I have a mad idea. Having neglected a lot of my reading over the past six months because of distractions ranging from 'I'm actually directing a play', 'I'm doing an internship' and 'I have family stuff going on', I've decided to take the bull by the horns (as it were) and do Extreme Play Reading in a bid to catch up. And who knows? Maybe get inspired.
Using the handily timely Lent period as a framework, I've decided to read 46 plays in 46 days. Now ideally this would be a play a day, but as I'm directing An Act of Twisting at the moment, and will start a contract up in Carlisle before Easter arrives, I do predict a few weekends of non-stop catch-up reading. But the goal is there: one play a day. I already have a stack sorted - accumulated variously from hand-me-downs, recommendations, being a subscriber for a year to the Royal Court and being trigger happy at script-sales. They range from Shakespeare to Chekhov to Ella Hickson, and vary in length.
As much as possible I'll try to update this blog with my progress, and possibly my thoughts about the plays. If there are enough hours in the day ;-)
Anyone else feel like joining me?
Tuesday, 12 February 2013
Monday, 24 September 2012
Lock-down
Question. At what point do you stop creating, and accept that a work is "finished"?
A bit of context: I'm working on a play that is created from about ten different drafts written by the original playwright over forty years ago (and who is, sadly, no longer with us). It's not that different from working on a brand new play, with re-writes happening on a fairly regular basis. This is tricky for the actors (and, in some cases, the production team when key design/atmosphere/costume factors are affected) as entire passages that have already been learnt are suddenly disrupted by the addition or subtraction of a line or two (or, indeed, full speeches).
There are famous incidences of productions running in 'preview' for months before they officially open - using an audience's response to help mold the show until it is locked down. And some plays are such classics you know the script will not change from day one.
Now, the obvious answer to my original question is that you never truly stop creating - that's the magic of live performance, that it is re-created every night and can never be the same. As such I'm not sure it is possible to have a "finished" live performance. But when that live performance relies on the confidence and skill of performers and technicians, at some point you do have to say 'this is it', 'this is what we're going with'. So, when?
Or is the work never done?
A bit of context: I'm working on a play that is created from about ten different drafts written by the original playwright over forty years ago (and who is, sadly, no longer with us). It's not that different from working on a brand new play, with re-writes happening on a fairly regular basis. This is tricky for the actors (and, in some cases, the production team when key design/atmosphere/costume factors are affected) as entire passages that have already been learnt are suddenly disrupted by the addition or subtraction of a line or two (or, indeed, full speeches).
There are famous incidences of productions running in 'preview' for months before they officially open - using an audience's response to help mold the show until it is locked down. And some plays are such classics you know the script will not change from day one.
Now, the obvious answer to my original question is that you never truly stop creating - that's the magic of live performance, that it is re-created every night and can never be the same. As such I'm not sure it is possible to have a "finished" live performance. But when that live performance relies on the confidence and skill of performers and technicians, at some point you do have to say 'this is it', 'this is what we're going with'. So, when?
Or is the work never done?
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Another year, another post...
One year on, and it's fascinating to look back through my previous posts. The good news is I am still Directing, and it's been a VERY busy year. This doesn't equate to a healthy bank balance, but one step at a time. In no particular order (although a vague attempt at being chronological), here's what I've been up to:
1. The Importance of Being Earnest - very well-received and we considered touring it but lack the logistical and financial support so that idea was binned. Great reviews, including my first 5-star critique, from WhatsOnStage.
2. Joined the Rondo Theatre as its first resident Directing Intern. This is a part-paid position that involves learning all the aspects of running a receiving fringe theatre - from contracts to programming to bar-work. I still have three months left (my term is up in December), and I think I can safely say that being there, meeting the visiting companies, and being able to talk in-depth one-to-one with my employer and mentor Ian McGlynn (the Artistic Director) has had a big influence in not only what I want to direct, but how I want to present myself in the industry and the power of new writing.
3. I have so far, in 2012, directed three productions, with a fourth on the way. First us was a new writing event called 'Alliance', which was a huge challenge as I was effectively producing as well as directing, as my first big task at the Rondo. It was a pretty stressful rehearsal period, and the importance of casting was very acutely demonstrated - good and bad. (oh for a decent budget!). Then there was 'Fertility Objects' by Alison Farina - a great little show about infertility. A lovely company and a successful production. Finally, most recently, was the biggie: my first ever attempt at the Edinburgh Fringe. More on that later....
4. I am currently working in Bolton, at the Octagon, back in the role of Assistant Director. It's really interesting to go back to, largely, observing in a rehearsal room. It's great to watch everyone working, although I do worry that I'm not doing enough (but then, I'm used to running everything!).
I'm in Bolton for another three weeks, then back to the South West for a brief break before leaping into 'Product Displacement' at the Rondo.
More soon :-)
Sunday, 4 September 2011
This is not a rehearsal.
Hello. I am alive, I promise, even though my current levels of blogging (very little) might suggest I had fallen into a deep hole in the pavement.
But no! I am very much still here, if lacking in internet-appropriate, witty, insightful writing about the life of a wannabe-Theatre Director. Don't get me wrong, I've had several ideas for posts, including: Censorship, How to Deal With Rejection, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival (a major reason for lack of blog), Social Conditioning, Theatre Politics and Gorillas. No, really - Bristol currently has a Gorilla-themed art festival whereby 60 life-size gorilla statues have been painted by different artists and placed in strategic places around the city. But, demonstrably, have not brought them to the internets.
