8/10 - Crackerjack
"...the first-rate acting, in a production beautifully orchestrated by director Hannah Drake, ensures a memorable night out."
In full: http://www.crackerjack.co.uk/bristol/review/theatre-review-someone-who-ll-watch-over-me-alma-tavern-theatre/theatre
**** - What's On Stage
"This is the fourth and final showcase of plays directed by the Bristol Old Vic’s graduating directors. Hannah Drake takes the reins this week, and what an excellent job she does, as this is a wonderful production."
In full: http://www.whatsonstage.com/reviews/theatre/southwest/E8831274268323/Someone%20Wholl%20Watch%20Over%20Me,%20Bristol%20Old%20Vic%20Theatre%20School.html
Showing posts with label SWWOM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SWWOM. Show all posts
Friday, 21 May 2010
Sunday, 16 May 2010
A Performance
The first time you show your work to an audience is a nerve-wracking thing. Suddenly you wonder what exactly you've spent the weeks of rehearsal doing, whether it will be good enough, whether the audience will laugh (and, if they do, at the right things) and whether you'll all make it through. What makes it worse is that, once a performance starts, the director is - essentially - redundant. We are left to look on, feeling vaguely parental towards the actors, crew and production, possibly taking notes, and biting our nails furiously. This is ten times worse when the production you are doing is new writing, and there is no precedent for an audience's reaction.
Today's 'preview'/'open run' was one of the tenser performances I've been a part of. It started off very well - everyone (bar the stage manager) was on time and raring to go. Problem was, the venue was locked. No way in. After an hour of frantic phone calls, and the arrival of both stage manager and audience, we were able to access one half of the venue, and finally the other half thanks to the random happenstance that meant one of the audience members actually had a key to the building. Bizarre but true. Half an hour late, having had no time for a proper warm up, having rushed to set up the room, and having done practically nothing on my 'prep' to-do list, we showed our play to the audience.
And it went well! The cast and crew present rallied and played with conviction, heart, and discipline. Having seen the show in its every incarnation, I was more sensitive to its twangs and pulls, and I was probably able to see nerves that no one else could, but it was thrilling to see others as moved and entertained as I have been by this play.
If this is what they can do in such stressful circumstances, I can't wait to see it on the other side of the tech.
Today's 'preview'/'open run' was one of the tenser performances I've been a part of. It started off very well - everyone (bar the stage manager) was on time and raring to go. Problem was, the venue was locked. No way in. After an hour of frantic phone calls, and the arrival of both stage manager and audience, we were able to access one half of the venue, and finally the other half thanks to the random happenstance that meant one of the audience members actually had a key to the building. Bizarre but true. Half an hour late, having had no time for a proper warm up, having rushed to set up the room, and having done practically nothing on my 'prep' to-do list, we showed our play to the audience.
And it went well! The cast and crew present rallied and played with conviction, heart, and discipline. Having seen the show in its every incarnation, I was more sensitive to its twangs and pulls, and I was probably able to see nerves that no one else could, but it was thrilling to see others as moved and entertained as I have been by this play.
If this is what they can do in such stressful circumstances, I can't wait to see it on the other side of the tech.
Thursday, 29 April 2010
Passion
I am writing this having survived giving a presentation about my graduation show to the Friends of my drama school. These are an interesting bunch - some wildly supportive, encouraging and enthusiastic, and others more reserved.
It was terrifying.
But, while I stood deer-in-the-headlights-style at the front of the room, trying to put into words not only what the play is about but quite what makes it so special, I realised a few things. On the surface, very little happens in the play - three men are locked in a room, and pretty much stay there the whole way through. But the emotion, the ordeal, the spirit and the struggle for survival are extraordinary. McGuinness' text is poetic, abrupt, sincere and challenging, and the experience the characters go through is unimaginable.
In our production - on a tiny stage in a cramped theatre above a pub - the audience seating becomes an extension of the cell. Our set has no tabs, and the walls of the theatre are the walls of the cell. The actors only leave the stage at key moments, and although the audience has the freedom of the interval, the visual continuity and picture that we are trying to achieve should - I hope - go some way to giving the audience a taste of what it might be like to be a hostage; thereby identifying them with the characters even more than the surface allows.
More than this, I found myself remembering how strongly I feel for the characters, and the play itself. I am so excited and proud to be a part of it - even more so now that we have been able to explore it in rehearsal. In a strange way, the break we have had to take since the first rehearsal phase has given me time to pause and take stock - and really appreciate the process of creating theatre. We are now two and a half weeks away from the first night, and I can't wait to see it come to life.
It was terrifying.
But, while I stood deer-in-the-headlights-style at the front of the room, trying to put into words not only what the play is about but quite what makes it so special, I realised a few things. On the surface, very little happens in the play - three men are locked in a room, and pretty much stay there the whole way through. But the emotion, the ordeal, the spirit and the struggle for survival are extraordinary. McGuinness' text is poetic, abrupt, sincere and challenging, and the experience the characters go through is unimaginable.
In our production - on a tiny stage in a cramped theatre above a pub - the audience seating becomes an extension of the cell. Our set has no tabs, and the walls of the theatre are the walls of the cell. The actors only leave the stage at key moments, and although the audience has the freedom of the interval, the visual continuity and picture that we are trying to achieve should - I hope - go some way to giving the audience a taste of what it might be like to be a hostage; thereby identifying them with the characters even more than the surface allows.
More than this, I found myself remembering how strongly I feel for the characters, and the play itself. I am so excited and proud to be a part of it - even more so now that we have been able to explore it in rehearsal. In a strange way, the break we have had to take since the first rehearsal phase has given me time to pause and take stock - and really appreciate the process of creating theatre. We are now two and a half weeks away from the first night, and I can't wait to see it come to life.
