And behind the door is... a Time Machine. Or rather the script for my stage adaptation of the book. Available now!
I staged this adaptation at the beginning of the year, so this script version is horribly delayed.
Anyway, Merry Christmas - the world will end in approximately three and a half billion years and all human life will evolve into blobs before inevitable extinction.
Huzzah!
http://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-crighton/the-time-machine/paperback/product-23454846.html
This Storyteller blog follows the progress of writer/performer Robert Crighton as he writes a series of new stories for live performance - as well as any other interesting theatre thing that might cross his path.
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Sunday, 17 December 2017
Tuesday, 26 September 2017
Metal Harvest - New Audio Drops Today!
“This is the story of a shell...”
The wait is over, one of my favourite works has now landed and everyone can listen. Enjoy!
Next week: Martin Hewitt, Investigator by Arthur Morrison - the first of seven Victorian detective stories (complete release schedule tba).
Metal Harvest
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 - you get to listen to my new work before anyone else.
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.
The wait is over, one of my favourite works has now landed and everyone can listen. Enjoy!
Next week: Martin Hewitt, Investigator by Arthur Morrison - the first of seven Victorian detective stories (complete release schedule tba).
Metal Harvest
Written & performed by Robert Crighton
With Music by 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.
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 - you get to listen to my new work before anyone else.
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.
Friday, 7 April 2017
The Time Machine - Photos from Beyond Time
I've been stupidly busy, so have neglected you. I've been recording lots of audio (and failed to edit it) and been making this show happen. Here are some unedited photos from the dress rehearsal of The Time Machine - still on for another two shows. There's also a trailer video at the bottom. Enjoy.
| From left to right - Maxine Derrick, Matt Byham, Mark Scanlon, Kevin Roychowdhury, Tom Eddington & Richard Fawcett |
Friday, 12 February 2016
Dates for the Diary - Spring 2016
Exciting times, as a new season begins. Bagpuss has yawned and I awake at his command.
Lot's of variations on a theme of Shakespeare this year as a number of Undead Bard productions get underway. From The Shakespeare Delusion of popular acclaim, to new work Shakespeare: The Ever Living and a short revival of last years hit Metal Harvest, there's so much to catch. I'm very excited to be commissioning more new music this year, with Jack Lawson working on a very special 80's inspired soundtrack to Shakespeare: The Ever Living! We're hoping to have a bonus live set for the Quay performance of the show.
Friday 19th February - Wartime Memories: Part One - a special archive recording of the memories of a veteran of the First World War.
Also on Friday 19th February - Patreon launch for my audio work online. I do a lot of new audio work that goes out for free, this is a new way to make it happen. Details to follow!
The Shakespeare Delusion
In time for the anniversary of Shakespeare's death.
Saturday 23rd April - Stamford Arts Centre - Box Office: 01780 763203
Shakespeare: The Ever Living! & Metal Harvest - Double Bill
Metal Harvest was a huge success last year, so we're bringing it back, better than ever - along with the new show Shakespeare: The Ever Living!
Friday 20th May - Quay Theatre, Sudbury - Tickets on sale soon
This Quay performance is going to be very special - with extra pops and whistles that can't go on tour!
Saturday 21st May - The Seagull Theatre, Lowestoft - Tickets on sale soon
Lot's of variations on a theme of Shakespeare this year as a number of Undead Bard productions get underway. From The Shakespeare Delusion of popular acclaim, to new work Shakespeare: The Ever Living and a short revival of last years hit Metal Harvest, there's so much to catch. I'm very excited to be commissioning more new music this year, with Jack Lawson working on a very special 80's inspired soundtrack to Shakespeare: The Ever Living! We're hoping to have a bonus live set for the Quay performance of the show.
ONLINE:
New material will be coming online very soon, some unannounced except on Facebook or Twitter - here's the next thing.Friday 19th February - Wartime Memories: Part One - a special archive recording of the memories of a veteran of the First World War.
Also on Friday 19th February - Patreon launch for my audio work online. I do a lot of new audio work that goes out for free, this is a new way to make it happen. Details to follow!
LIVE SHOWS:
I will be adding more shows to this list and updating box office information, as and when they go online. The Shakespeare Delusion
In time for the anniversary of Shakespeare's death.
Saturday 23rd April - Stamford Arts Centre - Box Office: 01780 763203
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| From 'Metal Harvest' - returning in May! |
Metal Harvest was a huge success last year, so we're bringing it back, better than ever - along with the new show Shakespeare: The Ever Living!
Friday 20th May - Quay Theatre, Sudbury - Tickets on sale soon
This Quay performance is going to be very special - with extra pops and whistles that can't go on tour!
Saturday 21st May - The Seagull Theatre, Lowestoft - Tickets on sale soon
Wednesday, 10 February 2016
Invading Mars
It was a busy old week - revived the Everyman show for some students at the University of Essex and then invaded Mars, as you do.
