The Time Machine - from the rehearsal room

I don't know if you've seen The Man Who Fell To Earth, but there's a scene (actually more a recurring image) where the alien is sitting watching multiple television screens, absorbing multiple programmes in a wall of jarring dissonance.  I'm sort of living this scene at the moment as I create a stage version of The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.
Much of the process of adaptation is fairly straightforward - take the text and cut out what isn't stageable (a lot of description) or interesting (a lot more description), turn text into dialogue and create scenes around the incidents of the book.  This leaves you with a bare bones text to start shaping into a piece of exciting, interesting, living theatre.  And that's where it gets more complicated.
The Time Machine is a story set in the distant future where no one speaks English - or any known modern language.  This creates a problem in writing a drama - a story told via dialogue and plot.  It could be done, but it would involve moving the story away from the original source material in ways that would feel forced.

The beginning of an idea...

I started thinking about how the story could be told, started reading around the story, reading about how time actually works, and current theories about time travel.  I started thinking about how the show will look, how the show will sound, who will be in it, how many people will be in it...
Once you get to that point you stop writing a script, you start drawing it, you start collecting music and sound ideas, you start sketching out movements and set designs - The Time Machine is not being written in a straightforward, text first way.  It can't, the main characters barely talk.
Then I started to see who would be in the production, started writing material around the cast I have (and I have some wonderful people in the cast - more soon) and started to do little tests of material.
On Sunday I went to the theatre and started to lay out tables and chairs, to create a possible layout for the show.  I got together with a member of the cast (Kevin Roychowdhury) and asked him to move around the space, so that I could have images with me at home of how the space works.
I then asked him to stand on a table for ages and test out a short speech that he wasn't going to say.  I didn't know before we started that I was going to do this but, after a quick verbal risk assessment, up he went.  I took a few shots of that as well.  You can see the idea, the basic shape of the image, looks quite cool - though it won't be Kevin on the table and it'll be costumed etc. But it's an idea.  An idea that I've just added to the script.
We then played around with two scenes in the play that have been scripted pretty much from the very beginning - running them with music and working out how long those scenes run.  Kevin, again, stood in for another role, which I filmed so as to watch later and plan changes.  Broadly I've discovered I need to shorten a couple of sequences.  The show is now better.
I was in London the other week, going to the theatre, walking round a few galleries, generally soaking up ideas and images.  Stealing is a necessary part of any artistic endeavour and London is full of ideas to steal.  I spent as much time sitting in a corner somewhere drinking coffee and scribbling in my notebook as I did looking at anything around me.  Mixing ideas, field trips and exploratory rehearsal has given me a pretty good idea of how the set will look.  I know where I'm putting the cast, I know, broadly what they're saying and how they're saying it.
Each week I'm doing more experiments with space, with the text, with images and sound - and each week I'll post some of it online.  For you.  And though I can't be certain precisely how the show will look and sound at this point, I do know one thing.  With two months to go before curtain up, I know The Time Machine is going to be pretty fucking cool.
But I would say that.
Find out for yourself by booking your tickets now.

Quay Productions Presents...

The Time Machine

By H.G. Wells

Adapted and Directed by Robert Crighton

Far in the future, the human race has become something different – a peaceful species, who live in simple harmony with the planet.  But beneath the surface there is a terrifying secret – one that is uncovered by a traveller from the distant past.  Before there was Doctor Who, there was the Time Machine – this is a brand new adaptation of the first true science fiction story, where the past and the future meet with dramatic results. 

Performing: 6th, 7th & 8th April at 7.30pm at The Quay Theatre

Tickets: 01787 374745 or via their website.

My work couldn't happen without the support of my patrons - if you think you could contribute to the work I create, go to www.patreon.com/robertcrighton and see if you can help.

Also, as there's a lot being planned at the moment, if you want to keep up to speed, why not join my mailing list.  I know, so last century. 

