from the men. Much bawdy hilarity ensues.
Bawdy hilarity was certainly the aim of our production, as was lavish spectacle as I watched a miniature version of the Acropolis rise up on the floor of the auditorium. I remember musing at the time how the hell they were going to get one of the biggest sets ever contructed by their art department up onto the stage. Then I was told that the seating would be amphitheatre style, with four rows of seating on the stage on a number of levels, with a further two rows on the floor of the auditorium. Impressive stuff, though it did feel like you were taking your life into your hands when you were up on the stage seating (in the gods! - teehee)
Props and costume were taken care of early on, particularly as this was going to be a fully masked production, with traditional robes being worn by the entire cast, with an extra added accessory for the male cast members. In fact, the word members couldn't be more apt...
The masks meant the first and only time I have had latex and plaster of paris spread all over my face, which was an interesting experience, having to breathe through a straw for a couple of hours. The finished result was quite remarkable, and totally unrecognisable as me.
The robes were a doddle, just a case of cutting material into the right shapes.
And the extra accessory? Well, what would happen to you if you came home to your beautiful wife after weeks, possibly months, of fighting to find she has shut you out of the bedroom? Well, according to Aristophanes, you would be walking around with a permanent erection. Well, it's obvious isn't it?
To serve this purpose, we all got involved in making about 8 - 10 papier mache phalluses. These things had straps so that you could feed your legs through so you could wear this thing proudly between your legs. It was obscene. It belonged in Amsterdam, not Worthing. But it was funny all the same.
Rehearsals seemed almost surreal. There would the men be sporting huge erections, while the women would look almost coquettish in their robes, teasing and laughing and winding us poor blokes up.
Performances went far too quickly for my liking. One scene stands out in particular. It was the penultimate night, and I was in one of my key scenes as a soldier returning from the war to his beautiful wife, fully expecting to have his burden relieved. They meet, kiss passionately (not an easy thing with full face masks on) then she disappears into the Acropolis with the promise of returning with various unguents and oils to massage my cares away, if you catch my drift. A moment of inspiration struck me just before her exit. She made her promises and darted off, so I looked down at the hump at the front of my robe and patted the head of the phallus as if to say 'there, there'. Totally unrehearsed.
It got the biggest laugh of the week.
I was so chuffed with my level of improvisation, I sailed through the rest of the production, making sure to include it on the last night as well, and a fun time was had by all, particularly at the end of the play, when the men agree to cease the fighting. Everyone nips into the Acropolis, and a few moments later, they all re-emerge without a single bump in sight.
I can't imagine why...
Saturday 10 December 2011
Wednesday 12 October 2011
Chapter 1 - Phantoms, Trains, and Corpsing
September 1989 - my days at Worthing Sixth Form College (now just Worthing College) stretched before me like a ray of hope projected from the sun. After 4 years in a boys only school which were the most miserable of my entire life, you can imagine how much of a culture shock it was to be treated not just like a grown-up but also as a human being. It was so refreshing, I was fairly giddy with the possibility of conversing with members of the opposite sex. Too giddy in fact. Boy did I make some blunders during my first year!
The entry interview was conducted by Clive Blackburn, an extraordinary man and a great mentor as it turned out. He was to be my form tutor. He was also the head of Drama at the college. You can see where this is going, can't you?
Actually, not at all where you would expect. My first year was occupied cramming in my GCSEs, so drama was not really a focus for me. In fact, I hadn't even considered it at the time. A few months went by and we were into the New Year before the information leaflets went around about the accredited courses that were on offer.
There was quite a mish-mash, from ten-pin bowling to archery, from science club (which I imagined was inhabited by people similar to the characters in Revenge of the Nerds) to chess club. Then I spotted something that immediately intrigued me:
How to Put on a Play - Learn about all the fundamental skills that go into a production on stage. Actors and backstage workers needed. 12 weeks to include lunchtimes, evenings and half-term holidays. Play: The Ghost Train by Arnold Ridley. Apply to Drama Faculty.
Those weren't the exact words on the notice of course, but what caught my attention was the name of the play that they were going to be putting on. So, of course, I went along.
I hadn't noticed the college stage before I joined the course. I had no reason to. In college they didn't have assemblies led by some middle aged bloke wearing his Darth Vader style headmaster's cloak. They had a seperate area for lunch which was right next door to the stage area, blocked off by a retractable barrier. Now that I was going to be using the space properly for the first time I really took notice.