Anyhoo. I may well post about the above in more depth in a later post, but I begin rehearsals tomorrow for 'The Importance of Being Earnest' so should probably go and make sure I have clean clothes, pack my script and avoid having a breakdown from first-day-at-school nerves. In truth I'm massively excited - the rehearsal room is where I have the most fun - but it's the first time the entire team will be together, and we get to see the beast for what it is. Including running length. Hoorah.
:-)
But no! I am very much still here, if lacking in internet-appropriate, witty, insightful writing about the life of a wannabe-Theatre Director. Don't get me wrong, I've had several ideas for posts, including: Censorship, How to Deal With Rejection, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival (a major reason for lack of blog), Social Conditioning, Theatre Politics and Gorillas. No, really - Bristol currently has a Gorilla-themed art festival whereby 60 life-size gorilla statues have been painted by different artists and placed in strategic places around the city. But, demonstrably, have not brought them to the internets.
Anyhoo. I may well post about the above in more depth in a later post, but I begin rehearsals tomorrow for 'The Importance of Being Earnest' so should probably go and make sure I have clean clothes, pack my script and avoid having a breakdown from first-day-at-school nerves. In truth I'm massively excited - the rehearsal room is where I have the most fun - but it's the first time the entire team will be together, and we get to see the beast for what it is. Including running length. Hoorah.
:-)
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Young Vic Genesis Network
You can tell when I should be doing other work - I blog more. Anyhoo.
The Young Vic Genesis Network is pretty much the only such network dedicated to linking aspiring and established directors in this country. Possibly the world? It's a fantastic resource - with links to over 700 directors, regular updates about different opportunities from assisting on productions, attending workshops and talks, getting free tickets/ticket offers and much more. It also allows its members to send blanket emails to the entire network asking for support or advice, publicising your work, or anything else really.
When you become a member you get to create a profile - a bit like Facebook but without a 'wall'. There's a section for including information about past and present projects, put in requests for staff etc. And there's the 'about me' bit. It's a bit like writing a dating advert, I think. Because, I found out recently, there are actually people in the industry who take it upon themselves to wade through our profiles and actually read them with a view to possibly employing us. Yay. And yet, how best, then, to present oneself? Here's where I am: http://directors.youngvic.org/index.php?pid=25H&E&A&H&J&O&P&&page=H&
Perusing through others' profiles there is a variation on length, how much past experience is included, whether a person has trained, what they're interested in etc. Some are chatty and done in the first person, others are strictly no-nonsense 3rd person pieces. But what is apparent is not only the amount of competition out there, but that there are people with amazing credits on their CV, people who have been on the National Theatre's Studio course (a bit of a holy grail for us lesser mortals down the rungs), who have worked at incredible theatres as both directors and assistants. But we're all in the same network.
In a way, while we're all in competition, we're also all part of a team. Team Director.
Go Team!
The Young Vic Genesis Network is pretty much the only such network dedicated to linking aspiring and established directors in this country. Possibly the world? It's a fantastic resource - with links to over 700 directors, regular updates about different opportunities from assisting on productions, attending workshops and talks, getting free tickets/ticket offers and much more. It also allows its members to send blanket emails to the entire network asking for support or advice, publicising your work, or anything else really.
When you become a member you get to create a profile - a bit like Facebook but without a 'wall'. There's a section for including information about past and present projects, put in requests for staff etc. And there's the 'about me' bit. It's a bit like writing a dating advert, I think. Because, I found out recently, there are actually people in the industry who take it upon themselves to wade through our profiles and actually read them with a view to possibly employing us. Yay. And yet, how best, then, to present oneself? Here's where I am: http://directors.youngvic.org/index.php?pid=25H&E&A&H&J&O&P&&page=H&
Perusing through others' profiles there is a variation on length, how much past experience is included, whether a person has trained, what they're interested in etc. Some are chatty and done in the first person, others are strictly no-nonsense 3rd person pieces. But what is apparent is not only the amount of competition out there, but that there are people with amazing credits on their CV, people who have been on the National Theatre's Studio course (a bit of a holy grail for us lesser mortals down the rungs), who have worked at incredible theatres as both directors and assistants. But we're all in the same network.
In a way, while we're all in competition, we're also all part of a team. Team Director.
Go Team!
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Challenges Associated with Fringe Producing
1. You are not the priority - if a better option comes along (read: better paycheck) then you will be dropped quicker than you can blink. This is not personal, this is business. The danger is the timing of this.
2. Your network will be small. Attracting funding is hard, and reaching an audience as a small company is harder - especially if you are independent and not creating work as part of a theatre's official programme.
3. Very often you have a much smaller company of people than a production may realistically require. Actors have to double as stage hands, the crew have to multi-task in extreme ways, and everything has to happen on a tighter, shorter and cheaper schedule.
4. Every success is an extraordinary achievement. Every failure is the end of the world. Emotions run high. This holds true for all types of show though.
5. An extraordinary amount of work goes into what may ultimately be a very short run. And then it's all over.
2. Your network will be small. Attracting funding is hard, and reaching an audience as a small company is harder - especially if you are independent and not creating work as part of a theatre's official programme.
3. Very often you have a much smaller company of people than a production may realistically require. Actors have to double as stage hands, the crew have to multi-task in extreme ways, and everything has to happen on a tighter, shorter and cheaper schedule.
4. Every success is an extraordinary achievement. Every failure is the end of the world. Emotions run high. This holds true for all types of show though.
