Hey
folks, welcome to the world of fury, fire, and blisters.
It's
been a while since I released a blog from my piston-mind of anger, my
bile-duct of regret and regression, my - uh - similarly themed set of
odd mixed metaphors. I make no apologies, I've never pretended that I
like you and you've never told me you need me. Knobwrangler.
So,
I have been a theatre practitioner for nearly twenty years, on and
off, often professionally, but also quite regularly at an amateur, or
independent level. I have put on a number of my own plays, created
street theatre projects for teenagers, and once spent a week acting
in an Oscar Wilde play I understood none of. In this time I have
experienced the best and the worst of theatre.
This
listy blog is based on my experiences in that time, making attempts
to ply my trade as an independent writer and performer in a sea of
oncoming idiocy, beurocracy, and wilful and sometimes painful
ignorance and disrespect.
I
might as well say now that you probably won't agree with everything
that is to come. These observations are often sweeping
generalisations, satirical to a degree but as far as I am concerned,
as honest a portrayal as I can represent from my time in the
trenches. You may dislike the tone I adopt within. You're entitled to
your opinion. You're wrong, but entitled to be so. Just stay out of
my way.
So
as I said, I've been a theatre practitioner for a very long time, as
a performer, director, producer, and what was once my first passion,
as a writer. I used to love what I did. I used to want to be the best
I could be. I assumed and expected that those I worked with in this
field would be the same as me. I was very, very wrong. Over time my
experience in the world of amateur theatre has cost me my passion,
and my desire to continue as a practitioner. It's a crying shame but
in the grander scheme of things, it's really no loss to anyone but
myself. I'll get over it, in time. You'll get over it before this
sentence finishes.
So
what is an amateur as opposed to a professional and how do their
mindsets differ? Well, in the most generalised of terms, an amateur
is someone who engages in some activity or other for the love as
opposed to for the pay. For the love.
For
the love.
As
I angrilly delve into the first of a two-part blog, and my first five
pet-peeves of amateur theatre, please remember this : for the love.
Part of why amateur theatre is so traditionally awful, is down to the traditions behind it - generally drama groups are started by one of two types of people : those who believe they are at a professional level because they won an award once, and therefore don't need to learn anything; and those who have never actually studied theatre ( I mean studied it, as opposed to watched it on the local stage and thought, I could do that ) but believe they have seen enough to understand it. They both suffer from the same malady - grotesquely over-stated self-belief. From these two types of tendrils spread an octopus of delusions.
But wait,
I hear you declarifying loudly! Who are YOU to dare to arrogantly
proclaim advice from within our computer slot, you b-bearded lanky
fat-suit of a man! What makes you so special? Well, I'm not. I don't
think I'm better than you. I really don't. I am just someone who has
had his spirit crushed by the soul-less stupidity of one too many
over-spoken fools, grandly spouting shite when they should be
learning from experience. I am someone who has had the passion
squeezed out of him by those who would declare a love for theatre,
while keenly avoiding demonstrating it.
I'm
basically fed up. And I want to scream.
Onwards,
therefore, and downwards. I warn you in advance, there are cusswords
in this piece. You will probably - hopefully - be offended. I live in
the vain desire that you will feel physically affronted by what I
have to say, as if I am personally spitting in your mouth after I've
just eaten a peanut butter covered oatcake.
10.
"I don't like to over-rehearse my cast. After all I don't want
them to get bored."
I
can't tell you how often I hear this refrain in amateur circles, and
it makes absolutely not one licked paint-biscuit of sense.
It
is basically pandering to your cast over your audience and is why
your play looks under-rehearsed and amateur.
Surely
the whole point of putting a play on is that it comes across as
natural, unforced, and well-rehearsed. Or to put it another way –
like you made the effort to put on a good play for your audience.
Surely
therefore, the only way to do that is to rehearse them to the point
that they ARE bored, bored enough at least to want to present it to
an audience. This notion of not boring the cast is based on two
things simultaneously – the erroneous idea of keeping things fresh;
and the notion that this is an amateur cast giving up their precious
time to do this show, so must be respected at all costs.
Keeping
things fresh : this is bullshit, and one of the main reasons many
amateur plays seem under-rehearsed and the cast unprepared, leading
to sine-wave voice acting, poor line readings, “off” pacing and
more dropped lines than a cocaine addict with Parkinsons. Or Robin Williams. Too soon? There's no such thing.
The
only way a cast can keep fresh with the material is to become so
familiar with it that they can start to play around, within the
already rehearsed confines and structure of the piece. Yes, in the
professional world where performers may be doing the same show every
night for two years, over and over again, to the point that they
begin to resemble a moveable mannequin on-stage despite their own
best efforts, one can legitimately talk about keeping things “fresh.”
