'And we'll strive to please you everyday' - Week 8

copyright. Sheila Burnett

      

             Sunday was a glorious blur. I woke at a perfectly respectable and greatly enjoyed 11:00am, walked out of my room and was accosted at the top of the stairs:

            "Rhys," Joanne said, "would you and Rachel like a fry-up?"

            I could have kissed her.

            I knocked on Ducky's door, opened it a jar and she quacked at me as we tend to do. "Guess what?' I said.

            "Has Christmas come?" She asked and squealed when she smelt the intoxicating waff of butter braised sausages and grilled-top tomatoes.

            We were a happy pair.

            We went from Breakfast to Lunch almost immediately. Arthur, Cuckoo, Garreth and the two of us had made plans to go for a meal in a nearby - Michelin  recommended - pub, for lunch. It didn't disappoint.

            Not a lot else happened in the evening. I made a 'master plan' list for the show of entrances/exits/prop moves/scene changes that will hopefully help me come show time.

            It only dawned on me, typing the last sentence, that the show would be up and running in the space of a day.

            Take a breath, King.

            Monday came, the day of the first show.

            We met early in the green room for notes of the first half of the show from the Saturday's dress rehearsal.

            One of my particular favourites was discussing the logistics of placing my (Sir Andrew's) hand on Lucy (Maria's...) boob. This comes in the first Andrew, Toby and Maria scene where she demonstrates her complete intellectual superiority by taking Andrew's hand to the 'buttery bar'. I think that I now conclusively know how to grope Lucy's tit.

            After notes we revisited the first half of the play, completing the same cue to cue exercise that we did with the second half at the end of Saturday's rehearsal.

The stage in waiting

            Following that, we did a speed run of Act V - as it is probably the least worked scene of the play.

            Interesting fact; is there a missing act? Fifth acts would always have more than one scene or not exist at all; the fact that Twelfth Night has a fifth act consisting of only one scene has plagued analysts and critics for years.

            I'd love to offer a theory or answer, but...

            Can't.

            In the afternoon, we did our second and final dress rehearsal.

            It wasn't the smoothest that I've ever had, but we did get through it and re-salvaged the new pieces of blocking etc that we've begun to find of late.

            Afterward, we all went our separate ways to prepare for the evening show.

            I turned to a passage that I've often found comfort in:

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let pry through the portage of the head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,

Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!

Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:

Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;

For there is none of you so mean and base,

That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:

Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

An 'Actor's eye-view' of the Wilde Theatre

            No prizes for guessing the play.

            So...

            The audience entered, we gulped, gasped and gawked at the eventuality that we would actually have to perform the show.

            The adrenalin started pumping, the nerves shivered and shook and, looking back, a bit like a starched shirt, I think that it was the only thing that kept me stiff and standing. I was ready and we were ready.

            We weren't ready, but we were ready.

            Or were we...?

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            I could talk about that first show infinitely, but when all's done, all that needs to be said is that we put on a fucking good show. We managed it by the skin of our teeth, but by God we did it. I still can't believe it.

            They loved it too. We had two schools in who were remarkably responsive. The laughs came, as did the cries.

            The first half came and went in a sweaty blur.

            As did the second.            

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            When we got to the final scene and entered for the last montage while Leo, as Feste sang, I must admit to shedding a little tear. We've been on one hell of a roller coaster for Twelfth Night and have experienced real highs and lows as a cast and company. We've been under tremendous stress, time restraints and tribulations, but, together, we have made it through. We can now look to the near future and the enjoyment that we are going to have in touring the country with two terrific productions.

            I reflected, as I heard the lines, on the aptness of the song, both to us, in the context of the play and the trials that actors put themselves through for the enjoyment and scrutiny of others. Deep down, I suppose, (and I'm generalising here) we're all just looking for acceptance; the stage or screen, maybe being the most economical way of doing it?

            Feste puts it best:

            When that I was and a little tiny boy,

    With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

A foolish thing was but a toy,

    For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man’s estate,

    With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

‘Gainst knaves and thieves men shut the gate,

    For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,

    With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

By swaggering could I never thrive,

    For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,

    With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

With toss-pots still had drunken heads,

    For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,

    With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,

But that’s all one, our play is done,

    And we’ll strive to please you every day.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            I slept in until midday on Tuesday. I suppose that my body needed the time to recuperate from the previous day and judging by the way that I felt, it had done the job.

            I casually made my way in to the theatre before we were scheduled to meet and read to pass the time.

