And the nominations for Best Actor are . . .

. . . Anna Cooper, Aidan Crowley, Penelope Day, Juliette Dean, Vickie Holden, Marianna Nikologianni, Christopher Peacock, Stephanie Seadatan, Paula Valluerca, Martin Wimbush.

I hope you noticed Christopher Peacock in that list. We're talking nominations for Best Actor at the Solo Festival, not the Oscars (not this year, at least), but I'm still immensely proud of Chris's achievement and pleased to see that others have recognised his skill. He's up against some strong contenders and he may not win, but this is certainly a feather in his metaphorical hat, and another reason for other venues to take on Tadzio Speaks . . . 

Meantime, I am off to the OSO Arts Centre in Barnes this afternoon to discuss publicity for the September production of Californian Lives. And other projects are backing up on my mental in-tray, including a commission to write a monologue for a friend who wants to take it to the Edinburgh Fringe next year, and the likelihood that I will be taking other works there as well. Not content with losing money in 2013, it seems that I want to repeat the experience in 2014 . . .

The rest is silence . . .

. . . but not eternal silence, we hope. Tadzio Speaks . . . had its last performance last night and once-young voice will not be heard for some time. We are, however, already thinking of at least one revival over the next twelve months and three venues have come to mind. Give me a week or two's break and I will see whom I can persuade to host this simple, yet deeply moving piece. In the meantime, there is cake to enjoy...

There is no denying that the run has been a success. After the predictably shaky start, Christopher Peacock got into his stride by the third performance and was rewarded with a good (and our only) review. Audiences grew each performance, and the applause grew in proportion. On the last night, I blushed for the first time in several decades while Chris sang my praises from the stage at the end of the play. Alice de Sousa and Bruce Jamieson, of the now defunct Greenwich Playhouse (who gave me my first big break as an actor eighteen months ago) were also there and similarly complimentary - and in the course of the run other actors and producers have been far more positive about the play than politeness or friendship would demand.

So, I'm feeling pleased with myself. In the last six months I have put on two critically - although not financially - successful productions. I have proved myself as a writer - at least of monologues - and as a director. Ok, that last claim is over the top, but I've learned enough from the experience to be fully confident of taking on the task again. There are several possibilities milling around in my mind - another male monologue that a friend would like to commission, some female monologues and a full-length play. Give me a couple of weeks break and I will turn my attention to them.  In the meantime, it's back to the rare book business, which is beginning to pay some rewards. All I need now is for the plumbers to finish renovating the bathroom, so I can shower in solitude and comfort instead of at the kitchen sink or nearest swimming-pool, and life will be almost perfect . . .  

Californian Lives Again!

Yup, those of you unfamiliar with this blog will probably take a second or two to decide whether "Lives" should be pronounced ai - as in one life or two - or ih - as in living la vida loca. No matter. The point I am making is that my second theatrical venture, Californian Lives is returning to the stage in September after its critically successful run at the King's Head in April and May this year.

The new venue is the OSO Arts Centre in Barnes, south-west London. We have a five-night run there starting on Tuesday 17th September and I am, of course, pleased. (I might even say excited, but I don't really do excitement, or if I catch myself doing it I stop immediately and hope that nobody noticed.) Pleased partly as the playwright - more people are going to see my work, brought to life by a fantastic cast. And pleased as the producer - the run won't recoup the large loss I incurred at the King's Head, but even a small audience will make money for all five of us (the fifth being director Emma King-Farlow) involved in the production.

In the meantime, Tadzio Speaks . . . at the Lord Stanley goes from strength to strength. Not in terms of audience numbers, but in Christopher Peacock's performance. I had only seen him on stage twice before - as the Ghost and the Player King in Hamlet and as Canon Chasuble in The Importance of Being Earnest. His style was eminently suitable to these roles, with his aristocratic air and portentous manner of speaking - a style that I suspect is partly inherent, partly a result of training and partly the heritage of years as a reporter speaking directly to camera.

But that style isn't Tadzio. So much of the rehearsal was spent breaking down that shell and making him speak as naturally as he does when off stage. If I were not a rationalist, I might say that the transformation has been miraculous; the reality is
that he has risen to the challenge and he brings to the part the full range of emotions that the play demands.

Audiences have been appreciative. Family and friends have of course said how wonderful he is, but probing beneath these comments and listening to others who have less of an emotional investment in the play, it is nevertheless clear that Christopher Peacock is bringing to life an individual whose voice deserves to be heard. And with every performance I watch (I have to; I'm also the lighting technician) I see his portrayal strengthen.

Meanwhile, as a nearly novice director (let's draw a veil over my juvenile effort many years ago) I have also been learning. There are still weaknesses in the direction - weaknesses which one fellow-director pointed out with near-glee; these are being gradually ironed out and by the time we reach our second run (wood crossed, fingers touched) should be completely eliminated. My initial lighting was too ambitious and distracting; it's now much simpler and therefore more effective. After a year or so onstage and in front of the camera, I know that my strength lies far more behind the scenes.

We're not sure where Tadzio will appear next. We have some leads that we are following up thanks to theatrical types who have seen the play and loved it. But if you haven't seen the production and are intrigued by the idea, watch this space or follow us on Facebook or Twitter @TadzioSpeaks.

Head And Brick Wall

I was away for 10 days, which explains some of the silence on this blog. The usual family matters. I get some work done while I'm there, but my focus is much more on my immediate surroundings than on the virtual world of the internet.

The other reason for my lack of posting is a combination of lack of news and the time it takes me to collate that lack.