There is a world of difference between these people, who spent a
goodly portion of time rehearsing the piece before opening night to
get it perfect, and amateurs who spend on average three hours a week
for four weeks, rehearsing.
Not
even skilled improvisers can just turn up with no preparation. They
must workshop, create cast and audience controls, rehearse their
structure to give the maximum amount of entertainment to the paying
audience. They work very, very hard in order to make it seem
effortless. They may not know exactly what they're going to say, but
they understand how and where they can say
it, and with experience and repetition comes timing and a seemingly
off-the-cuff performance. This is the difference between a skilled
performer – someone who has taken the time to prepare, research,
rehearse and become comfortable with the material or the structure of
the material – and an amateur who likes to “keep things fresh.”
You
pander to your audience, not to your cast. Which leads me to : but
this is just an amateur cast. So? What's your point? If this person
has given up their time to do this play, shouldn't the assumption be
that that's just what they want to do? Yes, they probably work during
the day. And yes, they have a life outside of this. But this is their
hobby my friend, this is something they're doing because they want to
do it, because it's fun, and because at the end of the day they want
to look and feel good doing it. They need structure, and they need to
be pushed and if they don't respond to it, or are just here for the
social life, then tell them to fuck off. Replace them with someone
who actually gives a shit. The only way to get someone to the point
that they look good on-stage is to work, work, and work again at
getting it right. This means over-rehearsing. This means boredom with
the material. This means repetition and commitment.
To
put it in perspective – no one would turn up to help a dairy
engineer for two hours, once a week, with no idea what they're doing,
then say but this is my hobby, and I like to keep things fresh when
someone complains that they're shit and don't know what they're
doing. So why do amateur performers and especially directors assume
they can do the same with stagecraft?
9.
"Roles must be given to people who have
longevity..."
In
other words, if we're operating through an amateur drama group –
which is most likely given their pack-of-wolf prevalence over
independent amateurs – the important roles in the play do not
necessarily go to those who are right for them, but to those who have
been long standing members/friends of the group or individuals
producing the play.
This
is one of the reasons why, as an audience member, you will be sitting
looking at someone in their sixties playing the seventeen year old
main character and thinking – what the fuck were they thinking?
Which is also why it is so very rare to actually see someone in an
amateur play who suits or is in any way capable of
playing the role they've been cast in.
That
person is either – a friend of the director; a friend of the group;
someone with money; someone who works for a local paper; someone who
has been a member of this group for longer than five years and
therefore is deserving of any role they choose to play; over seventy,
pushing ever closer to pushing the daisies, and therefore MUST be
given their respect and dues no matter how old and shuddery they are
on-stage; a relation of someone; someone who turned up for the
audition and therefore must be cast ( though they were probably one
of the above, and have secretly been asked by the director to turn
up to the auditions so they can be officially cast without having to
worry about someone complaining, unless – well, see number 8. )
Now,
all of this respect amongst friends is good and fine and dandy,
except you're then asking the public to pay money to sit through this
circle jerk of monkey jizz. And that, dear friends, is when it stops
being cool. Because you know what? Just as your amateur cast work
hard during the day and attend your rehearsals out of love or social
necessity – so too do your audience. And they're the ones who are
paying you their hard earned cash to watch this ignorantly cast
bilge.
Which
brings me onto number 8...
8.
"Fuck it, just cast anyone – the main thing is to get the play
in front of an audience."
Casting
your friends or your relatives is obviously not restricted just to
the amateur world. Nepotism is a very hack move but it exists in all
walks of life. Hell, I often cast my girlfriend in plays I've written
and directed. Of course the difference is, she's a seasoned, skilled
performer and I only ever cast her in roles that are appropriate to
her. I often cast her; not always.
So
I feel like I'm okay to cast the first stone here. If you'll pardon
the phrase coinage.
One
thing peculiar and relatively unique to amateur theatre is the
fuck-it-we-need-to-cast this play phenomenon, whereby either not
enough people turned up to your audition, or not enough of the right
people. Which basically means casting from a shallow gene pool, with
all the attendant bullshit that brings with it, or reaching out to
people who didn't show an interest in your piece in the first place,
just so you can fill a role.
Look,
I get it – sometimes you need to fill out your cast. You have
ludicrously chosen a play that needs seventeen people, and you only
have four people cast. Two of those are your close, personal friends,
one is some guy who's promised to advertise his business in your
program so you don't want to piss him off, and the other is someone
who's wife just died of Cancer and you need to keep his mind off it
for at least three hours a week. That's cool, but what are you going
to do about those thirteen other roles?
