Categories
Acting

This is Not a Political Statement

It’s just back of an envelope arithmetic, and a bit of rambling thought.

Also, the tone of this item is a bit … discouraged … What I mean is … I was young when The Greatest Generation had settled themselves back at home. Things seemed to be going well. There was a belief that we had done it.

Now, not so much. Environment, government, corporate, endless war … etc.

I hesitated to post it, but if you do go ahead and read it, please also visit the fresh new page called But Wait! There’s This … for a brief and particularly inspiring item. A counterpoint to this one. Anyway back to my (mildly) gloomy theme …

Consider a trillion dollars

$1,000,000,000,000

A 1 with 12 zeros after it. To see that in graphics go here.

Meanwhile I’m reading a book.

It’s called Amnesia.

Book cover, courtesy Amazon
Book cover, courtesy Amazon

I’m reading it aloud. I’m doing this professionally for Recorded Books in New York City.

It was written by Peter Carey. Peter Carey is a multiple Booker Prize winner. He is one of Australia’s leading writers. The book is not yet on general release.

(To me) The most interesting part, given that Peter Carey has superior prose and story-telling skills expertly deployed throughout, is the bit that tells the story — interwoven with a discouraging but plausible hypothesis of what really happened — of the 1975 deposition of the Australian government by the Queen’s representative in Australia, the Governor-General.

It was a new perspective to me. … And yet, now you mention it …

Gough Whitlam was a great Australian. He passed just last month. He was Prime Minister of Australia from 1972 to 1975 which was when he got the Royal Elbow. His government instituted some basic civilized minimums: universal healthcare, equal pay, significant support for the arts, the end of conscription … and … free tertiary education.

Yes, that’s right. Let me just say that again: FREE college.

College is no longer free in Australia, nor in the UK, and not in the USA. But $1 trillion would pay for more than 20 million US college years.

If 20 million 6’ males (perhaps drawn proportionately from those nations currently engaged in warfare) were stacked lengthways end to end they would just about girdle the earth at the equator. That might not be a comfortable posture. But they wouldn’t be able to fight many wars.

Australian actress Cate Blanchett makes an eloquent thank you speech here.

Oh, and …

German universities have recently extended their free university education for German nationals to overseas students.

My college was paid by the British taxpayer (whose ranks I later joined). Personally, I would prefer that my tax coin went to fund education rather than trillions of dollars worth of armed conflict, or some forgotten media/security complexity.

Just saying …

I wonder what could be done with a trillion dollars (or two) in the way of: clean energy, organic vegetables, cleaning up the oceans, universal health care?

Categories
Acting Plays Theatre

Our Town Is A Play Like No Other

Alicia Donnelan
Alicia Donnelan

 

Part slice-of-life, part tone-poem, shyly spiritual.

I play the Stage Manager in Palm Beach Dramaworks’ production, a role like no other.

Well Paul Newman (whom I once had the privilege of playing for and meeting after the performance), and Spalding Grey, and Helen Hunt and numbers of distinguished others have played that Everyman, the Stage Manager. None of whom I am like. And yet we’re all actors.

And there is Dylan Thomas’s poetic masterpiece written in 1954, Under Milk Wood.

 

 

Do you know that poem by that good man of New England, Robert Frost, Trial by Existence?

Emiley Kiser and Joe Ferrarelli. Photo: Alicia Donnelan
Emiley Kiser and Joe Ferrarelli. Photo: Alicia Donnelan

And from a cliff-top is proclaimed

The gathering of the souls for birth,

The trial by existence named,

The obscuration upon earth.

 

 

 

But For sleight-of-the-eternal in the guise of the everyday, Our Town has it, I think.

 

Emiley Kiser, Joe Ferrarelli and the company. Photo: Alicia Donnelan
Emiley Kiser, Joe Ferrarelli and the company. Photo: Alicia Donnelan

What could be more quotidian than delivering milk or making breakfast or even getting married?

And what more metaphysical than:

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it, every, every moment?

– No, the saints and poets maybe. They do some.