5. An extraordinary amount of work goes into what may ultimately be a very short run. And then it's all over.
Thursday, 30 June 2011
On the Nature of Dreams
In today's edition of The Stage, Danny Lee Wynter has written an article on his experiences with the fickle nature of the arts industry. Where one minute you are loved, with your pick of jobs, and everyone knows who you are. The next you are back waiting tables, wondering how you got there. In the same edition it is reported that 'UK theatre is hotbed for bullying'.
So far, so shattered dreams of an industry built on the magic of performance etc. Well. Actually, is anyone really surprised?
The arts industry is so notoriously over-subscribed that it's gone beyond the point of cliche to say so. I have friends, fantastic performers, techies and other arts professionals who haven't worked on a single show since graduating. Now, granted it's only been a year, but there are people who train for years who just never work. Given the difficulties inherent in mounting productions - from raising the revenue to put the show on, to cultivating an audience, to solving all the little niggles and larger problems associated with co-ordinating a large number of people through different tasks like construction, rehearsals, and marketing - it is sometimes a wonder that any of them happen at all.
It seems to me that those people who "succeed" (and the definition of success in the arts industry is necessarily flexible) are those who are utterly tenacious. Those who believe that things will get better, regardless of how bad they are now. And similarly those who maximise the good times, in the knowledge that it could all disappear overnight. But most importantly, to get anywhere, people have to know who you are. So, very often, shamlessness can get you very far.
Looking at it another way, we're all mad.
So far, so shattered dreams of an industry built on the magic of performance etc. Well. Actually, is anyone really surprised?
The arts industry is so notoriously over-subscribed that it's gone beyond the point of cliche to say so. I have friends, fantastic performers, techies and other arts professionals who haven't worked on a single show since graduating. Now, granted it's only been a year, but there are people who train for years who just never work. Given the difficulties inherent in mounting productions - from raising the revenue to put the show on, to cultivating an audience, to solving all the little niggles and larger problems associated with co-ordinating a large number of people through different tasks like construction, rehearsals, and marketing - it is sometimes a wonder that any of them happen at all.
It seems to me that those people who "succeed" (and the definition of success in the arts industry is necessarily flexible) are those who are utterly tenacious. Those who believe that things will get better, regardless of how bad they are now. And similarly those who maximise the good times, in the knowledge that it could all disappear overnight. But most importantly, to get anywhere, people have to know who you are. So, very often, shamlessness can get you very far.
Looking at it another way, we're all mad.
Friday, 24 June 2011
Taste
Theatre, like all the arts, is a matter of personal opinion and taste. What one person loves, another can possess surprisingly aggressive negative views on. This is useful to remember when not only watching, but creating performances for others. On the one hand, it helps to put my own thoughts about the productions I see in perspective, and - similarly - to deal with the varying opinions I encounter about my own work. Including my own.
Surely this is what makes the arts so interesting - they are life-responsive and rely on honest feedback to thrive. As artists we must find our audience, but I think that there is an audience out there for everyone, no matter how left-field your work might be. We are none of us unique enough to find no one sharing our taste.
So...bearing all this in mind...where does personal taste rank with quality and professionalism in the assessment of a piece of theatre? E.g. in awarding prizes like the Olivier awards. Or, to put it another way, how can you honestly judge a piece of work alongside another, when one is not to your own taste? Is there such a thing as lack of bias in the arts? Should there be?
Just a thought.
Surely this is what makes the arts so interesting - they are life-responsive and rely on honest feedback to thrive. As artists we must find our audience, but I think that there is an audience out there for everyone, no matter how left-field your work might be. We are none of us unique enough to find no one sharing our taste.
So...bearing all this in mind...where does personal taste rank with quality and professionalism in the assessment of a piece of theatre? E.g. in awarding prizes like the Olivier awards. Or, to put it another way, how can you honestly judge a piece of work alongside another, when one is not to your own taste? Is there such a thing as lack of bias in the arts? Should there be?
Just a thought.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Busy-ness
So, it's been a little while since my last post. That's mostly because my days have been filled with the following:
1. Sifting through hundreds of applications for auditions for 'The Importance of Being Earnest'
2. Preparation for, and beginning my second project as visiting director for BOVTS.
3. Taking part in the 24 hour plays in Bath - the third time I've done such a mad thing, but one of the best.
4. Tackling my newest challenge - a one-man TIE show. Can't say much at this stage, just that it is something I've never done before, has the potential to reach a lot of people, and is really testing my skills as a director. Exciting!
5. Various trips back and forth to London. Mostly social.
So it's been quite a good period of time. And I tentatively feel like I've taken one of those little steps forward in my long game.
How marvellous. Let's enjoy it for now...
PS my iTunes thinks it's Christmas. No, iTunes, I don't want to hear Al Greens 'Christmas Song' on the first of June. Thanks.
1. Sifting through hundreds of applications for auditions for 'The Importance of Being Earnest'
2. Preparation for, and beginning my second project as visiting director for BOVTS.
3. Taking part in the 24 hour plays in Bath - the third time I've done such a mad thing, but one of the best.
4. Tackling my newest challenge - a one-man TIE show. Can't say much at this stage, just that it is something I've never done before, has the potential to reach a lot of people, and is really testing my skills as a director. Exciting!
5. Various trips back and forth to London. Mostly social.
So it's been quite a good period of time. And I tentatively feel like I've taken one of those little steps forward in my long game.
How marvellous. Let's enjoy it for now...
PS my iTunes thinks it's Christmas. No, iTunes, I don't want to hear Al Greens 'Christmas Song' on the first of June. Thanks.