I
know! Fuck it – let's just cast the play anyway. Call in some
favours, cast those two people who turned up at the auditions because
they saw it on Facebook and just want to do “anything” to get out
of the house for a couple of hours. Ask everyone you know to either
join your cast or help you find someone who will so that what you end
up with is one or two dedicated people, and a bunch of others whose
commitment, generally, is – at best – uneven. Perhaps
understandably so, but uneven none the less.
When
casting outside of auditions, the result is usually eggshells – the
director and cast often end up walking on them in accommodating this
person, who of course is doing them a favour by even turning up once
a month to help them with their little play. When casting from those
who are not right for the roles but are required if this damn play is
going to happen at all damn it, well it's obvious what happens. They
just cannot pull it off. The audience has to sit through their
painful performances and applaud them for, at least, giving it a go
while secretly reserving a special place in their own mind-hell for
the director of this shit.
Sure,
the play has been saved by being able to cast it. But at what cost.
Again,
in no other world would you so eagerly yet half-aresedly give away a
role to someone who is not equal to the task just to get the job
done. Would you like your Tuscanny Rabbit in Pork
Blood and Greek Belly cooked for you by someone who was brought in at
the last second to fill a space despite their complete lack of
experience or appropriateness in the role?
The
answer is no. In fact the answer is, obviously not. You idiot. I'm
going to kill you. So why are we so quick to accept it in the world
of amateur drama? Personally, I would rather not do a play than
conflict it's potential with such a watered down approach. I have
certainly done so in the past; pulled a play I understood
instinctively would not get the cast it required. I have had just
enough experience of seeing my own plays fail in the hands of others,
who cast from that shallow gene pool just to cast, to understand that
sometimes it's just not right to continue on that path. A play can
always be done some other time. Let the stars at least attempt to
align before shoving this shit out there for all to see!
Of
course, I am certainly not free of guilt in this
regard – I am over-familiar with the panic that ensues when you
realise you're one cast member short, have already booked the dates
in the local Arts Centre, and have three other cast members waiting
for the first read-through before they tell you they can only attend
rehearsals once a month, and only on the days no one else can attend
them.
In
my twenty years experience, I have sometimes had the good fortune to
have known and worked with some strong performers, people I have
wanted to work with, and who have wanted to work with me. On the few
occasions I have had to stretch out to fill a role, I have ultimately
– and always - had to cast despite myself to get the ball rolling,
then I have had to drop these people because of a lack of commitment
( they're doing you a favour after all ) or lack of suitability to
the role, and often had to replace them with myself, causing
headaches and stress and lines I didn't want to have to learn, which
is why I didn't cast myself in the first place god damn it.
I'm
a prick, that much must be obvious to you as you read this. I'm a
prick because I don't do this for the socialising. I'm a prick
because I don't like seeing one person fuck things up for others. I'm
a prick because I used to care enough about my craft and art to want
to get it done to the best possible standard, and I would work damn
hard at achieving this irrespective of how other people – often
people on the inside – perceived it. I have worked with many actors,
amateur and professional, and the best - and rarest - of them have
shared my passions and work ethics. That is why we have often worked
together on numerous projects and why when someone upsets that
balance I do not work with them again.
Despite
being an obnoxious prick, I'm also a gentle person, and I don't like
having to replace people, especially if one of the only reasons I am
doing so is because they were cast due to being in the right place at
the right time. That's not their fault and it hurts them and me to
have to do it.
I
especially don't like having to replace people with myself. Not
because of the next pet peeve, but because I suffer from stage
terrors, and have become increasingly frightened of performing. But
that's for another day.
7.
"Actors should never direct themselves."
This
is a phrase that is often, pompously wheeled out by people who just
don't know what they're talking about. Or have singularly failed in
doing so themselves and therefore assume it can't be done by lesser
folk.
Look,
this is only true to a certain extent. The reality is, inexperienced
actors should avoid directing themselves, and inexperienced directors
should avoid acting in their own pieces.
That's
it. It has nothing to do with projecting an ego, nor has it anything
to do with not being able to get a true performance from yourself
when you can't see what you're doing. An actor – believe it or not
– generally shapes their performance without being able to see
themselves. The director is only there during rehearsals, unless
you're my girlfriend, in which case there's no escaping me. Chances
are you're not, though. Lucky you. No honestly. See above comments
about my complete arseholery.
I
have seen far too many strong performances given by actors who
directed themselves to agree with this pious bullshit, and I have had
too many occasions where I have had to direct myself through
necessity to accept it. Did I give the best performance I could give?
Sure. Why not? I've learned my own ticks, work hard at keeping them
at bay. Ego? Fuck
that shit, it's just fact.
