Theatremonkey

Was anybody else struck by the amazing press conference Madonna gave at the launch of her directorial debut “W.E.” a couple of week ago?

The format was the usual – star sits at desk, flanked by advisors, hangers’ on and security. The press sit facing them, photographers crouching in an empty space at the front. Nothing too controversial is asked, nothing too revealing is said, but everybody gets a story… and some write it up as an “exclusive” if they’ve managed to ask a question.

Where this particular event varied was right at the end. Normally, everybody smiles at each other and leave the room. This time, there was a pause… and exactly the same moment everybody (including me, watching on TV) had the same thought… “I wonder if I dare…” Simultaneously, spontaneously, everybody did.

Do remember that even to get in to these press conferences you need some kind of accreditation – and in achieving it, most of those present would have attended hundreds, with some major stars as the subject.

I’ve watched more than a few myself, and I’ve never, ever, seen hardened journalists behave that way before.

That surge to the front, every hardened journalist in the place waving a blank piece of paper hoping for an autograph HAS to strike the biggest blow ever for the campaign that proves older female performers are the most valuable of all.

As Madonna’s security obviously panicked (nobody, as I said, expects journalists familiar with stars to act that way) the star herself merely smiled and left the stage. Nothing, and everything, proved in a single moment.

One extraordinary event, two vitally important lessons demonstrated for all. First, that age and gender don’t matter a bit if the star quality runs deep enough. That’s extraordinarily deep, but it can be reached if…

… second lesson: it’s really, REALLY worked for. Sure, luck and talent play big parts, but literally millions of hours of practice, image forming and sheer determination against all odds were the root of it all.

With a new round of “X Factor” both in the UK and now (sorry, guys) in the USA, and all those contestants wanting to become stars, perhaps they should think about the fact that if they avoid any shortcuts and believe totally in what they do, they too might just end up a star who can make even the most cynical journalist take the same chance as any other devoted fan.

It’s those that keep us coming back for more. The ‘perfect’ moment is when audience and actors are completely synchronised, the real world fades away and all that is left is cast and stage, lost in the moment. It’s rare, but it happens.

Equally rare, but infinitely stranger, is when audience and cast take joint responsibility for their mutual success in completing a performance. This weirdness happened last to me two weeks ago, at the Open Air Theatre, Regent’s Park. As previously recorded here, my first attempt to catch the hit of the summer, “Crazy For You” was foiled before the show event started – but the blow very much softened by the observation of my fellow audience members stoically waiting to be dismissed by the stage manager.

I suspect more than a few were present at the performance I chose as a replacement. This time, it was ‘mixed signs.’ Wet as I walked to the tube to go to the theatre, dry by the time I arrived, and dry (except for the seat edges – take a bag to sit on is my advice) for the first 20 minutes. Then it rained a bit. As in a chilly shower that came and went in the space of a single dance number. Twenty minutes later it happened again – lighter this time – and as the second act reached its last 10 minutes the audience was congratulating itself on choosing a dry, if blustery and overcast, afternoon.

And then the same dancers who had previously been rained on came back on stage… and promptly got rained on again. This time there was no let-up, and as the show reached its dramatic conclusion in the Western desert town of Deadrock, we got the full Hollywood cinematic treatment of ‘soaked hero kissing soaked heroine’ while the locals cheered.

Each dance became little more than “going gently through the steps” as the wooden stage acquired a skidpan surface… yet the cast continued, laughing… and we in the audience laughed with them. There was no hint that anybody wanted to leave – the cast took their bows as choreographed, the audience stayed (with one or two very senior – and rightful exceptions) huddled beneath any available rainwear… and we all joined in the final chorus, cast and audience united.

You can’t capture that moment anywhere, it was unique, special and will no doubt live long in the memories of all present. As I said in my previous entry, whatever is thrown at the British, we still have a special fortitude that spineless political classes can’t bury, and I think that’s wonderful. In fact, the only question that remains for me still is simply, “if the cast is soaked, as is the audience, and we are all cold and wet; if the performances were that good, is it inappropriate to shout, ‘encore’?”

Following on from last week, I realise now that I’ve not tackled the problem from the other angle. An incident at my local newsagent’s told me why the screeds I wrote then were only half the story.

The shop was empty, save for myself and the shopkeeper. As I handed him a £10 note to pay, and waited for my change, a boy – 14 or so – entered, grabbed a drink from the display… ignored me totally and handed his money to the befuddled shopkeeper with the words “70p boss.” The boy then left us both standing there.

