kermy's thoughts

New blog

2008-10-03T00:53:00.003+01:00

My blog has moved house. It can now be found at www.jonpashley.co.uk. Come over and join me. Apologies for lack of blogging over the summer and a bit of recent news already waiting there for you.

The Dumb Waiter

2008-06-25T17:56:00.001+01:00

-- WARNING: This post includes a spoiler --

From the opening moments of this play, it was clear it was going to be a slick operation. Another triumph for superb acting with Gethin Jones and Sam Brassington take up the roles of Gus and Ben, respectively, in Pinter's fantastically taut play The Dumb Waiter. Though I'd read it before, I had never seen the play performed before and this was a real treat. In a room, in a building, two hit-men await orders to carry out a "job". There are some interactions with the outside world - an envelope of matches is slipped under the door, notes arrive in the dumbwaiter and Gus and Ben are spoken to both voices from the "speaking tube" - but the thrust of the play is the relationship between these two men waiting.

Jones and Brassington make a fantastic team, neither overshadowing the other and both gaining their personal moments of glory as they win petty arguments; it felt like we really were watching men who had spent more years than they could count living in one another's pockets. Directed by Sam Chapman and Sam Maynard, the play moves deftly from high suspense, clowning and violence. It was thrilling to see two actors so definitely in charge of the atmospheres they were creating. Brassington maintained a brooding, disturbingly relaxed, passively aggressive manner throughout which provided excellent support for Jones' mood swings as he gets more and more nervous about the job ahead and occupies himself with the minutiae of their situation. Jones held the audience's attention in the palm of his hand as he put on his shoes, removing undesired debris from them in the process.

The set was simple with the traditional two beds either side of centre. Stage right stood a black door and the back of the stage was made up of black and white flats. Throughout the course of the play the characters discover various elements of the room which they had not noticed before: a photo of the first eleven, the dumbwaiter, the speaking tube. The directors took this idea and ran with it, leaving the room blank until certain items were needed at which point a stage hand, in black with a gimp-maskesque balaclava, appeared holding it in a manner not dissimilar to that of the kōken of Japanese Noh. The first time this happened (with the photograph) it was eerie and when the dumbwaiter appeared, preceded by the back wall being slowly dragged away, it was most unnerving. This was such an effective way to set up the idea of the external world having far greater impact on the inhabitants of the room than either of them realize. The final moment, where Gus comes back into the room and it becomes clear that it is he who Ben must kill that night, was heightened by Gus being propelled through the door by such a stage hand - in all his disquieting anonymity - before the stage was plunged into darkness.

An enchanting, well-acted, thoughtfully conceived production of an entertainingly macabre play which I hope will go on to have a life post-WSAF.

Cardboard Metropolis

2008-06-25T16:59:00.001+01:00

Wednesday's theatrical experiences started with Cardboard Metropolis, a student written and directed piece by Hannah Tottenham. Set in a future world where we are informed, correctly or incorrectly, that there is a drought and that the economy's crashed. Troy, a young boy, surrounds himself by advertisements, continually renewing and renovating his collection. However, he has managed to upset Corporated Incorporated who have sent two delegates to try to understand Troy's habits and convince him to move beyond advertising into the world of buying.

Today was not my first encounter with the piece as the first scene had had a trial run in The Art of Directing, a project which a ran a few weeks ago. For the character of Troy, Tottenham has created an impressive manner of speech whereby he only speaks through variations of advertising slogans, including 'It's all right for you. I've got to do the hard work so you don't have to', 'Whiter than white, white Wash & Go' and a multiplicity of puns on 'Buy one, get one free'. The wordplay is entertaining and a very interesting way to demonstrate Troy's obsessive relationship with advertising materials and actor Fergus Nimmo takes this bizarre speech pattern and makes it his own. The other characters, though, - Mr Zed, a road-sweeping purveyor of "wisdoms", and the two representatives of Corporated Incorporated - aren't so lucky with their dialogue. As Troy continues to misunderstand what the businesspeople want him to do, the other characters' frustration takes us into a series of repetitions which doesn't aid the piece. The ideas themselves are worthy of attention but the play might benefit from taking out so many of the cul-de-sacs and developing the thoughts.

Mr Zed ponders on the human condition and on the state of the character's socio-economic situation, calling into question the worth of a society and reminding us that we are only as good as the society we build. Whether or not Tottenham wants us to take action after seeing this piece is unclear - and what kind of action that would be is even less clear - but the play does highlight the ways we absorb advertising - images, slogans, melodies - without realizing how much of what we are made of is selling. Although this isn't a style of theatre I'm particularly keen on, the narrative is engaging and emotive and I found I did empathize with Troy when he got framed for an action he did not commit. I would rather the play had been filleted slightly, though, and that the overall dramatic shape of the piece would be made more muscular.

A Midsummer Midnight's Dream

2008-06-25T16:14:00.001+01:00

At ten thirty last night, hundreds of people gathered in the Warwick Piazza to watch what has been my favourite WSAF show so far, a promenade performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream. I must confess that the play is my favourite Shakespeare but the production last night didn't need to rely on favouritism. Starting and ending in Theseus' court in the Piazza, the show moved around various wooded areas accompanied by choral singing and marshals dressed as woodland nymphs, armed with lamps.