 

Memory, Presence, the Ephemera that is theatre, the forward march of time …

“Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting …” — William Wordsworth

Or … “What’s that unforgettable line?” — Samuel Beckett

The company, opening tableau. Photo: Robin McGee
The company, opening tableau. Photo: Robin McGee

 

Kenneth Kay and Josh Stoughton. Photo: Alicia Donnelan
Kenneth Kay and Josh Stoughton. Photo: Alicia Donnelan

“Some say that the art of the theatre, born for and bound to the moment, must, like a soap bubble or nocturnal meteor, dazzle, then burst to leave no trace. Free yourself from this dark thought! The very fact that your art is a child of fragrance, of the spirit, of a mood, of personality and imagination, and not something of wood or stone, or even a thought fixed in black and white, but a sprite forever swinging free on beauty’s vine, the fact that it lacks tangible form, renders it immune to the gnawing of time’s worm. And that is what life truly means: to live in memory …. to rest in people’s minds free of the mildew and rust of age …. and this lot has been granted to you.” — Henrik Ibsen

 

Dan Leonard, Patti Gardner, Emiley Kiser. Photo: Alicia Donnelan
Dan Leonard, Patti Gardner, Emiley Kiser. Photo: Alicia Donnelan

 

“To live vividly in the memory of others seems to be a great thing. In terms of art, it always seems to me that there is something unique and electric about an artist connecting with an audience in live performance. The memory of these moments get parked in a different part of our mind. People speak of them with real reverence and clarity even many years after the applause has faded. To be remembered like that, in any aspect of life, is probably the nearest we have to time travel.”  Jonathan Pytell — pytell.com

 

 

“We all come here and we don’t know why. We all go in our turn and we don’t know where. And if you’re a bit better off, be thankful. And if you don’t get into trouble and make a fool of yourself, well be thankful for that, because you easily might.” — Henry Ormanroyd in When We Are Married by J B Priestly

The company at the funeral. Photo: Robin McGee
The company at the funeral. Photo: Robin McGee

Kudos to my fellow actors in our production like no other. Cast list here. It has been quite a ride. Company members have come and gone, rehearsals and performances have been fraught with incident. All borne with good humor and grace by that fine collection of human beings, the cast and crew of Our Town. Theatrical companies become families within three days. But in a company of this size we are a community.

The company. Photo: Alicia Donnelan
The company. Photo: Alicia Donnelan

“Backstage was chaos distilled into a very small space.” ― William Alexander, Goblin Secrets

Robin McGee
Robin McGee

Note to self: this is one where the less ACTING the better …

N.A.R. (No Acting Required)

— John Voight …

“The most exciting acting tends to happen in roles you never thought you could play.”

― John Lithgow …

“When you most succeed, you do so by seeming not to act at all.”

― Stella Adler, The Art of Acting

Categories
Acting

This Play Is Called Our Town. It Was Written By …

photo-27The play’s themes are Community, Death and The Weather – not necessarily in that order. And you don’t need to go to New Hampshire to get any of that. Although if you want to speak with the Down East dialect it would help.

Oh and by the way, who is the Stage Manager?

A man both of the town and beyond it, able to move in several directions in time and with the prescient knowledge of things to come and things past. His voice joins with the author’s in the play’s great invitation: to notice.

Last year 2013, was the 75th anniversary of the first production of the play in 1938, and the 38th of Thornton Wider’s death in 1975. Its content is distantly reminiscent of the American Transcendentalists of the 19th century and its form somehow gently references both the origins of theatre and the contemporaneous alienation techniques of Eastern European Drama. Last year there was an abundance of productions. This year, Palm Beach Dramaworks, in Florida, celebrates its 15th anniversary, and produces this play in celebration. It’s my fourth production here, and it is lovely to work with old friends and new ones on this exquisite, ordinary-extraordinary, beautiful play.

The play is set in New Hampshire in a small town for which the author gives map co-ordinates in the text. It’s a clever move because if you check the latitude and the longitude  you end up in the shallows of the Atlantic Ocean off the New England coast. Thus, no actual town can lay claim.

But the town in Our Town is as New Hampshire as it’s possible to be – I speak as one who knows the place. I have journeyed there in all seasons, seen the leaves turn in Fall, blazing the hills with their slow motion firework display; shoveled snow at Christmas; counted churches in the towns and along the country roads.

photo-26

The State motto is: Live Free Or Die. You see it stamped on vehicle number plates. Most plates are manufactured by convict labor. A real-life detail that I believe Wilder would have noted as an ironic counterpoint along the lines of the shadowy speech he gives the Stage Manager as the Minister after the wedding in Act Two.

“I’ve married over two hundred couples in my day. Do I believe in it? I don’t know … once in a thousand times it’s interesting.”

To me, accents are interesting. Nothing else quite points to both the unity and the divergence of human experience. After all, we all, all of us, all of us that ever lived or ever shall, have the same basic vocal equipment. But can you produce the clicks of the Xhosa language, the tonalities of Tibetan or Cantonese, the umlaut guttural nasalities of Scandinavia? No? Me neither … And what about the nuanced estuarine vowels now espoused by British politicians and younger Royals alike in their quest for the peoples’ favor?

