No snogs eh..... swordfight then?

Anyone for a snog...?

Blind a noble, strangle a Fool ... we've all had days like that

Merlin speech - as I like to call it.

What do I know?

Not a lot it seems. As I sit here nursing the remains of my hangover from last night’s after show party, I have to admit, the last few weeks have been something of an education. When it was first mooted at a committee meeting that we should consider doing Lear, I admit I wasn’t totally convinced myself. It’s so long, it’s so dense (all those words!) , it needs so many men!  And how many people would want to come and sit through 3 hours plus of it?

That said, if we are going to do it, then I’d be auditioning – the chance to play either of the wicked sisters was far too tempting!

Then I heard we were doing workshops through the summer – character, text and movement. Good stuff, but all through the summer? Then we had only 4 weeks to rehearse the whole thing from scratch - surely too short?! And we had to learn all our lines (I say again, all those words!) before we rehearsed a single scene? Impossible – how can you really learn your lines before your moves?

Well, it turns out, you can and it’s a good idea (especially in a short rehearsal period!) even if you do whinge about it at the time - easier for those of us with fewer lines to learn of course. The workshops were on the whole fun, illuminating and interesting and they kick-started the bonding process of a large cast of various ages and experience, into a company. (Still not totally convinced about my personal Laban effort though – sorry Sophy)

On top of all this, we had arguably the strongest cast across the board I’ve ever been lucky enough to act with and a fabulous creative and production team to boot. But the proof of the pudding has to be that as we played to a thousand people during last week, it seems people not only want to come and sit through 3 hours plus of King Lear, they (mostly) loved it. 

This week, I shall miss my fellow nuncles, my red dress and our own wooden "globe".

So to conclude, I’ll borrow the exit line of my erstwhile character, the Duchess of Albany herself and simply say “Ask me not what I know!”

The Final Curtain

It's always a mixture of regret and relief when the final curtain comes down on a production - or, as in this case, the final fade-down....regret that the ensemble won't be together again and relief that it all went so well. Fantastic performances from all and a real feeling of togetherness. I hope the cast have got as much out of the process as I have and that everyone has pushed their boundaries a little further.

Ref - 'That scene again, yes THAT one'

It wasn't so much the neighbours as the gaggle of some-teens stood on the pavement guffawing with my every lap. Quite what they made of a forty-(ahem)-something man dad-jogging his round and round a converted church is anybody's guess but I'd wager it was something along the lines of "look at that silly old wan....".


ps - is it only if you whistle on stage?? If so I did too many laps, I expect that jinxes the unjinxing manouevre?? Bugger

Different every night....

Inevitably the thrill and the terror for a director watching a performance of their show is the complete relinquishing of power to the actors on stage....will they remember their lines? Will they incorporate the new notes? Will they come on stage at the right time? And if 'no' to any of the previous, what will they do instead? Exciting and terrifying, but I suspect, much worse for the actors. Which is, of course, why we are directors, not actors......

That scene again. Yes, THAT one.

One of the best things about live theatre - acting in it, and watching it - is the sense of danger. People forget lines, fall over, break props, start to improvise in Elizabethan English ("Fie, sir! Fie! Fie! Er... have I mentioned, 'fie!'?") and indeed very occasionally convince themselves that no, that isn't an actor playing Hamlet's Ghost, that is actually their own real dead father onstage with them... (Not looking at you, Daniel Day Lewis.) It's great. If theatre wasn't live... well, it would be film.  

Anything can happen. I like that. But then again, when it does...

I mention this because I (yes, this post is mainly about me) forgot my lines on Wednesday. I dried completely and utterly, in a blank horrified sort of way that's never happened to me before. Luckily Pippa, our wonderful stage manager, was on the ball enough to catch my eye and prompt me (what's more, in a lovely tactful undertone that hardly anyone else heard) - but I found the whole experience a little bit disconcerting. And spent the rest of the evening - and the next day - telling everyone who would listen that it had never happened to me before, honestly, promise...

But you know what? I blame the script. And that is only partly a joke. 