It was a triumph for good acting last night with a strong cast giving brilliant performances. Jay Saighal, Rob Kelly, Sophie Gilpin and Carolyn van Vliet were a pleasure to watch as the the Lovers and the troupe of Mechanicals were superb with an ebullient performance from James Keningale as Bottom and the adorable Michael Cannon as Flute, kept in check masterfully by Kate Richards as Peter Quince. Carl Cerny and Anna Tunnard both gave powerful performances as Oberon and Titania with a regal solidity which gave credibility to the disastrous effects they were having on the natural world. Every performance was given with enthusiasm, energy and clear enjoyment. This has the feeling of a production that has enjoyed its journey and enjoyed sharing it with an audience.

One point of criticism would be that the movement between the scenes could have been slicker. The nymphish marshals spoke to the audience in, sometimes bemusing, pseudo-Shakespeare (e.g. 'Follow thee' when 'Follow me' would have worked much better) and journeys occasionally took much longer than they should have done. The atmosphere was very convivial (even when fairies shouted at you for having not taken orders quick enough) and so a little bit of kerfuffle was easily forgiven.

All in all, though, this was a very enjoyable performance and it is certainly a highlight of this festival.

Mama Mia!

2008-06-25T10:58:00.000+01:00

MTW presented Mamma Mia yesterday as their "weekend show". Over the course of a weekend, the cast rehearse the full-length musical and present it to the public. Clearly, the result isn't a polished and finessed performance but yesterday's was certainly an enjoyable one.

I'm still mystified as to why the jukebox musical of a Swedish band, with an Italian title, is set in Greece but so it is. When she fell pregnant holidaying on a Greek island, Donna (Heather Jones) decided to stay and, after inheriting a reasonable chunk of money, opened a taverna there. The action takes place twenty-one years later and Donna's twenty-year-old daughter Sophie (Nikki Wanless) is getting married. More than anything else, she wants her father to give her away. Unfortunately, her mother slept with three guys in a short amount of time and she cannot be sure who the father is so she invites them all to the wedding.

I've been avoiding this musical for quite a while now: it's utter pap, as anticipated, but I didn't have to pay West End prices to see it. The show's a lark and fun for anyone who's ever sung along with an ABBA song. Jones and Wanless both sang beautifully and the three dads made a good comedy grouping - Rob Ottey indulged in some particularly watchable prancing in his paternal role.

Being critical, the direction and the choreography were both quite dull - I thought we had moved away from step-clicking our way through an entire song - but the Marketplace in the Warwick Uni union is a horrible place to perform and I can understand wanting to keep actors in the middle of the stage so they don't get stuck to the alcopops which will have been spilt on the wall. For a show that was rehearsed in only a weekend, Mamma Mia! was very impressive and it was presented with an enthusiasm and good humour which meant the audience was happy to venture into the spirit of the event.

Santa is a Scumbag

2008-06-25T03:04:00.000+01:00

I started this morning with Helena Savvidis and Claire Trévien's translation of Le Père Noël est une ordure, the French black comedy which rose to its cult status after the 1982 film. The action takes place in the call centre of Desperate Helpline on Christmas Eve, when the call centre is invaded by those the charity are supposed to be helping including a transvestite, a psychotic santa and a severely depressed neighbour.

Briony Rawle and Callum Runciman both gave very entertaining performances as the charity workers responsible for manning the phone and the show got off to a good start as they bounced witticisms and semi-erotic, bestial paintings to one another. However, the energy began to lack partway through and the piece lost the tempo it required to pull off the farcical elements. Rawle and Runciman kept going at full pelt, however, and Kat Hardy's pregnant imbecile brought a lot of life to the stage. I felt Bex Roberts played the downfall of the transvestite Katia (a. k. a. Little John or Rubber Johnny) too early and the witty, elegant dialogue was laboured sometimes by "life's so hard as a man in a dress" acting .

Savvidis and Trévien have taken on quite a challenge in trying to share this cult piece with an audience who have never even heard of it. The translation was largely fluid and funny, though some points sounded unintentionally awkward, for example with the repeated use of 'one' as a personal pronoun as Katia and Pierre (Runciman) dance, and to execute the farce required greater rigour and craftsmanship. Despite this small points, though, they have succeeded in arousing an interest in the play and managed to keep the audience amused for most of the performance, if it did drag a little at times. This is a play that I would like to see again with more time spent on it.

Nineteen

2008-06-24T18:00:00.003+01:00

The Warwick Students Arts Festival (WSAF) is now under way, comprising of a packed programme and the first show that I went to see took place yesterday. Nineteen is a student-written piece, directed by the writer Matt Stokoe. The play centres around teenager Joe as he explains to his friends that his relationship with his girlfriend is over because he is gay and looks at issues surrounding sexuality, young relationships and physical and sexual abuse. Written in response to Mark Ravenhill's Citizenship, Stokoe's intentions were to present a credible situation for different issues to be presented without patronizing his audience.

To be honest, when I heard about the project I had my reservations. I'm not a fan of issue-led drama and I was anxious that Stokoe might fall into some of the pitfalls he wanted so to avoid. Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised. Overall, the play is engaging, dramatic and at times very moving. Though the beginning of the play used devices common to issue-led devised work I have seen before, for example Godber-style narrated re-enactments of events, I was pleased to see a movement away from that as the play went on. Stokoe writes cinematically and the performance dealt clunkily with what operates as fluidly as a film or radio script. It is important to remember, though, that Nineteen is both a writing and directing début for Stokoe and, as such, this is a promising one. He has interesting things to say and articulates them clearly and entertainingly whilst demonstrating a good ear for natural-sounding dialogue.

The acting was generally strong, if a little under-rehearsed, with a confident and sensitive performance from Glem Garrity as Joe. Oliver Baxter is enjoyable to watch as Joe's best friend Steve, the driving force of the play, and plays the development of the character with credibility.