The Martian invasion was due to a show I'd been asked to direct for Out of Kontrol Productions - Orson Welles: The Night We Scared America - a play about the infamous radio broadcast of The War of the Worlds in 1938. I'll blog in more detail about it sometime, but the headlines are: it went bloody well. So, here are a few unedited shots from the dress run, taken by the marvellous John Bethell.
The Martian invasion was due to a show I'd been asked to direct for Out of Kontrol Productions - Orson Welles: The Night We Scared America - a play about the infamous radio broadcast of The War of the Worlds in 1938. I'll blog in more detail about it sometime, but the headlines are: it went bloody well. So, here are a few unedited shots from the dress run, taken by the marvellous John Bethell.
Monday, 2 February 2015
First Rehearsals - Everyman Lives
Back in the fray, rehearsing The Summoning of Everyman. It was a sad day, as I put away my old script and printed off a new one. The old script had been with me since the first run two or is it three years ago, but is now so moth eaten, so covered in changes and scribbles that it must be archived off and put to retirement.
The King is dead, long live the King!
Let's not get too sentimental, it's a script and even this new version, tidy as it is, isn't as important as the performing of it. This week will mostly be about the words - relearning them, retooling them, getting to a stage where I can get on my feet and move. The tour doesn't start for seven weeks, but the first one off private gigs start in less then four (dates still available for private performance, do get in touch) so it's going to be a bit of a marathon from now on. You can follow my progress on Twitter, I'll be posting regular updates.
And tomorrow I'll be posting a full tour schedule - so you can book your tickets and tell your friends.
It's all rather exciting!
The King is dead, long live the King!
Let's not get too sentimental, it's a script and even this new version, tidy as it is, isn't as important as the performing of it. This week will mostly be about the words - relearning them, retooling them, getting to a stage where I can get on my feet and move. The tour doesn't start for seven weeks, but the first one off private gigs start in less then four (dates still available for private performance, do get in touch) so it's going to be a bit of a marathon from now on. You can follow my progress on Twitter, I'll be posting regular updates.
And tomorrow I'll be posting a full tour schedule - so you can book your tickets and tell your friends.
It's all rather exciting!
Monday, 12 January 2015
We are on the brink of a new era... etc
This is the first blog post I'm doing on the go. Yup, I've entered the 21st Century and got some new portable tech that means I can work in cafés like all the other arty wankers out there. And be spied on by the government and corporations while I'm at it.
As it happens I'm currently using this at home, which is a bit of a waste of time, as I've a perfectly good laptop downstairs, but It's late and I can't be arsed to go downstairs.
I'm currently thinking. Thinking physically, thinking musically, thinking generally. I've been here before, with Everyman, which I start to rehearse in a few weeks. Even though this is the third time I've pulled this show together, I'm still playing with it. Still thinking.
I've a month and a half till the first try outs and then some wiggle room before the tour proper starts (I hope to be announcing dates very soon) and I'll keep playing with it as I go along - but now is the only time to really play about, throw about ideas, dream a little. It's the professional development stage of the year as well - where I read, watch and assimilate ideas.
So, this evening I watched a documentary about a solo dance project, which, though I'm not going to be doing any contemporary dance anytime soon, was a great way to get my brain going. Hence the fact I'm blogging at past 3 in the morning. Oh for the budget, oh for the team, oh for the money. Ideas are so cheap. Making them a reality, that costs.
Well, I've filled my notebook now, I've done my to do list for tomorrow and I've set my alarm. So, I'll say goodnight to all you unsleeping artists out there. Dream well.
As it happens I'm currently using this at home, which is a bit of a waste of time, as I've a perfectly good laptop downstairs, but It's late and I can't be arsed to go downstairs.
I'm currently thinking. Thinking physically, thinking musically, thinking generally. I've been here before, with Everyman, which I start to rehearse in a few weeks. Even though this is the third time I've pulled this show together, I'm still playing with it. Still thinking.
I've a month and a half till the first try outs and then some wiggle room before the tour proper starts (I hope to be announcing dates very soon) and I'll keep playing with it as I go along - but now is the only time to really play about, throw about ideas, dream a little. It's the professional development stage of the year as well - where I read, watch and assimilate ideas.
![]() |
| A bit of professional development... |
Well, I've filled my notebook now, I've done my to do list for tomorrow and I've set my alarm. So, I'll say goodnight to all you unsleeping artists out there. Dream well.
Tuesday, 2 December 2014
Not Writing
I'm not writing at the moment, I'm directing a Pantomime. That isn't to say I can't write or that I'm blocked, I'm directing a Pantomime. I'm more a coiled spring, waiting till I'm no longer (altogether now) directing a Pantomime.
Which should be in about a week. Then I will leap into action. Well I'll have to, I'll only have a couple of weeks to finish off the final part of my Trolls Trilogy and finish my end of the year show. These jobs will be mostly editing or tidying. I've got SOOOOO much material for Trolls, just little idea how to structure it. I've decided it will be released in daily episodes over a week and I suspect it will be more fragmented as a story, rather than a clear forward seeking narrative. We shall see.