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Undead Bard - Returning to London

I'm coming back to the London Fringe people!  I've been away from London for four years.  Okay, that's not quite true.  I've done the odd one off night, but haven't run for a week or more since 2012 with Ghost Storyteller and The Fantasy Terrorist Variations.  It's not that I haven't wanted to return - I've just not been desperately well on and off since 2012 and you can't do a run if you're not physically up to it.  For the last few years I've been focusing on smaller, one off and more internet based shows.  I've just finished the first of (hopefully) many live radio comedy shows and have a more audio podcast based practice now.  In terms of doing live shows, I'm looking on two big projects each year, with one hopefully coming to London or maybe to the Edinburgh Fringe.

So, Undead Bard.  It's the end of nearly four years work - a series of plays or pieces that dance around the afterlife of Shakespeare.  They don't focus on the plays or his work, they're about his reputation, the love or hate people have for him and his work and the Shakespeare culture industry.  The show performing at Theatre N16 (in Balham) is the final stage for the show/s.  It will feature new work and the first piece in the sequence, The Shakespeare Delusion, a piece about the authorship 'question' which is where it all started in 2012.  Then there's the new(ish) piece The Ever Living - which is about Shakespeare the brand that eats our culture.  Lastly, I'm currently writing a new new piece about Shakespeare as secular God - as yet untitled.  This last piece is taking me full circle with this project, as it's based on a section I cut from the first draft of Delusion because it didn't fit.  It will get it's own chance to shine.

Stating all the above makes the show sound terribly dull and worthy - but basically, it's all comedy and at times downright silly.  It's a show that the most die hard Shakespeare fan should love as much as the greatest Shakespeare hater.  And, for those who've been suffering from Shakespeare fatigue this long three year 450th Birth/400th Death anniversary cycle of Bardolatry, it features almost nothing from his plays at all.  Hell, I'm not stupid enough to put my dialogue next to his, you tend to lose.

Milk Bottle Productions Presents...

UNDEAD BARD

By multi award-winning writer and performer Robert Crighton

Shakespeare is dead, but he just won’t stop talking.  His words are immortal, but they keep changing.  Award-winning writer and performer Robert Crighton explores the current boom in Shakespeare and how everything is now devoted to his holy name.  Undead Bard is an unholy smorgasbord of play, comedy, and music, pulling apart Shakespeare, Bardolatry, and the modern world, for your pleasure.

More details about the show and online podcasts on the Undead Bard at www.milkbottleproductions.co.uk

Audience Comments for earlier ‘Undead Bard’ show ‘The Shakespeare Delusion’ (2014):  “Fabulous production... Just recovering from high octane performance of @RobertCrighton The Shakespeare Delusion #immense...  I SO knew where The Shakespeare Delusion was going - & I was SO wrong!!! Chekhov meets Berkoff as performed by Stephen Fry.”

Performing at Theatre N16

Sunday 2^nd October to Thursday 13^th October at 7.30pm

Matinee at Saturday 8^th October at 3pm

Tickets £12 / 10 concessions – https://www.ticketsource.co.uk/event/145903

Theatre N16, The Bedford, 77 Bedford Hill, SW12 9HD - www.theatren16.co.uk

All this work is supported by Patreon - without the support of my patrons I could not do shows like this.  To support more work like this go to www.patreon.com/robertcrighton

Metal Harvest

My next project is a show called Metal Harvest.  I've been working on it for over eighteen months on and off and it's starting to get there.  It was supposed to have premiered exactly a year ago, (as part of my artist residency at the Quay) on the anniversary of the entry of Britain into the First World War - but a series of complications got in the way of that.  However, the delay has not been without its advantages, it's a more developed piece than it would have been and, I suspect, a better one.
It's the story of a shell - one shell - and the effect it has on the lives it touches.  It's also about cliché and the dangers of stereotypes and the tropes that amass around something as big as the Great War.  It's very easy for a show to fall into familiar patterns, to reaffirm easy assumptions about what four years of history is.  So far I've created the first half, which is all storytelling, music and images.  The second half is going to be something quite different, but will be a secret for the time being.  To myself chiefly.
I'm working once again with Richard Fawcett who's creating and performing the music, as he has for a couple of my shows in the past.  He's being terribly patient with me, as I've delayed any kind of a detailed script for many, many months as other projects have got very much in the way.
I'm hoping that the performance at the Quay Theatre will be filmed, so that I can post it online - so even those who can't make the show (isn't solid state geography a bugger) will be able to catch something of it. Those who can catch it - booking is now open, details below.