And this is the other half of the problem. Once he had gone, we both agreed it was easier to let him get on with it than do what both of our parents would have done decades ago when we were growing up.

Back then, it was not only accepted but expected that adults ruled children, and that all adults were responsible for behaviour of young people around them at all times. An unpleasant response from the child was highly unlikely, and if there were, police and courts could and would take instant and effective action.

Now, both myself and the shopkeeper knew we would have no back-up from society, and would find ourselves in trouble if we did anything at all – even though a “wait your turn” would have been a strong new stitch in future social fabric.

It isn’t just the clarity of what to expect from life that is important, but also what life expects from them – and that needs to be backed up by adults being allowed to re-claim their rightful place as instructors of the future  generation… with all the rights and responsibilities that entails.

Still, Britishness is not entirely lost; it exists in small pockets still – like the Open Air Theatre, Regent’s Park last Thursday afternoon. As predicted by the Met Office, rain kicked in just as I got to the park, and got steadily heavier as my ticket was torn and I took shelter in the bar area under the auditorium.

Ten minutes to go, the rain got a little lighter, and a plastic mac clad British audience took its seats. The stage manager emerged and a dance captain could be seen skidding around on the wooden floor. Three stage hands (one with a ‘comedy’ broom that fell apart as he swept, to keep the audience entertained of course) started shifting water from the boards, and a hopeful sound person took the plastic covers off the speakers.

Then the rain really started to come down. And yet, and yet… despite knowing it was inevitable, almost a thousand British people sat quietly in a heavy downpour for nearly ten minutes until a tannoy voice suggested we took shelter again in the bar.

The show was called off, but it was one of those moments that reminded me how real Brits manage to survive, no matter what social engineering the Government try.

Kudos to the park box office too, my ticket exchange was efficient – further proof that we aren’t quite as hopeless as certain sectors of the media like to think.

Right, that’s me ranted out. I’m taking a week off to recover, so the next posting will be after the schools are back and the streets are peaceful once more.

P.S. I am no fan of the Notting Hill Carnival, but know it brings pleasure to hundreds of thousands of people each year. To those who organise it and enjoy it – have a great time. To those who might be thinking of doing anything disruptive to it – please don’t, and remember there will be a heavy police presence throughout London that weekend too. That is all.

Neither I, nor indeed Mr P, are members of the “Hang ‘Em and Flog ‘Em” brigade (well, Mr P kinda is, but not in that way, and he feels that everyone is entitled to a hobby) anyway…

The obvious question, following last week’s incidents, is ‘what happens next?’ It’s pretty easy to trot out the clichés – long gaol sentences, shooting, flagellation, national service, eviction etc. The trouble is, those only address the symptoms, not the root causes.

I can well believe that those who took part in the trouble may (the few simply ‘caught in the moment’ aside) be either simply bored or feel a great isolation from the rest of society. I know myself how easy it is, when really broke and unemployed, to hate the world – and to reject all attempts others make to pull you back into it. If you remove the stability I had that prevents you falling further, the damage may well be irreparable to the individual as well as the community they live in.

Many point to the fact only electrical and sportswear stores were looted, and that Waterstones was left alone. My theory is that the scumbag looters may have realised Amazon was cheaper, but anyway…

The answer has to be the very clearly seen provision of a structure, a simple and obvious ladder visible and graspable by all.

The previous government were obsessed with ‘Key Stage’ testing in schools, measuring what children could do so that the press and opposition could savage the results. In my day we were tested in school, annually – even termly – but those results were kept between schools and parents. If a year did badly, parents knew why (be it teachers leaving or simply an over abundance of sawdust in the gene pool that year), and there were other measures by which the community knew if the school was good or not – pupil behaviour and appearance on the streets, local newspaper reports of good work and sports results and simple local gossip about reputation.

What there also was, was the clear ladder I was talking about. It was known that children went to a ‘good’ primary, on to a ‘good’ secondary and then to a ‘decent job’ or perhaps college and university. All this came about because there was ‘faith in the system’ that was reinforced by that local reputation gossip, and not undermined by media talk and a bunch of easily cooked statistics.

That is probably the key: stop producing quantitative data and start allowing individual communities to ‘exist’ and build themselves. Do give them the central structure that says good school leads to good training that leads to decent existence.

Do also give them the means to shape these things. My suggestion is not actual ‘national service’ – the thought of drug dealers being trained to shoot straight isn’t appealing – but to make certain that being a “NEET” (Not in Education, Employment or Training) and existing (and believe me, it isn’t living) on benefits is no longer an option at 16 or 18.