But then, then there are the new plays and the old plays which haven't been scheduled for performance and so sit on my computer, lonely. There's a new piece I've sketched out in my mind called Happathy. Which is a happy story about the end of the world - it's fairly short though. And a sketchy one-to-one piece called Just Say Yes which I could probably throw together in an afternoon, if I were so inclined. Then there are the two long format plays I've been toying with for years and probably blogged about previously, so I won't go on about them.
Then there's the play with no story. No logic. There's a play in my head and it's just a scream. That's all I can see, a scream. Lots of screaming. Or, at least, it ends with a scream - because there's no where else to go. I think. I just don't know yet.
But I can't see any work happening on that till after the Pantomime and mundane thoughts about blocking and sound effects and schedules are banished from my brain.
Not that I dislike Pantomime - I really enjoy directing Pantomime, but it does tend to get in the way of my other work and it is, essentially, a commercial product. I've had some success with commercial theatre - one of my happier productions was directing a production of House Guest by Francis Durbridge. It's a bloody awful play, frankly, trapped in the 1950's (despite being set in the 1980's) and full of unhelpful repetitions of character names, to the point where you can't remember anyone's name because every sentence seems to contain a name and you end up with snow blindness. And I chose to do it, rather than Uncle Vanya.
So I cut it. I hacked it. A play that was in danger of running two to two and a half hours was culled down to ninety minutes. If I could have got away with it, I would have cut more and run it without an interval. (This was, it should be added, quite against the license, but no one checked!) It contained three deaths, each of which were staged with care. It had stacks of tension and atmosphere. My only complaint with the production (apart from the odd lighting and set issue) was the ending. The ending of House Guest is terrible. I wish I'd gone a bit further and, rather than just cut down, I'd actively changed the ending. A final shoot out with the villain blasted through the french windows, sugar glass flying, would have been fab. But I didn't. Hey-ho.
Ironically, as a piece of commerce it was a total failure - in that, it didn't actually sell any tickets. But as a fun, thrilling, suspenseful piece of balls - it was great.
So, as I say, I like the odd bit of commercial directing work - but it does stop me from writing much. But I can wait. I can wait.
Which should be in about a week. Then I will leap into action. Well I'll have to, I'll only have a couple of weeks to finish off the final part of my Trolls Trilogy and finish my end of the year show. These jobs will be mostly editing or tidying. I've got SOOOOO much material for Trolls, just little idea how to structure it. I've decided it will be released in daily episodes over a week and I suspect it will be more fragmented as a story, rather than a clear forward seeking narrative. We shall see.
But then, then there are the new plays and the old plays which haven't been scheduled for performance and so sit on my computer, lonely. There's a new piece I've sketched out in my mind called Happathy. Which is a happy story about the end of the world - it's fairly short though. And a sketchy one-to-one piece called Just Say Yes which I could probably throw together in an afternoon, if I were so inclined. Then there are the two long format plays I've been toying with for years and probably blogged about previously, so I won't go on about them.
Then there's the play with no story. No logic. There's a play in my head and it's just a scream. That's all I can see, a scream. Lots of screaming. Or, at least, it ends with a scream - because there's no where else to go. I think. I just don't know yet.
But I can't see any work happening on that till after the Pantomime and mundane thoughts about blocking and sound effects and schedules are banished from my brain.
Not that I dislike Pantomime - I really enjoy directing Pantomime, but it does tend to get in the way of my other work and it is, essentially, a commercial product. I've had some success with commercial theatre - one of my happier productions was directing a production of House Guest by Francis Durbridge. It's a bloody awful play, frankly, trapped in the 1950's (despite being set in the 1980's) and full of unhelpful repetitions of character names, to the point where you can't remember anyone's name because every sentence seems to contain a name and you end up with snow blindness. And I chose to do it, rather than Uncle Vanya.
So I cut it. I hacked it. A play that was in danger of running two to two and a half hours was culled down to ninety minutes. If I could have got away with it, I would have cut more and run it without an interval. (This was, it should be added, quite against the license, but no one checked!) It contained three deaths, each of which were staged with care. It had stacks of tension and atmosphere. My only complaint with the production (apart from the odd lighting and set issue) was the ending. The ending of House Guest is terrible. I wish I'd gone a bit further and, rather than just cut down, I'd actively changed the ending. A final shoot out with the villain blasted through the french windows, sugar glass flying, would have been fab. But I didn't. Hey-ho.
Ironically, as a piece of commerce it was a total failure - in that, it didn't actually sell any tickets. But as a fun, thrilling, suspenseful piece of balls - it was great.
So, as I say, I like the odd bit of commercial directing work - but it does stop me from writing much. But I can wait. I can wait.