All in all, I enjoyed Nineteen but I think it could benefit with some more time spent on it to work out some of the inelegancies of the writing and direction. It would be a shame, though, if this piece weren't improved upon and given another life.

The Tragedy of Macbeth

2008-06-24T14:23:00.003+01:00

When submissions took place earlier in the year to decide which pieces of student drama would be performed in the Warwick Arts Centre studio in Term 3, there was some controversy when Macbeth was chosen over a devised piece. Arguments broke out within the Warwick Drama community questioning whether or not we should be bothering with canonical work and whether devised work was pushed to one side. The brouhaha cleared though - incidentally, the first two slots next year will be devised work - and excitement built about what had been billed as an exciting new look at the Shakespeare. I received an e-mail the other day which declared this was 'Shakespeare as we have never seen it before' and they were right - I've never enjoyed it so little.

As I sat down in the auditorium I was excited. The set incorporated large banners, hanging impressively up-right, with the names of the major contenders (Macbeth, Banquo, Macduff, Duncan, Malcolm) with pseudo-runic emblems beneath and projected on the centre of the cyc there was the snowy white noise of a television. It seemed like we would see an interesting crashing together of medieval and modern worlds, unfortunately not. Costumes were simple - an uninteresting and, I thought, misfitting black trousers and white shirt for nearly all men, regardless of rank or position - but there was something interesting in the use of kinetic scenery with small moveable tables and flats which created different, fluid settings.

Taking a glance at the programme, I was expecting to be blown away. The cast were strong - I've seen the majority in other productions and seen strong performances from them. Though there were periods when it was difficult to hear what was being said, largely the text was performed with intelligence and clarity - but there was nothing inspired in the acting. Why? I think the answer lies with the direction and the overall concept for the piece. Stu Denison went to absurd lengths to show us everything that was happening in the play: what Shakespeare puts in his scenes, what he infers is happening elsewhere and anything else could possibly have been happening simultaneously (Macduff enters, to exit, to show he has left Lady Macduff alone, to come back on stage, to stand in a cage, to show his separation from her; the Porter appears to have a sexual relationship with Lady Macbeth which he is trying to pressure her into continuing, she meekly gets rid of him.)

Moreover, he appears to have felt the audience required explanations resulting in bizarre cuts and the addition of scenes. I was shocked when Hecate personally made an appearance (played by Anna Henderson) and questioned the witches as to what they were doing. Generally, I found Cormac Brown's portrayal of the Scottish king insipid and I found it difficult to see this man as a warrior, a necessity for Macbeth in my mind. However, the role is a weighty one, loaded not only with the issues of the play but with history of many fine preceding actors. I think the hardest thing for any actor in this role must be how to approach the 'Is this a dagger...' speech and I was looking forward to seeing what Brown would do with it. I was beside myself when I discovered it had been cut, replaced with the lame miming of pulling a dagger out of a sheath before skipping straight to 'Now o'er the one-half world'.

My biggest problems with this production lie with the witches, which is not to say at all that I thought the actresses did a bad job, but that they were given a bad job to do. The witches were always present - not a problem in itself - and had been instructed to move in broken and spasmodic movements which, whilst adding nothing to the performance, must have tired the performers enormously. The witches, dressed "originally" in torn, exposing rags, were in charge of everything. Even the murders hired to kill Banquo and Fleance were commanded with hand movements by the witches, then playing that they felt possessed and not in control. The result was that everyone was blameless as their actions, with the exception of those of Lady Macbeth, were not their own. Interest in the plot saps out when you realize no-one has a personality and that you're not watching Macbeth but rather The Naughty Adventures of Three Silly Witches, supported by the maternal reproaches of Hecate. Fiona Mikel, Tash Hodgson and Georgie Edwor-Thorley are all capable actors but Denison reduces them to mad whores: a man cannot enter or leave the stage without being molested by them and, in England, they dance in a cage for Malcolm. What relevance or interest does this misogenistic portrayal of witches have to a twenty-first century audience? This was certainly a lad's production. The whorish representation of the witches was topped with excessive, poorly executed violence. No death was left unseen. Personally, I'm not a fan of this school but it can be done so much better. If you want a fight-heavy production, it's worth getting a fight director in. The much-hyped murder of Macbeth with a fire extinguisher was the only thing to happen offstage and was no more interesting than any offstage thud.

It was not all doom and gloom however. In amongst the tiresome fighting and long, suspense-less pauses, there were some good performances. A good choice on Denison's behalf was to replace the porter's scene with a piece of stand-up from Bertrand Lesca. I quite like the original Porter's scene but to replace it with a modern equivalent, I think is a good idea. Unfortunately, that's not really what happened. Nonetheless, Lesca's joviality was a welcome relief. I was less convinced by le portier's return at the end of the play but potentially I think it could work well. Another special note should go to Lydia King, as Lady Macduff, whose 'Sirrah, your father's dead / And what will you do now? How will you live?' hit the nail on the head and shone through the production as an actor who had understood the character and conveyed that understanding to the audience. On the whole, though, a rather disappointing evening.

Another good night at the Arcola

2008-06-24T10:45:00.002+01:00

Although it's by no means my local theatre, I'm developing a bit of a thing for the Arcola. The week before last, Neil and I went to see Wolves at the Window, a dramatization of some short stories by the Edwardian satirist, adapted for the stage by Toby Davies and directed by Thomas Hescott.