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
SWWOM: Week Two
Today was the first day back in rehearsals for my graduation play after the Easter break. The play is Frank McGuinness' 'Someone Who'll Watch Over Me'; about three men taken hostage in Lebanon in the 1980s. Although the play is based on real events (in particular, the experiences of Irishman, Brian Keenan), all the characters in the play are fictitious. It's known as the "bad joke" play i.e. 'An Englishman, an Irishman and an American...etc', but it's one of the most moving things I've ever seen/read. Even now, in rehearsal, there are moments that leave me speechless (and that's pretty unusual!).
So far the rehearsal period has been a mix of long-form improvisation and careful text study. On the first day, in an attempt to give the actors some taste of what a real hostage might go through (albeit in a sanitised, 'safe' environment), I arranged for four other volunteer actors to ambush us mid-rehearsal and conduct a hostage simulation for the rest of the day. Using fake guns and covering their faces with balaclavas and scarves, the hostage takers burst in shouting gobbledegook. They forced all of us down onto the floor and blindfolded the cast. I was then free to (silently) watch and orchestrate the remaining events of the day. These included interrogations and terrorising (using a rolled up newspaper to aggressively hit the floor and walls around the actors, randomly stroking their hair, alternating between anger and comfort, and moving them round the room at random), culminating in the actors one-by-one being led out of our building and into next door to a room that had had its windows and doors blocked up with black fabric. When they needed the toilet, the cast were escorted - blindfolded - across the hall. Their lunch was brought to them and consisted of: a roll, a hard-boiled egg, some jam and a lump of cheese. This was a day's ration of food that Brian Keenan received during part of his tenure as a hostage. The 'cell' was the actors' home for three hours. In total, the exercise took 6 hours.
This may seem an extreme way to begin rehearsals for a play, but there were certain circumstances that allowed me to take such a liberty. First, all the actors - at a previous read-through - had asked to take part in a lock-in of some kind for 48 hours (even more extreme than my own devising). And second, we had worked as a company on a trailer for the production and so had already built up a level of trust. The rewards of that day have been extraordinary. It serves as a kind of shared language and "reference book" for the discoveries we've later made about relationships and behaviour between the hostages. For example, the rapid conditioning of human responses (e.g. whenever the guards entered the cell, the actors would automatically retreat to their corners and cover their eyes) and bonding together were stronger than I could have imagined. Other interesting things that cropped up was the suspicion of new arrivals, the characterising of the guards ('It's Ok Man'), and the confusion of not knowing whether it was day or night and the body's instinct to shut off and sleep in order to cope.
Other long-form improvisations we've done include two hours of the actors as themselves 'in the cell' (tied by the ankle with rope to the walls) - to have some experience of the boredom of life as a hostage; character-building improv set before their character was taken, as well as exploring scenes preceding the action of scene one (e.g. the first meeting of Edward, the Irishman, and Adam, the American). Always, these exercises are rooted in trying to explore facets of the text, and today was the first time the actors actually stood up and spoke the full text aloud. Now our focus has shifted from background and building up emotional and physical memories to mounting the action of the play itself.
Exciting times!
So far the rehearsal period has been a mix of long-form improvisation and careful text study. On the first day, in an attempt to give the actors some taste of what a real hostage might go through (albeit in a sanitised, 'safe' environment), I arranged for four other volunteer actors to ambush us mid-rehearsal and conduct a hostage simulation for the rest of the day. Using fake guns and covering their faces with balaclavas and scarves, the hostage takers burst in shouting gobbledegook. They forced all of us down onto the floor and blindfolded the cast. I was then free to (silently) watch and orchestrate the remaining events of the day. These included interrogations and terrorising (using a rolled up newspaper to aggressively hit the floor and walls around the actors, randomly stroking their hair, alternating between anger and comfort, and moving them round the room at random), culminating in the actors one-by-one being led out of our building and into next door to a room that had had its windows and doors blocked up with black fabric. When they needed the toilet, the cast were escorted - blindfolded - across the hall. Their lunch was brought to them and consisted of: a roll, a hard-boiled egg, some jam and a lump of cheese. This was a day's ration of food that Brian Keenan received during part of his tenure as a hostage. The 'cell' was the actors' home for three hours. In total, the exercise took 6 hours.
This may seem an extreme way to begin rehearsals for a play, but there were certain circumstances that allowed me to take such a liberty. First, all the actors - at a previous read-through - had asked to take part in a lock-in of some kind for 48 hours (even more extreme than my own devising). And second, we had worked as a company on a trailer for the production and so had already built up a level of trust. The rewards of that day have been extraordinary. It serves as a kind of shared language and "reference book" for the discoveries we've later made about relationships and behaviour between the hostages. For example, the rapid conditioning of human responses (e.g. whenever the guards entered the cell, the actors would automatically retreat to their corners and cover their eyes) and bonding together were stronger than I could have imagined. Other interesting things that cropped up was the suspicion of new arrivals, the characterising of the guards ('It's Ok Man'), and the confusion of not knowing whether it was day or night and the body's instinct to shut off and sleep in order to cope.
Other long-form improvisations we've done include two hours of the actors as themselves 'in the cell' (tied by the ankle with rope to the walls) - to have some experience of the boredom of life as a hostage; character-building improv set before their character was taken, as well as exploring scenes preceding the action of scene one (e.g. the first meeting of Edward, the Irishman, and Adam, the American). Always, these exercises are rooted in trying to explore facets of the text, and today was the first time the actors actually stood up and spoke the full text aloud. Now our focus has shifted from background and building up emotional and physical memories to mounting the action of the play itself.
Exciting times!
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