Producers
Blog
Two
shows under the belt and a day off.
Seems like a good time to reflect on the progress we’ve made. I say progress because with seven shows to
go (four of them in York) the project still has some way to go…
Our
tech was a fairly stress-less affair, mainly down to the fact that the cast
were solid already, we’d worked on sound in rehearsals and Lucy was a whizz at
plotting & focussing lighting on the day.
Having a combined tech and preview session certainly helped and we made the
most of our time.
The
cast have picked up where they left off in rehearsals, their characters are
growing with each run and they are working well off each other. The varying times of the performances do
seem to affect energy levels, but maybe that’s the travelling too. From tomorrow we are in Manchester for the
duration which will help.
I’m
pleased that we went for back projection on two counts – it helps define the
mood and location, and it provides a degree of backlighting, giving more depth
to the stage. Without it, there are
lots of shadows and the staging can seem flat.
The
sound is great – we don’t have a lot but what there is, does the job and
emphasises passage of time, flashback and contrast in location. Jon has tried hard not to be too literal
with his ambient recordings and left room for a sense of the ‘unreal’.
The
audiences seem to like the show. I’m glad
that the humour comes through, sometimes in unexpected places, and delighted
that the audience is ‘listening in’ to the narrative sections of the
story. I’m surprised at the questions
I’m being asked about the fate of the characters at the end. I take it as a good sign because I like
ambiguous endings, but I hadn’t realised quite how much people might question
the ‘reality’ of Raquel at the start of the play.
Overall
I’m really pleased with it all. There
is nothing I want to change and I’m proud our contribution to the Festival is
the best it can be. We have good
reviews, including the Guardian, but what counts most are the compliments from
your peers and from festival staff. Someone
said that it is so refreshing to see a play about kindness. It’s true.
I’ve written a comedy, I’ve gone in search of darkness, but the kindness
at the core still shines through.
“What
did you learn?” one of my characters asks at the end of the play. Go with your instinct, defend your ideas and
drop them if you can’t!
Paul
Osborne
RAQUEL IS FROM BARNSLEY...
Raquel is from Barnsley, South
Yorkshire, and her sense of identity is very firmly rooted in the landscape
where she was born. My first step towards inhabiting Raquel had to come from
visiting her home town. Spending a day here, gave me a strong focal point for
the beginning of my journey. Whilst exploring the streets of Raquel’s world I
also set about the challenge of getting to grips with the accent. For me the
voice is always the starting point of characterisation, I have to hear how a
character talks before I can fathom how she thinks and feels.
I spent most of the day loitering
around shopping centres and drinking lots of coffee in backstreet cafes. I
listened in on couples bickering, teenage girls exchanging gossip in shop
changing rooms, wandered around the market asking for items I didn’t really
need, going out of my way to engage stall holders in friendly banter. I even
allowed myself to be stopped by a woman with a clipboard, and signed up for a
Litlewood's catalogue. I am yet to buy anything, even with the free ‘£15.00 off
your first purchase’ voucher. When the catalogue arrived a few days later, I
had a flick through and pondered on what items Raquel might buy.
Raquel is a character of extremes. She
is described in the character list at the opening of the play as ‘bold and
physical.’ This is the mode the audience meet her in, but as the play
progresses we learn more about her and she reveals a trapped more vulnerable
side to her nature. The challenge for me, as an actor, is to make sure that these
two qualities are utterly dependant on each other. Never allowing either one to
dominate or dictate. Her boldness covers her fragility, and her fragility fuels
her boldness.
What Raquel wants and what she does are
in constant conflict, and she is a casualty of her own turmoil. Her
contrariness frustrates me, but in order for me to present a version of her on
the stage, entering her inner life, no matter how turbulent or contradictory,
is essential. I need to understand and respect the feelings Raquel has and the
actions she takes, even when they are so very different from how I might feel
and act in response to her situation.
Raquel would have us judge her by ‘what
she does’ but in order for me to bring her words to life, I need to understand
her through what she wants. So far I am certain that Raquel craves experiences
in a world beyond her own beloved Barnsley. She also needs to honour the
promises she has made. She yearns for intimacy but is terrified of the results.
On a more trivial level I hazard a
guess that she may be about ready for a new set of hair straighteners. Or maybe
that’s me trickling though. Perhaps the key to the next stage in untangling her
complexity is discovering where our similarities lie. Where did I put that
catalogue?
Hannah Dee 12/07/10
ALAN BOOTY [STEVIE, a street cleaner]So, here we go: a brand new play and a brand new role to get to know.
One
of the many joys of being an actor is playing, and therefore, doing something
that [s]he does not usually do. When developing a role, to avoid creating a
character based on assumptions, the fun bit is the research beforehand: looking
through the text to see what the author has given you, seeing what the other
characters say about you and drawing on your own experience and observation.