Performances at the Arcola start in the foyer. From the moment you arrive, you're involved in something exciting. Staff welcome you like a family member and there's a strong feeling that this is a local theatre: that the staff and the audiences know one another and that everyone knows the relaxed way in which the theatre runs: I was reminded of Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord. On the night we went, there was a performance of Turkish music in the bar and people were scattered around eating their Mediterranean meals; it's a fantastic way to relax and draw a clear line between outside pressures and the performance you're about to see.

The four performers made a brilliantly watchable ensemble and Davies' sketch-writing skills adapted themselves well to this short-story form. Gus Brown did a good line in wits and cads, giving thoroughly enjoyable performances in every role. His utterly credible portrayal of a disdainful cat, however, deserves particular mention. Anna Francolini, too, was a joy to watch as she glided from pinched-lipped travelling companion, to a spinner of macabre tales, to an infuriating child continually reciting 'By the old Moulmein Pagoda lookin' eastwards to the sea...'. Jeremy Booth's little boy, brother to Francolini's Road to Mandalay-er, was a glorious change from the businessmen he had played that evening; he made an eerily entertaining worshipper of Pan and he made a fabulous clapped-out tiger who was shot, or rather startled to death, by Sarah Moyle who was most entertaining in her most upper-class roles, whether shooting animals or enthusiastically teaching them to speak - her attempt to gas one in a biscuit tin, though, was divine.

Hescott's minimalistic storytelling form was engaging and included the audience. Instead of trying to show the audience everything, we entered into a world of umbrella-guns, cats in dinner jackets and sheep with cuffs for hooves. The audience was expected to use their imaginations and we were all playing the same game. All this was aided by Maureen Freedman's uncluttered, suggestive and energetic design. It felt like you were being told these stories by friends in a living room and I loved it.

Though I drag Neil along to a lot, I think this must have been his favourite show in a long time. As we headed back to Dalston-Kingsland he beamed, "That was really good. I want to tell someone!"

Wolves in the Window closed at the Arcola last Saturday. Apologies for the delay in posting, I was knocked down with tonsillitis and hadn't felt up to it. Hopefully the production will go on to have a future life somewhere else - if I hear anything, I'll let you know.

Stop smoking, start boring

2008-05-12T13:14:00.001+01:00

Neil and me smoking in Brighton Station back in 2006 when it was not illegal

As I mentioned in my last post, I have given up smoking. Cold turkey: no patches, no gum, no nothing. I rather caught myself off-guard with it as well. The night before I stopped I had been puffing away without thinking about it, we had all gone out for a cast social for Arcadia and I had smoked my packet down until only one remained. Thinking I would want it first thing in the morning, I decided not to smoke it. That final cigarette is still in its packet in my room.

People who know me may be shocked by this. I certainly am. What I will attempt to do is explain how such an event has come to pass. Firstly, to those who claim that every smoker wants to give up, I must tell you you're wrong. At that cast social, we had spoken about smoking and I had declared that I had no intention of giving up, that I enjoyed smoking and that, considering my health is fairly unaffected by the habit, that the only thing that would tempt me to stop is the cost. The next day, though, I was reading Mark Ravenhill's Some Explicit Polaroids, in which there is a scene where Victor, a go-go dancer, stands over the corpse of Tim, who bought him online. Neither of these characters remind me terribly of myself but I was struck by the idea that at some point I will lose Neil or Neil will lose me and that destroyed me. I shed a tear in the Warwick Arts Centre foyer, a location I would never have suspected to catch me in such an emotional display. My realization was that, although I love smoking, it has the ability to cut down the time I have with Neil ... and it's not worth it.

So now I'm a non-smoker. And suddenly I feel very boring. I'd never thought of smoking as being a cool thing to do but, now that I'm not doing it, I feel a bit swotty - squeaky clean. It seems that subconsciously I've been giving myself kudos for being a smoking rebel, which is lame, but, what's lamer still, is that now I have nothing rebellious about me - which is quite sad really. I'm terrified I'll become one of those born-again non-smokers who tells people who are still lucky enough to be sucking on the smokey sticks of doom that I've never felt healthier. Trying to convert happy, cool, intelligent, arty people to a better, healthier way of living. I'm sure people who do that are really sadists. They can't bear that they're suffering alone so they want to drag everyone else down with them. At the moment it still has a novelty value: it's like some bizarre dieting fad where you can only eat pine nuts ... but I've never been good at diets ... and this is forever, not six weeks before I hit the beach in my two-piece.

I've used smoking to organize my time for so long now - 'You can't have a fag until you've read three chapters...', etc. - that I'm not really sure how I'll do it post-smoke. I don't want to swap smoking with something else, like drinking coffee or boiled sweets, but now I just stare blankly at a wall. Something will come up, I'm sure. I just hope it's not telly.

That's that then. Forever, possibly hopefully as far as one can foresee. Of course, I want this to be forever - because the chemicals I inhale are undoubtedly doing me serious harm - but there's another part of me that wants to take that last cigarette and smoke it ... and never stop smoking it. I never had a goodbye fag. I can't even remember my last one, it was just the norm.

Oh - when will they invent cigarettes that are good for us? If they can make fat-free butter which, let's face is really just fat, surely they can do carcinogen-free fags! There'd be a market for it.

It's all go

2008-05-10T23:31:00.001+01:00

Art of Directing: audience in foyer (top), panel (middle), audience during forum (bottom).

Last week was a busy one and equally busy times are ahead.

The evening for directors I had been organizing for the last couple of months took place on Tuesday. The run-up to it was intense, particularly as my co-organizer was in another show meaning I was pretty much organizing it alone. But, all in all, I think The Art of Directing went well. Five student directors had the opportunity to present extracts of their work and the performances were followed by a discussion with several practictioners, including freelance director Tom Cornford and Radio 4's Paul Allen. I thought the evening went well and I found the debate about the pieces and the role of the director, which followed, very interesting - I just hope everyone else did. Of the questions posed, I may post more later.