It's a hard scene to remember, mainly because Lear and I have lines which bear no relation to their cues or context. I'm wittering on about noses and crabs and - ooh, wait, come to think of it, there are no knob gags, which is possibly why I have so much trouble... and he's wittering on (beautifully, of course) about going mad and filial ingratitude and little things like that. So it's not easy. But it's not just that. The word I'm trying to resist here is "jinxed"...* Because it seems to be the scene which causes problems for everyone. So far - I really love this statistic - 75% of the actors in it have, at one time or another, forgotten to come onstage for it. (One in rehearsal, one in the dress, and one last night. King Lear is the only person who so far has made it every time.) Last night we had a missed entrance, an improvised ending, and several inadvertent cuts, one of which was the cue for the next scene. Surely this can't be a coincidence. 

So my advice to Fran is to cut it, before it gets any worse. Next time, who knows? We might inadvertently cut the rest of the play.

Except that... well, as I said, the potential anarchy of theatre is exactly why it's so much fun. So maybe I should just embrace it. Metaphorically. Sometimes when things go wrong it's good. It throws you unceremoniously into the moment, keeps you on your toes, reminds you that what matters isn't how you feel about a scene or feeling self-congratulatory that you remembered all your lines or even making it onstage (although that's normally better than the alternative. Normally...). What matters is what the audience see. It's not - although I hate to admit it - all about the actors...

So let's keep it, after all. And if it goes wrong again... well, never mind. Such is the joy of theatre. 

Or, yes, I might just learn my damn' lines. 

* Given that last night there were hordes of superstitious actors running round the theatre seven times because they'd whistled onstage (I would love to know what the neighbours thought) I am slightly hesitant about suggesting this... 

No second performance blues....

With today's performance being the second one of the run, I was worried that the entire cast and crew might fall prey to 'second show syndrome'...relaxing after a good first night and losing focus in the belief that they had cracked it and all was well. On arriving at the theatre at lunchtime I was greeted with the news that a representative of the RSC Open Stages would be coming to today's matinee.....so, second show, matinee AND a schools matinee at that..Did I panic? It would be lying to say that I didn't have a small heart murmur - however, after a good physical and vocal warmup and a fight call, (and a worryingly late arrival by a key cast member)  I gave what I hope was an encouraging pep talk to all. I don't know why I was concerned - what an awesome cast! Great performance, much better than the first night, even if it didn't feel like it for those on stage. Any mistakes went un-noticed by the audience, the tension during the blinding of Gloucester was palpable and I watched an entire audience of school students leaning forward in their seats and holding their breath as Regan and Cornwall got off on their terrible act of violence....Lear's madness in the Dover Fields scene had me hastily drying an eye while Gloucester struggled to come to terms with the disintegration of a King...
Well done to all - onwards and upwards - more sex, more violence and more death.....and lots more nob jokes please!!

Your very happy Director

RSC Open Stages Project

Our sincerest thanks to the RSC for sending someone from their ranks to watch our Lear matinee today.

Our sincerest thanks to the schools who attended our matinee and behaved so impeccably throughout; you were a credit to your peers.

When I was 16 and attending my Boy's Grammar School we were taken to the Hazlitt Theatre in Maidstone to see Macbeth. We rendered such an unholy cacophony of shuffling, rustling, sniggering, farting, belching. moaning, hormoning and general chatter that eventually the lead on stage turned on his audience and screamed "Will you shut the f*&$ up!". I don't think an adult had actually said f*&$ to me before that point in my life! Thesps, no bloody rules!

Genuine thanks to our audience today, you were great. xx

Kent

I'll be thinking about your entrances....

Yes, I kid you not nuncles, those very words were used. For their own sake, to protect them from public vilification, the aggressor will remain nameless; oh but I shall have such revenge on them ... though I know not yet what.

So my Dress had some messy entrances - we all make mistakes - yet the proof of the pudding was in the eating of my entrances when in front of an audience; tonight they tasted my entrances and how happily they supped. Faultless I'd dare to say, as crisp and minty as any entrances encountered in Tunbridge Wells this month. Long may this continue. Right, that's out of my system ....

