I thought I would bring you up to date with the never-ending story of thespian folk. We are now into proper rehearsal mode and the usual problems are rearing up. Bloody props, for a start! Where does Pastor Manders put his bag down? No, he can't put it on that chair because it will be wet from the rain outside, and , no, he can't put it on the floor by the chair because Mrs. Alving moves across there in order to sit on the chair, but if he puts on the garden chair it will be too far away when he has to reach for his legal documents ... and so on, and so on ...
Then there are the moves. Not the big moves in , off and round the stage, but the small moves, a step forward or back; the tiny gestures, a hand to the mouth, an 'accidental' touch of hands; the stiffening of a body in anger, the slump of a body in resignation - all these have to be 'choreographed', practiced and made to look perfectly natural. It sounds simple but, believe me, it isn't. And they are tremendously important, as I keep telling my actors. They may stand there spouting their stuff and imagining that every member of the audience is hanging on every word, but truth be told, during a performance many of them will allow their minds to wander off into wondering what time the last bus goes, is there anything in the fridge when they get home, that actress has good legs, and so on. But one thing they can't turn off is their sight and, particularly in this visual age in which we live (so different from the aural age of Shakespeare), visual images are taken in virtually unconsciously, so that one little gesture instantly sums up a mood or emotion even if the words fly over their heads.
This has been a very happy production - so far! I add the rider because I am something of a rarity in amateur theatre in making my displeasure known very directly and loudly, and also, which will amuse 'Teabag' and his ilk and confirm their suspicion that I am something of a humbug, I do so in language more suited to the barrack-room than the genteel ambiance of Twickenham. It is only afterwards when I have calmed down that I recall the stunned expressions on the faces of nice people who have never been spoken to like that in all their lives. Fortunately the five actors in this production are enormously hard-working and responsive which makes the whole exercise a pleasure. The set is going to be superb and my gratitude to my set builder knows no bounds. Personally, my skills in practical matters are such that I tend to use the thick end of screw drivers to bang in nails, so on set-building days, I am confined to making the tea and sweeping the floor.
The music, composed in-house, and played by the excellent Anima String Quartet from north London (Peter Freyhan [[email protected]], has been recorded, as have the other sound effects that are needed. I await with trepidation the testing of the rain effects on the roof of the 'garden room' that Ibsen specifies, and hope and pray that it doesn't short out the entire electrics to the theatre.
Still some way to go but I am feeling quietly confident. This is a 'wicked' play, using that word in both its traditional sense and in its modern 'youf' argot sense. I loath it philosophically whilst simultaneously I am in awe of its excellence as a piece of theatre. As social dynamite, it had no equal in the destructive force of its explosive power in Victorian times, but even in today's debauched society, it still manages to shock.
Based on my experience, you're right; you are indeed a rare sort of director in am-dram circles. The last two productions I've been in were "directed" (if you can call it that) by directors whose modus operandi was little more than "right, just keep going and I'll stop you if something looks wrong". The result - mediocre performances and a sense that the whole thing had been slap-dashed together in a hurry (which indeed they had).
Your actors should respect you greatly for pushing, cajoling and downright bullying them until they get it right, because how else are they going to learn their craft? Every piece of stagecraft I've learned has had to be repeatedly drummed into my thick skull with stern words, dire threats and public ridicule. And I'm still useless.
Posted by: Tom Tyler | Saturday, 19 August 2006 at 22:28
My unfavourite cricket captain: "Bill and Dubs stand at slip: the rest of you disperse." It shows such faith in his bowlers.
Posted by: dearieme | Sunday, 20 August 2006 at 12:02
Having crept the boards occasionally myself, I don't much like the idea of being bellowed at in - at least not in an *amateur* production. Take it easy on them or you might get some walk-outs - thespy folk are already notorious for their huffs and umbridge. Unpaid thesps I'd have thought would be even less inclined to put up with being screamed at.
Still, the very best of luck with it. It is a very fine play - I hope you don't bang on ad nauseam to the actors about how "the devil gets the best tunes", and so on.