Tuesday, 25 November 2014
The Contradictions of Sharing
I try to share as much of my work online. I write a semi regular blog, I post audio files, photos etc. But there are difficulties - the problem being, when I'm creating new work I don't want to share. The sharing comes afterward. But, for people to see and know about the work you need to share before it goes out. And I do struggle to do this. Regular visitors to this blog will notice a pattern, that the closer a show gets, the thinner my posts.
Sometimes it's a straightforward problem of not wanting to tell people too much about the story, because if you share too much, why come and watch the show? But it's usually more about mental energy and time.
I've just finished a long and exhausting process of rehearsing in Waiting for Godot. There were so many things I could have shared about that experience. I probably will, eventually. But there was no way I was going to produce anything coherent for you during that process. And now I'm worried I will forget it all before I get the time to write it up.
Part of the problem is my lack of connectivity. I have a laptop. It, in theory, is portable. It so isn't. I also don't have a smart phone - so sharing on the hoof isn't possible. I have to get home, boot up, connect the camera (if I've taken pictures) download, upload and... well, you get the picture.
This I plan to change - next year I've got projects that will need to be shared instantly, so I will put in place materials and systems to make this happen. Whether, mid project, additional technology will help clear my addled brain, I don't know - but that we'll see. But I will try harder.
Sometimes it's a straightforward problem of not wanting to tell people too much about the story, because if you share too much, why come and watch the show? But it's usually more about mental energy and time.
I've just finished a long and exhausting process of rehearsing in Waiting for Godot. There were so many things I could have shared about that experience. I probably will, eventually. But there was no way I was going to produce anything coherent for you during that process. And now I'm worried I will forget it all before I get the time to write it up.
Part of the problem is my lack of connectivity. I have a laptop. It, in theory, is portable. It so isn't. I also don't have a smart phone - so sharing on the hoof isn't possible. I have to get home, boot up, connect the camera (if I've taken pictures) download, upload and... well, you get the picture.
This I plan to change - next year I've got projects that will need to be shared instantly, so I will put in place materials and systems to make this happen. Whether, mid project, additional technology will help clear my addled brain, I don't know - but that we'll see. But I will try harder.
Wednesday, 19 November 2014
Love Theatre
God I hate theatre sometimes. I just hate it. I mean it's such hard work. You can't just wander in and sit and stuff happens at you, you have to be engaged. You have to listen. And look. Looking is the worst. You have to decide where to look. Because, it's not as if there's a camera or anything to tell you where you're supposed to look. Awful.
And then there's the sitting down. All that sitting down. And the seats are never as comfy as in a cinema. Never. Even if they are, all that attention you're giving to those people doing stuff makes you tense up a bit so you never get comfy. And seriously, isn't that what seats are for?
But it could be worse, you could be standing. Standing! For hours. Watching people, doing stuff. With all these other people, standing. And that's just awful. I can stand at home. For free.
And then there's the plays. I mean, who goes to see plays? We've got YouTube now and that's so much easier to get on your phone. Cos you can watch a cat do something cute at anytime you like on a tiny screen and that's so much better than seeing an actual event through all your senses.
Or dance? I mean, what's all that about? All that dancing and moving - and the floors squeaking. Cos they do.
And opera, with all the singing and the singing and they're all fatties anyway, singing in their fat way.
God I hate theatre.
Except when it's brilliant. Then it's okay.
I mean, sometimes it's really exciting and stuff.
Someone sings or gets stabbed and you just didn't see that coming.
Or you watch a Shakespeare and it wasn't really, really boring, like at school. Probably cos it's not at school.
Or when it goes all dark before the show starts and then it starts.
Or when you forget that your bum aches or your feet hurt or the price of the ticket and you cry and you go out into the night after the show thinking and happy or happy and sad or just different. Actually a slightly different person.
Or something similar.
Then it's okay. It can stay.
And then there's the sitting down. All that sitting down. And the seats are never as comfy as in a cinema. Never. Even if they are, all that attention you're giving to those people doing stuff makes you tense up a bit so you never get comfy. And seriously, isn't that what seats are for?
But it could be worse, you could be standing. Standing! For hours. Watching people, doing stuff. With all these other people, standing. And that's just awful. I can stand at home. For free.
And then there's the plays. I mean, who goes to see plays? We've got YouTube now and that's so much easier to get on your phone. Cos you can watch a cat do something cute at anytime you like on a tiny screen and that's so much better than seeing an actual event through all your senses.
Or dance? I mean, what's all that about? All that dancing and moving - and the floors squeaking. Cos they do.
And opera, with all the singing and the singing and they're all fatties anyway, singing in their fat way.
God I hate theatre.
Except when it's brilliant. Then it's okay.
I mean, sometimes it's really exciting and stuff.
Someone sings or gets stabbed and you just didn't see that coming.
Or you watch a Shakespeare and it wasn't really, really boring, like at school. Probably cos it's not at school.
Or when it goes all dark before the show starts and then it starts.
Or when you forget that your bum aches or your feet hurt or the price of the ticket and you cry and you go out into the night after the show thinking and happy or happy and sad or just different. Actually a slightly different person.
