This post, almost twelve months after the production opened, has been prompted by mrbubbleandsqueak, who recently left a comment on an earlier post asking for advice on how to approach staging Martin Crimp's work.
Flattery will get you everywhere, mrbubbleandsqueak. I take it from your comment that you saw our production of Attempts on Her Life, and I thank you for your kind words. I apologise for the delay in replying, and will probably need to apologise for not being able to help much, but perhaps the following points might be of some use.
Anyway, I have to say that I don't know "Face to the Wall" but Crimp's style is idiosyncratic and I would assume that the text presents similar difficulties to "Attempts".
How to comprehend his work? Approach it with an open mind and trust your gut instinct. If a definite meaning isn't clear, then don't sweat over trying to intellectualise too much. However you respond to the text should work fine. Crimp does give you a fair bit of scope for interpretation, and your individual reaction to and understanding of the words on the page is likely to be just as good as anyone else's. I wouldn't necessarily agree that there's no such thing as a wrong answer, because that can tempt you into shoehorning the play into a concept that it simply doesn't fit.
The best way to approach the text is collaboratively. Share responsibility for the ideas and don't let one single person bear the burden of finding solutions.
A good place to start is with characters. Try to find a phrase in the text which might be characteristic of a personality. You can use this to flesh out the traits of the speaker and create a fairly extensive set of Given Circumstances from a single utterance. Once a set of characters has been established you can put them in situations and see how they interact.
There are a couple of good resources that might be of help. The first in the information pack from the National Theatre's 2007 production, which you should be able to download from their website. I found it useful. Also there is a book called The Theatre of Martin Crimp by Aleks Sierz, published by Methuen. It has some commentary on the play you are working on.
Ultimately, however, you are left simply with the words on the page. Ignore them at your peril! The openness of the script is deceptive - Crimp has selected, shaped and ordered the writing with great care and intent. Pay attention to the rhythms of the language, question why he has used one particular word over another. Concentrate on the mental images that are painted by his words. Everything is actually there for you. The meanings aren't necessarily hidden, often the simple and obvious is the best option. Sometimes there isn't any meaning at all. In an interview with Crimp in the National's information pack, he talks about writing for the sake of writing, with Previously Frozen an example of a writer just playing around with words and dialogue, with no agenda, no message as such. Just the sounds and the shapes.
That's probably the extent of any 'advice' I can offer. I'm sorry it isn't any more specific, but that's the nature of Crimp's work. Above all, have fun, and the courage to change your mind, even at the last minute. I made major changes to two or three scenes of Attempts in the last week before we opened. They were the right decisions, but I was still left wishing I had another three months to work on the play. I suppose the same can be said for any play.
Friday, 20 February 2009
Sunday, 2 March 2008
Goodbye Anne
It's all over. The swiftest get-out in Bench history (probably) heralded the end of the production. It is always an anti-climax and a somewhat unceremonious way to finish a production which the after-show party tries, but often fails, to correct. Everyone is usually too exhausted, hungry, thirsty to bid farewell to a show with the same energy and enthusiasm with which it was first greeted.
I experience a mixture of sadness, relief, pride, fondness for what we have achieved and what the immediate future holds. It takes only one glance at the ignored stack of washing up to remember that, ultimately, it's business as usual.
But I don't want to kill Anne off just yet. I am sure there is a great deal of evaluating and analysing to do, and since we have this forum, we may as well use it. If I still have the drive in a few days time, I will post my own thoughts on the past few months, but I would be very keen for anyone else to add their own comments. Perhaps you were involved in the show and have some observations to make. Maybe you saw it and wanted to give some feedback. Whatever your views, good or bad, I'd really like to read them.
I experience a mixture of sadness, relief, pride, fondness for what we have achieved and what the immediate future holds. It takes only one glance at the ignored stack of washing up to remember that, ultimately, it's business as usual.
But I don't want to kill Anne off just yet. I am sure there is a great deal of evaluating and analysing to do, and since we have this forum, we may as well use it. If I still have the drive in a few days time, I will post my own thoughts on the past few months, but I would be very keen for anyone else to add their own comments. Perhaps you were involved in the show and have some observations to make. Maybe you saw it and wanted to give some feedback. Whatever your views, good or bad, I'd really like to read them.
Blogged with Flock
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Trauma, Tears & Triumph
Well, as first nights go, last night was certainly one to remember. I can't remember a more eventful, stressful, exhausting or ultimately elating opening performance, and to do it justice I will have to break it down into the three categories above.