End benefits for those under 21, and use the money instead for a 2 or 4 year (depending if you join at 16 or 18) compulsory “NYS” system. A voluntary 6 week system won’t sort anything, I feel. Those not in college or full time work (and achieving and regularly attending both) are required to take part in these residential (optionally home based if home is a sound one) schemes, partly staffed by armed services troops who have been decommissioned either through retirement or injury, and partly by those craftsmen redundant as British industry closed.

Six weeks of assessment and basic social functioning skills, followed by multiple choices of practical courses – everything from bricklaying to nursery nursing (for those single mothers attending, plus anyone else wishing to take part), commerce and even military skills for those who want them. Catch up classes in numeracy and literacy, of course, as a daily event, go without saying.

A route out of a ‘broken’ environment, into a place created by people who have skills and discipline to pass on, a totally clean slate for anybody without the wish or current ability to do what the middle and upper classes have done for years – go off somewhere to learn about life and themselves (university or travel) and return a useful member of the community.

Has to be cheaper than re-building half the nation’s shopping centres, doesn’t it?

The recent London riots have decimated audience levels at the Greenwich Playhouse.  At last night’s press launch for the UK Premiere of the American musical ‘SLAY IT WITH MUSIC’, the venue experienced the smallest audience for a Press Night in its near 20 year history.

 A Stage Kindly artistic directors have said:

“A STAGE KINDLY New Musical Theatre Initiative is one of the few companies in Britain specialising in producing new musicals. This is our Company’s first extended run and we have invested everything into producing this show. The reduced audience levels are devastating to us, to the large cast and technical team who have dedicated so much time and talent to bringing to life this fantastic new American musical.  We remain deeply concerned about the evident impact that these riots have had in destroying audience’s confidence to venture out to the theatre and to an area which has been surrounded by civil unrest. If audience levels do not improve, this could result in the end of our company and the ambitious work which it does in supporting new musical theatre writing from all over the world.”

Alice de Sousa, Greenwich Playhouse artistic director:

“Greenwich High Road, normally a haven of tourist daytime activity and in the evenings coming alive with cultural events and large groups of people socialising, has become eerily quiet. It is evident that the riots have affected people’s confidence in their own safety and in their community. I have no doubt that resilient Londoners will reclaim their communities by returning to their daily routines; however, for us and for the company producing ‘SLAY IT WITH MUSIC’, it is in the meanwhile a question of survival. Small independent theatres and companies which receive no funding are completely dependent on ticket sales. Since the riots we have experiences dozens of tickets cancelled and our booking systems (phone and online) have come to a stand still. So I urge theatre lovers and in particular South Londoners to join us at the Greenwich Playhouse for ‘SLAY IT WITH MUSIC’: a joyous American musical which will lift the spirit and fill minds and hearts with song, dance and laughter.”  

 SLAY IT WITH MUSIC performs at the Greenwich Playhouse until the 4^th September 2011; Tues-Sat 7.30, Sun 4pm; Tickets: £13 £10 (concs.)

Box Office: 0208 858 9256; boxoffice@galleontheatre.co.uk

Greenwich Playhouse, Greenwich Station Forecourt, 189 Greenwich High Road, London SE10 8JA www.galleontheatre.co.uk

Just heard from the previous post that,

“As a follow up I had enough of an audience last night to give me the most amazing cheer at the end so it was totally worth getting back out!”

No defeat, no surrender indeed

Following on from what I just said, an email came in from a young lady who says,

“Please give some coverage to a londoner who has worked her socks off to create something and not just rob it from JD sports with a scarf over their face!  I’m going to really struggle for audience now so any help you can give would be really appreciated.

Not Stalking Productions Presents (as part of the Camden Fringe)

Out, Damned Spot

The new play written and performed by Emma Hutchins

Lady Macbeth – a heartless monster ruled by a sinister purpose: But what if before the ruthlessness, ambition, murder, madness and tragedy there was instead innocence and love, hopes and dreams? It is many years before Shakespeare’s tragedy Macbeth and you are invited to the wedding of Isobel, a humble young maiden excitedly preparing for a wonderfully happy future; she has the man of her dreams, a new social standing and a castle all of her own, what could possibly go wrong?

Out, Damned Spot asks you take a fresh look at Shakespeare’s original devil woman. Come, explore what sort of existence pushes a person to the edge of their conscience. Throw away your preconceptions, immerse yourself in medieval castle life and see how a naive young girl becomes a cold, commanding woman. Perhaps long before her tragic ambition Lady Macbeth had longed for a simple marriage? And once upon a time could the infamous murderess have been a loving, devoted mother? Watch how expectations, wishes and desires slowly wither and die, watch as innocence is brutally stolen; watch as a love story twists into a tragedy.