Or something similar.
Then it's okay. It can stay.
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
Hanging Around
So, what's it all about? It's going to be series of short scenes, lot's of variations on a theme, one of which is the story of Brian, who wants to be a zebra. He is, at this time, the only recurring character - though this may change. You'll meet him at the beginning of the play as he is interviewed about his lifestyle choice and follow him through the great changes that hit the world around him - namely, a bio-genetic plague which starts turning people into animals. Brian's big chance you'd think - no, it doesn't turn out well for him. Or for much of civilisation largely.
It is a play, a straightforward, people talking to each other play and it is roughly scripted at present. There are whole scenes written, some sketched out and the general shape and tenor of the play exists in my mind - as well as outsourced on some memory storage devices known as scraps of paper.
Much of it is a comedy, but it is a play dealing with serious ideas and themes - specifically, how we define 'normal'. Brian is considered a freak at the beginning of the play because it isn't normal to want to be another species. By the end of the play he is part of the norm, because the world of the play has changed. It doesn't take a genius to see the moral point of the play, so I'm going to not try and ram it home too obviously.
Tickets for the show will be available for reservation later in the year and payment is Pay-What-You-What on the night. The number of tickets available is currently only twenty - part of the reason we'll stream online is so that more people will get to experience it - though the number of tickets available will increase on demand.
Hang by Robert Crighton will be performing at the Quay Theatre, Sudbury on Monday 31st March at 7.30pm. All tickets Pay-What-You-Want - strictly limited seating - call the Quay Box Office on 01787 374 745 or book online here.
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| Please, I just want to be a zebra! |
Sunday, 8 September 2013
The BIG Project Launch Speech In Full
This speech is released on this blog at the same time as I'm making it - so there maybe some changes and if it is a little rough, please forgive me, this has been finished in a bit of a rush.
***
Hello Everyone, welcome to The BIG
Project Launch – I’m just going to talk for a little bit to make sure the
online connection is working... [AD LIB]
The name The
BIG Project is a total misnomer – what I’m about to talk about is big, but
it’s less a project as a way of life.
It’s a lot of little things. But
collectively they are BIG. It was only
the other day that someone (who was in the know) pointed out it should have
been called Project A.I.R.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the bar, of
the online world, I am delighted to finally announce that I am the first ever
Quay Theatre Artist in Residence.
I started residing here a few weeks
ago, I just haven’t been able to tell anyone.
This means that I’m going to be producing a seriously large amount of
Art – theatrical, physical, mental. With
the emphasis on the mental.
The residency is to last until the end
of 2014, and though I’m going to be doing a fair amount in the fag end of this
year, the real meat begins on January 1st 2014. A lot of what I’ll be doing for this
residency will be a bit random – we’ll see what comes up as I go along. There will be live theatre, online audio
work, street theatre, performance art, installations perhaps. The Quay has given me the space, let’s see
how I fill it.
But I wouldn’t get you here for
vagueness - there are also lots of solid plans.
To guide you through what I’m going to produce, and what I’d like you to
help me do, I’ve broken the residency into four themes - Something Old,
Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue.
Something Old
The first project of the residency has
already started and is a holistic, rolling project which will hopefully have a
long life over the next five / ten years.
It’s called BEFORE SHAKESPEARE
Twitter Feed: @B4Shakespeare
Website: beforeshakespeare.moonfruit.com
Before Shakespeare there were hundreds
of years of dramatic evolution across the British Isles. Apart from a few noble exceptions these plays
are often passed over, ignored or simply unknown. Much is simply lost. This Project is about what came before
Shakespeare, about the plays, fragmentary and extant, that shaped the
theatrical world that shaped our dramatic history – and it will explore this
world through the words and the sounds of those words. Though these plays do get performed
occasionally, they are often not recorded, they disappear from sight in a way
that Shakespeare and many of his contemporaries do not. So, in a small way, I will begin creating
recordings of speeches, scenes and (hopefully) full audio productions of plays
rarely experienced away from the page.
Accompanying these recordings will be
additional material, discussion and talks on the plays and anything else that
comes to mind at the time. I’ll
hopefully be joined by other actors, directors, academics to help create new
recordings and feed your interest. I
hope that others will join in, creating their own versions and share them.
I’ve already started recording some
pieces – bits of The Summoning of Everyman, the play God’s Promises by Suffolk
lad John Bale and hope to
begin on the plays of John Heywood and The Chester Mystery Cycle over the next
few months.