Monday, 21 March 2011
Brilliant Productions
Two productions I must mention:
Black Watch (National Theatre of Scotland Tour)
This is my current evangelism show. As in, I bore everyone I meet by telling them they must see it. No, really, it's the best thing I've ever seen. You must go. No, really. Ad infinitum.
But, really. It ticked, for me, all the boxes - it was traverse staging, so no sight line problems. Tick. It incorporated singing, movement and straight acting. Tick. It used aerialism. Tick. It was extremely well written and performed with nuance and truth. Massive Ticks all round. It just. I have no words. In terms of using theatre to present an often untold story (from the soldier's perspective) of comraderie, politics, friendship, duty, this production nails it.
See it.
Richard II (Shakespeare at the Tobacco Factory)
This, for me, succeeded primarily because of one man: John Heffernan. He's been getting a lot of interest, and is a rising star of the RSC, and now I see why. Spell-binding, utterly truthful performance. The clarity of language and intention is always lauded in Hilton's productions (I was fortunate enough to work on the 2010 season), but in Heffernan it was supremely effortless. Fantastic supporting cast, but Heffernan stole the show.
This is no longer playing, but if you get the chance, check him out in the future.
Black Watch (National Theatre of Scotland Tour)
This is my current evangelism show. As in, I bore everyone I meet by telling them they must see it. No, really, it's the best thing I've ever seen. You must go. No, really. Ad infinitum.
But, really. It ticked, for me, all the boxes - it was traverse staging, so no sight line problems. Tick. It incorporated singing, movement and straight acting. Tick. It used aerialism. Tick. It was extremely well written and performed with nuance and truth. Massive Ticks all round. It just. I have no words. In terms of using theatre to present an often untold story (from the soldier's perspective) of comraderie, politics, friendship, duty, this production nails it.
See it.
Richard II (Shakespeare at the Tobacco Factory)
This, for me, succeeded primarily because of one man: John Heffernan. He's been getting a lot of interest, and is a rising star of the RSC, and now I see why. Spell-binding, utterly truthful performance. The clarity of language and intention is always lauded in Hilton's productions (I was fortunate enough to work on the 2010 season), but in Heffernan it was supremely effortless. Fantastic supporting cast, but Heffernan stole the show.
This is no longer playing, but if you get the chance, check him out in the future.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
All Change
It seems to be an interesting and exciting change of management among some of our leading theatres just now.
Michael Grandage is exiting the Donmar to be replaced by his protege Josie Rourke - leaving a vacancy running The Bush in its new premeses, and now Ian Brown is set to step down from the West Yorkshire Playhouse. Also, in less than five years there will be another shake up at the Old Vic with the departure of Kevin Spacey.
All Change!
Michael Grandage is exiting the Donmar to be replaced by his protege Josie Rourke - leaving a vacancy running The Bush in its new premeses, and now Ian Brown is set to step down from the West Yorkshire Playhouse. Also, in less than five years there will be another shake up at the Old Vic with the departure of Kevin Spacey.
All Change!
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Life in London
Yep, that's me - living and working in London for the past two and a half weeks.
I'm assisting the wonderful John Kachoyan on the new Ben Ellis play 'Unrestless', as part of the 'Civil Unrest' event taking place as part of the 'Coming Up' Season organised by IdeasTap/Old Vic New Voices. And yes, it really is that complicated. To steal a quote from the play, it's like onion rings: layer upon layer...
This isn't the first time I've lived and worked/trained in London, but it's still something of a culture shock. From dealing with a daily two-hour commute to and from my digs in Chiswick to London Bridge, where we are both rehearsing and performing, to the faster pace of life (I literally walk faster here). Also, the sheer number of people - it makes Bristol seem like a quaint town. Aptly enough, considering it's the country's capital city...But anyway.
Part of the reason for coming was to see whether I would/could/should make the move to London, and I've encountered varying opinions. London seems to be the place to be to make contacts, and there are - in theory - more opportunities here, but conversely it's potentially easier and cheaper to make theatre (and stand out) elsewhere. I think it's an ongoing dialogue I'm going to have to have with myself. In an ideal world I would be able to juggle locations, but that does sort of require money...
Anyhoo, my weeks of relative stability here are about to end as I will now be working in London and Bath *simultaneously*. Yes, I'm just that good. Ahem. Watch as I try to juggle three different events in the same week - you will mostly see me sitting on a train :-) Sadly, because of things like commuting, working full time and occasionally needing sleep, I haven't seen as much theatre as I would like while in London. I can heartily recommend 'Vernon God Little' at the Young Vic though, and - obviously - 'Unrestless' ;-).
I'm assisting the wonderful John Kachoyan on the new Ben Ellis play 'Unrestless', as part of the 'Civil Unrest' event taking place as part of the 'Coming Up' Season organised by IdeasTap/Old Vic New Voices. And yes, it really is that complicated. To steal a quote from the play, it's like onion rings: layer upon layer...
This isn't the first time I've lived and worked/trained in London, but it's still something of a culture shock. From dealing with a daily two-hour commute to and from my digs in Chiswick to London Bridge, where we are both rehearsing and performing, to the faster pace of life (I literally walk faster here). Also, the sheer number of people - it makes Bristol seem like a quaint town. Aptly enough, considering it's the country's capital city...But anyway.
Part of the reason for coming was to see whether I would/could/should make the move to London, and I've encountered varying opinions. London seems to be the place to be to make contacts, and there are - in theory - more opportunities here, but conversely it's potentially easier and cheaper to make theatre (and stand out) elsewhere. I think it's an ongoing dialogue I'm going to have to have with myself. In an ideal world I would be able to juggle locations, but that does sort of require money...