To me the accent challenge on this one is as hefty as anything Ms. Streep has undertaken. In the play we are a New Hampshire community between 1901 and 1913. The accent is specific, a long way from Standard American, not so far from Boston, and with English notes in its origin.

For an Australian or a Briton to replicate an American accent authentically can be tricky. There is a long list of those who have:

Hugh Laurie, Dominic West, Gary Oldman to name a few … and going the other way … Gwyneth Paltrow, Renee Zellweger, and let’s include Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth the first (although I believe I spotted two rogue Aussie vowels) … yes, but these consummate performers were on screen where a zillion takes in bite-sized nuggets, accent coaches on tap, and the magic of post, can fix it all.

photo-25

One thing I love about my job is the variety. Some roles are fun, some are fantasy, others by turns: a challenge, a task, an attempt, an exploration. Seldom routine. But to play one of the great roles that is all the above and more, in company with old friends and new ones, in an iconic play that among other things, is also about … Life, Art and Truth. Well that is …

A privilege.

Categories
Acting

PLUM = O.L.M.

From hirsute to hairless
From hirsute to hairless

“Jeeves!”

“Yes sir?”

“I say Jeeves, rally round will you?”

“I shall endeavor to give satisfaction sir.”

“It would not be overstating the case to say that this is one of the scaliest dilemmas ever to have presented itself.”

“Indeed, sir?”

 

* * *

 

But hang on dash it all, I’d better go back a reel or two and unleash a bit of context for the general reader.

You see, when I was engaged to go to New Zealand to partake of the Midsummer Night’s Dream festivities, up to and including treading the boards with our friends from China, well I sprang like a young gazelle to take advantage of the jamboree.

Chinese and Kiwi actors in the Dream at The Court
Chinese and Kiwi actors in the Dream at The Court

After all, N.Z. what with the jolly old International Date Line and so forth, is exactly as far away as one can go without coming back! How and when in the world does a chap collide with an opportunity like that?!

Little did I suspect that whilst I was merrily playing games of Whizz, Bang, Pop, with my fellow thesps. at the pre show warm-up, fate was quietly slipping a powder of poser into the sherbet. Viz:

My old chum Philip Aldridge, Chief Exec. at The Court Theatre, was slated to play that master of comic prose Pelham Granville Wodehouse in a world premiere of a play called PLUM. Cutting to the headlines of the case, when yours truly hove across the horizon, the Aldridge, nothing if not a cove to seize upon the happenstance, put it to me that I might do a stint as his stunt double and undertake the portraying of the great man, myself.

It would be departing from veracity if I told you that I was all sympathy for Aldridge’s plight, he being somewhat more than fully occupied with the navigation of the various re-building considerations and negotiations at hand. No, the truth is, the opp. to play one of the greatest humorists that ever lived (albeit in this part of his life story a startlingly silly old duffer and one that made a profound mistake), well it was a chance that no aspiring performer could pass up.

That’s what theatrical types call the backstory, we now resume the parlay with Jeeves …

 

* * *

 

“You see Jeeves, two weeks ago I looked like this:”

As Peter Quince
As Peter Quince

“Indeed, sir.”

“And here is the publicity shot for PLUM:”

As P. G. Wodehouse in PLUM with Laura Hill as The Muse
As P. G. Wodehouse in PLUM with Laura Hill as The Muse

“Ah yes, sir.”

“You see the problem, Jeeves?”

“Quite so, sir.”

“Wodehouse the tweedy old fart in the semi-recumbent posture, this we can do, Jeeves.”

“The likeness is extraordinary, sir.”

“But what of Wodehouse the wordsmith?”

“Many have tried, sir. I fear few …”

“Peerless, what? Stands alone kind of thing?”

“Exactly so, sir.”

“And here’s the rub, Jeeves. Wodehouse the ex-sportsman, the cricketer, the rugby player of his youth? The trim physique, Jeeves.”

“Precisely, sir.”

“What’s to be done, Jeeves?”

“If I may suggest, sir. I fancy the time has come for the formal deployment of O.L.M.”

“O.L.M., Jeeves? Talk plainly man. This is no time for obscure reference.”

“Operation Leading Man, sir.”

“Good heavens, Jeeves!”

“Indeed, sir. As the latin has it: in mens sana in corpore sano.”

“Dash it all, Jeeves! I do wish you wouldn’t speak dead languages at times of crisis.”

“Quite so, sir.”

“But I say, one is known in three continents as a trencherman of considerable accomplishment …”

“It is the only way, sir.”

“What? Nix the carbs? Deep six the sherbet? Undertake strenuous exercises in the manner of those johnnies from the Indian subcontinent?”

“These and other measures, sir.”

“How ghastly!”

“Yes sir.”