Not only will I be producing these
online, there will be live versions – I’m reviving my production of The
Summoning of Everyman (more on that later) and producing with the Guildhall in
Lavenham a show called Fit For A King – presenting two Tudor Entertainments
from the Court of Henry VIII - The
Pardoner and the Friar & John, John and His Wife Tibb. That’s performing at The Lavenham Guildhall on Friday
24th January 2014 - ticket Information Coming Soon
But, to be honest, exciting though the
Before Shakespeare project is, it is just the side show – the occasional
thing. I’ll pootle away at that for
years. Now for the meat. We’ve covered something old, now for
something new
Something New
I have been playing it safe. For the last few years I’ve been letting all
the crazy ideas stew inside my brain, now is the time to let them out! Starting on the 1st January and
lasting for the whole of 2014 I’m going to write and perform the works that
should never happen, in as many different ways as possible – online as
audio/video/text as well as live on stage in diverse venues - from theatres, to
function rooms, to your living room – if you invite me in.
Each of the Ten Projects are
completely new, never seen or heard before works and will be accompanied by
texts, audio recordings, books, downloads, videos and any other medium I can
manage to record and disseminate beyond the four walls of a traditional theatre
space. I want these projects to be
available to people around the world.
Today’s live streaming, still relatively low tech at present, is a
declaration of intent. The live
performances will be mostly be in very small spaces – ticketing will average
only ten to twenty people a night – but many will be available to all thanks to
the internet. Not only that, all live
performances will be Pay-What-You-Want where possible, so you can judge how
much my work is worth.
Project 10/52 all kicks off on January
1st with the first instalment of a weekly audio work broadcast
online every Wednesday. Project One is
The Trolls Trilogy.
I wrote a storyteller show a couple of
years ago called The Natural History of
Trolls – I’m going to write the rest of the Trilogy, starting with Lost Tribe of the Trolls, which will be
broadcast January to June ish, followed by The
Paper Moon Trolls until the end of the year. And for those who missed the first part of the
trilogy – that will be available free online this Christmas. Over the year the online broadcasts will
build, with omnibus editions once a month for easy catch-up, ending with a
special performance of the whole trilogy here at the Quay Theatre in December 2014 – which will also act as the end of
Project party! Follow me as I meet a
Recording Angel, the lost Trolls of Luton and the adopted son of the Trolls,
Peter Git. And for actors out there -
casting for this project is now open.
The second project will perform here
in February – it’s called You Have Been Watching.
It’s an exploration of surveillance
culture and I’ll be looking to involve local performers in this, as the way we
use cameras in day to day life has largely impacted the young. Not only that, I want the audience to use
their mobile phones, ipads, cameras of any sort, to record the performance in
progress – then share that material online to create a palimpsest version of
the show. These will stay up
individually, and hopefully be used to create an “official” version which I’ll
share after the show. This is a show
that maybe more installation / performance art than traditional theatre/drama –
if it doesn’t head off that way, then I will record an audio version to go
online as well.
Project 3 will appear in March and
will be straight theatre – it’s a play called Hang for reasons that will become clear if
you catch the show. It’s a collection of
stories about what we consider normal – how our attitudes to normal can be
incredibly fluid. Take the story of
Brian. Brian wants to be a zebra. He’s passionate about his case, but he is
obviously a freak. But then the world
turns inside out - people are starting to turn into animals and no one knows why. How do the new people fit into this brave new
world. This will be available online as
an audio drama at least, a video version would be lovely, but let’s not run
before we can walk. Casting for this
play is now open.
Project 4 I have an exact date for its
first performance – it’s Wednesday 23rd April 2014 – otherwise known as
Shakespeare day! It’s his 450th
Birthday next year and so I’m writing two plays which touch on his work. This first is The Juliet Inquiry and will be performed at the Lavenham
Guildhall. It’s a complete re-imagining
of the play where the two families are close friends until Romeo and Juliet get
together – only then does the feud start.
Set during and in the aftermath of the 2011 riots, this is a story of
how love and desire can destroy as well as heal. Again, there will be an audio version, and
casting is open now. In June there will
be a what if play about Shakespeare himself, Historic Crimes, which won’t please
the purists.
And while I’m on the subject of
Shakespeare, online as part of my residency, I’m producing a year long series
of recordings called Shakespeare the Poet.
Over Shakespeare’s birthday year I
will be performing every single piece of non-dramatic poetry Shakespeare wrote,
as well as a few choice pieces from the plays as well. Starting with the sonnets and mixing in other
verse, there will be a different bit of verse to listen to online, available on audioboo. Mixed in with that will be the the Narrative
Poems, Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece. Special pop-up performances of these works
and The Sonnets and other short verse are also planned, hopefully in odd venues
and with very little prior warning. Unless
you’re a contributor, then you’ll get loads of notice, but that’s something I’ll
talk of later on.
Back to Project 10/52
I’m not going to go into detail of all
the productions planned by Project 10/52. There’s my homage to B-Movies Beware of Blob in May – for which I
will need a lot of volunteers to blow up balloons. Historic Crimes, as mentioned, in June
and in August my response to the anniversary to the declaration of war in 1914
– Metal Harvest – a piece that will explore
how people are still being killed by that war.