            Later on, everyone arrived for the work of the day. We began with notes that lasted about an hour. What was so lovely to see was how relaxed we all were. It was as if an enormous weight had been instantaneously lifted from our should           My interesting note of the session was to take out all of the asides/motions to the audience, that Sir Andrew has. 

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            "Let's make him internal to the play," Al said, "let's make his world the play and there be nothing else for him." What this will do for me is make him totally dependant on the characters around him. It will take away the comfort that he finds in taking solace with the crowd before him. He is isolated and, yet again, even more alone.

            Following notes, we worked on a few scenes that Al wanted to look at and hone.

            Everyone was upbeat. We glided through the work, pleased with the progress that we were making in finding more and more layers to the scenes. The characters are becoming fuller, more rounded and complete by the day. It's a joy to watch and be a part of. The scenes are enhancing and going from good, to very good.

            "At the moment" Shiv said, "I feel like flour and water. I'm only now becoming the cake."

            I don't think that I can summarize how I also feel better than that.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

             Our performance in the evening was a typical second nighter. In the theatrical world there are certain religiously observed myths; one is that a bad dress makes for a good first night - in our case, true - the other, that the second night of a performance will always be shit - again, in our part...

            That's probably unfair to the show, though. It could have certainly been better, but we had tightened it in many ways from the previous night. It was also a good test of our resolve. The audience was slim on the ground and - especially doing the comic moments - was tough when expecting and hoping for a reaction that didn't come.

            But, it must be said, the audience that where there, got the same show that a packed house would have got. One always has to remember, that no matter how many are in, those that are in, have paid to be there, and therefore deserve the best performance that we have to give.

            I hope they felt that we appreciated their attendance, because we really did.

            I took refuge in the green room on the Wednesday before we began work. I did a little admin (sigh) and some writing. One thing that I've learnt from my previous tours is that it's so important to keep active during the days before the evening performances. It's so easy to slip into a pattern of waking up late and relying on digs and TV to pass the time, but the mind has to be kept active and, if you are so inclined; creative.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            My creativity was however shortened by the need to find some digs for Mansfield and Chipping Norton. Now, I am a self-confessed USELESS digs-hunter, but I am proud to say that I have broken the habit of a lifetime and found two sets of digs. Ducky couldn't believe it and Alastair simply denies it.

            Understandable given my track record.

            I must say, that having called through the lists, I think that I have deprived myself years of quality entertainment. It must take a particularly warm, liberal and arty type to welcome complete strangers into their own homes; case and point, the lovely lady that we'll be staying with in Mansfield, made a point of saying to me, "Now if either of you smoke, I would ask you not to do so in the house," understandable, "and also if the bathroom door bursts open, it's not my husband or I coming to molest you," - hang about - "it's just our little dog who likes to go in there..."

            Wow.

            Digs hunting, done, we started the afternoon's work. Sir Topaz was the first port of call and Lucy, Seb, Leo and Arthur worked long and hard in making the scene even better than it already is. Accompanied by Alan's superb lighting and Dom's terrifying sound design, the scene is now, probably my favourite.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            We then ran and rehearsed the final act and tweaked a few parts that were still proving problematic. 

            I must now nod to a friend of mine, who has recently moved with his beautiful family, to Canada, who played Sir Andrew at Regent's Park a few years ago. He gave me the idea to offer Olivia a flower on Sir Andrew's final exit and I am proud to say that we have included it in our show. The audience in the evening loved it too. They began laughing and ended, sympathetically.

            James, your departure from the Acting profession is a crime and I credit your brilliance totally with my final Aguecheek moments.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            Mid-way through the show - which was, like the night before, very quiet - I caught a glimpse into the mindset of a stand-up comic. Actors and comedians aren't all that dissimilar to begin with. Both are more comfortable in front of a crowd of people and both are looking for some kind of confirmation of their talents in applause.

            I could use the term, 'acceptance' again.

            One major difference though, is the laughter scale. If you're a comedian, getting a laugh is pretty much a must. If it were not, I'd think of a change of profession... For an actor, however, unless performing a comedy piece, the lack of laughs is all but unnoticed. There may be the odd line here and there that prompts and expects a chuckle, but by and large, the focus is on the drama of the piece; telling a story. What I have noticed, in playing Sir Andrew, is the overwhelming sense of anxiety that I hold throughout the play. So many of his lines are funny (unwittingly) that if a laugh doesn't come (regardless of our small audiences) I find myself retreating to the wings as a failure. I'm steadily morphing into a laughter-whore and if I don't get my fix...

            I exaggerate, but I really do have a newfound respect for those who seek peels of praise from others in order to make a living.

            Respect and incredulity!