It was a classic procenium arch, with rich red curtains with a gold edging. The stage extended beyond the curtains by about 2 or 3 yards. The stage itself was quite big, with two entrances at each wing, with the capacity for a fifth at the back using the flats (which is what we did for the train station entrance).
The construction of the set was left to the 2nd year A-Level Theatre Studies students - Stuart Crane was one in particular who sticks in my mind. I hope he went on to be a revolutionary lighting tech in London because he deserved to go far. What he did for The Ghost Train was incredible.
Decisions for costume and make-up were left to the directors of the production (yes, there were two, which prompted some interesting discussions) and it was decided that I should have my hair slicked back 1920s style with a parting down the middle, a tweed suit, patent leather shoes, and some emphasis on the lips with some red and a pale complexion. I was to play Teddie Deakin, a bit of a fop and a dandy at the beginning of the play who reveals himself to be something else entirely by the end of the last act.
Rehearsals were taking up most of my evenings, but I didn't mind that. Being able to rehearse in situe was a luxury I knew I probably wouldn't have after I left college, so I made the most of it. Besides, my life at this point was hardly a mad social whirl, so I didn't mind the amount of evenings I was spending on this process.
At long last, opening night came. The audience was packed to full capacity (at least as much as fire regulations would allow) and I was waiting backstage to make my entrance about 3 or 4 pages into Act 1. I have never so nervous in my life, before or since. ( I still get nervous before I go on stage, but not to the extent that I did on that night. It gets easier with experience) Then, my cue arrived, and I enter through the door of the waiting room carrying my small suitcase chanting in my best Bertie Wooster "I say! What a topping little crib! What are we all doing then? Having an argument?" As soon as I said my first line, the nerves melted away.
At that precise moment, I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
There were a couple of line slips by various cast members, including myself, but it didn't matter. Given that this play was written so long ago, with very old fashioned dialogue, we decided to make it into a bit of a farce anyway, so we had plenty of laughter from the audience, even if some of it was unintentional. The biggest reaction was when the train thunders through the station; the lights were rigged up behind the backdrop to run in sequence to give the impression of lit carriages shooting past the platform - coupled with the chosen sound effects, it worked superbly! It got a great reaction. ( My own contribution was the Twilight Zone theme music which was played at the beginning as the curtains opened, just to let the audience know what they were in for! :-) )
The run went swimmingly apart from the last night. We were pulling out all the stops by this point, and we were steaming ahead to the final act where once more I would be rolling around like a lunatic to the Mission: Impossible theme (don't ask!). Upon learning the news (again) that we were being invaded by 'Bolshies' (again, don't ask) the police officer should have told me that the shipment was full of machine guns. Instead, they chose that moment to say "Just as you thought, sir. Hand grenades."
My good friend Fletcher, playing one half of a young couple in the play, blurted out "Hand grenades?" in the fashion of a man close to losing his sanity.
He corpsed.
It spread like wildfire.
Pretty soon almost everyone on stage is trying to supress the giggles that were welling up inside us, but to no avail. At one point, I vaguely remember putting my arm around someone's shoulder and pretending to cry in order to cover up the fact that I was laughing. It didn't work.
Fortunately, the audience were very forgiving, and when we finally calmed down enough to finish proceedings, they applauded enthusiastically. Phew.
To this day, I can honestly say I have never corpsed in any live production since. Plenty of times while filming, but then that's a whole different beast, and the audience never see the mistakes (except on the DVD, of course!)
I'm hoping that poor old Mr Ridley was not turning in his grave!
The entry interview was conducted by Clive Blackburn, an extraordinary man and a great mentor as it turned out. He was to be my form tutor. He was also the head of Drama at the college. You can see where this is going, can't you?
Actually, not at all where you would expect. My first year was occupied cramming in my GCSEs, so drama was not really a focus for me. In fact, I hadn't even considered it at the time. A few months went by and we were into the New Year before the information leaflets went around about the accredited courses that were on offer.
There was quite a mish-mash, from ten-pin bowling to archery, from science club (which I imagined was inhabited by people similar to the characters in Revenge of the Nerds) to chess club. Then I spotted something that immediately intrigued me:
How to Put on a Play - Learn about all the fundamental skills that go into a production on stage. Actors and backstage workers needed. 12 weeks to include lunchtimes, evenings and half-term holidays. Play: The Ghost Train by Arnold Ridley. Apply to Drama Faculty.
Those weren't the exact words on the notice of course, but what caught my attention was the name of the play that they were going to be putting on. So, of course, I went along.