Trauma
I already knew that the day was going to be stressful because of the issues we had been having with the projections. The art work hadn't been completed so we hadn't been able to see them in the dress rehearsals, and for the final dress rehearsal we couldn't establish communication between the laptop and projector, so went without. I had arranged to meet with the digital artist and assistant director at 5.30 to go through the finished work, and we still couldn't get the projector to work.
This, however, paled into insignificance when I received the phone call which told me that our lighting operator, Emily, had been involved in a car accident and was having to stay in hospital overnight. I had no idea how serious her injuries were, and so was concerned for her well-being. The pragmatic, Capricornian side of me kicked in and I became aware of the fact that, our technicians being sisters, our sound operator was unlikely to be in any fit state of mind to do her job and so we were faced with the prospect of having lost both lighting and sound operators. The problem was compounded by the fact that they had taken their cue script with them, and so whoever was going to take over these roles would be doing so for the first time, virtually blind.
Fortunately, Lucy (sound operator and sister of Emily) did arrive, understandably shaken but willing to do the show and update us on the situation. It seemed that Emily wasn't seriously hurt but would be in hospital overnight as a precaution. Lucy had also brought the tech notes with her, and so we set to work on preparing for a very fraught, if suddenly less so, first performance. We opted to delay the opening of the show as long as was needed to get the projection sorted and give Lynda (the assistant director who would be operating the lighting) a chance to go through the cues as best as she could to avoid too many mistakes.
We let Front of House know there would be a 30 minute delay (half an hour to go over a show that had taken the best part of 8 hours to tech), and explaining to the audience the reason for the late start.
At 8pm, two major things happened - we received the news that the projections were up and running, and Emily walked through the door, seeming okay if in shock. Oh, the double delight. Emily went straight on the cans backstage to tell her sister that she was here and okay, a cheer went around the audience waiting patiently in the gallery when they heard the news, and at 8.06, with a much reassured Lucy, we kicked off into the unknown.
Tears
With all this drama, it was anyone's guess how the show would work tonight. Relief was tempered with a nagging anxiety that, on top of the audience not "getting" or enjoying this strange play, the performance would be riddled with mistakes that would make it appear shoddy and unprofessional.
I waited backstage with my black hood on (I was back operating the camera for the run), and watched the darkness on the monitor while the first sound effect played out. When the first flash/crash (as it became known from the tech. See the show and you'll know what i mean) happened perfectly, I was overcome with relief and tiredness, and as the actors continued to pull an absolute blinder on stage, I could feel the tears welling up. It was a very emotional first fifteen minutes.
Triumph
In the face of such adversity, the performance was a triumph. The actors were tremendous, Jacquie (who ended up doing the lights) did an amazing job while Lynda winged the hitherto unseen projections with aplomb. The (healthily sized) audience laughed in the right places, and applauded appreciatively at the end despite the fact that the lights didn't come up for the curtain call. Because of course there were mistakes, but I've watched simpler plays that have had more first night slip-ups than ours without the chaos that preceded this one, and I genuinely felt that the performance was ultimately slick and entertaining.
After the show, those audience members I had seen were overwhelmingly positive, if baffled, and the cast and crew breathed a collective sigh of relief that, not only had we done it, but we'd done it bloody well.
I've never been more pleased about a first night.
The Proof of the Pudding
To ice the cake and demonstrate that it wasn't just the ensemble that felt good about the evening, the review was in the paper today, and once again was overwhelmingly positive in tone. It might not have been a complete rave review, but the criticisms were fair and accurate, and to be honest I had been expecting a slating given the nature of the piece. Here it is in all its glory:
Trauma
I already knew that the day was going to be stressful because of the issues we had been having with the projections. The art work hadn't been completed so we hadn't been able to see them in the dress rehearsals, and for the final dress rehearsal we couldn't establish communication between the laptop and projector, so went without. I had arranged to meet with the digital artist and assistant director at 5.30 to go through the finished work, and we still couldn't get the projector to work.
This, however, paled into insignificance when I received the phone call which told me that our lighting operator, Emily, had been involved in a car accident and was having to stay in hospital overnight. I had no idea how serious her injuries were, and so was concerned for her well-being. The pragmatic, Capricornian side of me kicked in and I became aware of the fact that, our technicians being sisters, our sound operator was unlikely to be in any fit state of mind to do her job and so we were faced with the prospect of having lost both lighting and sound operators. The problem was compounded by the fact that they had taken their cue script with them, and so whoever was going to take over these roles would be doing so for the first time, virtually blind.