            We had a matinee on Thursday afternoon. Not only a matinee, but a 1:30pm matinee. Not only a 1:30pm matinee, but a 1:30pm matinee to an audience of school children.

            Now, my previous experiences of performing to School audiences have not been good; I remember, on one such occasion, performing Journey's End in Reading; I had just finished Hibbert's big emotional breakdown and began to walk offstage when a slow murmur of laughs started to ripple, with one delightful chap calling out, "Poof."

            His friends laughed.

            The smart-arsed little shit.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            This audience however went a long way in restoring my faith in the UK's teenagers.  They were attentive, generous in their responses and emotionally engaged right through to the end. If any of you that attended on that matinee get a chance to read this, please know and tell your mates that you made our afternoon.

            In between shows (and with no sea to swim in...) the 'Matinee Swim Club' became the Matinee 'Sleep' Club. It was as if the entire green room had been pumped full of anaesthetic. At one point I was in a fit of giggles, when Seb sat down beside me, still in the full gusto of conversation, stopped speaking and within 20 seconds, was purring like a cat.

'Garfield'

            The evening show was VIP night and we enjoyed performing the show to a packed house. It's amazing how much colour, light and shade has been added to the show since we opened at the beginning of the week. New moments are constantly being found and added upon with every performance and the audience experienced the benefit of a week of trials and errors.

            In the theatre bar afterwards, I saw Gill (Alastair's lovely Mum), Rat (his brother) and Maddy (Rat's girlfriend). I haven't seen them for almost a year, when I stayed at the Whatley household during a week of Madness of George III. It was so good to catch up with them and I look for ward to seeing Gill and Mole (Alastair's Dad) when we venture to Bury St Edmunds later in the tour (I promise to excel at 'log duty'!) . Till then, I hope that you continue to enjoy the blog and follow our progress along the way.

            On Friday, I went to the theatre early to do some washing and met with Guy and Alastair as they discussed the plan of action for the first night in Windsor. Guy has been working flat-out, trying to recruit the first 'Original Theatre Friends’, which will be coming to see the show on that first night.            

            We left Guy, to join Chris and the team for a line run of See How They Run, in preparation of Saturday's performances.

            We sat in the grounds of South Hill Park, on the very spot that the Original Theatre Company's first production of Twelfth Night took place...

            We, quite remarkably, remembered everything, with only occasional prodding towards the correct line.

            That evening, we performed our final Twelfth Night show of our time in Bracknell. It was probably the best that we've done so far and we ended the show all saying the same thing, "I'm not ready to leave it yet."

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            I'm so proud of our shows.

            I'm proud that (in my humble opinion) we've achieved something very unique and special. We have two incredibly different shows, both wonderful in their own rights being performed by a frankly brilliant cast who have achieved a minor miracle in creating such detailed and well-studied work.

            I doth my cap to you all.

            And, with that, we leave Shakespeare until we arrive in Chipping Norton in a couple of weeks.

            So, anyone fancy a little but of farce?

            When I arrived at the theatre on Saturday, the tech team had done a stellar job in erecting the SHTR set in place of TN. They had worked into the wee small hours of the morning, fitting the show and focussing the lights in preparation for the switch over.

            It's such a treat as an actor to tour with two shows.

copyright. Sheila Burnett

copyright. Sheila Burnett

            Having had my fair share of touring experience, I wouldn't be out of order to point out that doing the same show for 4 months can become rather tedious... At least this way, both shows are kept as fresh as possible.

            What I did not anticipate was just how strange it would feel. It's been 2 weeks since we last performed SHTR and a lot has happened since then - we've opened a whole other show for one thing; a different show that we've been performing for the entire week!

            Before the show, we rehearsed a few predictable problem moments and checked out our new dog, Buster's credentials. Verdict; the dog is better than us.

            We had a fight call and prepared for the show.            

            God, it was bizarre. Like the previous day, we remembered 99.9% of it, but what was so peculiar was how dreamlike it felt. It was like one had been roughly awoken from a deep sleep, dragged out of bed and asked to do some advanced trigonometry whilst juggling a cat, a dog and a potato.

            Al said, and I concur, "My body seems to know what to do more than my brain does." Deeply disconcerting...

            In between shows Chris gave us notes, which he kindly moderated in relation to our 2 week SHTR absence.

            Later on, I read.

            I'm still devouring 'Love in the time of Cholera'. A magical, painful tale of a man who never gives up his pursuit of the one he covets.

            "The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love."

            Beautiful. Perfect. Inspired.

            Norwich won their first Premier league game of the season. 2-1 against Bolton. Sublime.