Let me explain. I am back in London spending several hours a day working on Tadzio Speaks . . .  Part of that time is with Christopher Peacock, the actor whose task is to stand alone on a stage for 45 minutes and make the character I have written and the words he utters come alive and grab the audience's attention. That's the easy part. We can see which parts of the play work and which don't and work on the them. I can see the impact of my work immediately.

The difficult part is the time I spend promoting the play. I've long lost count of the number of emails I have sent, tweets I have twitted and Facebook entries I have posted. In addition to basic information to get the play listed, I've sent out press releases to news organisations and websites, I've contacted reviewers asking them to attend, and I'm just about to pester friends reminding them that opening date is Saturday 6th July.

I've got some feedback. The number of FB friends and Twitter followers has risen to double figures (!). Tadzio Speaks . . . is now listed on several websites. Posters are going up in Camden (ok, that's Chris's doing, but I take credit for the design and getting them printed). But trying to get people interested in the play is rather like hitting my head against a brick wall. There is an impact, but it's more on my head than the wall.

Ah well, the classic response to "why are you doing it?" has always been "because it feels so good when I stop". And that wonderful day, when the run comes to an end, is less than a month away. In the meantime, if you want to make me feel better, why not book a ticket on  our website? You don't have to come, but the £8 a head you will pay will make my head feel a lot better . . .

What was he thinking?

In Death in Venice - both the original 1912 novella by Thomas Mann and the 1971 film by Luchino Visconti - writer Gustav von Aschenbach becomes obsessed with a beautiful Polish youth who is staying at the same hotel. Although the two never speak, the boy Tadzio is clearly aware of the older man's attention and a silent relationship grows between them that lasts until the writer's final day on the Lido beach.

Both book and film focus on Aschenbach while Tadzio remains a cypher. For some he is the abstract symbol of beauty, for others the focus of sexual desire; for many he is a combination of the two. Each of us creates his own Tadzio, projecting our own thoughts and desires on to the youth we want or the youth we want to be.

Yet if Aschenbach is real to us, then so must Tadzio be. A teenager on the verge of manhood, a boy surrounded by women (sisters, mother and governess), a wealthy youth with the world at his fingertips. What went through his mind that summer when he realised a man old enough to be his father was watching him? Did he welcome or fear Aschenbach's gaze?

Decades later, Tadzio opens his heart in a powerful and emotional monologue that reveals the impact of that fateful summer in Venice.

Featuring former TV presenter, turned actor, Christopher Peacock, written by award-winning playwright Martin Foreman, Tadzio Speaks premieres at the Lord Stanley Theatre in Camden, London, as part of the annual Solo Festival in July 2013. Book tickets here.

Picture this, ticket this

Tadzio Speaks . . . moves closer to its debut. Christopher Peacock - who is taking on the sterling task of learning a 45 minute one-man play - and I directing my first play (we'll draw a veil over what happened in Edinburgh those many years ago) came to the end of the text today. We finished the blocking (directing where actors move and what they do when they get there) today and we now have a five day rest until we return to the fray. I'm pleased - both with my own ability to write and direct, and with Christopher's ability to breathe life into an individual who until now has always been a cypher. I'm also aware that we both have a long way to go before we can present this drama to an audience.

Another step forward was the arrival of the poster. It's looking good. Purists will wonder why the t is a capital on the website and small on the poster. I can only kick myself in response and beg forgiveness from the twin gods of Punctuation and Design. At least the image conveys the right message - an older man looking back on his younger self and remembering that fateful summer. And yes, it is Christopher himself at fifteen who stares out at us from the hazy image of Venice, a most handsome youth who would have inevitably drawn von Aschenbach's eye.

Finally, the ticket system is now operating and you can book your seat for a mere £8 - and no, there is no hidden booking fee. So, if you enjoyed Californian Lives, make sure you see Tadzio Speaks . . . And if you missed C L, you have no excuse whatsoever not to make your way to Camden in July. Click the link in the right column to take you to the website. Unless of course you live in Eastbourne or Entebbe or further afield; if you do, I'll devote a later post to information as to how you too can experience some of the drama even thousands of miles away.

Many wrongs make a right

Last night four of us from three different culture backgrounds were in the Trafalgar Studios watching the hit comedy The Play That Goes Wrong. We were all impressed. A combination of slapstick (doors opening unexpectedly, actresses being hauled up walls in undignified positions, moving corpses), verbal dexterity (including the first time I've heard "façade" being pronounced rudely), speed, confusion and all the other stereotypes of farce (characters trying desperately to maintain their cool while chaos whirls around them) came together in a perfect storm of laughter.

The play in question is Murder at Haversham Manor, being presented by Cornley Polytechnic Amateur Dramatics (or some such group). There is a corpse, a detective, an aging butler (played, of course, by a young man with white stuff in his hair), a beautiful young woman (played by someone who can't act, in contrast with the others, who can only overact) and several upper-class young men braying appropriately. Plus various stagehands who appear at inappropriate moments. Props get mislaid, ornaments fall off walls, lines get mixed up - and repeated and repeated and repeated - and so on.

Yes, we saw something similar in Noises Off, but Romeo and Juliet isn't the only play to feature young lovers. Plus, it's only an hour long, which is exhausting for the actors who have to repeat it twice a night (and who have to clean their clothes and faces of the various liquids and substances and cosmetics with which they end each performance), but it's just the right length for an audience who need a rest after so much laughing.

On at the Trafalgar Studios till 1st June