Fortunately, Lucy (sound operator and sister of Emily) did arrive, understandably shaken but willing to do the show and update us on the situation. It seemed that Emily wasn't seriously hurt but would be in hospital overnight as a precaution. Lucy had also brought the tech notes with her, and so we set to work on preparing for a very fraught, if suddenly less so, first performance. We opted to delay the opening of the show as long as was needed to get the projection sorted and give Lynda (the assistant director who would be operating the lighting) a chance to go through the cues as best as she could to avoid too many mistakes.
We let Front of House know there would be a 30 minute delay (half an hour to go over a show that had taken the best part of 8 hours to tech), and explaining to the audience the reason for the late start.
At 8pm, two major things happened - we received the news that the projections were up and running, and Emily walked through the door, seeming okay if in shock. Oh, the double delight. Emily went straight on the cans backstage to tell her sister that she was here and okay, a cheer went around the audience waiting patiently in the gallery when they heard the news, and at 8.06, with a much reassured Lucy, we kicked off into the unknown.
Tears
With all this drama, it was anyone's guess how the show would work tonight. Relief was tempered with a nagging anxiety that, on top of the audience not "getting" or enjoying this strange play, the performance would be riddled with mistakes that would make it appear shoddy and unprofessional.
I waited backstage with my black hood on (I was back operating the camera for the run), and watched the darkness on the monitor while the first sound effect played out. When the first flash/crash (as it became known from the tech. See the show and you'll know what i mean) happened perfectly, I was overcome with relief and tiredness, and as the actors continued to pull an absolute blinder on stage, I could feel the tears welling up. It was a very emotional first fifteen minutes.
Triumph
In the face of such adversity, the performance was a triumph. The actors were tremendous, Jacquie (who ended up doing the lights) did an amazing job while Lynda winged the hitherto unseen projections with aplomb. The (healthily sized) audience laughed in the right places, and applauded appreciatively at the end despite the fact that the lights didn't come up for the curtain call. Because of course there were mistakes, but I've watched simpler plays that have had more first night slip-ups than ours without the chaos that preceded this one, and I genuinely felt that the performance was ultimately slick and entertaining.
After the show, those audience members I had seen were overwhelmingly positive, if baffled, and the cast and crew breathed a collective sigh of relief that, not only had we done it, but we'd done it bloody well.
I've never been more pleased about a first night.
The Proof of the Pudding
To ice the cake and demonstrate that it wasn't just the ensemble that felt good about the evening, the review was in the paper today, and once again was overwhelmingly positive in tone. It might not have been a complete rave review, but the criticisms were fair and accurate, and to be honest I had been expecting a slating given the nature of the piece. Here it is in all its glory:
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
The Eleventh Hour
The last minute, the skin of our teeth, touch and go, the seat of our pants, these and other phrases relating to the final flurry of activity spring to mind as I await the opening of Attempts on Her Life tonight.
This evening's performance is likely to be the first time a number of finishing touches will have been seen by anyone, including me! It stands to reason that a production with lots of untried ideas and techniques will suffer from the odd setback at the very death, which has been the cause of no small degree of stress for myself in the last twenty-four hours.
But, by 7.30 this evening, the lights will go up on a finished product that is the result of many people's incredible hard work and dedication. My feelings are the inevitable mixture of fear, excitement and fatigue, not helped by the fact that all I can do now is sit and wait.
The final dress rehearsal last night was delayed by the aforementioned technical difficulties, when when it started, it was lovely to see the actors really getting to grips with the piece, and the lighting and sound working together to create some tremendous effects. What will audience's make of it? I really have no idea. Perhaps I will be able to answer the question in a few hours time.
I'm so very very tired...
This evening's performance is likely to be the first time a number of finishing touches will have been seen by anyone, including me! It stands to reason that a production with lots of untried ideas and techniques will suffer from the odd setback at the very death, which has been the cause of no small degree of stress for myself in the last twenty-four hours.
But, by 7.30 this evening, the lights will go up on a finished product that is the result of many people's incredible hard work and dedication. My feelings are the inevitable mixture of fear, excitement and fatigue, not helped by the fact that all I can do now is sit and wait.
The final dress rehearsal last night was delayed by the aforementioned technical difficulties, when when it started, it was lovely to see the actors really getting to grips with the piece, and the lighting and sound working together to create some tremendous effects. What will audience's make of it? I really have no idea. Perhaps I will be able to answer the question in a few hours time.
I'm so very very tired...
Blogged with Flock
Sunday, 24 February 2008
A long day.
We have just completed the get-in. Having arrived at the Arts Centre at 9 this morning, and left at 10 this evening, exactly on schedule.