            The evening show reverted back to the comfortableness that we knew at Eastbourne. The audience were hanging on every word and we enjoyed a fabulous last performance at South Hill.

            Being back in Bracknell has been every bit the adventure that I thought it would. It's been tough at times and exhilarating at others. One thing that I certainly don't doubt is that it's all been worth it. Both shows are now up and running and spirits are higher than ever.

            Windsor, we're ready for you and we're taking no prisoners.

           

           

           

           

           

           

           

            

Suck in the 'Positivitism' - Week 7

OM 2

Al and I left Eastbourne bright and early on the Sunday morning. 'OM 2' (the Cuckoo's wonder touring car, which should have packed up and died long ago) sat ready and raring for the first journey of the tour and we packed her up with a fleet's worth of luggage. 

Cuckoo stopped at a garage to get some petrol, but more importantly, his first 'V' drink in six weeks. For those of you that don't know - and I wouldn't blame you - 'V' is an energy drink that is kept in business by one, Alastair Whatley. It is his oxygen; the starch in his shirt and the lead in his pencil. So to speak...

            Our destination was Basingstoke, on a trip to see some very dear friends.

            I first met Guy and Bridget Mainwaring-Burton on the Journey's End tour, whilst working with their son, Hubert (now enrolled at her majesties drama school) who was ASM with us at the time. We were lucky enough to stay at their beautiful home over the course of the tour and have since revisited over the years. They are without a doubt the most generous hosts I've ever met and two of the kindest people too, all qualities, I may add that are reflected in their Son, who once finishing his training will be an acting force to be reckoned with.

Cuckoo, Guy and Hubert

            Guy has also recently joined the company as an Executive Producer and Head of Development (Bridget secretly working alongside him). Al and he discussed the latest strand of the Company's endeavours, the 'Friends of the Original Theatre'.

            The service ranges anything from annual tickets to private dinners so if you're interested, please get in touch Guy at guy@originaltheatre.com

            When they had finished talking numbers and plans, Al showed me the blog activity that we'd had so far. I was quite astonished at the size of the follower base and how far the audience stretches; The UK, USA, Jersey, Ireland, France, Australia, Germany, Russia, Canada and New Zealand.

            A very big hello to you all and thanks for reading!

            In the late afternoon, Guy, Al, Hubert and I played boules and later in the evening, Bridget cooked us the most amazing meal. We drank wine, reminisced and caught up on the past year since we saw each other last.

            I don't think I can think of many better ways to spend a Sunday.

            Monday morning, Cuckoo arrived downstairs quarter of an hour late looking even more goggle-eyed than usual and ushered me out of the house before I'd taken a sip of my tea.

            We talked on the way to South Hill Park Arts Centre, of character ideas and where we both thought Andrew currently sat - the things that worked and those that needed tweaking. Thankfully we seem to be on the same page - his voice needs heightening and his posture, straightened - but those are both things that shouldn't be too difficult to amend.

            When we arrived in Bracknell, it felt as if I had never left. Amazing really when I think that it's been over a year since I was last here but such is the way of life.

            We spent the day re-tracking Acts one and two.

            At lunch, I left South Hill, to go and find the digs that Ducky and I would be staying in. I was very pleasantly surprised and Joanne and Lee (the landlords) made us feel instantly welcomed.

            Working later into the afternoon, things became tense in rehearsals. Everyone started to give acting suggestions to one another, but, in honesty, it was probably a case of too many cooks.

            In the evening - wanting to release our various tensions - Ducky, Arthur and I, met at the Park's Atrium Bar, for a few bottles of wine and dinner. We talked about the trials and tribulations of producing and directing a show. Arthur enlightened us with his favourite note, which he used to give to his casts, "Go on, get on with it and get off. But mostly, get off."

            The beauty of Bostrom.

            On Tuesday, we started with the dreaded 'Box Tree' scene. It actually went a lot better than I'd feared it would. We now have the most conclusive set of choreographed movements that we've had so far, so can now progress with those to secure the scene in its entirety. The next thing that we have to polish is marrying the movement with the intentions. Acting as opposed to doing.

            The rest of the day, we rehearsed the third act. It wasn't easy. Some scenes, we'd only rehearsed once before, so it didn't come as a surprise that we had a fair amount of work to do. At times, things went very slowly. At times, things were very pressured. The thing that got us through the day, was that we knew that we had got a mountain of work done. We always knew that our time on Twelfth Night would be tight, but the thing that pushes past that obstacle, is remembering the strength of the production and cast.