It is hard
to do, to direct a play with other actors when you are acting
alongside them. Sometimes it feels as though you are not giving them
enough attention because you are on the wrong side of the fourth
wall. Sometimes you feel like you're not giving yourself enough
attention, because you're focussing on giving them their dues. But
can any director or actor honestly tell me this isn't the case when
you are not directing
yourself? Sometimes a director simply focusses on one aspect of the
play to the detriment of all others.
I
have heard directors discussing the lighting with the cast at the
first read-through. This is just hilariously misplaced directing and
can be far more damaging to a cast than directing oneself alongside
them. This is a director showing off, when he should be easing his
cast into their new roles. Why should your actors give a fat fuck for
how you're going to light the show? They're too busy wondering how
they're going to perform their role. It also stands to reason, why
would your actors be against you coming down into
the trenches alongside them, and experiencing what they're
experiencing? Surely that helps the cast bond? Directors - you're not
generals. You are guides. You cannot guide if you have not been there
before.
To
say that an actor should never direct himself is an absurdly
definitive statement based on, at best, a half-truth, and at worst is
the most amateur of declarations.
I
can direct myself. I have done so many times. Do I prefer to be
directed by someone else? Sure. Sometimes. But I have had good
experiences and I have had bad experiences. I have learned from both,
and the good and the bad experiences have placed me in the position
that I would prefer to direct myself than be directed by these idiots
again.
You
want a bit of back up? Here's a list of film and theatre directors
who have all done pretty good jobs of directing themselves over the
years :
Charles
Chaplin; Harold Lloyd; Mel Gibson; Christopher Guest; Kenneth
Branagh; Robert De Niro; Mel Brooks; Clint Eastwood; Orson Welles;
Woody Allen; Mel Gibson; Tom Stoppard; Harold Pinter; David Mamet;
Eric Bogosian; almost every stand up comedian you could mention.
The
last three names, take note of. They'll come up again later on, in
part two. Am I as good as anyone mentioned above? No. Obviously not.
But will I be if I keep working at it? That's a definitely maybe.
This
statement, that an actor should not direct themselves, is blown out
of all proportion in the world of amateur dramatics. The reality is
simpler – if they can, why shouldn't they? That's it.
I'll
finish this one off with an anecdote. I recently went to see a poorly
staged, intermittently well acted, but generally fucking awful play.
I go out for a drink after, get talking to someone who repeats this
mantra that actors should never direct themselves. Within this mantra
we get talking about how excellent a particular cast member was in
this production we just watched. How they just got the play,
understood how to perform the lines, kept the rest of the cast's
momentum up when they were clearly flagging on-stage.
Don't
anticipate the punchline folks. But that's right – this person they
were praising, was also the director of the play. They were indeed
the best thing about it, they were an inexperienced director and so
perhaps should not have put themselves in this position, but they
saved the show from numerous dropped lines, numerous occasions of
poor ad-libbing by the other cast members, and at the end, by pacing
the play with their own performance so that it rarely flagged as a
result of the other performers amateur – or “fresh” - acting.
They knew the play inside out because, guess what, they had done
their homework in order to direct it. They were also the only one who
knew their lines and how to say them.
I
don't know if that's the pudding or not, but there's certainly proof
in there somewhere.
6.
"We're already off book!"
Of
all the amateur dramatic mantras that wreck my arrogant head, this is
number six on my list. They all wreck my head equally, but this just
happens to be here. At number six. Right here, at number six on the
list. Boy oh boy can you beat that?
So
every amature director will start their production of a play with a
sit around reading, and at this reading they will express a date
whereby the actors must be “off book.” Because of the idiotic
nature of amature dramatics, most groups assume that they only need
four or so weeks to rehearse their play. They're idiots, obviously,
but within these four weeks they will expect their performers to be
“off book” almost instantly, so that their hands are free of
scripts during the too short rehearsal period.
What
this means in laymans terms is, learning their lines. Now, it makes
sense for actors to learn their lines as quickly as possible because
it frees their rehearsals, and indeed their performances, up to
experimentation. It also makes sense for actors to learn their lines
because, the nature of stage performance is that actors are not
supposed to be reading from a script in front of an audience. I don't
know if this is – is this one of those statements of the obvious
they sometimes talk about in books and stuff?
Ignoring
the fact that the very people who often say they like to have their
performers fresh with the material, are often the very people who
demand that all the lines are learned immediately, let's move on to a
more obvious fact.
It
doesn't matter when someone
learns their lines, as long as on the night of the performance,
they're not doing it from a script. Honestly. Stop, stop your
chattering and your whining right now. I can hear you, muttering at
me. You've been doing it for the entirety of this article. You're
wrong. It does not matter when someone learns their lines. That's it.