Above the Oxford Arms
265 Camden High Street
London NW1 7BU

Wed 10 August 2011 7:30pm £8.00 (Plus bk fee £1)
Thu 11 August 2011 7:30pm £8.00 (Plus bk fee £1)
Fri 12 August 2011 7:30pm £8.00 (Plus bk fee £1)

Book tickets via either www.etceteratheatre.com / 020 7482 4857
or www.camdenfringe.org 08444 77 1000

‘Out, Damned Spot’ is the new work from writer/ performer Emma Hutchins. Emma’s first play ‘NOT Stalking David Tennant’ was performed at the Camden and Edinburgh Fringes in 2007 and 2008 with ‘Do Look Back in Anger’ having a very successful run at Camden in 2009. Both shows received much critical acclaim for both Emma’s writing and performance. Reviews include:

For ‘Do Look Back in Anger’:
‘Emma Hutchins has written and performed in another high quality show: .It is a pleasure to watch (her) perform the roles of Babydoll and Alison. : Emma has a brilliant grasp in becoming these characters in a different way, through her body language and exceptional use of different accents. The highlight of her performance is the role of Babydoll; so funny and yet so sympathetically moving: .Emma Hutchins has given these characters a voice of their own.’ ( Remotegoat)

‘Emma Hutchins is undoubtedly a capable writer and performer: the audience smiled at the literary in-jokes, were moved by Lady M and seduced by Babydoll’ (Fringereview)

For ‘Not Stalking David Tennant’:
‘Hutchins’ creates a genuinely enchanting piece, with carefully crafted characters who are thoroughly engaging to watch: an impressive debut piece.’ (The British Theatre Guide)

‘The characters she (Emma Hutchins) creates, using both her accomplished verbal and non-verbal resources, represent a colourful variety of types, accents and personal quirks: demonstrating her own gifts of confidence, fun and artistic integrity.’ (The Stage)

‘an admirable and brave performer who: delivers a funny, emotional, and upsetting performance that explores issues close to many women’s hearts.’
(Three weeks)

Is it possible that Shakespeare’s demon was once just the girl next door….?

Go to www.notstalkingproductions.co.uk for more info and please forward this invite on to any collegues, students or friends who maybe interested, especially Shakespeare students or lecturers!

Says it all, doesn’t it!

Last week’s blog was about those around us in the theatre. How their behaviour can affect how much we enjoy the show, and how important it is to do everything possible to leave nobody out when an audience is formed.

Events in Tottenham and elsewhere only serve to underline how, though we are all close together, we can be so far apart.

It’s pretty easy to understand how grief can make a family choose to make a public protest. It’s also pretty easy to understand how rumours begin and lead to such an escalation of events.

What isn’t so easy to figure out is just when we ended up with so many small groups who don’t seem to communicate very easily.

The internet brings people together – I chat to hundreds of people around the world that I never would have known any other way – but it also fosters the kind of problems seen those few days ago. Without such instantaneous communication, I do wonder if fewer people would have become involved in the subtle art of televisual liberation from closed shops.

On the other hand, it was heartening how communities came together in the following days to clean up and defend themselves. It shows, I guess, the opposite is also true – as indeed it is with audiences – that a few can bind many together.

For what it’s worth, I’d honestly say a lot of what the TV media has been showing is, as usual, what’s ‘photogenic’ rather than reality. Hoards of police standing about isn’t as good as a shop ablaze, is it, when viewing figures are at stake?

There’s also the ridiculous nature of rumour. According to one I heard yesterday, somebody’s friend (who lives near it) reported my local library was burning… I took a walk that way last night… guess what… aside from somebody in the next road having a garden bonfire, my suburb remained as usual. A suburb.

Perhaps time we brought back the old “Careless Talk Costs Lives” and prosecuted morons for spreading this stuff, I’d say.

Anyway, for those reading this and thinking of staying out of London, my advice is “Don’t Worry.” Trouble is confined to the sort of places you wouldn’t want to go or need to be in, and control is now firm – with any miscreants being dealt with quickly and effectively. It’s still summer, there’s still plenty of great shows on and some good hotel deals. Treat yourselves.