            Allison (our fight director) was also back with us to work on the problem pieces of the play. I don't remember being so useless at stage combat. In fact, I remember being pretty good at stage combat; since starting this job, I'm not so sure any more! We got through all the pieces in the end, but I was a shell of the man I was before I started the session.

Craig running lines

            It was another tough day, and one that needed a session of unwinding. Leo, Shiv, Ducky and myself had a drink in the Bar and then (with Cuckoo joining us) went to the vaguely local cafe Rouge for a great meal and drinks.

            We began Wednesday an awful lot calmer. Everyone came in feeling the benefits of having been well rested. All but Shiv and Ducky who were both feeling the effects of the wine of the night before. We rehearsed Act III Scenes I and II.

            It all went rather smoothly which was a nice change from yesterday. We stopped and started at the tricky points, but used the time as we would do an ordinary rehearsal. We then ran the act, which again seemed to go quite fluidly. Rachel later commented to me how strange she felt at the end of it, "Doing the scenes on the stage like this, without costumes and lighting, reminds me of an actors nightmare."

            Al gave us notes when we'd finished and reiterated just how much good work we've done. "The progress may feel slow and days long, but we are getting there and there is some lovely moments coming out. We have an amazing company here and I need you all to remember that and trust one another. Listen and be bold."

We're missing C and A

            Well-said Cuckoo.

            The costumes for the show are starting to be fitted too. Seb has a wonderful Indian frock for Sir Toby and Leo is decked out in a timeless end-of-the-pier medley.

            I'm yet to see my Sir Andrew, as it's being couriered from the RSC's costume vaults. I have seen pictures though; it's yellow, checked and double-breasted. Perfect.

            The wig is another thing that I haven't seen yet. He is described as having hair like 'flax on a distaff', which basically means, yellow and straight. Mid-way through typing this sentence, Jo (Hair and Make-up) walked into the dressing room and presented me with the wig. It very close to what Alastair and I had had in mind, a little glossy though, which we can hopefully do something with. It's also a little bit too long, so Jo is on the case to order in a replacement that should arrive tomorrow.

            In the meantime I watched - with great amusement - Chris and Pete trying out different formulas to tie up Arthur as Malvolio in the St Topaz scene. Either that or they were both just reliving a wonderful weekend away together.

            We worked our way through the Fourth Act, but didn't run it like the others as we started to run out of time and badly wanted to see our way through to the end of the play. Act V was polished off quite nicely. Again, we didn't get a chance to run it all through in one, but we did some really nice, thorough work and worked far more productively in answering questions than forcing ourselves through the act quickly, just in order to run it.

            Ducky and I hung about after we were broken for me to have my hair cut by Jo and ate our dinner (remember - we're not aloud to cook in our digs...). We make-shifted a little table into a dining spot in the upstairs of the theatre foyer and actually had a nice improvised meal, followed by a film back at the digs to finish off the day.

            Our call for Thursday was later than expected, so we took advantage and made sure we were well rested for what would surely be a very busy few days ahead of us.

            On personal reflection, it's so easy to become stressed, negative and frustrated when things, professionally fail to go the way we'd hoped. In the case of Twelfth Night, we don't have the time that we would have liked to rehearse. Unfortunately that is just the way it has to be. Rather than wallow in pessimism, why not blossom in the challenge of it?

            To quote DOIG, a play that I premiered in a couple of years ago, "suck in the positivism".

            Thursday was the beginning of our tech session. It was a tech. A classic tech. Nothing really to be said other than that. Slow at times, fast at others.

            A tech.

            Tech tastic.

            Strangely, I like them though. Getting a chance to repeat bits over and over gets it into your body.

            The show is looking very pretty too.

            Jo has found another wig - one with real hair. I'm the cat that got the cream, As far as I'm concerned, Andrew is perfect now. Perfect. Reviewers may disagree, but all criticisms will now have to be screened by the wig.

            The wig is God.

            I = Wig.

            In fact, just chuck the wig and costume onstage and I'll do the lines in the wings.

            We had a well-deserved drink in the evening.

            I had a couple of rounds of toast when I got back to my digs.

            I'm so rock'n'roll.

            On Friday I woke late and took full advantage of our inclusive breakfast and had everything that I could cram onto a plate. 

When I collected all my things together from my room, to head in for the second day of tech, I heard a low moan coming from Ducky's bedroom. She was not well. A migraine that had plagued her from the previous day had not shifted and she felt even worse. After talking to Pete, she was told not to come in until 3:00pm, giving her time to hopefully recover a little. She did... A bit.