That's fact. As long as they're not using a script onstage. Stop.
You're wrong. It does not matter. Pressuring someone – especially
someone who works during the day, and often in the evenings,
pressuring someone who has a family, and for who this stage lark is
often just a hobby – to learn their lines yesterday, does not work.
It just does not work, and in fact what ends up happening nine times
out of ten is that they rush the learning part in order to rehearse
without their script. Which leads to paraphrasing, dropped lines and
more importantly a lack of understanding of where the cues are. By
rushing, the lines are usually not fully learned, nor their meaning
appreciated, leading to poor line readings and rushed phrasing.
How
often have you sat through a rehearsal where someone has insisted on
dropping book early, then spent two hours spitting chunks of line out
while a terrified prompter flicks back and forth through their jagged
copy of the script, desperately trying to salvage the floundering
actor yet secretly thinking “just pick up your fucking script you
egomaniacal aresecock!! I want to live! I just want to live! Or at
least go home.”
That's
because instead of taking the time to rehearse with the script,
taking the time to allow the actor to naturally and instinctively
learn their lines, the director has put pressure on them to put their
books down. This has little to do with the play and everything to do
with a director's authority and ego. And complete lack of
understanding as to how people actually operate.
It
doesn't work. Trust me, and if you can't, trust in the amount of
poorly executed amateur shows you've had to pay money for and then
sit through, where the cast all seem to be actively searching for
their next line instead of acting. That's why folks. Cause they were
off book before everyone else, while struggling to keep that material
fresh. Sure, sometimes it's down to the fact that a person just
didn't learn their lines. That's because they were the director's
mother, or the committee chairperson's wife. Shouldn't have been cast
in the first place.
Here's
the reality, and probably part of what you were muttering at me as
you read this : it is far easier to rehearse without a script in your
hand. Most actors prefer to learn their lines quickly, so that they
can begin to shape their performances. Most actors also prefer other
actors to learn their lines, so they can shape their relationships
on-stage. This is natural, and makes a lot of sense. If your
co-performer is familiar with their lines, and their cues, then there
is a sense of trust which lets you, as an actor, relax and
concentrate on your own performance.
But
the truth of the matter is this : you can still achieve much of this
with a script in your hand during the rehearsal period. Honestly. If
you're getting the right lines out, and the pace is flowing, isn't
that better than rushing to half-learn your lines so that you can put
your script down, then spend most of your rehearsals paraphrasing
your cues to the detriment of everyone around you? How does this help
cement a scene, cement your movements? If you're spending your time
trying to remember rush-learned lines? I'm gonna go ahead and tell
you this one fact – it's doesn't.
All
actors generally work hard to learn their lines as quickly as
possible, but they do this in two ways. 1 : outside rehearsals,
generally on their own or with a partner reading opposite them and
coldly correcting them when they fuck up because they don't
understand what it's like to be a sensitive actor desperately trying
to learn your lines for an egomanicacal yet insufferably insecure
director. 2 : by osmosis, through repetitive rehearsals, locking down
how to verbally, and physically represent those lines. And the best
way of doing this, is from the script.
It
is no great achievement to be “off book.” It IS an achievement to
learn not only what your lines are, but their meaning both in
relation to your own character and to the other characters around
you. And that takes time, not pressure.
End of part one...
Okay, so we got through the first five! Yay! I know, I know, all the time you've been thinking, but dominicispalmer, just what the fuck problem have you got with a bunch of people meeting up once or twice a week for fun, to put on a play out of love?
Theoretically, nothing. In practice my response is this : why bother going as far as putting on a show? I have no problem with you meeting up and fannying around. But when you start asking people to pay money to view you fannying around, that's when I start having problems.
As to, out of love - where is it? In the egos of the participants, spending their nights bitching about each other and everyone else? In the hour of rehearsal sandwiched in between lengthy bouts of small talk? Where is the love?
I haven't seen it for a long time. It's been sucked out of me, slowly and surely.
I used to be passionate about more than just attacking people in my blogs. But I have spent too long listening to pompous gas-bags spouting wheat-fields of chaff, watching them pomp and ceremony around, achieving nothing more than placing a bunch of people on to a stage saying lines, and expecting friends, loved ones, and off-the-street public to pay for the privilege of entering the arch. It's not good enough. I want more.
That's what the fuck my problem is. Thanks for asking. I used to want to do it just for the love.
As always, please comment, say what you will, piss up a flagpole and set fire to a snake. Whatever. I don't care.
Thanks for reading
Dom