We are also now a week away from Arcadia which opens a week on Tuesday. Everyone's very busy putting everything together for that and the rehearsals are shaping up well. As if this weren't enough extra-curricular stuff, I have my first rehearsal for Toad of Toad Hall at Chichester, for which I'm Assistant Director, a week tomorrow.

With all this happening, and a project due in on Monday and exams creeping ever nearer, I've managed to get tonsillitis. Fantastic! There's so much to do and I have very little energy to do it with. I've lost two days to pretty much constant sleep. Today's been better but I'm still not concentrating brilliantly and the work I've produced isn't top notch. To add insult to injury, this week I decided I need to stop smoking. I haven't had a cigarette since Wednesday. This is very much against my nature. I don't feel I'm craving nicotine, if I'm honest. It's more the break of my routine, the realization that my time can no longer be ordered by fag breaks and the simpleness absence of a fag from between my fingers that are frustrating me most at the moment.

Why is everyone afraid of cunt?

2008-04-24T13:06:00.001+01:00

In a lecture earlier this week on Marlowe's Hero and Leander, the lecturer talked with frankness about the sexual content of the poem, highlighting "cock" innuendos and using the phrase "gender-bending" with gay abandon, but when it came to the "cunny" puns, such as 'cunningly to yield herself she sought' (l. 778), she became unexpectedly coy, murmuring 'Well, half of you have got it...' before moving quickly onto another topic. For someone who normally engages unblinkingly with similar sexual connotations, I was surprised by her apparent new-found bashfulness and also frustrated that she felt the need to censor herself in a room full of adults. I wonder whether, if she were a man, she would have felt the need to circumvent the issue.

Though Freudians might suggest that this is an extension of castration anxiety and that, by mentioning women's genitals, we suggest that some potency has been lost by the absence of a penis, I think it is rather more an issue of linguistics. In a post-feminist world, what are we allowed to call ... it? Everyone seems a little confused, in the same way you hear people asking their friends quietly, 'So are we allowed to say "black" now?', I think there is an element of political correctness in here as well.

The problem appears to be that the terms of female genitalia in current use have all been assigned by the male world, normally vulgar and a thing of locker-room jokes. Though, as a friend pointed out last night, 'cunt' is no harsher phonically that 'cock', it carries a stigma. Some feminists have tried to reclaim the term and, personally, I'm in favour of this as it doesn't have the demeaning etymology of "vagina" (vagina = Latin 'sheath/scabbard') and doesn't rely on (stomach-turningly bestial) allusions, such as "pussy". Although academics argue about the etymology, I see this as a positive: it can mean whatever we want it to mean and, through the correct use, it could be seen as something positive.

I know this suggestion won't appeal to everyone but I implore women to consider the question carefully. Decide on a term which you think describes your genitals in a tone that you approve of - and use it. This is not to say, 'Talk about your genitals constantly' as anyone who talks about their bits non-stop makes rather unpleasant company, but if it comes up, as it did in this week's lecture, say it with pride.

Don't be ashamed of bodies, we all have one. Until we can embrace a term, the vile seventeenth-century "pudenda" (= Latin 'that of which to be ashamed') is winning.

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts...

2008-04-09T17:54:00.001+01:00

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ...

A Midsummer Night's Dream, II, i, 112-3

My parents' front garden:
Sunday (top) andtoday (bottom)

The difference in weather from Sunday to today is enjoyably impressive. On the south coast this weekend, we successfully built a snowman and managed a snowball fight and today I got the chance to enjoy a cigarette (or two) in the sun with The Faerie Queene. With this change in climate has also come a change in my work, today being the first day, I think, this holiday to have come up with some genuinely productive work, though whether that's a result of the sun or the nearing Summer term is a matter of debate.

As well as spending some time in the Bower of Bliss, I spent a chunk of today reading the Bible - a statement which prompts a baffled 'Why?' from certain people around me. I have previously argued that it is a highly worthwhile read, and I stand by this as it is a book (1) which has been given at least as many different readings as it has verses, (2) which has had incalculable influence throughout history and across the world and (3) in whose name innumerable wars have been fought. Some of the stories found in it are astonishing, certainly re-tellings have lined several pockets including those of Mr. Lloyd Webber, and, in places, there are moments of pure poetry of staggering beauty and concision. For these reasons I continue to fight my way through it, and I confess at times it is a genuine struggle, as for the most part it is so badly written. In fairness, I'm not reading it in the original (obviously, because the original original has been lost somewhere on the sands of time; I mean, I'm not reading it in Greek or Hebrew) so some of the infelicities may be due to the translator; equally, for a pre-modern collaborative effort, they've not done badly for themselves; but, why does anyone care how many hundreds of years Noah's family lived for? Or exactly how tall Goliath was, in the elastic meter of cubits? Or which nonentity gave birth to another specific nonentity? Besides, the whole 'then he saith ... then he saith ... then he saith ...' needs a good tidying up. Get Mel Kenyon on it, that's what I say!

I'm inclined to agree with the comment John Patterson made in relation to the recent film release of The Book of Revelation (dir. Ana Kokkinos):

I want more faithful adaptations from the Bible in order to show what an entirely crazy book it is, especially to the vast numbers of American citixens who use it daily as a how-to manual for dealing with life's every eventuality.

The Guide, The Guardian, Sat. 22 March 2008, p. 19
Although it would be good to debunk the misguided beliefs of what some people think the Bible says, it is more the value of a good story which has recently drawn me to 1 Samuel with my Adaptor's hat on.