I hadn't noticed the college stage before I joined the course. I had no reason to. In college they didn't have assemblies led by some middle aged bloke wearing his Darth Vader style headmaster's cloak. They had a seperate area for lunch which was right next door to the stage area, blocked off by a retractable barrier. Now that I was going to be using the space properly for the first time I really took notice.
It was a classic procenium arch, with rich red curtains with a gold edging. The stage extended beyond the curtains by about 2 or 3 yards. The stage itself was quite big, with two entrances at each wing, with the capacity for a fifth at the back using the flats (which is what we did for the train station entrance).
The construction of the set was left to the 2nd year A-Level Theatre Studies students - Stuart Crane was one in particular who sticks in my mind. I hope he went on to be a revolutionary lighting tech in London because he deserved to go far. What he did for The Ghost Train was incredible.
Decisions for costume and make-up were left to the directors of the production (yes, there were two, which prompted some interesting discussions) and it was decided that I should have my hair slicked back 1920s style with a parting down the middle, a tweed suit, patent leather shoes, and some emphasis on the lips with some red and a pale complexion. I was to play Teddie Deakin, a bit of a fop and a dandy at the beginning of the play who reveals himself to be something else entirely by the end of the last act.
Rehearsals were taking up most of my evenings, but I didn't mind that. Being able to rehearse in situe was a luxury I knew I probably wouldn't have after I left college, so I made the most of it. Besides, my life at this point was hardly a mad social whirl, so I didn't mind the amount of evenings I was spending on this process.
At long last, opening night came. The audience was packed to full capacity (at least as much as fire regulations would allow) and I was waiting backstage to make my entrance about 3 or 4 pages into Act 1. I have never so nervous in my life, before or since. ( I still get nervous before I go on stage, but not to the extent that I did on that night. It gets easier with experience) Then, my cue arrived, and I enter through the door of the waiting room carrying my small suitcase chanting in my best Bertie Wooster "I say! What a topping little crib! What are we all doing then? Having an argument?" As soon as I said my first line, the nerves melted away.
At that precise moment, I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
There were a couple of line slips by various cast members, including myself, but it didn't matter. Given that this play was written so long ago, with very old fashioned dialogue, we decided to make it into a bit of a farce anyway, so we had plenty of laughter from the audience, even if some of it was unintentional. The biggest reaction was when the train thunders through the station; the lights were rigged up behind the backdrop to run in sequence to give the impression of lit carriages shooting past the platform - coupled with the chosen sound effects, it worked superbly! It got a great reaction. ( My own contribution was the Twilight Zone theme music which was played at the beginning as the curtains opened, just to let the audience know what they were in for! :-) )
The run went swimmingly apart from the last night. We were pulling out all the stops by this point, and we were steaming ahead to the final act where once more I would be rolling around like a lunatic to the Mission: Impossible theme (don't ask!). Upon learning the news (again) that we were being invaded by 'Bolshies' (again, don't ask) the police officer should have told me that the shipment was full of machine guns. Instead, they chose that moment to say "Just as you thought, sir. Hand grenades."
My good friend Fletcher, playing one half of a young couple in the play, blurted out "Hand grenades?" in the fashion of a man close to losing his sanity.
He corpsed.
It spread like wildfire.
Pretty soon almost everyone on stage is trying to supress the giggles that were welling up inside us, but to no avail. At one point, I vaguely remember putting my arm around someone's shoulder and pretending to cry in order to cover up the fact that I was laughing. It didn't work.
Fortunately, the audience were very forgiving, and when we finally calmed down enough to finish proceedings, they applauded enthusiastically. Phew.
To this day, I can honestly say I have never corpsed in any live production since. Plenty of times while filming, but then that's a whole different beast, and the audience never see the mistakes (except on the DVD, of course!)
I'm hoping that poor old Mr Ridley was not turning in his grave!
Monday 4 July 2011
Prologue - What's it all about?
Hello, everybody, and welcome to my blog, Memoirs of a Misfit. Why that particular title? I'll get to that...
I suppose I'm what you would call between jobs at the moment, and having worked in an office environment for the last 12 years, I've decided to move in the direction I've wanted to go since I left College: to be an Actor!
OK, before you start questioning my ambitions, I can tell you I know exactly how hard this is going to be and I thought (god knows why!) that I would share the journey with you all, and hope to be able to show other aspiring thespians that it is possible to get out there and get noticed. Not that that has quite happened for me yet...still...
