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!
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