FIRST NIGHT

Tremendous fun, loved every minute of it including the ridiculously nervy opening exchanges; the challenge of getting a meaning across to the audience (not necessarily the meaning Shakespeare intended just a bloody meaning!) is a personal burden through the rehearsals which tonight suddenly blossomed into a personal aspiration, wanting this fine language to become something which the stressed, fatigued and recession weary citizens of Tunbridge Wells could pick up, enjoy and immerse themselves in with me. I'm not saying I succeeded but you know it was all the more fun for wanting to! Let's not pretend that Shakespeare comes easy to everyone, it doesn't to me, but I've a lot of time for someone who can set out a story - albeit one which shoehorns in lines of the ilk 'I am slain' and 'Speak on, you look as if you had something more to say' [from the blood soaked lips of a dying man??? I ask you!] - which runs for 3 hours but which engages audience and cast alike. The cameraderie amongst the cast has been notable, this proved its worth tonight; no play is wordperfect, many of us stumbled and many of us had cause to brush the lips of our colleagues for helping us out of a hole. Being wordperfect is over-rated, I'm only just learning this lesson .... oooh too deep, starting to cough, on my way back up now, let's have a beer!

give you good morrow

Earl of Kent (banished!) (thus!)

Dress

Hmm, well, yes, on a personal level it could've been better but it could've been worse.

For dear Kent the whole ghastly business of getting to the stage at particular points, 'entrances' we call them, proved too much tonight ..... if someone had mentioned how important these were during the last couple of months I'd have bally well written the buggers down! So if you are coming along to the performances and at some point see a couple of nonplussed actors glancing furtively off to the wings whilst having a somewhat disjointed conversation, you can pop a fiver on good Kent being in the loo. Privy [sic] Kent, get thee to the stage. It'll be alright on the night.

Speaking of the stage - that, and the atmosphere, are an absolute triumph of design and implementation. Hats off to Paul, Bruce and their teams. Think Nosferatu-plus-a-dash-of-Seventh-Seal (for the stage and the atmos; not Paul and Bruce!!).

Off to bed - curtain up tomorrow, cool.

Kent

King Lear Trinity Theatre Company - Cast and Execs

Michael Elliott



Matt Penfold



Peter Emanuel

Ed Jones




Bridget Collins (as Cordelia)

 



Bridget Collins (as the Fool)

 


Glen Marks





Chris Moreton

 


Sophie (l) and Fran Gilpin




Chris Woodward



Derek Hollweg



Jenny McQueen




Sam Cork



Pippa Middlehurst



Alison Fielding




Mark Hoskin




Kris Robertson



Humphrey Skett

Director Francesca Gilpin
Assistant Director - Sophie Gilpin
Stage Manager - Pippa Middlehurst

King Lear - Michael Elliott
Goneril - Jenny McQueen
Regan - Alison Fielding
Cordelia - Bridget Collins
Albany - Peter Emanuel
Cornwall - Glen Marks
Burgundy - Ed Jones
France - Chris Woodward
Gloucester  - Humphrey Skett
Kent - Matt Penfold
Edmund - Kris Robertson
Edgar - Mark Hoskin
Fool - Bridget Collins
Oswald - Sam Cork
Curan/Old Man/Doctor - Chris Moreton
Lear’s Knight/Gentleman - Derek Hollweg

Very odd one out round





Spot the Kent ......... eh? ..... oh don't be so puerile!

  

It's just how the dice falls...

Brilliant line run throwing an oversized foam dice around the room while Edgar sped around crying 'the foul fiend bites my back' on a skate board.......is it too late to change the whole production concept?

Heavy stuff this Lear....




ALBANY "Our present business is general woe....LOL"

 

It's the final countdown

So the weekend starts with a quick visit to the theatre to see how the technical side is going, then on to a touch up rehearsal. Talking of touch ups, Edmond seems to be getting a lot of those whenever he's with the foxy sisters.....
Lights are rigged, wind machine in place and the set is being built. Now the challenge is to transfer the wonderful work in the rehearsal room to the stage, and see what works and what will need to be adapted. Dress rehearsal tomorrow morning then on stage in the evening...very exciting! Not long till opening night now.

Gloucester's anger knows no limit as he unleashes a verbal tirade against Regan ..... "Naughty lady". Hmmmm.

Gloucester; never more blind than when he could see.




Let him smell his way ....

 


Red-eye reduction my ar$e!



'Just swallow and make an agreeable noise'

Brothers and sisters,

Over the course of Monday and Tuesday evenings this week, we completed a full run of the play; lines are [broadly speaking [sic]] learned and now tis a case of adding in layers of actoring that will breathe natural life into the whole shebang, plus of course getting the technical stuff sorted; not to mention shaving 20 minutes off the runtime!

