First Impressions

First impressions count - even with a script.  I don't mean your basic mistakes like using the wrong format, using different colours for characters or writing in crayon - it can be a much smaller thing.  Like how you describe your play.
I have a little quandary - I'm debating with myself - I'm procrastinating... How should I, if I should, describe a play?  The play is a comedy.  This should be indicated by the content, in the sense that it is funny.  I know this because at a read through people laughed, a lot, so I'm not delusional.  (Unless I am delusional in that they all actually sat in silence and this is a false memory / dream.)  However, readers of the play have - in feedback - seemed to have missed this point.  One response went something like this: such and such a scene was deeply moving.  I'm not going to describe the scene, but imagine saying that an episode of The Two Ronnies was deeply moving and you'll get the idea of the absurdity of the response.  Somehow the fact that the situation and characters are in no way particularly normal, comic in fact, doesn't seem to have come across.  It's not even that readers don't like it or don't find it funny (hell, people have different funny bones) - it is the failure to identify that it was a comedy at all that terrifies me.  I know the play is partly satirical, but please - dear [insert deity] - don't tell me people think it's a document of truth - that it mirrors the readers lives so much that it might as well be verbatim.  Kill me now if this is so.
So, do I point out to readers that it is a comedy?  I've put this question up on facebook and twitter and (as usual with actual questions rather than silly jokes) no one has said a damn thing in response.  (I love my followers - they're so unresponsive.  They're probably all closet trolls who just can't quite summon the will to reply with something rude.  Can't even be bothered to unfollow me.  Lazy sods.)
The obvious reason not to add an epithet is it sets one up for a fall.  A comedy (once identified) has to be funny, and that might be setting myself up for failure.  It's not as bad as putting it down as 'an hilarious comedy', which is the code phrase for 'crock of shit'.  I toyed briefly with a description - 'a moral comedy, without morals' - which fits the play well.  And then I realised it was a.) wanky bollocks and b.) even more off putting than 'an hilarious comedy' - so that one bit the dust quite quickly.
Perhaps, as it does have serious themes hidden beneath the comedic surface, I should call it 'a dramatic comedy', 'a comedic drama' or 'a comedy drama' - but everyone knows 'comedy drama' is what you call comedies that both aren't funny or particularly dramatic.  Another code phrase for 'crock of shit' then.
It could be worse - there are some people who label their work 'a play' (no shit Sherlock) as an offering to the gods of the patently fucking obvious.
The case against calling it 'a comedy' is less that it's nature is failing to get across to readers (the phrase 'a comedy' is more about marketing for an actual production, clearly selling the goods to the public) but that in the eyes of a reader 'a comedy' lessens it's importance.  Comedy, though big business, is not regarded as important (especially in theatre) as tragedy and it's modern offspring.  I look up to tragedy, comedy knows it's place.  So, perhaps missing that the play is a comedy could be my biggest bonus.  I look forward to earnest German productions where the whole mess of silliness is treated with the utmost seriousness and there isn't a titter to be heard throughout.  Except for me, of course, sitting in the stalls and laughing my head off at how easily people miss the point.
So - on discussing it with myself - I'm not going to call it a comedy then.  Right, now that's decided, I can actually have a look at the actual play...

I've sort of not written a play...

As per the now established pattern, I'm looking for people to join me for a read through of my new play.  Last time I did this at short notice because a play I'd let drift for a year had suddenly burst into life before me.  This time I'm calling a read through at short notice for completely the opposite reason.  The play I'm working on is, by and large, getting there.  But it isn't even a completed first draft.  It's about nine thousand words that follow some order, but which in no way, as yet, resembles a play.
However, I am working to a deadline, which is coming up very soon.  Problem is I need to work to an even closer deadline so that I get it written with enough time to then re-write it and send it forth with some sense of decorum.  So, I'm creating an artificial deadline, a read through, for which to aim at.  That way the play has to be ready, because the last thing I want to do is make a tit of myself in public.  If I wanted to do that I'd take up Morris dancing.  Oh, the horror, the horror!
So, usual rules - if you're based in Suffolk - make your way to the Quay Theatre bar on Saturday 18th May at 12.30pm and join in the read through.  I think I'll need about half a dozen (unlike the last two plays this has a relatively modest cast) and it shouldn't take much more than 90 minutes or so.  Following my positive discrimination policy it's mostly a female cast, of various ages, but we've had game men reading cross gender before (and visa-versa for that matter).  I offer a coffee or something similar in recompense for your time and feedback.  It usually is good fun.
And as you're in the area, then there is a production of a murder mystery Death in High Heels that evening, which I am not uninvolved in - go on, make a day of it.