            We all plodded our way through the rest of the tech. The 'trucks' that are used and moved about the stage (to depict the different locations) were noticed as definitely being the most time-sapping obstacle, but - when combined by Will's projection sequences - are well worth the time spent.

            Pam spent the day tweaking and adjusting the various costumes. Most of mine is done now, all bar a little 'bringing in' of the suit that she says she'll be doing later in the evening.

            On Saturday Morning, the cast arrived in the green room with a collection of smiling faces ready for our movement session with Lucy Pankhurst. I had arrived a little later than everyone else and couldn't for the life of me work out why everyone was grinning so. Arthur broke the news, "Lucy is on time and ready to rehearse, but she happens to be in Eastbourne."

            Wow.

            Poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor Lucy. Darling, you were missed and we hope that you got your way back home ok.

            So, with Lucy unattainable, Alastair stepped in (...) to fill the gap and tweak the various movement pieces. The opening sequence, in which we all enter the stage and strip it of strewn suitcases and cloths, proved most taxing. It's unbelievable how maths dumbfounds actors. There were 18 cases, in the sequence, we took them all off, "OK, lets reset guys, everything back where you took it from." Only 15 cases returned.

            After the movement session, we broke for lunch. I volunteered my services to help re-mark the stage with Jess and Garreth, for the looming Dress Rehearsal. We were going to need all the help we could get and as Al put it, "Be realistic, set your hopes low - this is the first Dress and not only that, the first time that we've run the play through in its entirety."

            So we did.

            We got into costume, preset our props and quick-change outfits and stood at the ready for the gun to fire.

            Well, things definitely did go wrong (particularly in the second half) and I cannot speak of our acting merits, but... We got through it!!!

            Not only did we get through it, but also we remembered nearly all of the changes that we'd done just the day before. Not only did we get through it, but each half ran at a staggeringly modest 1:10 minutes???!!! None of us could quite believe that.

            Moral levels were at a high and we broke for dinner.

            When we returned (still amazed by the success of the run) the evening dress rehearsal had been scrapped, in replace of a cue to cue of the second half, followed by a run of the second half of the show.

Pam and Alan our un-sung heros 

            The cue to cue was not fun. We seemed to forget all of the truck movements that we'd previously rehearsed and along with voices piling up on top of one another, things ground to a halt. Everyone (including and especially myself) got very tense, tetchy and above all, tired. It's been a long week and things certainly got on top of us.

            As we ran out of time, for a full run of the second half, we scaled down our ambitions to a run of Act 3 Scene 4 - the Fourth Act.

            By the end - and I think I can speak on behalf of everyone - we were fucking knackered.

            Those of us that weren't venturing home for the weekend decided to stay in the Atrium Bar until they kicked us out and gave ourselves a very big pat on the back after what has been a very big and very busy week.

           

           

             

           

            

So long, farewell... - Week 6

            I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, did my morning press-ups and plodded to the shower. Monday definitely came around again all too quickly - despite my excellent efforts at resting on the Sunday passed.

            I ate, dressed, brushed my teeth and used the wonderful walk along the Eastbourne seaside to blow the many overlapping cobwebs from my mind. It's strange to think that we've only a week left here. I really have gotten quite attached to the place. The familiarity and easy, slow-paced nature of the town have been a lovely little tonic from the bustle of our great capital. I suppose, in a more nostalgic sense, I've been reminded of home.

            When I reached the studios, the cast swapped hellos and tales of our varying days off. The four of us that saw Saturday night into the early hours, giggled like school children at our antics and gleefully recalled the night's events to anyone that would listen. Al said that he doesn't remember it being as poetic as I described it in last week's blog, but admits that that could be tinged by the memory of being numb from the cold.

            Unfortunately none of them were in possession of my long lost pants. The stage door was also, without sign of them.

            Shrug.

            As the other actors got on with the final scene of the play (skipping a few due to our beloved Arthur being at home opening his local fete) Seb, and I waited for our entrance. The schedule was rather off though and we ended up sitting about for a good hour and a half. I used the time to go through the script and check my lines. I found myself laughing as I uttered a line, to be echoed by Seb, browsing the web on his laptop, exclaiming at the prices of second hand caravans. By the end though, I realised, rather chipperly that I knew them all. Some, more secure than others, but some of the scenes we haven't even touched yet, so...

            When we were called in to join the scene, we moved at pace to get things set. As Al was in the scene, giving his Orsino, Chris was in the driving seat, directing. The end of Sir Andrew's life in the play is very sad. Having been fleeced by Sir T and ignored by Olivia, he enters the scene, in search of help for his dear friend whom - offstage in a phantom scene - has been battered by Sebastian (thought by everyone to be Cesario ((Viola))). After Toby rants at the congregation, Andrew caringly stands by him and says, proudly, "I'll help you Sir Toby, because we'll be dressed together."