Now, know you that we have divided into two this blog entry; so hence to our title (I'm making this stuff up you know!). People die in this play, in the storytelling sense as opposed to the they-don't-seem-to-be-calling-for-an-encore sense. In the pub after rehearsal this week I stumbled witlessly into a conversation with a fellow cast member about how one pitches a death noise - the gasp that signals the mortal thrust - when on stage; the conversation had come about as my initial attempts were misconstrued by one brutally honest fellow as me doing a kind of snort-giggle, I myself, let me be clear, had thought I'd uttered a gutteral, primal pant for life!! Dispensing her advice, advice which apparently came from a reputable source, my esteemed colleague recommended that I ..... and I quote here .... 'just swallow and make an agreement noise'. The missing bon mots was that this practice would then give you your natural pitch at which to signal delivery of the fatal blow .... even writing that bit is making me giggle.

Ahh sauce! I like to think that if Ken Williams and the gang were still around they'd be penning Carry On Backstage [oooo-errr!] as we speak.

And yes, I did try it all the way home in my car, alone; and I'll be honest with you, it's not as easy as she makes it sound.   

A boisterous night to you all
Kent (earl of)

Trinity 8 October 2011



So I want you to be walking and talking at the same time if possible




Sorry Fran - did you say walk and talk? at the same time?



The end of the beginning

Sirrahs!

Rehearsing today at the Trinity Theatre, Tunbridge Wells, on the blooming stage and the Masonic Hall tomorrow.

The rehearsal regime has broadly divided into three eras; we had our text and movement workshops (1) followed by our staging rehearsals (2) [an era which nears its end with the work at the Trinity today and Masonic Hall tomorrow] - the final era will be an energy sapping slog of run after run after run of selected Acts and of course the full play as we move into the home straight toward October 18th and curtain up. As a cast member I have a certain bias but I'd venture to say this will be a theatre experience par excellence for those who are wise enough to part with their hard earned cash, there will come a day when grandchildren will ask "Nan, where were you when the Trinity Theatre Group done that King Lear" - you can bark "Know you no reverance! ..... ya little sod .... I was in row F, I think some of the King's spit landed on my cheek....".

Apropos of nothing here's a link to a Guardian article looking at a selection of actors who've played Lear. Interesting for me that Sir Ian Mckellen played Kent to Brian Cox's Lear before himself going on to play the lead. I was going to upload the pictures direct to the blog but then got the yips fearing the photo police might descend from the sky and gouge out my eyes for copyright infringment. THUS

Thanks to the Guardian Newspaper for its sterling work with the article, its compilation has nothing to do with me or this website and I claim no credit for its brilliance, in fact the Guardian Newspaper should be applauded for its lone role in compiling the..... (yawn, geddonwithit.... Ed)


fare thee well, friends
Kent (Earl of)

Sad or mad....?

The drama intensifies....fools speak wisdom and the blind see....Shakespeare or Beckett......?

Juicy!

Hurrah! Last night's rehearsal was a meaty one for Goneril. It's a little roller coaster of emotions for my ladyship in Act 4 sc2. There's passion flowing and plenty of it - one minute clasped in the hot embrace of the naughty but alluring bastard Edmund and the next running headlong into a full-on row with hubby, Albany. Thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it!

Le Petit Mort...

Without wishing to terrify my worthy thesps, I realise that we open two weeks today….if the play was in three acts, we’d be laughing, but there are another two to rehearse…I could just stop there, but feel I need to give directorial words of encouragement. Actually, everyone is doing marvellously and I’m impressed with the way the cast can ad lib in Shakespearian speech when the real text eludes them – although I’m not sure the man himself would ever have written ‘bollocks, what comes next....don’t tell me, don’t tell me…’

Talking of the male anatomy, I seem to have spent most of yesterday’s rehearsal working out how to grab Albany’s you know whats without doing him permanent damage….it’s amazing how much lewd behaviour you can shoehorn into a tragedy….sex…violence…death…not to mention gobbetts of gore and blood.We also had a great snogging scene, which I had to run again...and again...and again...not sure what Oswald thought, standing there having to watch it all - his expression of distaste as he discretely turned away said it all.

Only a few more deaths to go, and we’re on to ‘Howl Howl Howl’……get your hankies ready and weep.