Where possible, it’s great to do some sort of practical research, too, and so I
was excited when Ossie suggested I met up with the guys that do actually remove
the litter from York’s streets. So we set aside two hours before the York
Evening Press photographer was scheduled to come and do a publicity shot of me
as Stevie, a street sweeper – or properly: a road hygiene operative.
I was greeted on arrival at the office in Silver Street with the big compliment
[I think] that I looked like a street cleaner. Then I spent a half hour or so
enjoying the congenial banter of the ‘lads’ who, together, have many years’
experience of keeping York’s streets clean. ‘We can differentiate between the
different types of chewing gum, what time they probably got rid of it and
whether it was a bloke or a lass that chose to leave it there’, they said. The
same goes, apparently, for excrement, ‘crusty or sloppy’, they added.
Without exception, they displayed a great pride in what they do and the
experience they all have, not just in their day to day work, but the ways in
which they get to know people. They claim insider knowledge of all the ‘genuine’
people who need to beg for money or who are on drugs, they are greeted by
people who regularly see them about their work and they do help tourists – as
happened when I shadowed Kev on his route round the Library, one side of the
river and some of the many snickleways.
Quite rightly, he eventually handed me his plastic yellow bucket and stiff
bristled broom to “have a go” for myself. He extolled the virtues of what he
does, how he uses the time he puts in – for every big piece of paper or a
plastic bottle, he’ll pick up the next two or three cigarette stubs – ‘..too
many of ‘em to pick them all up’, he sadly adds – smokers please note.
Occasionally, he has to use his hands to pick up litter – they have strict
health and safety instructions about handling rubbish for their own safety, but
they feel they know the areas well where they are likely to have to pick up
spent needles.
Trouble, when it rarely occurs, is perceived as inconvenient, annoying, rather
than harshly provocative. They handle it anyway, it seems, with ironic humour
that calmly and assertively emphasises their moral superiority. ‘Sometimes, on
the late night/early morning shift, lasses will urinate in the gutter when they
see you are just about to hose the street down. But they always say “Cheers
lads” afterwards because we waited for ‘em, like. Or high spirited young lads
will drop litter in front of you and say: “Yer missed a bit”. Bit stupid, but
best to say nowt. Sometimes a look is enough. Want a wash and brush up? No, I
haven’t got any Vaseline’.
Kev is much more than his job, of course. In his own time, he is a staunch
member of the Sealed Knot, he has experience in extra work for film and
television and I was impressed by the controlled way with which he could relate
how he had dealt with emotional challenges in his personal life – both because
of his openness towards me, for him a stranger, and because of his own modesty.
All of these aspects can help me in portraying Stevie, a man who is important
to Felix as a dependable friend and who has his cricket, the breakdown of his
marriage and as yet unfulfilled personal ambition which has, nevertheless, not
stopped him from being helpful to others. I feel he does not just have Felix to
care for as he goes on his rounds.
A German couple asked me and Kev if he was on the right way to the Railway
Museum. When he realised he was, the man thanked us, said: “I am not so dumb as
I look” and walked off laughing. Kev observed: “They speak good English, they
are polite, they DO have a sense of humour and then they go and thrash us at
football. Meks yer sick, dunnit?”
Warm hearted, wordly wise, lots of humour, pride and self confidence despite
whatever has happened and loads of common sense. A strong Yorkshireman. It’s a
good start.
The Writer in Rehearsals...
What is it like to be the writer sitting in on rehearsals?
I’m finding it weird. It’s a new experience for me.
I’m a confident actor and director but stepping back and watching someone else
shape your work is both a shock and a privilege. It’s a shock because
lines you’ve mulled over in your head a hundred times are suddenly spoken in a
quite different way. Every so often you find yourself wanting to stop
proceedings and demand a change in tone from the actor, in their emphasis, of
meaning even. The characters vary from the ones you imagined. The
scene has a tension or a release in a quite different location to the one you’d
planned. Of course you keep quiet. If you didn’t, you’d be asked to
leave, or more likely, you’d find yourself running around looking for a new
director, and quite possibly a new cast!
On the other hand, it’s a privilege
to experience the unexpected. In my director’s capable hands, there’s
variety in pace and plenty of life in the words. I am able to watch the
cast burrow for meaning and emotions I hadn’t anticipated. I’m enjoying
too observing how others work, helping me to reflect on my own attention to
detail and the tone I try to set in my own rehearsals. Should I be less
focused, more relaxed? How often do I interject? Should I allow
actions to be nailed down much later…? Questions, questions,
questions…? I want to be useful and I want to be involved. So
I’ve offered to prompt and answer questions if asked.
I’m certain the main advantage of not directing
your own work is the opportunity it gives you to reflect on your writing.
As the actors lift the dialogue off the page, my stage directions have
presented difficulties. The apple I wanted to introduce into a scene
works, but the point of entry has to come from the actors themselves.