The Tempest Test

I'm in the middle of producing some actors' theatre.  I like actors' theatre, the opportunity to get out from the 'yolk' of director lead drama and give the cast room to breathe.  This isn't to say the show is undirected - that it isn't blocked or that I haven't been telling people what to do - it isn't even to say that there isn't an aesthetic - it's just that the aesthetic I am aiming at is general, a set of guiding principles by which all future productions might be built.  There isn't a specific directorial vision for these Scenes from The Tempest, there is a directorial vision for The Milk Bottle Irregulars, a possible new venture that I'm road testing on Monday.
The Milk Bottle Irregulars is a more cut and thrust version of the more considered productions I produce as plain old Milk Bottle.  MBI is actors on stage, it's nuts and bolts, it's simple and direct.
But Monday isn't a full production anyway - it is but a few scenes from The Tempest.  It is, as advertised, an experiment.  An experiment to see how to make simple theatre and make it swiftly, and yet to keep it to a high standard.  To do this, we cheat.  And there are several ways we are cheating.  But I'm not going to go into that, because they're our cheats, so there.  (Blows raspberry!)  The experiment is to see how distracting our cheats are for the audience; is the final product good enough?
If all goes to plan, this will be the beginning of a regular pattern of work for Milk Bottle.  As mentioned in the last newsletter, I haven't produced a classic play under the Milk Bottle banner for nearly a decade, I've always gone to other places to do so.  This plan could mean there will be a semi regular series of one-off productions of classic drama - Shakespeare for the most part, but there are other plans - led by an irregular band of actors.
There is another reason for the Irregulars and it's a bit old fashioned.  If this test is a success we'll canvas the local schools and youth orientated organisations asking them which Shakespeare / other playwrights they might be studying next term (just checking the syllabus is hit and miss, there is some choice) and then, essentially, offering them access to a production of play/plays and free tickets.  Not discounted tickets, free tickets.  Not an infinite number, but enough for a class or two.  It's that rather old school idea that an education should be rounded; that the young should get to see drama, not just read it; that, as a company, we should reach out to the community and to the young.
Not only that, but the tickets on general sale will be as close to dirt cheap as I can manage.  Because theatre should be for everyone, not just those lucky enough to have deep pockets.

The Milk Bottle Irregulars Presents

Scenes from The Tempest

By William Shakespeare

Usurped and exiled Duke of Milan, Prospero, lives alone on an Island with his daughter Miranda and his books – with which he can cast spells and dark magic.  Using his powers he shipwrecks his enemies and plans his return home, but will he forgive those who have worked against him or destroy them?

Monday 22^nd April at 8.30pm

Free Entry – wait in the Quay Bar prior to show – duration 1 hour

To put your name on the guest list – email: contact@milkbottleproductions.co.uk or call: 07704 704 469

The Milk Bottle Spring Newsletter 2013

The first official newsletter for a while, though we've not been unbusy.  Though we have few positive dates for your diaries at present, there are lots of projects in the offing, which you can view, assist, even - dare we suggest - purchase, from the comfort of your homes.

The Summoning of Everyman
For the first time since 2004 (not including rehearsed readings) Milk Bottle produced a revival of a classic play.  The tryouts for the show were performed just prior to Good Friday (appropriate for a morality drama) and had some excellent feedback.  We're now looking for small non-theatre venues, religious or secular, for additional performances of this beautiful play, later in the year.  We're open to invites - suggestions for locations on a postcard to us here - the space needs to comfortably hold about thirty in two rows of seating, in an end on configuration.