Anyhoo, my weeks of relative stability here are about to end as I will now be working in London and Bath *simultaneously*. Yes, I'm just that good. Ahem. Watch as I try to juggle three different events in the same week - you will mostly see me sitting on a train :-) Sadly, because of things like commuting, working full time and occasionally needing sleep, I haven't seen as much theatre as I would like while in London. I can heartily recommend 'Vernon God Little' at the Young Vic though, and - obviously - 'Unrestless' ;-).
Sunday, 23 January 2011
National Press
Yep, I'm included in a national publication - http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/jan/23/king-james-bible-reading-bath
Albeit a small mention, but still - how exciting! This is a really interesting project that I was able to get involved with having previously worked on the festival last year. Do come along if you can.
I've been spending my 2011 so far on trying to broaden my horizons, get my name known further afield and learning more about the 'business' side of this industry. With moderate success. The thing is, there is a fine line between information and intimidation, and it's very easy to feel far behind the pack. BUT! You can now find me on the Young Vic Directors' Genesis Network, working at the Bath Literature Festival and potentially working on the Liverpool 'Write Now' Festival later in April.
Small steps. Long game.
Albeit a small mention, but still - how exciting! This is a really interesting project that I was able to get involved with having previously worked on the festival last year. Do come along if you can.
I've been spending my 2011 so far on trying to broaden my horizons, get my name known further afield and learning more about the 'business' side of this industry. With moderate success. The thing is, there is a fine line between information and intimidation, and it's very easy to feel far behind the pack. BUT! You can now find me on the Young Vic Directors' Genesis Network, working at the Bath Literature Festival and potentially working on the Liverpool 'Write Now' Festival later in April.
Small steps. Long game.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
It All Starts Somewhere
My childhood theatre experience was pretty varied, thanks to my mum's own interest and passion in all things performance. But there are two shows that, I think, had a massive impact on me - both as a person and as a director.
Les Miserables and Blood Brothers.
I have seen both these shows more times than is possibly healthy - especially with the availability of DVDs like the 10th and, now, 25th anniversary concerts of Les Mis in particular. If you know them - both with aspects of comedy but ultimately driven by stories of hope, retribution, anger, despair and powerful music - then you will pretty much know everything you need to know about me as a person and a director. I love comedy but have an affinity for melacholic, nostalgic or thoughtful drama. There is something magical about musical theatre that theatre without music (is there such a thing?) could not match. It is often touted that 'whatever cannot be spoken is sung', and I do believe that in many ways.
When I was little I was desperate to be in the shows. In Les Mis I would be Fantine, in BB I would be Linda. As I was growing up there was a lot of flack associated with liking them. 'Oh that's a miserable show', 'What, the Liverpool thing?'...and the massive popularity that they attract meant that some people could be quite snobby about them. But the fact is that, for me at least, they were transformative experiences. Iconic productions.
Inspiring.
Les Miserables and Blood Brothers.
I have seen both these shows more times than is possibly healthy - especially with the availability of DVDs like the 10th and, now, 25th anniversary concerts of Les Mis in particular. If you know them - both with aspects of comedy but ultimately driven by stories of hope, retribution, anger, despair and powerful music - then you will pretty much know everything you need to know about me as a person and a director. I love comedy but have an affinity for melacholic, nostalgic or thoughtful drama. There is something magical about musical theatre that theatre without music (is there such a thing?) could not match. It is often touted that 'whatever cannot be spoken is sung', and I do believe that in many ways.
When I was little I was desperate to be in the shows. In Les Mis I would be Fantine, in BB I would be Linda. As I was growing up there was a lot of flack associated with liking them. 'Oh that's a miserable show', 'What, the Liverpool thing?'...and the massive popularity that they attract meant that some people could be quite snobby about them. But the fact is that, for me at least, they were transformative experiences. Iconic productions.
Inspiring.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
The First Rule in Theatre
Hello. Welcome to 2011. Are you sitting comfortably? Marvellous. You must not be sitting in the Gods.
Today I saw what was actually a rather good production, but which was let down by the section of the theatre I was sitting in - the only one I can realistically afford when I see so many shows. Why is the Gallery (Gods, Upper Circle; whatever name a theatre gives to its highest tier of seats) such an uncomfortable place to be? At it's worst you risk vertigo for a very distant glimpse of what may or may not be an actor standing/dancing/acting on the stage far below, and at it's best you probably miss seeing most of the action with an uncluttered view due to 'safety bars' in the way. And you don't usually get a seat. You have a bench. Now, I am not the smallest person, and with a dad who is 6'5 tall I have quite long legs, but being able to pay less than a cinema ticket to see a show doesn't really make up for having to sit with my knees up to my chin, craning to see any part of the show that dares to venture any further down stage than midstage, gradually stripping off layers of extra clothing while the heat from the stage, audience and lights below rises to cloud among those stuck at the top.
But, comfort aside, having been in my fair share of 'highest tier seating', it seems to me that the majority of actors and directors forget about it. It is very rare for performers to 'play' to the audience - indeed I have seen shows where their eyes never lifted above the stalls! I know that it's impossible to please everyone, and tickets are cheaper for a reason, and it would be horrible to have to dramatically alter an artistic vision because of sight-lines. But when you stage a good 40-50% of scenes below the realistic vision of people in the top it sort of takes the piss. Theatre is about collectivity - a shared experience between performance and audience. And it seems our inherited theatres have not been designed to fully facilitate that. Of course, it's easy for me to rant about it - I don't have to do anything about it, apart from make as sure as possible that when I stage a production the majority of action can be seen EVERYWHERE in the theatre.
