Second Night

At sixteen I was Private Smith in a school production of The Long and the Short and the Tall, a laconic Northern Englishman in the jungles of Malaysia surrounding by the advancing Japanese army. I stood on stage, gormless, reciting my lines with the enthusiasm of a metronome. I didn't need anyone to tell me that my acting was awful and I resolved never to tread the boards again.

Memory tells me that was a one-night production. Skip forward 40+ years. Last night, I appeared on stage in public for the second time, in two short roles topping and tailing As You Like It - as Charles the middle-aged Scots wrestler and Jacques de Boys the young (!) son of old Sir Rowland. In the first I got laughs - unexpected but not unwelcome; in the second, I held their attention. In short, I acquitted myself well.

In my downtime - almost 2 hours, I sat in the dressing-room reading the paper and doing Sudoku, watching and chatting with fellow thespians as they exited and entered. Laughter and applause drifted through the blackout curtain from an overflowing auditorium. At the end of the show, we trooped off after the curtain call, to be hauled back in again by ongoing applause. In short, it was a very well received production.

I was tense but not nervous, a little bored during the long wait off stage. I don't do happy - at least not in real life - but I was content and pleased that I had taken this step to explore acting at this late stage in my life. As I add another credit to my short CV, the next step is to take the phrase "would-be" off the heading of this blog. Now I know I can call myself an actor.

And Back Up

When you reach bottom, there's only one place to go... Yesterday we were in the theatre running through the tech, then the dress. My threatened sore throat didn't materialise and my mood gradually lifted as the day went by. I even had a positive note from the director, which didn't surprise me, as my confidence was back where it should be.

Today is the first night. Am I nervous? No, because I haven't had time to think about it. Rushing around the past few days left me a pile of emails and paperwork to deal with all morning. Now the Other Half is dusting the living-room and making me feel guilty I'm not helping with the housework. First night nerves may arrive tonight - and almost certainly would arrive if I had a significant role - but at the moment All Is Well

Roller Coaster

The past few days began well, went downhill, back up, down again, up, down and now really down...

First was the first meeting of The Duchess of Malfi cast; three hours in the doomed Greenwich Theatre with Director Bruce, Producer Alice and various members of the technical crew. Highly professional and a sense of being back in school, with strict rules and firm timetables. A good start.

Then came another rehearsal for As You Like It; the details are already foggy in my mind, and I do not remember any particular problem, but I came home out of sorts, and went to straight to bed for a long, pleasurable sleep.

Saturday morning was an audition in a venue near my home for a music video. I would be the barman, a role I'd enjoy. I won't hear for several days, and even if I don't get it, I made, I think, a good impression.

On to As You Like It, a speed-through. The young cast around me rushed through their paces, enjoying every minute. I fluffed my lines, majorly, and left the stage angry with myself. The fact that all the other older actors found the experience unpleasant and some coped no better than I did, didn't lighten my mood.

From there to Snaresbrook to be filmed as a mutilated corpse, discovered at my desk by my son returning home. The only part of me which moved was my arm, flopping off my knee when he touched me. Uncomfortable but fun.

Back home, exhausted, I thought I'd sleep, but the speed-through failure rankled in my mind and I tossed and turned for hours, angry with myself. Sleep, when it came, was spasmodic and I woke up in the morning in a foul mood.

To Holborn again for another run-through of AYLI. My lines were better but not perfect. My presence was stronger but I again fluffed lines, again the director pointed out faults and again my confidence fell, to its lowest point yet. From Holborn to the White Bear to paint the set. A relaxing evening and my mood improved, but again I was pleased to get home and collapse into bed.

A good night's sleep until 6am, when I woke with a sore throat, dozing fitfully until I finally woke up. I now sit at the computer, catching up on emails, with a headache and a sense of dread. Today is the Tech, followed by a Dress. I know I will be competent, but everyone else will do well. I know the director will criticise whatever I do. I know I will be in a bad mood. I know I will come home with a worse headache and a more painful throat. I know that opening night, tomorrow, will not be the best start to my stage career. At least I also know that my parts are so small that no matter what I do, I will not harm the overall production.

Win Some, Lose Some

I'm lazy and a tad insecure. I like life to be certain, to know what's happening and what's about to happen and to have my days planned and unchanged. Life, for some obscure reason, doesn't play by my rules.