Cocktail

2008-04-01T23:04:00.001+01:00

Click image to enlarge.

Medieval Lesbians

2008-03-30T14:17:00.001+01:00

Only when women's erotic relations with one another threaten to become exclusive and thus endanger the fulfillment of their marital and reproductive duties, or when they symbolically usurp male sexual prerogatives, are cultural injunctions levied against them.

Traub, Valerie, 'The Renaissance of Lesbianism in Early Modern England' in GLQ: A Journal of Gay and Lesbian Studies, Vol. 7, no. 2 (2001), p. 258.

Snapshot

2008-02-23T03:12:00.001Z

What I'm reading

[Poetry] The Faerie Queene - Spenser [Amazon]

[Drama] Hysteria - Terry Johnson [Amazon]

[Non-fiction] How to do the History of Homosexuality - David M. Halperin

Amazon

Everyone who reads an ancient Greek text, and certainly anyone who studies ancient Greek culture, quickly realizes that the ancient Greeks were quite weird, by our standards, when it came to sex. ... What I, and many others, have learned ... is that it is not the Greeks who were weird about sex but rather that it is we today ... who have a culturally and historically unique organization of sexual and social life and, therefore, have difficulty understanding the sex/gender systems of other cultures. (pp. 2-3)

What I'm re-reading

[Drama] Arcadia - Tom Stoppard [Amazon]
We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.

[Fiction] The Black Prince - Iris Murdoch [Amazon]
All great truths are mysteries, all morality is ultimately mysticism, all religions are mystery religions, all great gods have many names. ... Every artistic is a masochist to his own muse, that pleasure at least belongs to him intimately. And indeed our highest moments may find us all the hero of such conceptions. But they are false conceptions all the same. All the black Eros whom I loved and feared was but an insubstantial shadow of a greater and more terrible godhead. (p. 337)

What I'm watching

[Theatre] Rapunzel by Annie Siddons, dir. Emma Rice, Kneehigh - WAC (Tour)
"... here's to joy and escape, fear and redemption and to giving into the bliss of being told a great story!" - Emma Rice, programme note.

Absolutely brilliant storytelling, engaging and exciting theatre. See Sam Marlowe's review (Times). If you can get to see it, do. It's a joy to watch. Libertà!

[Cinema] Juno dir. Jason Reitman

[Theatre] Testing the Echo by David Edgar, dir. Matthew Dunster - WAC (Tour)
- Informative, engaging and entertaining political theatre.

[Theatre] The Pitchfork Disney - WAC (Student Drama)
"Because we all need our daily dose of disgust"
- Chilling and disconcerting. Strong performance from James McPhun.

[DVD] The First Wives' Club [Amazon]

[DVD] Outrageous Fortune [Amazon]

Two Bette Midler films isn't tragic, it's life-affirming.

What I'm listening to

Nouvelle Vague: Nouvelle Vague [UK], Bande à part [Amazon i, ii]

Amy Winehouse: Back to Black [Amazon]

Both amazing. Sexy, sexy music.

Ô, les beaux jours!

2008-02-09T17:35:00.000Z

I've got that holiday feeling even though, I know, Reading Week isn't a holiday as such. But despite the fact that I have loads of work to do this week, I still decided to take Murdoch's The Black Prince out from the library for a re-read so it might as well be a holiday. I do have an extra reason for my uncharacteristically good mood: Neil is coming up for a long week-end as today is our two-year anniversary -- which is lovely. Our plan is to go to Brum this evening for dinner and I'm very excited.

Having spent this morning tidying my room, it is now the tidiest it has been since I moved in and that has given the elbow to my dross-depression. I also went to Wilkinson's this afternoon and bought an over-the-door hanger so I can finally hang my coat up - marvellous! Popped by Tesco as well and picked up supplies - wine and such.

Pathetic fallacy or not, the weather today has also been lovely. It's my favourite type of weather and it comes by twice a year: cool and crystal clear with yellow sun spilling invigoratingly over everything; it's not too cold, so you can walk around in just a t-shirt and, when you're in the sun, there is a hint of the summer to come. Yes, well done world for a good day. Just a bit of a shame it's still getting dark early.

Songs which have fitted well with my mood today:

The Boy with the Arab Strap - Belle & Sebastian

Walk Like a Panther - The All-Seeing Eye

Anything by Nouvelle Vague

Belissimo.

Here we go around the pony*

2008-01-13T21:25:00.001Z

First week back at uni's been a good one. Rehearsals for A Passage to India are going really well despite the laughably short rehearsal period (i.e. two weeks!) The whole show is now blocked and we've started going through the show again. This week we're going to be pulling it to pieces and putting it back together repeatedly which I'm rather looking forward. We've got an incredibly talented girl called Tanya Wells creating music for us and it sounds fantastic. A few costume and prop issues to be sorted out but it's looking healthy and some of my fears have been allayed. We're on the right road, I just hope people keep their foot on the accelerator.

In other news, my module's for this term are all looking pretty groovy and I'm really excited about the work I'm going to be doing. After Passage I'm going to take a little break from being involved in productions to focus on my writing for a while; it's somewhat neglected and I've got some ideas tugging at my shirt tail and asking to be written. So that's good. Will also be nice to enjoy some slobbing about as a proper student time. I might even read more than one newspaper a week - insanity.

Lots of things coming up in London I want to see:

The British Ambassador's Belly Dancer, Arcola

God of Carnage, Guilgud

Kneehigh's Brief Encounter, Cinema Haymarket

I still haven't seen it yet: The History Boys, Wyndham's

An exhibition of Harold Pinter's personal documents at the British Library

Also in exciting news, I've bought a Banksy reproduction which is now waiting to be hung in my room.