I think this is why I love theatres like The Courtyard in Stratford, The Tobacco Factory in Bristol, Regent's Park Open Air Theatre and the Young Vic in London. Perhaps it's notable that all these places generally use thrust staging.
Put me in the thick of it every time.
Today I saw what was actually a rather good production, but which was let down by the section of the theatre I was sitting in - the only one I can realistically afford when I see so many shows. Why is the Gallery (Gods, Upper Circle; whatever name a theatre gives to its highest tier of seats) such an uncomfortable place to be? At it's worst you risk vertigo for a very distant glimpse of what may or may not be an actor standing/dancing/acting on the stage far below, and at it's best you probably miss seeing most of the action with an uncluttered view due to 'safety bars' in the way. And you don't usually get a seat. You have a bench. Now, I am not the smallest person, and with a dad who is 6'5 tall I have quite long legs, but being able to pay less than a cinema ticket to see a show doesn't really make up for having to sit with my knees up to my chin, craning to see any part of the show that dares to venture any further down stage than midstage, gradually stripping off layers of extra clothing while the heat from the stage, audience and lights below rises to cloud among those stuck at the top.
But, comfort aside, having been in my fair share of 'highest tier seating', it seems to me that the majority of actors and directors forget about it. It is very rare for performers to 'play' to the audience - indeed I have seen shows where their eyes never lifted above the stalls! I know that it's impossible to please everyone, and tickets are cheaper for a reason, and it would be horrible to have to dramatically alter an artistic vision because of sight-lines. But when you stage a good 40-50% of scenes below the realistic vision of people in the top it sort of takes the piss. Theatre is about collectivity - a shared experience between performance and audience. And it seems our inherited theatres have not been designed to fully facilitate that. Of course, it's easy for me to rant about it - I don't have to do anything about it, apart from make as sure as possible that when I stage a production the majority of action can be seen EVERYWHERE in the theatre.
I think this is why I love theatres like The Courtyard in Stratford, The Tobacco Factory in Bristol, Regent's Park Open Air Theatre and the Young Vic in London. Perhaps it's notable that all these places generally use thrust staging.
Put me in the thick of it every time.
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Merry Christmas/Happy New Year
If anyone's out there in the ether reading this - I hope you had a lovely Christmas/festive season and have a brilliant New Year.
2011 already?*
Blimey.
*Yes I know it's technically still December, but go with it people!
2011 already?*
Blimey.
*Yes I know it's technically still December, but go with it people!
Sunday, 5 December 2010
Friday, 26 November 2010
You Know It When You See It?
I recently had dinner with an actor-friend of mine, Joe Jameson. Amongst the 'oh how's so-and-so doing? Any castings coming up? How's the family doing?' chat, the conversation found its way round to the difficulty of knowing, as an audience member, critic, or awards-judge, what impact a director has had on a production.
I mean, unless you've ever been in a rehearsal room (which vary enormously from production to production, company to company and director to director), how can you tell what a director does?
What does a director do?
In some ways it might sound utterly bizarre for me, as a director, to even raise the question. But I have often found myself watching the final runs of a play I've been working on for weeks/months and wondering where I finish and the work of the actors and production team begins. The line is so blurred. Theatre is so collaborative, you feed off each other's ideas and imaginations, and - quite rightly - the actors and stage managers/hands must end up with ownership. They, after all, have to live that show night after night.
For me, I think the role of the director really is as a visionary (apologies for the poncy-ness of that statement) and facilitator. You have to have the idea for how to approach the production in the first place, choose the actors, and facilitate them towards their understanding of the text/character/world. Also, you work closely with designers (set, costume, lighting, sound) to create that world. For me, the audience experience is particularly important - I like to plot the experience from the moment they enter the auditorium, using particular lighting, soundscape, music, even pre-show movement with the actors, to create the atmosphere of the play. When I was working on 'Someone Who'll Watch Over Me' I specifically remember agonising over the choice of exit music, as I dithered over the way I wanted people to feel as they left the theatre. I was adamant that I didn't want silence, and after the ordeal of the play I felt that music with some kind of uplift was essential.
But all these decisions are not necessarily always made by a director. And once the show has opened, it can take on a very different form after a period of performance - as a natural response to how it's been received.
So does that make my job redundant? And how do you assess the quality of a director?
I guess you know it when you see it.
I mean, unless you've ever been in a rehearsal room (which vary enormously from production to production, company to company and director to director), how can you tell what a director does?
What does a director do?
In some ways it might sound utterly bizarre for me, as a director, to even raise the question. But I have often found myself watching the final runs of a play I've been working on for weeks/months and wondering where I finish and the work of the actors and production team begins. The line is so blurred. Theatre is so collaborative, you feed off each other's ideas and imaginations, and - quite rightly - the actors and stage managers/hands must end up with ownership. They, after all, have to live that show night after night.
For me, I think the role of the director really is as a visionary (apologies for the poncy-ness of that statement) and facilitator. You have to have the idea for how to approach the production in the first place, choose the actors, and facilitate them towards their understanding of the text/character/world. Also, you work closely with designers (set, costume, lighting, sound) to create that world. For me, the audience experience is particularly important - I like to plot the experience from the moment they enter the auditorium, using particular lighting, soundscape, music, even pre-show movement with the actors, to create the atmosphere of the play. When I was working on 'Someone Who'll Watch Over Me' I specifically remember agonising over the choice of exit music, as I dithered over the way I wanted people to feel as they left the theatre. I was adamant that I didn't want silence, and after the ordeal of the play I felt that music with some kind of uplift was essential.