Milk Bottle Productions Presents...

Metal Harvest

Written and performed by Robert Crighton and Richard Fawcett

“This is the story of a shell...” Throughout the First World War the armaments created passed through many hands – from those in the mines and factories who made them, to those who transported the boxes and those who fired the guns.  This is the story of one shell, the story of those who touched it and whose lives were changed by it.  Told in words, music, image and song, Metal Harvest is the latest work from award-winning theatre producer Robert Crighton, made in collaboration with musician Richard Fawcett. 

Performing on Thursday 29^th October at 7.30pm

Tickets: £9 (Friends £8)

The Quay Theatre, Sudbury

Box Office: 01787 374 745
Book Online: www.quaytheatre.org.uk

Coming Soon to a Bar Near Me

Well, we're reaching the end of my Artist Residency at the Quay.  [Oh no he isn't, OH YES HE IS! - sorry directing a panto at the moment]  I've got two big things left to complete, but otherwise we're nearly at the end.  One is the last part of The Trolls Trilogy which has been brutally delayed - sorry everyone! - but I wasn't happy writing it in short chunks, it was doing something to the flow I didn't like by the end of Lost Tribe - so it'll be released in longer chunks in the last few weeks of the year. *  So far Paper Moon Trolls (an unfortunate acronym) is coming along nicely, so I think I made the right decision.
The end point for Trolls will be the promised live performance.  But this isn't going to be a big show and it won't be quite the same as the full length online story.  It'll be shorter, tighter and secret.  It'll be a pop up show for my funders and loyal supporters only - though I might squeeze you in if you ask nicely.
But before I finally reveal the final show of the year, let's give you a run down of events so far!
1.  The Trolls Trilogy - under construction.  Well received so far online, over a thousand people have listened so far...
2.  You Have Been Watching - 'sold' out installation.  Surprisingly good response.
3.  Hang - radio play almost universally loved by all.  Available as an audio download and script.
4.  The Juliet Inquiry - a public inquiry version of the Shakespeare play.  We got such a good reaction to the play that it was revived in October and I've future plans for it either next year or for the 2016 Shakespeare death anniversary. So far only available in script form.
5.  The Shakespeare Delusion - the second (or first, depending on your point of view) play of my little Shakespeare trilogy.  Again very well received - streamed live online as well as London revivals at the LOST Theatre.
6.  Complicated Pleasures - the big misstep of a project.  Liked by many, loved by many, hated by many.  A long post about this is long overdue, I just haven't had the strength to write it.
7.  Attack of the Christmas Squirrels - was this number 7?  I forget.  The projects have changed over the year and this was, ironically, the second show to be completed.  This is a home storytelling show open to anyone who wants to see it.  Just get in touch, it won't go away.  Well received at the premiere.
8.  Historic Crimes - another radio play, live streamed and with a great critical response.  The final play in my Shakespeare Trilogy, making that a nice little hat trick.  Soon to be available as an audio download and script.
9.  The Museum of Tat - audio comedy series with my good friend Michael Fouldes.  Still available to listen to now.  Generally well received, but not enough feedback yet. Listen again here.
10.  THE END OF THE ROAD SHOW!  This will feature as it's centrepiece Beware of the Blob - a very silly story about my love of B-Movies and featuring a lot of balloons.  There will be singing, dancing and a bar.  A great way to end my residency and good fun for all.  I would live stream it, but who'd be listening?  It's New Year's Eve!