I've been acting on an amateur and semi-professional basis for 20 years, ever since I took an accredited course at College called "How to put on a Play". I had already done quite a lot of 'radio' with a friend of mine from High School, so I thought I'd give treading the boards a go. We performed The Ghost Train by Arnold Ridley to packed houses for 5 nights, and I was absolutely hooked from the first night. So hooked in fact, I went on to do three more productions at College during my A-level period when I was taking Theatre Studies. Bitten by the bug? Absolutely.
Crunch time came for me when I attended a one-day masterclass run by the late actor Brian Hall (Terry the chef from Fawlty Towers) and one thing in particular stuck with me. The day was drawing to a close, and he took us all into his confidence by giving us some sage advice:
"We don't need actors," he said, "We need writers. There are too many actors in this business."
Of course, when I heard those words I was thunderstruck. My bubble had well and truly been burst. He's in the business, I thought, and he's saying that? I promptly resolved that I would get a 'proper job' and would not even attempt to forge a career. No problem. No regrets. At the time...
Every year since that moment, I have done at least one production a year, on stage or video, and I have appeared at the Arundel Festival Fringe three times (this August will be my fourth). To say my roles have been varied is an understatement, particularly as I have grown older and more mature, and I've had a whale of a time. But if there's one thing that those years have taught me, it's that I've wanted it to be more than just a hobby.
So, I'm going to plunge headfirst into the world of the jobbing actor, filling time with the odd am dram production here and there, and I will be sharing my experiences on this blog, past and present - my time at College, the productions I've appeared in, the productions I've seen, the people I've worked with (some names may be changed to protect the innocent), and the ones that have encouraged me over the years.
Oh, yes, back to the question at the beginning of this post - why Memoirs of a Misfit? Because if I was ever to do an autobiography, that would be it's title. Consider this a trial run. Hopefully, you will find it all insightful, entertaining, funny, heartbreaking, fulfilling, and sad all in equal measure, just like any good piece of theatre.
EXIT STAGE RIGHT.
I suppose I'm what you would call between jobs at the moment, and having worked in an office environment for the last 12 years, I've decided to move in the direction I've wanted to go since I left College: to be an Actor!
OK, before you start questioning my ambitions, I can tell you I know exactly how hard this is going to be and I thought (god knows why!) that I would share the journey with you all, and hope to be able to show other aspiring thespians that it is possible to get out there and get noticed. Not that that has quite happened for me yet...still...
I've been acting on an amateur and semi-professional basis for 20 years, ever since I took an accredited course at College called "How to put on a Play". I had already done quite a lot of 'radio' with a friend of mine from High School, so I thought I'd give treading the boards a go. We performed The Ghost Train by Arnold Ridley to packed houses for 5 nights, and I was absolutely hooked from the first night. So hooked in fact, I went on to do three more productions at College during my A-level period when I was taking Theatre Studies. Bitten by the bug? Absolutely.
Crunch time came for me when I attended a one-day masterclass run by the late actor Brian Hall (Terry the chef from Fawlty Towers) and one thing in particular stuck with me. The day was drawing to a close, and he took us all into his confidence by giving us some sage advice:
"We don't need actors," he said, "We need writers. There are too many actors in this business."
Of course, when I heard those words I was thunderstruck. My bubble had well and truly been burst. He's in the business, I thought, and he's saying that? I promptly resolved that I would get a 'proper job' and would not even attempt to forge a career. No problem. No regrets. At the time...
Every year since that moment, I have done at least one production a year, on stage or video, and I have appeared at the Arundel Festival Fringe three times (this August will be my fourth). To say my roles have been varied is an understatement, particularly as I have grown older and more mature, and I've had a whale of a time. But if there's one thing that those years have taught me, it's that I've wanted it to be more than just a hobby.
So, I'm going to plunge headfirst into the world of the jobbing actor, filling time with the odd am dram production here and there, and I will be sharing my experiences on this blog, past and present - my time at College, the productions I've appeared in, the productions I've seen, the people I've worked with (some names may be changed to protect the innocent), and the ones that have encouraged me over the years.
Oh, yes, back to the question at the beginning of this post - why Memoirs of a Misfit? Because if I was ever to do an autobiography, that would be it's title. Consider this a trial run. Hopefully, you will find it all insightful, entertaining, funny, heartbreaking, fulfilling, and sad all in equal measure, just like any good piece of theatre.
EXIT STAGE RIGHT.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)