Considering that this is a very complex production technically, and the fact that both lighting and sound operators are taking on these roles for the very first time to be greeted with an array of challenges that includes projections from a laptop, lighting cues that need split second timing, sound outputs from four different sources (sometimes simultaneously), the fact that we managed to stay totally on time throughout the day is remarkable to say the least. The play is running at an hour and forty-five minutes, and minute for minute must be one of the most technically intricate projects we have undertaken for a long time. It is a glowing testament to everyone who was present today that we worked long, hard and fast without, apart from a couple of very momentary flash points, falling out with each other.
And, even though I say so myself, the show is looking bloody great!
Must go now. My brain feels like cotton wool.
Considering that this is a very complex production technically, and the fact that both lighting and sound operators are taking on these roles for the very first time to be greeted with an array of challenges that includes projections from a laptop, lighting cues that need split second timing, sound outputs from four different sources (sometimes simultaneously), the fact that we managed to stay totally on time throughout the day is remarkable to say the least. The play is running at an hour and forty-five minutes, and minute for minute must be one of the most technically intricate projects we have undertaken for a long time. It is a glowing testament to everyone who was present today that we worked long, hard and fast without, apart from a couple of very momentary flash points, falling out with each other.
And, even though I say so myself, the show is looking bloody great!
Must go now. My brain feels like cotton wool.
Blogged with Flock
Saturday, 23 February 2008
Ladies and Gentlemen - We Have a Show!
So, I failed miserably at writing some catch up posts that cover the last month or so's progress. The truth is that, even though I've not been at work this week, I haven't really stopped. my time has been filled with last minute preparations, panics and adjustments as the get-in weekend approaches.
What I haven't failed at, on the strength of tonight's final rehearsal, is making this very difficult play work. I was delighted by what I saw tongith, in every scene. Characters were coming through, actors were bringing new things to moments, and scenes which had, frankly, been hard work were enjoyable to watch again for the first time in several weeks.
It wasn't always thus. When we reassembled last Sunday after a week without rehearsals, our attempt at a run-through did not bode well. Lines were all over the place, scenes were trudging along having not been rehearsed for a long time, and there were lots of distractions with the various bits of technical hardware that form a part of this show. The following two rehearsals saw me ringing in the changes for a few scenes that simply weren't working as theatre. These changes were not insignificant, and at the time I worried that too many alterations at such a late stage would serve only to confuse the cast, having been used to the original ideas. But I felt I had to bite the bullet and take action where I felt it was needed.
Personally, while I recognised the need for change, I felt I was running out of ideas. Fortunately two things came to my rescue. First, the cast. Rather than resisting such eleventh hour adjustments, they embraced the problem and offered interesting and workable solutions. Second, our exploratory work last year. As so often seems to be the case, we ended up reincorporating ideas that had emerged as early as the audition, but had been shelved for no real reason other than having moved beyond that point.
The result was some major changes to not only what the actors are doing but also the set design itself. After having a couple of days off, we met again tonight in the somewhat pokey environs of Bedhampton Arts Centre to have another crack at running the play.
Suffice to say, all the various elements came together for the first time, and suddenly I seemed to be watching a piece of theatre, rather than a series of sketches. Each scene worked on its own merit, and there were some wonderful moments. I can now look forward to the get-in confident that this production will work.
The only unknown quantity now if the technical stuff. We have been rehearsing with the camera and projector for a while, but haven't seen anything in the way of lighting or digital animations that form a major part of the show, and I've only been able to bring in sound at the last few rehearsals. These elements need to click, and fast. It is with excitement and no small amount of trepidation that I anticipate our scheduled mammoth 13-hour get-in Sunday, which will be the first time that any of us will see exactly what the audience is going to see in just a few days time.
As Sir Alex Ferguson said, it's squeaky bum time, but now I can see a decent end product on the horizon.
What I haven't failed at, on the strength of tonight's final rehearsal, is making this very difficult play work. I was delighted by what I saw tongith, in every scene. Characters were coming through, actors were bringing new things to moments, and scenes which had, frankly, been hard work were enjoyable to watch again for the first time in several weeks.
It wasn't always thus. When we reassembled last Sunday after a week without rehearsals, our attempt at a run-through did not bode well. Lines were all over the place, scenes were trudging along having not been rehearsed for a long time, and there were lots of distractions with the various bits of technical hardware that form a part of this show. The following two rehearsals saw me ringing in the changes for a few scenes that simply weren't working as theatre. These changes were not insignificant, and at the time I worried that too many alterations at such a late stage would serve only to confuse the cast, having been used to the original ideas. But I felt I had to bite the bullet and take action where I felt it was needed.