            What happens next is the car crash of their relationship. Toby humiliates Sir A in front of everyone. He declares him useless, a "gull faced knave" and leaves him and the stage, with Andrew stood, a shell, with no one to turn to. He ends the play as he begins it - alone.

            It is with his exit, sadly, that the happiness of the play, flourishes.

            In the afternoon, Seb, Lucy and I worked with Craig on Act 1 Scene 3, as we haven't looked at it since the beginning of last week.

           In the evening, we all made good use of our free evening to do as little as possible.

            I woke, on Tuesday feeling far better rested. I was called in for some 'spear holder acting', playing as a Sailor in the background of the first Viola scene.

            Fun.

            Donovan has managed to find the two of us some last-minute digs for Bracknell which is a plus - we're not allowed to use the kitchen/or the washing machine - and have the pleasure of paying £95 each for the inconvenience. I'd love to say that I'll learn the lesson because of this, but, two previous tours have already proven that that is unlikely to happen...

            Over lunch, Shiv and I sat in her dressing room and listened to music. It's amazing how much time I find myself able to babble on about the musicians that I adore. Luckily, I was in similarly minded company.

            An hour of tunes passed, I went back to the house to catch up on the progress of the Libyan crisis. Nothing seems to have progressed much.

            I went over my lines for the afternoon's rehearsal of the first 'challenge' scene, where Aguecheek encounters a befuddled Viola. The scene turned out to be a challenge in itself. Mostly because of the fact that it's a very long scene and as with all long scenes, need a fair bit of prescriptive blocking.

            We also had to contend with the fairly common theatrical problem of curbing the script to suit our own means. Or - more specifically - adapting our version of the script to comply with the budget. The Original Theatre Company is not alone in this endeavour, and does remarkably well to hide the issue. For instance, in the scene, in an ideal world, every character would be equipped with swords, however, in our production, that simply cannot be the case, so we must adapt what we are doing in order to make the story work. Not always easy - but essential to our show.

            In the evening's show, we were playing to an again, increased percentage and were told at one point that we'd had 50+ walk-ups. This, alas proved false, but we were still playing to a lovely crowd and far more than were booked at the end of last week. It just goes to prove that word of mouth - even in the age of hyper dyper broadband and wibble wobble nano-tech - still counts for something.

            I went shopping on Wednesday. My sister and her boyfriend came to see the show in the evening and are leaving the UK next week to embark on a 10-month tour of the world. So, I thought it only appropriate to get them both a little something to take with them. I went into umpteen jewellers’ looking for the right thing before I found one of Eastbourne's only independent shops. I still had to contend with an incompetent saleswoman; "I need something durable. It needs to weather well and not be too flashy."

            "How about this nice glittery necklace...?"

            Cretin.

            I found the right thing in the end though - a 'his' and 'hers' leather bracelet. I then spent the rest of the day trying to avoid the thought of having to actually give them to them.

            The matinee performance was again (dare I say it?) enjoyable and we were lucky enough to be graced with a fairly large, enthusiastic audience.

            My lines were however all over the place and I finished the show in a terrible grump

            I also spent the free moments of the show trying to finish writing a letter to the leaving two which I fear didn't help matters. Especially when crying in the dressing room before a scene...

            I met with them both after the show and took them down to the beach as we indulged in the matinee swim club. It was also Lucy's birthday, who came down to the sea to join us but (by the time I had arrived) had been in and already come out swearing never to step foot into it again.

            After the evening performance, we all met in the buccaneer for birthday drinks and spent the night celebrating in typical frivolity. Hopefully the birthday girl had a nice time. Especially after the rather prolonged 'surprise' birthday cake presentation...

            My sister (through my encouragement) enlightened the cast into her latest piece of travelling equipment; a 'she-wee'; a device that enables a lady to pee standing up (apparently some toilet's in the east are not to be trusted. It was worth hearing the explanation just to see the Cuckoo squirm.

            Ipso facto: I'm cruel.

            When we finally left the pub, I was faced with the goodbye to end all goodbyes.

            I didn't fare too well.

            That being said, it's not easy for a big brother to let go of his baby sister.

            Nor was it.

            Ell and Mike, I love you both and am going to miss you horrendously. You're going to have a ball though, so don't waste a single second!

            Thursday I woke feeling very puffy-eyed. All the weeping the night before, probably didn't help...

            I was tired and had a big day ahead of me.