What's everyone else up to? Is anyone out there still reading this?

* Fantastically silly warm-up

My first term at Warwick

2008-01-02T22:42:00.000Z

I can’t quite believe that I’ve already finished my first term at uni; it doesn’t seem that long ago that I was still working at Chichester and Warwick was still a dot in the future.

It would be long and incredibly boring if I tried to make up for my obscene lack of blogging by now waffling at great length about everything I’ve done this term so, instead, I’ll give you the highlights.

Warwick and Warwickites (? Warwickians)
Huge relief to discover that Warwick is as good – if not slightly better – than I was expecting it to be: it’s exciting and interesting, with lots of things to get involved with. Everyone’s lovely – and I’ve been particularly blessed with my flatmates who are all very cool. There are, of course, a few knobheads, but they only tend to appear around bars and they’re still worlds better than the knobheads at high school.

Course
Groovy. Spent this term doing some Medieval English which was scary to begin with and boring in places but it’s been interesting nonetheless, though I may not be saying that after my translation exam 7 Jan. My British Theatre module is really cool: a play a week; got the opportunity to do an essay on Beckett and am researching Joe Orton at the moment, though I wish I could spend a little more time on the Orton. Have blasted through theatre history and are going to look at ‘directors’ theatre’ in more detail this term. Also taking a French module which I’m really enjoying. It’s getting me thinking about poetry properly, which is great, and an opportunity to be a bit creative and pedantic – so suits me down to the ground.

Theatre
Lots of things going on. My favourite shows this term were David Mamet’s Edmund, a student promenade performance staged in the Warwick Arts Centre Studio, and Dinner (Moira Buffini), ditto minus the promenade. I’ve also dragged myself back onto the stage, appearing as Old Gentleman in Ionesco’s Rhinoceros and compèring a musical revue – with a little bit of singing an’ all! When I get back, I’m going to be directing A Passage to India for a festival called One World Week.

Back to School

2007-10-07T17:46:00.000+01:00

Well I'm here, at last. I've been talking and thinking about it for God knows how long, but I am now a student of the University of Warwick. I left Chichester as planned, which was sad, and Neil and I moved out of our flat, which was even worse. Despite the wrench of our separation, though, I have enjoyed my Freshers' week, which has seen me out and socializing every night (with only a little private cry). My energy levels, work and wallet won't be able to keep it up for much longer but tonight I'm going for my second cinema trip this week regardless. I saw 300 on Thursday and Laura and I are off to see Zodiac tonight.

I've also been to the theatre this week. Weirdly enough, to see a Chichester export: I Am Shakespeare. It feels a bit as though Chichester has officially moved to Warwick. I do think it's a fantastically entertaining and informative show and Mark Rylance is an awe-inspiring man. A group of us went to see a masterclass he was running at the CAPITAL Centre where he spoke mainly about the authorship debate but also about the practicalities of, and the discoveries they made at, the Globe. He talked about the importance of making the story clear and touched on how the actors 'passed the baton', in effect, which is something I've been interested in for a while. It's given me a few ideas I'd like to try out.

In terms of writing, I did manage to finish what would be a solid rehearsal draft of my translation and I've shelved the original play I was working on as they are areas of technique I want to explore further before continuing with it: a couple of structuring things. Since I've been here, little surprise, I've not written anything of any interest though I have the bones of a poem... I haven't written poetry in ages.

Tempus fugit

2007-09-02T22:04:00.000+01:00

I am writing at a little past ten on Sunday evening and it’s dawned on me that by this time next week two major things will have happened.

I will no longer be an employee of Chichester Festival Theatre

I will no longer be a teenager

I can't believe my year as a trainee is coming to an end. It's been a fantastic year: I've done so much that I couldn’t have imagined I would have done this time last year (I won’t bore you with gushing now but, if any of you are interested, I’d be happy to gush over a pint), I’ve met some really lovely people and I’m certainly much better informed about how a theatre actually works. I’m finding it difficult to quantify how much I’ve learned about the industry; try to take on board everything I’ve experienced this year, in some ways I’m exactly where I was a year ago … and I think that’s a good thing: I feel confident about what I know and at the same time I’m fully aware that I know next to nothing. I’m glad of that. I’d find it mightily depressing to come out thinking that I ‘knew’ theatre, but now I’m so passionate to do and find out more.

This really is a mile-stone for me as several threads of my life are being tied off. Not only do I say goodbye to Chichester, but to teenhood. Legally I’ve been an adult for almost two years but losing the –teen suffix is a linguistic billboard saying, “You’re not a kid anymore!” – it’s like the shift into double figures. I know I won’t wake up next Saturday with a pension plan, a mortgage and three kids but it’s a reminder that the only way is forward and there’s no way of knowing what I’m going to meet there.

At the same time, this signals an end to my life in West Sussex as I prepare to move North (not proper north, but, when the only thing south is France, everything’s north) to uni. Provincial hick that I am, I’ve never lived anywhere other than Worthing (Christ! What a sorry thing to put on your tombstone!) and so, as pathetic as it may seem, this is a huge step for me. I’m not saying I’m entirely dreading it – it will be brilliant to get out and experience more … more everything – but it will also be strange leaving it behind. It’s also going to be incredibly sad not to be living with Neil anymore. That’s going to be no small thing.

Just a quickie

2007-08-24T13:16:00.000+01:00

I've been feeling bad about having neglected my blog for a while so I thought I'd knock a quick one out during my lunch break.

