Going Further, Deeper

Last night, the third in the run, was press night and the theatre was almost full. There was a nervous tension among the cast before lights down and even I found myself affected. Until now, I realised, I have just been sailing through this production. All I had to do, I thought, in two of the roles (Cardinal's Man, Executioner) was stand still, walk slowly and look mean, while in the third role (Keeper - pictured below, photo by Robert Gooch) my task was to move and look crazy. With all the moves choreographed and no more than five lines, totalling sixteen words, sprinkled throughout the play, I didn't have much to worry about.

So far so easy. But something happened last night that made me realise the scope for development even in a non-speaking role. Each day I had seen other players develop their characters, their actions and words bringing depth and meaning to both their characters and the play as a whole (particularly Robin Holden as Duke Ferdinand, the unstable aristocrat obsessed with his sister's purity descending into madness and murder) but I had thought that my input was fixed. Over the weeks of rehearsal I had added a tic here and movement there; it seemed to work and during rehearsals, glowering Bruce and others expressed their satisfaction with what I did. By opening night I was sure I had reached the peak of my performance - a peak that could be easily maintained.

Last night, however, something forced itself out from within me. I found myself no longer representing Roderigo (one of the Cardinal's Men) but being Roderigo himself. This man's walk and his expression changed as his attitude towards his employer moved from respect to insolence. This man, who had spent his adult life at the heart of intrigue, aloof, uninvolved, saw what was happening to the Duchess and her brothers and no longer gave a damn - in fact he looked forward to the carnage that would bring an end to them all. Throughout the play this Roderigo drew the audience's attention simply by being there, by saying nothing, by watching, watching, watching.

This was not just my own fancy. At the end of the evening, when the press and public joined us for drinks (not a regular event, so don't expect that on the night that you come), two people came up, unsolicited, to say how scary and sinister I looked. I was pleased to be praised for my Keeper  - a role based primarily on the generic Igor, the deformed half-wit who assists Frankenstein and other mad scientists, shuffling here and there eagerly, often confused by events around him. With my right leg and arm stiff, my body hunched, my face darting hither and thither and my brow frequently crinkling in bemusement, even in that comic scene it was Igor, not I, who took the stage, with far more movement and expression than I had portrayed him.

I'm not sure what will happen tonight - or in the next three weeks. Some nights I may revert to my perfunctory performance - which is competent and acceptable - but on those nights I think I will have little pride in my work. Most nights, however, I now expect that the characters will take over and I will find myself going further and deeper into their lives, and into the hearts and minds of the audience around me.