            We rehearsed nearly every Sir T and Sir A scene, but spent most time working on the 'box-tree' scene. We made tons of progress on it. It is a scene that takes and would always take a lot of detail and rehearsal - which makes it very tough - but will end up being one of the best scenes of the entire play.

            Lucy Pankhurst (our choreographer) was also in to do more work on the movement pieces. When I got round to working with her it was towards the end of the day on the 'catch'. We were all exhausted, but, thanks to our resilient team of actors and Lucy's notable choreographic talent, we continued our work and made real progress on the stuff we already had.

            The evening show was tough. The audience was rather quiet and I was exhausted. By the sounds of things so was everyone else. I don my cap to Alastair, who noticing this, decided to push the following day's rehearsal's back till 11:00am, to give us a recuperative lie-in. Cuckoo, you did good. And we all greatly appreciated the gesture.

            You are still a Cuckoo though.

            I unfortunately didn't benefit much from the lie in and woke (in the middle of a dream involving the Original Theatre Company, a pantomime and Beyonce Knowles...) feeling even groggier than I did before. This was not helped by the first scene of the day - THE BOX TREE!!!

            Things went a lot smoother than they had done the day before and we also had the opportunity to realise the moments that we remembered and those that we didn't... No comment.

            We got through it though and got to the end of the scene able to breath a huge sigh of relief at the hurdle we've collectively jumped. Arthur in particular leaped his way over, nailing what is an enormous monologue.

            I was kept hanging round for a few hours in the afternoon, waiting to rehearse the final scene of the play, but alas, wasn't needed.

            I returned to the studios late in the afternoon for an ominously titled, 'Company Meeting'. It turned out to be nothing more than an admin session before we arrived in Bracknell and a briefing for our final night in Eastbourne, i.e. cleaning crap from the dressing rooms and organising our costumes in an orderly manner for Jess and the get-out.

            After the meeting, David, Shiv and I took advantage of the free time before the show and went for a bonus swim in the sea. The waters were calm, the sun, bright but accompanied by a gentle chilly breeze, which, collectively proved the perfect tonic for a day, pent up in a badly lit studio room. 

            On our way back to the theatre, we mused over the fact that after Saturday, we'd be land-locked until we returned to Eastbourne in November... This moment was promptly broken by us witnessing a woman in the front of a car, jingling a bell, for her parrot's amusement, in a cage, on her front passenger seat...

            Only in Eastbourne.

            The evening show was packed full. In large part thanks to Pete, who, noticing that we had a rather small audience booked, suggested that we invite a load of local charities with free tickets. It worked and we got a chance to perform to a theatre-full of very appreciative people.

            Mid-way through the show, there was a tannoy announcement from Garreth asking to keep the noise down in the backstage corridor. No one was in fact in the corridor. The guilty culprits were myself, Seb and Leo, trying to watch the England/Bulgaria game in one of the upstairs dressing rooms.

            We won.

            We were happy.

            We 'pubbed' it after the show.

            Before the matinee on Saturday, I leant a valuable lesson in life, compliments of Rachel 'Ducky' Donovan (that's right, Rach has an animal name too); namely, how to hang clothes on a washing line. She looked at me incredulously as I started pinning up my briefs and shirts - doing nothing out of the ordinary, I thought - and showed me how 'normal people' do it.

The touch tour getting hands-on

            I arrived at the theatre early in the afternoon to take part in a 'Touch Tour' of the set. It involved a group of deaf and blind audience members being taken around the set before the show to touch the props, actors and costumes. I can honestly say that it was one of the most rewarding moments of my life. The appreciation of such wonderfully kind people, for doing nothing more than meeting them and giving up a half-hour of our time was frankly humbling. I only hope that they enjoyed the show and thank them all for making my day that little bit more special.

            Just before 'the half', Chris collected us on the stage to give us our final notes before kicking off the tour. He gave out specific ones, but there was one that I found particularly good:

            "You all have to make allowances for the 10th member of the cast (the audience), who is unreliable and hasn't learnt their lines as well as you have."

            Brilliant and like all decent statements, says a thousand things in one.

            After the matinee, we had our final meeting of the Matinee Swim Club, with our largest contingent yet. (Hazel the dog included)

            We then performed our last show in Eastbourne.

            I'm going to miss the place. We've spent six weeks here now and had a bloody brilliant time. The theatre and their staff have been a joy to work with, and the sea - well - "I think I'm going to miss you most of all".

            We'll remember our time here very fondly and we're all looking forward to our return at the beginning of November, performing Twelfth Night.

            In the meantime... we have a tour to begin!