But all these decisions are not necessarily always made by a director. And once the show has opened, it can take on a very different form after a period of performance - as a natural response to how it's been received.
So does that make my job redundant? And how do you assess the quality of a director?
I guess you know it when you see it.
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
News from the Front Line
Last week I was fortunate to have a short stay in London with nothing to do but watch theatre. I saw three shows: the somewhat mediocre writing but beautiful music of 'The Human Comedy' at the Young Vic, the excellent 'Blood and Gifts' at the National, and the work of one of my favourite writers - Simon Stephens: 'Punk Rock' at the Lyric. Three very different shows, three very different experiences, but a real inspiration.
At the moment I am undergoing what can only be classed as a Learning Experience. I am in the full throes of casting for my next show - which itself is still not completely written, attempting to plot my next year in terms of balancing my own projects with the necessity of getting paid work, while trying not to become overly obsessed with the tv show 'Criminal Minds'. Of the lessons I am learning (script writing & editing, casting, dealing with agents, fundraising, tax, professional relationships), there are three that I am finding particularly important, and difficult to accommodate.
1. PATIENCE - waiting for the emails/letters I've sent out, as well as job applications to bear fruit is a long process - one that I never really appreciated before.
2. CONFIDENCE
3. COMMUNICATION - I thought I was a good communicator, and I am, but more important than conveying ideas is the effectiveness and efficiency of communication. Happily my email inbox is improving in this respect.
But I have already learnt two very valuable lessons, one from a very good friend and fellow director - Matt Lloyd Davies. That is:
All will be well. It's not rocket science, we're not curing cancer...it's just a bit of storytelling.
And the other is what I would call a mantra if I believed in such things:
Play the long game.
So. Who wants to play? :-)
At the moment I am undergoing what can only be classed as a Learning Experience. I am in the full throes of casting for my next show - which itself is still not completely written, attempting to plot my next year in terms of balancing my own projects with the necessity of getting paid work, while trying not to become overly obsessed with the tv show 'Criminal Minds'. Of the lessons I am learning (script writing & editing, casting, dealing with agents, fundraising, tax, professional relationships), there are three that I am finding particularly important, and difficult to accommodate.
1. PATIENCE - waiting for the emails/letters I've sent out, as well as job applications to bear fruit is a long process - one that I never really appreciated before.
2. CONFIDENCE
3. COMMUNICATION - I thought I was a good communicator, and I am, but more important than conveying ideas is the effectiveness and efficiency of communication. Happily my email inbox is improving in this respect.
But I have already learnt two very valuable lessons, one from a very good friend and fellow director - Matt Lloyd Davies. That is:
All will be well. It's not rocket science, we're not curing cancer...it's just a bit of storytelling.
And the other is what I would call a mantra if I believed in such things:
Play the long game.
So. Who wants to play? :-)
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
What is an 'Assistant Director'? (Theatre)
There are several 'ways in' to directing professionally, and one of the regularly recommended ones is to assist a director or company whose work you respect and want to be a part of (assuming you can get the gig). Most of the time this will be voluntary, and you probably won't even get paid expenses. But what does an assistant actually do? And why on earth *should* anyone pay them?
The fact is that the role of the AD is entirely dependent on the temperament of not only the AD themselves, the director and the company, but also the nature and size of production, and the experience that the AD can bring. It is likely that if you land a gig AD-ing, but have never done it before, you may be given less to do or say than if you have more experience.
ADs are more prevalent in large, funded companies, such as the RSC or at the National Theatre. They are particularly useful in large-scale, large-cast productions, but because of funding limitations, these are not only hard to create but also hard to get into. Also, like any partnership in the creative industry (and, yes, the relationship between the director and AD does need to be a partnership - even if it's unequal), you tend to see the same directors using the same assistants.
But what do they do?
1. Research (historic periods, literature, playwrights, prisons, torture) - quite often the AD can become the 'go-to' person for any information pertaining to the text in question. On the plus side, you quickly become an expert on one or two topics. Remember that the internet is both a friend and enemy when it comes to accuracy...
2. 'A second pair of eyes' - this is the biggest part of being an AD. To know and understand the vision of the director for the production (obtained through discussion and attending as many preliminary meetings as possible) so that you can monitor the show in rehearsal and performance and help it remain true to that first idea. This can require questioning certain decisions in rehearsal, and it's important to learn how to 'take' being shot down with an idea you may yourself think is really good - but isn't liked by the main director. An AD needs a thick skin!
3. Sometimes, if the cast is very large, particularly if it constitutes children, and the rehearsal period short, or if the director cannot attend a rehearsal, the AD will lead (parallel) rehearsals. This can be quite scary, and relies on the company accepting the AD's authority. Sadly this is not always the case, but in general casts and crew are supportive of everyone in the room. This can be one of the best parts of being an AD - you get to flex your directing muscles for once! But equally, you still have to hold true to the director's vision, so it can be truncating. In some companies (e.g. RSC), the AD is fully in charge of rehearsing the understudies - and can be involved in casting them from the available actors. However, again because of financial constraints, fewer companies are able to employ understudies.