“Well look here, Jeeves, mix me a stiffish brandy and soda, would you? And if you forget the soda, you won’t hear me complaining. A final snifter before the campaign begins, what?”

* * *

PLUM opens on 9th August at The Court Theatre, Christchurch, N.Z. and plays till 30th August.

O.L.M. is ongoing …

Categories
Acting Theatre

6.3 in 2011

On February 22nd 2011 an earthquake struck Christchurch, New Zealand. It destroyed many buildings, rendered many more unsafe. 185 people lost their lives. The Government declared a state of emergency.

Now it’s May 2014.

I’m here as the guy who introduced two bad-boys of theatre to each other. Philip Aldridge and Joe Graves. Their contact has resulted in two Chinese/New Zealand collaborations.

Some of the centre of Christchurch looks like a recent combat zone. Big metal shipping containers are stacked three or four high and three or four wide, and used to buttress surviving walls.

2014-05-02 10.50.55Turn a corner and a whole block has been razed where sometimes the residual gravel has been neatly raked, or maybe grass grows wild. There are plastic traffic cones everywhere, half the roads are temporarily one-way. Traffic is slow.

Among many buildings cordoned off is the old Arts Centre which housed The Court Theatre. No one is allowed in. The engineers say it’s unsafe. Inside the set for the play that was on when the quake struck, still stands. All office equipment, all lighting, all technical equipment, files, desks, books, pens and pencils are just as they were. All untouched for 3 years and 3 months.

After the earthquake the Court Theatre was at risk of closing its doors forever. I’m proud to tell you that my friend and sometime fellow actor Philip Aldridge steered a transformation. These days he is Chief Executive at The Court. He found a premises in a suburb close enough to the centre. It was an old grain shed. He persuaded Dame Maggie Smith to lend her name and support to the fundraising effort and The Court re-opened in The Shed, its temporary home in mid December of the same year in which the quake hit.

2014-05-17 09.36.06

Here’s the new box office. Shows what you can do with a bit of paint and a shipping container.

2014-05-02 12.12.17

The interior of The Shed now houses a large workshop for set construction, a wardrobe, a green room, a large rehearsal room, a 350 seat auditorium, a foyer with a second informal performance space. Those ubiquitous shipping containers with bright paint now supply the coffee bar, the bar, the loos, and behind the scenes, there’s a gaggle of containers for offices.

2014-05-17 09.36.40

In its new home the theatre is doing what theatre does. It supports the micro-economy locally when patrons buy coffees or drinks in the high street. It circulates cash in the incidental spend that comes with theatre-going—childcare, gas (petrol as they call it in N.Z.), dinner, and so forth.

I’ve written about Joe Graves at length in my book, An Actor Walks into China, so it seems right to tell a story about Philip Aldridge.

We were on a mildly unglamorous tour of Toad of Toad Hall up and down the U.K. One week we pitched up in Liverpool. By a theatrical mishap we were booked to play a 10 a.m. show in The Liverpool Empire. The Liverpool Empire seats 2,500. It was a Saturday morning. There were 108 (including kids and parents) in the massive auditorium. They were a tough group.

Philip, a splendid Toad, entered and gave it his usual bright optimism, “Hello Badger!” he enthused. Then he began a sotto voce monologue, “Lookatthat. Go-ontakealook. Goodisn’t it? Whaddyathinkofthat?”

From the other side of the vast stage I saw there was something on his lapel, so I crossed over to take a look. “SeewhatImean? Howaboutthat? Notexpectingthatwereyou?” whispered Toad, unheard by the audience who were about a quarter mile away, but perfectly audible to me.

Imagine my surprise when I perceived a three-dimensional representation of two toads engaged in the physical act of love.

It gets better.

The tableau of the two small toads on the lapel was connected to a squeeze bulb, and every time Philip, the big toad, manipulated it, there was action.

I don’t remember laughing as much on or off any stage before or since. Laughing uncontrollably in the middle of a show is not (technically) something you’re supposed to do. It was however, the moment I knew we’d be friends for life.

My point is, a man who can turn a badly hungover rainy Saturday morning in an outsize theatre in one of England’s biggest industrial ports into an incident that still makes me laugh 25 years later, well that’s the sort of bloke you want when you’ve got to fix up a temporary theatre in a stricken city at the other end of the world, paint some shipping containers bright red, and then go on to sell more than a quarter of a million tickets in two years.

I’m now playing Peter Quince in the second Chinese/New Zealand theatrical collaboration. This is ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ with 7 Chinese actors (working in English, Shakespearean English).

The rest of the cast are Kiwi/Aussie with an American director (Joe Graves) putting together a 16th century British classic, set in Athens, Greece.

 

Who knew?