The Milk Bottle Irregulars
Continuing to break the trend of the last decade, Milk Bottle is looking to produce more classic plays with our Irregulars.  The Milk Bottle Irregulars is a new venture, an experiment to create a pop-up theatre company that uses technology to make the creation of theatre easier; to use technology to reduce the time it takes to create a new show; to use technology to share Shakespeare (and other dramatists, but mostly Shakespeare) with as many people as possible, and not just one play every-so-often but many and frequently.  But the aim is the technology will be as hidden as possible.  We’ll use technology to give us an edge - to cheat, in other words.

We’re testing this out at the end of April with scenes from The Tempest on Monday 22^nd April at 8.30pm at the Quay Theatre.  The show should last about an hour and entrance is completely free, just email contact@milkbottleproductions.co.uk for your name to be put on the guest list – or call 07704 704 469 and leave your name and number of tickets requested on the answer phone.

Publication of AMLETH

It's been a while since the first read through and general testing of the material, but Amleth is (at last) available to purchase in book form - just click here to order your copy.  It's not a short play - as it is in two parts - and runs at over five hours of drama, not to be missed.  An ebook version will follow shortly.

AMLETH - Parts 1 & 2

By Robert Crighton

"I’m not mad, I’m the only sane one here."

Hamlet, as you've never seen him before.  Before there was Hamlet, there was Amleth - a lying, cheating, mass murdering Dane - who doesn't die as he avenges the death of his father, but who lives on to conquer Briton, commit bigamy and fight great battles.  Funny and cruel, dark and light, award-winning playwright Robert Crighton captures an earlier version of this iconic character in the epic two part play, Amleth.

Viva Espana

No news at present on the upcoming Spanish production of Teaching Gods, which has been delayed due to illness.  A scratch performance of The Alternative Seagull and Sleep Inc. last year went well, so we're all hoping for new production dates soon.

Sleep Inc.

And for those in London, Sleep Inc. will make its in town premiere this July as part of this years Face to Face festival at the LOST Theatre, performed by Robert.  Performance date to follow.

Audiobooks

We've been dragging our feet a bit over audiobook versions of our back catalogue of monologues.  But have no fear - we're planning to start releasing downloadable versions very soon, starting with our first CD release, Teaching Gods & Bink!  Details will follow soon.

As ever, word of mouth / of electronic meme, is very important to us.  If you don't already, do follow Milk Bottle Productions or Robert Crighton: Storyteller on facebook.  On Twitter we're just @RobertCrighton.  It was RobertCrighton:Storyteller, but Twitter stole the Storyteller from us.  No idea why... they didn't even tell us they were doing it.

Coming Soon - The Natural History of Trolls as an Audiobook

listen to ‘The Natural History of Trolls - Trailer’ on Audioboo

Coming Soon - Cuckold's Fair as an Audiobook...

listen to ‘Cuckold's Fair - Trailer’ on Audioboo

After Everyman

The schedule prior to the first night of a show is usually fairly straightforward.
Monday - last tweaks, tech run.
Tuesday - last, last tweaks, dress run.
Wednesday - last, last, last tweaks, first performance.

The schedule for Everyman ran something like this:
Monday - 12.30am, get up with indigestion.
                2am, begin vomiting.  Continue vomiting/dry retching for five hours.
                7am onwards, try to sleep.
Tuesday - 11am, attempt food.  Nibble corner of toast.
                2pm.  Finish eating first slice of toast.  Sleep.
Wednesday - 11am.  Manage second slice of toast.
                1pm, get out of bed, start pulling props together for show.
                4pm, eat nourishing soup.  Shower.
                5.15pm, arrive at Guildhall.  Set up show.
                7pm, doors open.  Audience arrive.
                7.30pm, down some codine, begin show.