Posted by: Larry Teabag | Tuesday, 22 August 2006 at 16:25
Tom and Larry: This directing lark is an eye-opener - to me, more than anyone else! I have evolved my methods over the years mostly as a result of experience which is another way of saying 'mistakes'. I don't expect to get brilliant actors in amateur theatre - although sometimes I have been really lucky and had some people who deserved success as pros. One of the advantages of 'working' in the Twickenham area is that the talent gene-pool is wider and deeper in that part of S.W. London than what can be found out in the sticks. A lot of very bright people, many of them with theatre training. (Not that we don't produce out fair share of real amateurish stinkers from time to time!)
What I like are actors who want and enjoy being driven *past* and *beyond* what they had thought was their best. What I don't want are the lazy, the totally stupid or the worst of all, those middle-aged actors who have been told since they were 14 that they are wonderful and at the age of 40 refuse to take any direction at all. It is perhaps an indication of my determination 'not to take prisoners' that I have actually fired actors from my shows - a practice almost unheard of in amateur theatre.
As for the swearing and bad temper and so forth, it doesn't happen often but I must admit I am sometimes ashamed of my behaviour. It's just because in a rehearsal room I become very, very focused and I rather forget myself. I have a very clear idea what I want and where I want to go with a playscript and I drive people towards it.
In mitigation, I always tell the cast to offer up suggestions and if I dismiss 9 out of 10 them they must persist because I will cover them with kisses if they come up with a brilliant idea that I would never have thought of. (Most of them aren't too keen on the reward, mind you!)
As I say, it's a funny old business but immensely satisfying. And to keep my ego in check, I remind myself constantly that as a mere director I am there to serve the writer, not myself. This is particularly hard with Ibsen, a man I loath and detest.
Posted by: David Duff | Tuesday, 22 August 2006 at 16:53
Mind you, the cricket captain is also expected to play, David, not just to issue instructions.
Posted by: dearieme | Tuesday, 22 August 2006 at 23:41
It says something about the area you are working in, that you can actually get away with firing members of the cast once rehearsals have begun. Round here, as you say, it would hardly be possible, without having to reschedule the performances. Sigh...London.
One of the roles I treasure most in my memory is that of "Tony", the young male lead in Chris Chibnall's "Kiss Me Like You Mean It". I think this was the first amateur production outside of London. I went through three auditions, the final one being between me and one other chap. He got the part (deservedly so, I knew he fitted it better than me), but a week later, he had to pull out. I was called back.
All through rehearsals I was lacking in confidence, knowing that I had not been the director's first choice to play the role. However, the director worked with me and did her best to iron out my deficiencies ("Stop waving your fucking arms about! ..."Lose the bloody 'niceness' in your body language, you prat! You're a lad on the pull, so start acting like one if you know how, which I seriously doubt!") There was me, thinking that just because I had apparently shone as Billy Bibbitt in "Cuckoo's Nest" six months previously, I knew it all. Silly me. Anyway, I think I managed to be just about 'adequate' as Tony at the end of the day.
Posted by: Tom Tyler | Wednesday, 23 August 2006 at 01:32
Dearieme: It's driving me potty (pottier?) but I cannot find the source of your quote above. Put me out of my misery. And I did do my time 'on stage' and, yes, 'wonderful wasn't the word'!
Tom: reference 'Cuckoos Nest', I think playing drunks and/or loonies is technically one of the hardest things to pull off successfully. To be honest, I'm not sure how one sets about it which might be a problem in a few month's time when I have to direct an Ophelia. I remember playing Claudius once against an Ophelia whose madness was so brilliantly 'real' and I was so mesmerized watching her performance, even after all the rehearsals, that I kept forgetting my cue for one of Claudius's interjections.
Posted by: David Duff | Wednesday, 23 August 2006 at 08:56
Oh, it was actual experience, David, not a literary quote. Though perhaps he said "scatter" rather than "disperse".
Posted by: dearieme | Wednesday, 23 August 2006 at 18:04