Blooper - Coronets parting twixt themselves (the pearls flee the crown as Michael hurls it to the floor), Jenny McQueen with a smart homage to Buck's Fizz (or Kenny Everett! for my older compadres) .... and Ali Fielding effortlessly rescues the scene with beauty, grace and David Blaine-like stagecraft

Sneaky peek; and thus it all begins.... Act 1, Sc 1

More eye candy



the Camden Basement..ment..ment..ment [echoes!],
men wear check please
(l to r, Sophie Gilpin, Matt Penfold, Bridget Collins, Mark Hoskin & Fran Gilpin)

 

Les belles costumieres! Di (the blonde) and Patsy (the brunette)
 - bless ya girls



Alison Fielding (a sick, sick Regan - in a sorta good way)



Kent, on thy life - put the bloody camera down,
Michael Elliott; the eponymous King




Gloucester (Humphrey Skett), feeling a bit dickey

 

Pippa Middlehurst, Stage Manager -
please learn your
lines and shush shush shush!

Goneril (Jenny McQueen) - Albany you
fool, can't you see what she's up to?

An officer and a gentleman - Derek Hollweg -
hangs about on the heath though so not completely kosher....
see Act III

Where the f....!!
Fran Gilpin, Director TTC's King Lear



Our noble Prince of Burgundy - Ed!
(Ed 'the Edster' Jones) - far too white a smile!



Sunday 2nd October

Tis Sunday, we are straight into a stagger through of Acts 1 & 2 after a spot of lunch so this qualifies as a 'real-time' post. However I'm starving so I can't write too much - I've just witnessed a strangling, I cannot divulge who that the poor soul was, I've also seen another eye gouging - I think we all know who that poor soul is; yet my appetite is as keen as ever - speaking of which I invite you when you attend the performance "as fear not but you shall" (Kent: Act III, Sc.i) to pay attention to the dark and fantastic emotions that appear to be coursing through Regan's very being during the jelly-outing.... tis sick sirrahs, sick.

Safe 'scape the King

High Rocks photoshoot courtesy of Detective Inspector Byers (aka 'costumier to the stars').

The Lear family (l to r) - Cordelia (Bridget Collins), Goneril (Jenny McQueen),
King Lear (Michael Elliott) & Regan (Alison Fielding)

'Lampshade falls on hippy's head'

Some bags

Hang on, is my calendar wonky?

It is October. It is performance month .... are any of the cast tempted to approach Fran or Sophie with a Private Godfrey-like "I say do you think I might be excused Captain Mainwaring only my sister Dolly has baked a rather nice Victoria sponge and insisted I get back in time for tea" ......... No? Me neither, they are all raring to go, chomping at the bit like a stableful of thoroughbreds, all sleek, shiney, rippling, quivering, snorting (by the way these are not Laban techniques), hooves a-clattering and scraping at the soiled straw; soiled straw?? Ah yes, nerves, they're just around the corner but, for me, welcomed with open arms. First, those performance nerves help focus the mind sharpen up the wit, second, once you get to the stage are there many better feelings than standing in the wings listening to the audience chatter while you mentally hammer home that opening line in your head over and over and over, cos surely if you can get that right it'll all be good, cock it up and you'll be weighed down by its miserable sense of self importance; its wounded pride dogging you round the stage for the next few vile hours of your detested life. First bloody line - always has an overinflated ego the bugger. Then some shift in the light or the music and on we go .... body tight, quivering and lustful, such erotic terror!

Least that's what my old Nan used to say about it.

We rehearsed at the Memorial Hall in Frant this morning, a gorgeous setting adjacent to the green and a wonderfully sunny day, all quite at odds with the horror that was taking place within the hall; Cornwall tearing the vile jellies from Gloucester's head, a degenerate Regan urging his every gouge, it looked very good actually and I fancy the audience won't be proud of their enjoyment of it! The King and his girls, Cordelia (good), Goneril (bad) and Regan (badder) were off to the High Rocks afterward for a photo shoot so we'll try and get some of those onto the blog in the next few days if possible (copyrights and all that precious stuff!). Tomorrow - Sunday, a day of rest, bloody Directors, these coalitions are all the same - we've a full run of Acts 1 to 3 which will be a useful gauge of how well we're absorbing these lines and moves. I feel very smug as I've a few days gap in rehearsals after that run. Mind you, the number of rehearsals till curtain up can be counted on the fingers of two hands now; and that's enough to make you soil some more straw!

Adieu for now Sirrahs