When two groups of film-makers say they want to use me on the same day and it seems possible that I can shoot one in the afternoon, then shoot to the other set to shoot the other in the evening, plus attend a morning audition, of course I spend twenty-four hours juggling emails and text messages and phone calls to make sure it will happen. When everything is in place, I twitter about it (reminder - I still have painfully few followers - cheer me up by joining #actserious). Of course it doesn't work out because my afternoon shoot is moved to the evening, so I have to be replaced. It would be poetic justice if the evening shoot gets canceled as well...

Meanwhile, today's As You Like It rehearsal has been called off. Bad news in that I needed the rehearsal to secure myself in the role. Good news in that it gives me time to relax and to go to two parties tonight - one being the wrap party for last year's film, The Players, the other being a reunion of Poor School colleagues last year. Not that I will be out late - I have a costume fitting and the first meeting of the Duchess of Malfi cast tomorrow morning, followed by the AYLI rehearsal in the afternoon. So many performances, so little time...

Faster, Faster, Faster!

An almost-full run-through of As You Like It last night. Umbrellas were harmed during the making of the play and my magnificent white and purple shade was retired - principally because we don't want to advertise the Siam Commercial Bank in a play set in London.

My director's note was the same as always - speed it up. I take the point that the play cannot drag, but the instruction runs counter to my intuition of the part - a gossippy middle-aged Scotsman always speaks slowly, relishing each point that he is emphasising. But the director is Queen and I'll spend half an hour or so tomorrow with a microphone, recording the speech both at my usual speed and much faster, to see if I can get the same personality across when I'm whipping through my lines.

The play as a whole is definitely emerging from the mist. We have several minor stars, including Touchstone, Audrey and Silvius, who will all hold the audience's attention and make them laugh. Orlando is the epitome of the sweet, gormless youth, with his brother Oliver as a strong presence. Rosalind and Celia are also coming to life. No-one, it seems to me, apart from perhaps my good self, is less than competent. 

Meanwhile, I learn of the imminent closing of the Greenwich Playhouse, where I appear in The Duchess of Malfi next month. Bad news for the Galleons Theatre Company, which has been in residence for 16 years, but good news for me, since the DoM is likely to draw full houses.

And I keep busy in other ways. An audition a short film for Saturday morning and a short part in a film promotion as Corrupt Cop are both confirmed. More details to come.

Heaven or Hell?

I've betrayed all my principles by joining Twitter as #actserious. Follow me into this cyber equivalent of heaven or hell ...

Thanks to arabiangazette.com for the armed tweeter

Definitely Definite

On Wednesday afternoon I'm walking along the canal with the Other Half, when I get a phone call from Bruce. Good news. He's got the other actor and now has the 2 bodyguards / executioners / keepers he needs for The Duchess of Malfi. My role is confirmed. Of course I'm pleased. A four-week stint at the Greenwich Playhouse, even if my lines are minimal, is an opportunity to be seen, an opportunity to become embedded in an acting company and a valuable addition to my credits.

Bruce starts to give me more details about the script he has sent me - since amended. I realise, not for the first time, that the strong silent type that he appeared at my first audition is only one of his personas. There are times when, like my mother, he likes to talk. I tell him that I'm not in a place where I have either the script or the facilities to take notes and the conversation comes to an end - only to resume an hour later for reasons I have already forgotten.

My cock is definitely a-hoop - and I mean that in the most non-sexual sense - so when I return home and find an email from a fellow cast member in As You Like It, with a copy of an email that has apparently been circulating among the acting fellowship for the last few days, that Bruce is Desperately Seeking Two Actors, I'm more amused than annoyed to realise that he was apparently still looking for a couple, when he already had one of a pair in me. Well, he might have got twins who looked better together in which case he could have chucked me overboard (wrong play, I'm thinking of The Tempest: see below). Anyway, we've had one more phone call - again I've forgotten what about - and that email has sunk into cyber-oblivion. The important thing is I have secured the best role so far in my short career - and the Other Half has accepted my b*gg*ring up our holiday with good grace.

Finally.... Four of us from As You Like It went to see The Tempest at the White Bear (where we will be performing in a fortnight) last night. An amateur production, with a confused overview (what was going on with the make-up and costumes?), three good performances, several mediocre, and one so bad that it must have come from The Art of Coarse Acting. Of course, I should not be too critical. It's quite possible that we will give the same impression in our turn...