Better just to write He eats an apple somewhere at the head of the scene.
Words like ‘Hey’, ‘Oh’, ‘Right’ which I intended as helpful beats for rhythm or
emphasis in a line, have the opposite effect. I thought I had nailed the
plot but minor changes to the script have created unforeseen ripples further
on, and backwards in the story. And I have to decide what to change that
won’t risk spoiling the energy and instinctive storytelling that I started with
in the first place.
Of course I worry about the script; that carefully
chosen ambiguities might be overlooked or could possibly confuse the actors in
rehearsals. Thankfully neither has happened and the lines seem natural
and add depth to the scenes. We say things which are taken the wrong way
all the time. It’s often the start of an argument; it could be what
starts a tumultuous affair… My writing tends to be sparse, leaving the
actor (and audience) to complete the beat of the scene within a pause, a look
or a reaction. I like the short answer when the question demands
more. I’m experimenting with scenes which are principally made up of
dialogue alongside long reported stories (risky I know), and exploring what
happens when you butt the big emotions – love, despair, anger, desire - up
against their opposites, sometimes within the same line. When I write I
often speak lines aloud, testing them for sense and rhythm. Maybe I’m
writing for actors as much as the audience? I hope it works. We’ll
see.
Director's Blog...Here we are about to start the
rehearsal run in earnest after some initial scene run throughs with the cast. I
have asked that the actors come to the first rehearsal with lines learnt. The
play is a wonderful opportunity for them to explore character and the needs and
frustrations those characters experience. All the subtleties and nuances of the
inter-relationships will be clearer to work on, the sooner the books are down
and acting can start! With a relatively short rehearsal period that seems to me
a key part of the process. Already though, the cast are bringing the writing to
life, even read off the page, it is engaging and characters are emerging into
flesh.
As the rehearsal process
continues the actors will consider at each moment what it is that their
character wants to achieve, how is that thwarted or subverted by the other
characters or circumstances and what do they then do about it. Not so much
“what am I feeling” but “what do I want” looking for the truth of a scene or moment.
We will be looking together at the pace and rhythm of the playing of the piece.
We have a great play to perform
and a great cast of actors and I can’t wait to see how it comes alive over the
next few weeks.
Writer's Blog: New Writing, New Theatre....Just
six weeks to go till the festival starts and I can’t wait. Most of my work was done months ago and now
I’m swapping over to the role of producer; booking rehearsal space, sourcing
props and set materials, working with Clare on publicity and generally making
sure that everyone is talking to each other.
There have been a few minor rewrites
since we got comments back from the readers in April. Obviously we can’t dramatically change the storyline but there is
an onus on all of us to present the strongest plays we can. I had planned to direct the play but on
reflection this seemed a great opportunity to take a step back from my writing,
hand it over and give someone else a go.
New writing is absolutely essential to healthy,
vibrant theatre and I have been impressed by the energetic support and
encouragement we’ve received from the whole 24:7 team. Giving each playwright the responsibility of
producing their play is a great way to learn how your writing has to work off
the stage as well as on it - by that I mean does it appeal to actors looking
for good roles? What are the implications for set design and budgets? Can you
pitch the story to an audience that has never seen your work before?
Ultimately, it’s the strength of the
story and characters that counts. Now
that the actors have their final rehearsal draft, I can reflect on where the
story came from. I was discussing with a friend who writes novels how you can
look through your work and find stuff surfacing from years before, and yet, there
are sections that you have no idea where they came from. My story started from a situation, a place
in York that I’m very familiar with. I
applied a ‘What if?’ scenario to a hazy character I had in mind and then let
events unfold. I knew I wanted to write
something funny and sad. I love writing
that takes you in one direction and then switches in another. Maybe that’s the actor in me. Actors love the challenge of instant
reversals, of playing emotions against the lines, of surprising both themselves
and an audience. As I wrote, the
characters became clearer. They
grew. I had an ending in mind but I
didn’t quite know how I would get there.
In the past I’ve tried working out the plot in advance but it killed the
thrill of seeing where the characters took me.
It means of course that you go down a few blind alleys, but on the whole
I found it worked. The key thing I always
ask myself at every stage, at every twist, was what would my character do
here? And then, what would happen if they
made a different choice…?
I’m sure I’ll get a few questions in
rehearsals. I plan to go to a few,
maybe just to help with prompting. But
I fully expect the play to change from the one that’s in my head. Paul (the director) and I were talking about
the balance between naturalism and surrealism.
When I wrote the play, the whole thing felt completely real, but it’s
clear to me now that as soon as you introduce sound, mood and changes in time,
all sorts of things can happen. I spent
a lot of time on my own as I was writing.
I enjoyed it. But now we are
entering the period that for me is the drug that is theatre. Creative people coming together. Ideas.
Collaboration.
Anticipation. And action.
There
will be more from me and the others soon, so please check back in.
Paul
Osborne |