Going to a show is always a risk – you may not enjoy what’s on stage, and you are £65 down if you don’t. A popular topic, both on my own website and at whatsonstage.com, are the other risks you also run being part of the audience. I’m not talking about the various attempts by directors at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre to kill the front row in 2011 (I’ll be the one in the crash helmet at ‘Crazy For You’ in a couple of weeks), nor the flying sweat and other substances emanating from hardworking thesps. I’m focussed on the nutters that happily fork over the £65 and then behave as if they are the only people in the auditorium – which they seem to regard as their own home sofa.

From Shakespeare’s time and right up to the Victorian era audience behaviour has been notoriously variable. I’m currently reading On, a collection of writings about Victorian Theatre by Charles Dickens. Dickens visits the best and worst London has to offer, and notes that silence really is golden during performances… since the tougher element in the crowd can be relied on to do physical harm to those unwilling to conform.

The infamous ‘extra’ services that might be found in the outer corridors are also documented, as is the catering available – giant jugs of beer and wine, cakes and thick sandwiches. Oddly, Dickens doesn’t mention infuriating rustling plastic sweet wrappers nor the content of boxes of Malteasers bouncing down the aisle… maybe he didn’t notice them… anyway…

What made me write something in the blog was being told about a caller to BBC Radio 2 last week, who reported that her and her autistic son had been asked to leave a West End show due to his behaviour. It has turned out that it was a member of the production team who made the request, and that an audience member stood up for the family concerned.

The radio conversation, which I was only told about, apparently split callers firmly into 2 camps – those who felt that ANY person disrupting the show should leave, and those who felt disability was a good enough reason to excuse any behaviour at all.

Without dealing with the specifics of this individual, or indeed this individual case at all, I can’t be the only person to feel totally divided by the whole issue it brings up in general. I’ve not doubt at all that in general I’d be furious if I’d paid £65 for a ticket, only to have somebody close by making so much noise that I couldn’t hear the show. Against that, of course, many people have health problems that are incredibly complicated conditions and nobody – but nobody – can deny that suffers deserve all the breaks they can get, as indeed do their carers.

I guess the question is, in our society, does absolutely everything have to be as ‘absolute’ as it seems to be at the moment? There was a time that the UK in particular was known for its inherent ‘moderation.’ The “Good Old British Compromise” was an instinctive way of life.

My theory is that our increasingly introverted behaviour is starting to erode our sense of compromise and leading to situations like this. More to the point, we are also losing the ability to take what was commonly known as a “Common Sense” approach to even the simplest situations.

Some theatres are unlucky in that they have few seats where a party can have a greater degree of privacy than usual. Sill, mindful of particular needs, they do have help that visitors can obtain beforehand (all theatres have excellent ‘special access’ departments) and staff are usually well trained to deal with situations arising on the day too. Maybe this will assist a few carers by making them aware that help is out there if they’d like it.

Enjoyment of any show isn’t just about the cast and crew working their hardest, it’s about us as an audience giving them our full attention, while also attending to those around us so that they can enjoy the experience equally – regardless of any condition they may have. Theatre is wonderful for anybody, and with common sense it is open to everyone.

The weekend was full of it. The sheer horror of events in Norway was compounded by the sheer inexplicability of the motivation. It’s fairly easy to grasp and be chilled by anybody carrying out an act of mass murder. What I found worse was that it went so far beyond indiscriminate and random as to be unintelligible. A man opposed to immigration attacks his own country’s youth to make his point? Politically and ideologically led terrorism we have to cope with already, but this seems to me another even odder twist.

And then there was Amy Winehouse. I gasped and swore aloud when I first got the news from Ceefax. What’s really odd is that beyond knowing her name and exploits from newspapers, and knowing (from a general knowledge viewpoint) the titles of her albums, I can honestly say I’d never heard a full song of hers nor watched her perform. And yet I was upset. Why?

I guess it comes down to age. 27 seems old from 18, yet young from 40. 18 – around the ages of the Utoya victims – seems younger still from that perspective. There is something, perhaps, in the idea that as somebody lives, they learn about themselves and wish that gift be available to others.

27 is an age when a person is more or less sure of who they are, and starts to see what they have that can take them where they wish to go. We’ll never know what Amy Winehouse might have done with the longer part of her life – but her past leaves us at least with a clue. Similarly, among those youngsters on that perfect island there may have been a future Nobel prize winner and for sure many loving parents and decent citizens of the world. Again, the memories they leave with their loved ones provide a clue and perhaps in later years a tiny comfort.

Asking “why?” in cases like this seems to be only part of how to process things. Most of us can only hope to become old enough to help the young to grow; and perhaps being conscious of that – and being both willing and able to do so-  is one comfort we might draw.