Last week was brilliant: I was assisting Philip Wilson as he was directing the Noel Coward cabaret which took place in the Minerva Theatre on Sunday. It was exciting to be in a rehearsal room again and I've come out knowing a lot more Coward than I did before. I, for one, am glad about that... although I think Neil would like me to stop singing so much.

On Monday, the two of us went to see Mark Rylance's fantastic new show on the Shakespeare authorship debate, again in the Minerva. We both thoroughly enjoyed it. A good combination of comedy and academia - not an easy thing to pull off, but it's done deftly without being confusing or patronising. It will be interesting, it being a devised piece, to see how it develops throughout its run.

Sadly I'm almost at the end of my time at the good old CFT. My last day's 7 September (a day before I turn 20 - yikes!) and I head to Warwick at the end of the month. It's been in the back of my mind for so long that it didn't really feel like it would happen but it's crept up on me and caught me unawares. I've got so much to do before I leave!

Currently I'm concentrating my efforts on revising my translation of the French play I'm working on. If I don't finish it before I leave for uni, I will have let myself down.

Tonight should be good: am meeting up with the old high school drama crew at our old haunt. Looking forward to it.

Sunshine came softly through my window today

2007-08-06T11:36:00.001+01:00

It bluffed us into believing there would be no summer at all but it's gorgeous at the moment (though I don't hold any hopes that it will last for long).

We've had a lovely weekend: Kevin and Terry came to stay at the flat and we went to Brighton Pride together, with Emma, on Saturday, then went to some of Neil's friends for a barbecue in the evening. Sunday we went back across to Brighton and had a wander round the Laines. It's just beginning to dawn on me how much I've got to organize before I go to uni.

Speaking of which, I'm working my way through the suggested summer reading. As one would expect I started with the plays [vaguely related: have added a 'currently reading' widget to the blog] which is serving to reaffirm my belief that I have absolutely no business even entertaining the idea of writing professionally.

Things are alright at work: Hobson's Choice has had its press night; Autumn 07 is now onsale to Friends. I'm currently working on another project for the website which has thrown me further back to my web-building days. I've even started learning some ASP, which always struck me as PHP's scary, capitalist big brother.

In other news:

Warwick is running an international summer school for G&T students.

Mark Shenton talks about rising prices in Edinburgh - and the West End. (I hope to get to Paul Miller's Elling when I'm in London next week but I don't think I can afford it.)
Also in Edinburgh - 'tis the season - Mark Ravenhill writes a play a day.

Quote source: lyrics from Sunshine Superman by Donovan.

News

2007-08-01T23:13:00.000+01:00

The news today is awful - bloody awful.

The Chinese government are throwing people out of their homes to clear land to sell. Homelss, they have no money; they had no warning they would be evicted - officials turned up to kick them out along with the bulldozers. Supposedly somewhere will be found for them in a couple of months. No word of what they are to do in the interim.

Meanwhile, in the UK, a schizophrenic mother has killed her two children: one was suffocated with clingfilm; the other, beaten to death with a hammer. It appears social services had told the children's father that their mother was capable of caring for them.

I had intended to write a lighter-hearted blog today but it's too depressing.

What a horrible world we live in.

The price of demolition in Qingdao

Mother detained over children's deaths

Yay + holiday + theatre + gay x 2

2007-07-23T19:21:00.001+01:00

First of all, congratulations to my brilliant sister who graduated today from the University of Portsmouth: she is now a Bachelor of Laws (that's right - more than one law, who knew?)!

We all had a lovely time in France and it was brilliant showing Neil all the places I loved on my summer holidays when I was an ickle boy. Particular excitement over Château d'Ussey which is supposedly where Perrault got the inspiration for Sleeping Beauty which has the most fantastically tacky waxworks but still manages to keep its specialness for me.

Since being back I got to spend a few days shadowing Artistic Director Jonathan Church in rehearsals for Hobson's Choice and I'm looking forward to joining the company in tech tomorrow. Had to do some research for it which was fun: I now know more than I ever thought I would about Salford's history. It's looking like it's going to be a good one. The design will of course be superb as it's done by Chichester Associate (Sir - should be anyway) Simon Higlett.

Philip Franks' Twelfth Night has also opened in the main house. I saw it on Press Night and it's definitely worth the ticket price. Patrick Stewart is very good as Malvolio but, as ever, Michael Feast was the star of the show for me. He's playing Feste as a music hall performer but he balances the bawdy comedy which such pathos it's incredibly moving. With the Press Night came the release of the latest podcast, written and edited by my own fair hand so check it out: featuring interviews with Patrick Stewart, Philip Franks and Leslie Travers. END OF PLUG.

Watched Clapham Junction on C4 last night which I had mixed feelings about. Truthfully written, in places beautifully directed and acted and I think it does what it set out to achieve by showing that things still aren't all rosy in the gay community. I found certain sections did resound strongly with me and it presented ideas which are often ignored (e.g. the 14-year-old's seduction of an older man). It's an impossible task to show all aspects of a community in one piece but I did feel at times that it was a little out of touch, or maybe I am - I don't know. It would be nice to see something not-fluffy where gay characters don't shag around, do coke and end up miserable ... but where's the entertainment in that?

Speaking of entertainment: the all-absorbing Hollyoaks rears its ugly head again as its gay storyline achieves international fame (well in France anyway). It's simple enough, Craig needs to stop messing around, John-Paul needs to tell him it's just not good enough, find someone lovely who deserves him and then there should be a late-night Hollyoaks where we can enjoy their love with them. *wink*