As you may have gathered, the gentle progress of running the show a few times, working on certain scenes, ironing out any remaining line issues, were completely blown away by a bout of gastroenteritis.  And yet, somehow, the show worked.  Did more than work, I think.
I was more than a little nervous about the show before the illness, because I wasn't sure if the audience participation was going to work.  To start with it didn't look like it would.  As the audience came in I asked them to write on a red shirt, my costume, a bad deed, and on a post-it note, a good deed.  Explaining this was a little messy - it really needed a team of people to help the crowd of people through it.  Not so much a problem the first night, where the audience arrived at neat intervals, but a rugby scrum on the second, when everyone arrived at once.  As it were.
The good deeds people wrote fairly quickly and are, as is the nature of anything that sounds a bit worthy, less interesting than the bad.  The good are interesting in terms of what people considered to be a good deed - from the abstract, to the concrete, to the occasional submission that frankly didn't fit the brief.  All are documented and the photos are at the bottom of this blog.
The bad deeds are more fun, the audience allowing their imaginations fly a bit.  Some are fantastical and cruel, some are truly wicked and yet also very human and believable.  It took some people ages to come up with a bad deed, some taking the task very seriously indeed.  My favourite raises an interesting question as to what is a bad deed?  "Not listening when someone is pouring their heart out."  Now, yes, perhaps this is bad, but it suggests the other person doesn't know you're not listening.  You're still there.  Really, what more do they want?  Is that truly bad?  Answers on a postcard.
The atmosphere in the performance space was very positive; as I talked through what the volunteers would have to do, there was lots of back chat and a sense that people were expectant, not uncomfortable with what was about to happen.
The show began.  The opening, a little dance of death which involved carrying a large tree trunk across stage, goes well.  Only the exertion has completely dried out my mouth, so that my first speech becomes a rearguard action of trying to get some moisture going.  I haven't run the show for nearly three days, so I have to get through the first long speeches well to feel comfortable in the show.  Bar one odd jump of a line, I do. We're into open country.  Death talks to Everyman and BAM.  Dry, epic dry.  What comes next?  What comes after next?  What happens at the end of the scene even?  Who am I?  What is my purpose in life?  Come on brain... give me a crumb, something to say, anything... and out comes the next line.  (I only find out it's the next line in retrospect, I believe at the time I must have jumped something - but always go forward, never go back.)  And now, the next hurdle.  Audience interaction.
The character Fellowship has been given to a chap I don't know - much of the audience is made of friends, but Fellowship is an unknown.  He seems enthusiastic.  This could mean he will attempt to do too much... he is first.  I indicate him to come forward, hand him a tankard.  I assume a stance, as his character, and he assumes it too.  And holds it.  Fantastic.  Then, when I talk to him as Everyman, he reacts.  Not a lot, just a little bit.  The man's a natural.  I relax a bit, this presentational device is going to work.  And so it does, even for the more complex stuff later on.
From then on, it generally goes well.  I have only one more big dry, at the end of a section, so I do some prop holding action stuff, before it comes to me.  The show ends.  Applause.  Generally a good response.  Audience members help tidy up and I go home to an egg.  I dearly wanted to have a natter in the pub with the audience, but I can't drink anymore and I needed sleep.
The second night was like the first, just different.  The audience was a bit bigger and the red shirt was now bristling with bad deeds from two audiences.  It also smelt terrible by halfway through the show, but that's what corruption and sin will do to you.
The Summoning of Everyman at the Lavenham Guildhall wasn't perfect, circumstances put paid to that, but it will be the basis for a beautiful show that I will perform wherever there is the right venue and audience for it.  This isn't the announcement of a general tour, because I will only perform it if the space is right, and that kind of scouting is time consuming.  I expect to pull together two or three dates for the autumn.  Perhaps I'll see you there, with your good and bad deeds.

And talking of good deeds...

"Be Helpful" - a useful general good deed hint.

One of these things is not like the other...

And now, your bad deeds!

To avoid going out for a meal...

The top two here are so very human...

Who hasn't coveted their neighbour's shed?

Odd cat theme developing here...

Don't want to know what was done to this toilet.  Just don't want to know.