But I will make a special mention of Project
7 which will be available for performance anytime and anywhere (within reason)
from the latest July till 31st December 2014, I call this project Home Invasion
of the Storyteller and it’s a way of spreading my work beyond Suffolk and
the internet, without the cost and hassle of organising a tour. This is a touring show travelling to a venue
near you – your house! Anyone can invite
me to give a private performance, so long as you supply guests, reasonable
refreshment and (if a long way away from Suffolk) and sofa to kip on. I’ll tell two stories – one from my ganderbag
of past work and a brand new piece written specially for Project 10/52 –
Attack of the Christmas Squirrels is
not a Christmas show. Don’t you just
hate it when adverts for Christmas start – even in the middle of summer? Well, that’s what the show is about. The hero of the story – Reg – hates Christmas
adverts and decides to save Christmas by training a crack squad of squirrels to
remove all trace of Christmas and return it to something special. But can Reg stop himself from going too far,
destroying Christmas completely?
I won’t charge a set fee for the show,
just politely ask the guests to give what they can, as with the other shows on
offer. If the performance is far away
you will need to give up a sofa for a over-night stay. NB: This show is NOT for children’s parties -
though children can be guests so long as adults vastly outnumber them.
So, that’s... almost everything... but
before I mention the last few shows, I have to get to the vital part of this
gathering. It’s all very well being the
artist in residence – but I can’t do all this alone. I need help.
And that brings me to the third theme...
Something Borrowed
Help!
I’m looking for actors, collaborators, helpers, balloon blower uppers,
witnesses and the kindness of strangers.
As I work I’ll use social media to call out for random objects, props,
and sometimes just someone else to be in the room. Making yourself up to be a zebra is weird if
you do it by yourself, it isn’t when there are friends.
So, don’t be a stranger, you think all
this is interesting – send me a Tweet, or email or whatever – if I can get you
involved, then I will. If I can’t –
then, what harm has it done? You said
“HELLO”. I like hello.
And then there’s the question of
budget. I need help there too. There will be a financial return for me from
these shows, but it probably won’t be much.
So I’ve started a two pronged approach to fundraising – there are to be
some live events this year and also there’s an online campaign, which I urge
you all to please give sometime to. I’ve
started a crowd source fundraiser with wefund and I’m asking for £2000 – which
for a year’s work is nothing. If
everyone in this room and everyone online gave £10 / 20 then it’s done. And if you give, there is a return – ten
pounds gets you a thank you and priority booking and updates on pop-up shows
but twenty pounds or more gets you a copy of one of the scripts/making of books
that accompany Project 10/52 as well as other content no one else gets.
And then there’s all sort of other
grovelling thank yous I can devise. I
want anyone who gives to feel part of the project – so if you’ve given then
you’re part of the conversation, you are a stake holder. I want to make sure I have an audience before
I begin, to have people who want to engage with the work I’m producing, as well
as helping me to transmit the work further online to the rest of the
world. Your support now means I have a
budget, an audience and support before I go to the dread market.
The live fundraisers are in London and
Suffolk. Firstly there are (currently)
two performances of The Summoning of Everyman – one at the London Theatre on Saturday 26th
October and here at the Quay on November 11th. Obviously, as fundraisers, I’d hope you give generously.
The other live fundraiser is here, in
this very room – a one-to-one Storytelling show – on Saturday lunchtimes called
The Storyteller Will See You Now. You book your slot and get a personal,
one-to-one story told in my little story tent.
Sign up sheets are available here, online people there will be an email address to contact for your slot. I’ve got two
dates for that at present - the 12th & 19th October, from 12.20 at 20 minute intervals until 2.40pm - but if there’s more demand, more slots will appear. Again, it’s Pay-Want-You-Want as you leave. Cross my palm with silver.
And now to the last theme – we’ve had
something old, something new, something borrowed...
Something Blue
Milk Bottle Productions has now adopted an official rating
system.
Red Top – Skimmed Milk – fine
for all. This is for shows like Attack
of the Christmas Squirrels and Beware of the Blob. Harmless and silly.
Green Top – Semi-skimmed – some language but
not excessive.
Blue Top – full fat. I.e. Potentially obscene. I have decided that it is time to stop
censoring myself, and so there are two projects which may – they may not – not
be your cup of tea. If so, don’t
come.
They are - Project 9 – projected
for September – which is called The Single Source of All Filth. According to the Rev. Jeremy Collier
(deceased) the single source of all filth was the theatre – so time to prove
him right. It’s going to be a Cabaret of
Censorship and, well, filth. Open minded
auditionees welcome.
And less light hearted is Project 10 –
projected for October – called Shiny Medusa.
This is a serious look at the male mind,
in light of modern feminist campaigns about the depiction of women. It’s a nightmare of fantasy made manifest, of
dreams taking revenge, of turning yourself into something plastic and shiny...
the Shiny Medusa. Again, open minded
casting is open.
To conclude – there’s a lot going
on. A lot of it is me pootling, a lot
involves others. For those worried that
my recent health issues might get in the way – let me assure you this has been
taken into account. It is because I’ve
been ill for the better part of two years that I am grabbing this good health
by the scruff of the neck – and I’ve got understudies if I fall ill.