Also I did a bit of audio work, trying a radio show, which didn't really work as no one listened.  Except for one person who did and was really hurt that I didn't tell anyone when I stopped doing them.  Sorry.  I've also added a few recordings to the Before Shakespeare project, wrote a short monologue about political opportunism and backed up a lot of data.  On top of acting in three plays for other people (She Stoops to Conquer, The Importance of Being Earnest and Waiting for Godot) and directing a Pantomime.

*I wrote at the time, in earlier blogs, that the structure was working - but I was so wrong.  Sometimes you can delude yourself into thinking things that so not true.

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 Accidentally Written A Play!

Writing.  It's an odd activity.  Most of the time you're planning, thinking, procrastinating... and then you have to actually do some work.  I'm currently juggling a lot of writing commitments and they've all come together into one rather glorious mess.  Each day I get up, take the tablets, make myself the one real cup of coffee I can have a day and sit before the laptop surrounded by paper.  And then, because I've got several projects on the go, I choose the one I want to write that day dependent entirely on my mood.  On my moooood.  It is lovely.
Now, one of the reasons I don't solely write (beyond the fact it doesn't bring in enough money) is that this loveliness is entirely transitory.  I'm having a whale of a time at the moment because the writing is going well, the projects are all in a final stage of completion, so it's mostly a job of polishing, spitting and general silliness.  Most of the time this is not the case.
I should be mixing up my day more.  I have to learn some lines for Ghost Storyteller (the first half of the script has been locked and will not change, so I have no excuse not to learn it now) but the writing is going soooo well I just don't want to break the spell.
I'm writing in little bursts only.  I put on an album and work for 45 minutes to an hour (however long the album is) and then stop.  Sometimes I go straight on, sometimes I have a little break.  Food does get eaten.  (I've never understood the whole starving artist thing - food is pretty central to my writing process.  Hunger is not helpful - as the last 24 hours of starvation (and subsequent food obsession) for my most recent sigmoidoscopy has proved.)
The other day this process of random work generation took an alarming course.  I didn't even work on something in progress - it wasn't for the Christmas Storyteller shows, it wasn't even on the long distance radar.  It's just a play I've been picking at for the last couple of years, Complicated Pleasures, which - to my amazement - is up to length, has some great scenes and now just needs a lot of panel beating to get it into the right shape.  In fact, I'm planning on organising a reading of the script next Saturday.  Two days ago I wasn't even thinking of it, now I'm that confident I'll get it finished in a week.  When I picked it up on Tuesday I couldn't believe I'd somehow written a whole play and not really noticed.  I'd even forgotten about a whole subplot.  So, if you're based in Suffolk and would like to help read a play, pop down to the bar at the Quay Theatre, Sudbury on Saturday 15th September at 12.15pm.  I'll put a same float down at the bar for coffee and the like - though this will not be an infinite largess.  It should take a couple of hours to get through and is, I have to confess, a little bit rude.  So, no puritans please.
In other news, last week my cast for The Fantasy Terrorist Variations got together in dribs and drabs to read over the scripts.  FTV is made of three plays - the first is the award-winning Fantasy Terrorist League, which is to be performed by the marvellous Keith Hill - the second is a completely reworked Keynote Speaker, which I had a great session with the fantastic Simon Nader picking the original version apart and putting together again, but better - and the last play, which will feature both the above people of fabulousness, is currently titled The Project After, which is sitting in draft behind me now.  That is the next task.  It's sort of there, it's sort of ready, but it needs sharpening - and when I start doing that sharpening (i.e. when I'm in the mood) I will tell you all about the play.  Let's put it this way, halfway through the read through Mr Nader stopped mid sentence and cried out "Oh, Jesus Christ!"  Which I would hope is the reaction of the audience, if we do our job properly.  I think I've been tempted to produce too much nice theatre recently.  It's time to be a little dangerous.  I mean, it's lovely when a local vicar writes a letter praising my production of The Passion, but it does also suggest that somewhere I've failed.  But this is the subject of next weeks blog - let's not get ahead of ourselves.