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...