For the professional actors on the
tinernet, I’m looking for people now. I
can’t give full break downs as much of this is unwritten, what I’m looking for
are people I can work with, who I click with artistically. The work is sporadic, so, though fee paying,
is not going to get anyone rich, but that means it should fit round other work
commitments. If you’re interested send
me an email and a CV and we’ll meet up and go from there.
Local people, don’t have to make such
an effort – I’m here, I’ll tell you when I’m in the building – just collar me.
So, lastly, there is information to
take away – on my blog or here physically – and there are things to sign up for
– performances (there are reservation sheets) and pledges to give online. I’ve got till November to find the money,
otherwise it’s prostitution. So, sign
up, sign in, get involved. Follow me on
Twitter @RobertCrighton or my blog, email me, get in touch.
Thank you all so much for your
patience. This is Robert Crighton,
Artist in Residence, signing out.
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
At Last, Downloads Available!
At last, Teaching Gods & Bink! are available as downloads! Just click the link below to get your hands on an award-winning piece of storytelling. http://cdbaby.com/cd/robertcrighton1
What's all the fuss about? Have a listen to our trailer below...
Milk Bottle Audio Presents...
Teaching Gods & Bink
by Robert Crighton
Bink!
Performed by Cat LaCohie
Molly was left alone a lot. Her parents were always out. So she started talking to herself, to the furniture, to the house. And then the house answered back. A children’s story... just not for children.
Teaching Gods
Performed by Robert Crighton
Winner of the ‘Best Writing’ Award at the Lost Theatre One-Act Festival 2007
The Gods have invaded the University. All thoughts of normal academic life disappear as the campus dissolves into chaos.
The flowers walk and the squirrels clean kitchens. Will the agents of chaos win against the hard nosed grey suited form of the Vice Chancellor? What do you think?
What's all the fuss about? Have a listen to our trailer below...
Milk Bottle Audio Presents...
Teaching Gods & Bink
by Robert Crighton
Bink!
Performed by Cat LaCohie
Molly was left alone a lot. Her parents were always out. So she started talking to herself, to the furniture, to the house. And then the house answered back. A children’s story... just not for children.
Teaching Gods
Performed by Robert Crighton
Winner of the ‘Best Writing’ Award at the Lost Theatre One-Act Festival 2007
The Gods have invaded the University. All thoughts of normal academic life disappear as the campus dissolves into chaos.
The flowers walk and the squirrels clean kitchens. Will the agents of chaos win against the hard nosed grey suited form of the Vice Chancellor? What do you think?
Review of TEACHING GODS &
OTHER STORIES... - 2009
Fringe Report:
“Verdict: Funny, fast-paced, with depth... There are a lot of good reasons to
see the show. It's funny, fast-paced... surreal fantasy, with an edge of
revenge... Robert Crighton performs with great energy and no little charm...
well viewed after a drink, before a bigger one and some cheese, in celebration
perhaps of strange dreams and the campus cat.”
Thursday, 8 August 2013
When Is Cinema Not Theatre? When It's Television.
I went to see The Audience the other day. Popular West End drama, run finished a while back, but thanks to an encore digital screening I got to catch it in my local cinema. It was rather fun, but I can't quite decide whether I enjoyed it because of the quality of the drama or because of the nature of the overall experience. It was like watching an old friend coming back to me. It was television. Television as it used to be. Some actors walked into a room and three cameras (I think) were pointed at them. Someone vision mixed the images together, occasionally (but unobtrusively) the camera panned or zoomed in and out. Otherwise, it just recorded the passage of action. Just like television used to do.
Now, I'm not knocking the innovations in television drama afforded by following film techniques. There are some very good bits of drama created by tight editing, jump cuts, filters, voice-overs and constant background music. But these are effected created by the technicians. The old school method, a few cameras and a vision mixer, the theatre as opposed to the film route, meant that actors played scenes - that the pace and timing of a scene were live, dependent on the skill of the players. And I miss that. Because not only can actors not play scenes on television, writers don't really write them anymore. And I miss that too.
But now I don't have to - I can see theatre, by going to the cinema, to watch television.
Now, I'm not knocking the innovations in television drama afforded by following film techniques. There are some very good bits of drama created by tight editing, jump cuts, filters, voice-overs and constant background music. But these are effected created by the technicians. The old school method, a few cameras and a vision mixer, the theatre as opposed to the film route, meant that actors played scenes - that the pace and timing of a scene were live, dependent on the skill of the players. And I miss that. Because not only can actors not play scenes on television, writers don't really write them anymore. And I miss that too.
But now I don't have to - I can see theatre, by going to the cinema, to watch television.
Friday, 31 May 2013
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 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...
Thursday, 4 April 2013
Sunday, 31 March 2013
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...
And now, your bad deeds!
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. |
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