4. Monitoring the show. Generally, once a show is open, that's the end of the director's job. They may check up on it throughout the run - but usually a maximum of once a week. As an AD, I have (so far) always been encouraged to see the shows as often as possible. This keeps a company on its toes, can provide much-needed reassurance/guidance if things aren't working for any reason, and helps keep the director in touch with the show without having to actually attend. In some ways, it also gives the AD more ownership of the show, as you can be more directly involved in note-giving than at other times in the process.
5. 'Resident'. On some productions, the AD will be attached to the show almost indefinitely. If the show transfers, and the original director is unavailable, the AD may well lead the re-rehearsal period. ADs will follow tours of the show, and can end up with a more pastoral than creative role. For long, established runs in the West End, the AD will rehearse new cast members when they join the company (classic example is Chicago), and this again can give you a stronger sense of ownership than may originally be felt in primary rehearsals. This tends to be the only time that an AD will (or should) definitely be paid for their work.
These are only a few of the things that ADs do. Sometimes, the AD just has to sit in the corner and shut up - this is certainly the stereotype. Quite often you become a PA to the director as well as AD, and in many respects you can become a 'buffer' for the director - taking enquiries from other departments to set up meetings, running the director's schedule and taking care of little errands. You are also - potentially - a social bridge to the actors. It is a useful skill for an AD to be able to 'take the temperature' of the feeling of the rehearsal room, and know how to manage it on the director's behalf or warn them in advance if trouble is brewing.
Fundamentally, I think the AD is the director's ally. The person they can turn to and say 'this is shit, isn't it?' or 'this is great, isn't it?' and receive positive, constructive feedback. You are utterly on the director's side, but - and this is important - not just a 'yes' man.
And if you can do that - lay aside your own ego in support of a production - and enjoy it (and it can be immensely rewarding), then AD-ing may be the way forward for you.
The fact is that the role of the AD is entirely dependent on the temperament of not only the AD themselves, the director and the company, but also the nature and size of production, and the experience that the AD can bring. It is likely that if you land a gig AD-ing, but have never done it before, you may be given less to do or say than if you have more experience.
ADs are more prevalent in large, funded companies, such as the RSC or at the National Theatre. They are particularly useful in large-scale, large-cast productions, but because of funding limitations, these are not only hard to create but also hard to get into. Also, like any partnership in the creative industry (and, yes, the relationship between the director and AD does need to be a partnership - even if it's unequal), you tend to see the same directors using the same assistants.
But what do they do?
1. Research (historic periods, literature, playwrights, prisons, torture) - quite often the AD can become the 'go-to' person for any information pertaining to the text in question. On the plus side, you quickly become an expert on one or two topics. Remember that the internet is both a friend and enemy when it comes to accuracy...
2. 'A second pair of eyes' - this is the biggest part of being an AD. To know and understand the vision of the director for the production (obtained through discussion and attending as many preliminary meetings as possible) so that you can monitor the show in rehearsal and performance and help it remain true to that first idea. This can require questioning certain decisions in rehearsal, and it's important to learn how to 'take' being shot down with an idea you may yourself think is really good - but isn't liked by the main director. An AD needs a thick skin!
3. Sometimes, if the cast is very large, particularly if it constitutes children, and the rehearsal period short, or if the director cannot attend a rehearsal, the AD will lead (parallel) rehearsals. This can be quite scary, and relies on the company accepting the AD's authority. Sadly this is not always the case, but in general casts and crew are supportive of everyone in the room. This can be one of the best parts of being an AD - you get to flex your directing muscles for once! But equally, you still have to hold true to the director's vision, so it can be truncating. In some companies (e.g. RSC), the AD is fully in charge of rehearsing the understudies - and can be involved in casting them from the available actors. However, again because of financial constraints, fewer companies are able to employ understudies.
4. Monitoring the show. Generally, once a show is open, that's the end of the director's job. They may check up on it throughout the run - but usually a maximum of once a week. As an AD, I have (so far) always been encouraged to see the shows as often as possible. This keeps a company on its toes, can provide much-needed reassurance/guidance if things aren't working for any reason, and helps keep the director in touch with the show without having to actually attend. In some ways, it also gives the AD more ownership of the show, as you can be more directly involved in note-giving than at other times in the process.
5. 'Resident'. On some productions, the AD will be attached to the show almost indefinitely. If the show transfers, and the original director is unavailable, the AD may well lead the re-rehearsal period. ADs will follow tours of the show, and can end up with a more pastoral than creative role. For long, established runs in the West End, the AD will rehearse new cast members when they join the company (classic example is Chicago), and this again can give you a stronger sense of ownership than may originally be felt in primary rehearsals. This tends to be the only time that an AD will (or should) definitely be paid for their work.
These are only a few of the things that ADs do. Sometimes, the AD just has to sit in the corner and shut up - this is certainly the stereotype. Quite often you become a PA to the director as well as AD, and in many respects you can become a 'buffer' for the director - taking enquiries from other departments to set up meetings, running the director's schedule and taking care of little errands. You are also - potentially - a social bridge to the actors. It is a useful skill for an AD to be able to 'take the temperature' of the feeling of the rehearsal room, and know how to manage it on the director's behalf or warn them in advance if trouble is brewing.
Fundamentally, I think the AD is the director's ally. The person they can turn to and say 'this is shit, isn't it?' or 'this is great, isn't it?' and receive positive, constructive feedback. You are utterly on the director's side, but - and this is important - not just a 'yes' man.
And if you can do that - lay aside your own ego in support of a production - and enjoy it (and it can be immensely rewarding), then AD-ing may be the way forward for you.
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