Personally, while I recognised the need for change, I felt I was running out of ideas. Fortunately two things came to my rescue. First, the cast. Rather than resisting such eleventh hour adjustments, they embraced the problem and offered interesting and workable solutions. Second, our exploratory work last year. As so often seems to be the case, we ended up reincorporating ideas that had emerged as early as the audition, but had been shelved for no real reason other than having moved beyond that point.
The result was some major changes to not only what the actors are doing but also the set design itself. After having a couple of days off, we met again tonight in the somewhat pokey environs of Bedhampton Arts Centre to have another crack at running the play.
Suffice to say, all the various elements came together for the first time, and suddenly I seemed to be watching a piece of theatre, rather than a series of sketches. Each scene worked on its own merit, and there were some wonderful moments. I can now look forward to the get-in confident that this production will work.
The only unknown quantity now if the technical stuff. We have been rehearsing with the camera and projector for a while, but haven't seen anything in the way of lighting or digital animations that form a major part of the show, and I've only been able to bring in sound at the last few rehearsals. These elements need to click, and fast. It is with excitement and no small amount of trepidation that I anticipate our scheduled mammoth 13-hour get-in Sunday, which will be the first time that any of us will see exactly what the audience is going to see in just a few days time.
As Sir Alex Ferguson said, it's squeaky bum time, but now I can see a decent end product on the horizon.
Blogged with Flock
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Time flies
It is ironic but inevitable that the most creative period of rehearsals is also the busiest, meaning I have not had enough time to blog as regularly as I'd like. I hope, in these final weeks, to right this wrong and fill in the considerable gaps with an outline of our progress.
We have reached the stage now where all scenes are fixed. In other words, we have identified the form and function of each scene, sorted out most of the blocking and the actors are off book. The importance of this milestone should not be underestimated, particularly with a production such as this. It is only now that key decisions can be made in terms of lighting, projections and film work, and we can concentrate on refining what we have rather than generating news ideas and material. It has taken a long time to reach this point, with some scenes taking a lot longer than others. In some cases, Scene 17 in particular, we have had to scrap our initial ideas entirely and start again from scratch.
It has been a lot of hard work, I get the impression that I have made more demands on both the cast and myself than usual in the short amount of time that constitutes each rehearsal. But at the same time it has been a huge amount of fun, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the creative process, which switches between moments of individual and collective inspiration and cold hard slog to break through the pain barrier when ideas are less forthcoming. That said, perhaps the most challenging role has ended up being that of the Stage Manager. I doubt Peter had any idea of what his job would entail at the start of the process, but I have to say he has been an absolute rock. His job has emerged as a combination of stage manager, project manager, film director and technical director, co-ordinating an ever-growing group of people, and learning new skills to enable the director's vision to be realised.
The challenge that faces us at this point in time is that we have one rehearsal left before I am unavailable for a week, and it feels as though this hiatus has come at precisely the wrong time, when really we should be taken full advantage of the momentum we have gathered. We will have to make the best of it, and perhaps the cast and crew will be grateful for a week in which they can recharge their batteries, reflect and really cement the lines in their heads before we hit the final week of rehearsal, which promises to be hectic and even tougher on the stamina reserves than the last few weeks have been.
We have reached the stage now where all scenes are fixed. In other words, we have identified the form and function of each scene, sorted out most of the blocking and the actors are off book. The importance of this milestone should not be underestimated, particularly with a production such as this. It is only now that key decisions can be made in terms of lighting, projections and film work, and we can concentrate on refining what we have rather than generating news ideas and material. It has taken a long time to reach this point, with some scenes taking a lot longer than others. In some cases, Scene 17 in particular, we have had to scrap our initial ideas entirely and start again from scratch.
It has been a lot of hard work, I get the impression that I have made more demands on both the cast and myself than usual in the short amount of time that constitutes each rehearsal. But at the same time it has been a huge amount of fun, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the creative process, which switches between moments of individual and collective inspiration and cold hard slog to break through the pain barrier when ideas are less forthcoming. That said, perhaps the most challenging role has ended up being that of the Stage Manager. I doubt Peter had any idea of what his job would entail at the start of the process, but I have to say he has been an absolute rock. His job has emerged as a combination of stage manager, project manager, film director and technical director, co-ordinating an ever-growing group of people, and learning new skills to enable the director's vision to be realised.
The challenge that faces us at this point in time is that we have one rehearsal left before I am unavailable for a week, and it feels as though this hiatus has come at precisely the wrong time, when really we should be taken full advantage of the momentum we have gathered. We will have to make the best of it, and perhaps the cast and crew will be grateful for a week in which they can recharge their batteries, reflect and really cement the lines in their heads before we hit the final week of rehearsal, which promises to be hectic and even tougher on the stamina reserves than the last few weeks have been.
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