Much-Larking-In-The-Dark-Woods

So we're having a ball. Much ice has been broken. Lines are pretty much learnt and the actors are larking about making each other laugh. We are in a special piece of work and we are sooo lucky to be in this trade where coming to work is coming to play. We have the luxury (these days) of a four week rehearsal period so last Wednesday having played with all the bits of it we still had a week and a half to glue it back together and familiarise ourselves with the play as a whole. Of course to do that one has to actually run the thing. We come to:

THE FIRST STAGGER THROUGH!!!

No pressure. No acting required. If you want to go back over something or you forget your lines that's fine this is just to see what needs to be done over the next period. Oh, what a difference a day makes. What is this thing we're doing? I can't act! What was I thinking? Suddenly there is no such thing as magic. (Very relevant as The Indian Boy is inspired by A Midsummer Night's Dream) I want to change my ticket from a voyage of dicovery to a day trip to Bognor. "Make it safe!" I scream but no-one listens. I wake in a cold sweat and wish for a Winnebago.

Of course I exaggerate. It will be fine. It's always like this. Keep the faith. Steer between Scylla and Charybdis and a bright new day will dawn and all manner of things will be well. You can nail jelly to the wall and make it look attractive. Can't wait for next week. Ulp!

The secret revealed

How do you learn your lines? Just graft alright? No tips and tricks. Just go over and over them saying them to yourself or anyone else who is kind enough to indulge you until they stick. Terribly valuable period of rehearsal as you are getting intimate with the writer properly for the first time. Feel them in your mouth. Taste the surprises. Ask questions. Meditate.

One of our cast uses a well worn postcard of a young Marlon Brando (his benchmark) to cover his lines as he works down the page.

I am actually going on my bike. And taking sandwiches.

I am the old man of the cast. Aaagh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But there is a lot of love in the room.

What is actually happening?

Read-throughs are one of those strange artistically value-free events which one has to go through because what the heck else are you going to do on the first day of rehearsal which would be less painful? There are always some words about hearing the arc of the play now it's been re-written etc. and perfectly valid words they are, along with a lot of other valid words and a valid look at the set and other quaint validities. What is actually happening though is we are all sussing each other out. Some we know, some we have worked with, some are brand new, how is it going to shake-down? Are we going to have a good/easy/terrible/interesting/fulfilling/maddening time for the next few weeks? Are we going to learn something new or have that final breakdown which tips us over the edge into the black soup? The air hums with potential. Glances are sneaked. Little flags are raised. It's sweet and fearful. Full of hope and trepidation and I think I've made my point so I will shut up.

It all went off ok anyway and the play has an arc and the set is exciting. The Cube itself is a 100 seat temporary auditorium built inside the RST and suspended there at a slight angle to and ending at the proscenium arch and it will exist for only a month I think. Tibetan butter-sculpture springs to mind.

I might go on my bike tomorrow.

Stream of consciousness

Yes ok it's been a while but J and I have moved and this takes up piles of energy, physical and emotional and anyway I have hardly worked to speak of so This Acting Lark would have been a misnomer if in fact I had posted anything during this period of transition but some people would say "whaddya mean, isn't this normal for an actor?" (trying to be comforting and humorous) and I have to allow this mean tributary of statistical observation to swell the river of perception up which I and fellow Larklanders have to paddle.

however

a) We live somewhere lovely

b) I start work tomorrow on a new Rona Munro play 'The Indian Boy' for the RSC. 4 Weeks rehearsal and six performances only in The Cube at Stratford. It looks exciting. I'll let you know. A bit.

c) Well I've started posting again isn't it?

Enough Larking?

This Acting Lark can sometimes bring sudden moments of decision. Quite serious decisions really. Even more serious than what to wear for an interview. Incidentally, readers of the previous post may be forgiven for thinking that I had left all this behind and was having the crazy time with the money and the sun and the girls in S.Africa. Thank God I didn't get that job! No moral dilemmas about advertising a gas-guzzling, urban tank and they were only paying a rubbish £30,000.00 buy-out. I am assured this is chicken-poo by those who know.

The thing is, I was offered a job on Thursday night out of the blue. A good part in a nice regional theatre run by a Very Nice Man whom I had worked with nearly twenty years ago. I turned it down! Well, Larkland Pipeline, as far as one can tell is oozing a bit and while a bird in the hand is etc. I can't afford to be tied up at this point because of possibilities pending. The decision had to be made immediately as the job starts on Monday.

It didn't matter what I wore to the rather exciting interview I had on Friday as it was to voice a character in a feature length animation. A mad American military type. I borrowed a bit of the Colonel in Sgt. Bilko - what was his name? - and mixed in a bit of Yogi Bear and gave it some muscle. It made me laugh but I have no idea how it was received. You have to go in with something that you feel good about and have practiced well, otherwise you're just not in it in the first place. If you're not in - you can't win. I did actually give some thought to clothes. Of course I did. If you don't feel good about yourself why should anyone else feel good about you?

Looking forward to an interview at the Soho Theatre on Tuesday and working with some old colleagues in a TV-writing workshop on Wednesday, a repeat of last year (see The Duck Is Broken on this page) and I'm also helping to devise and deliver an acting workshop for young people the following week apart from making a short DV film with J. Enough Larking to be going on with I feel.

Shameless

Would you give this man a job?

Thrift and style

So I've gone for the brown Hugo Boss modish suit (half-price Moss Bros 2002) which was purchased for the first night of The Glee Club at the Duchess. A memorable night for some. I was wearing a Glee Club baseball cap in the Two Bridges a few months ago and Simon Stokes and Doug Lucie were at the next table, we exchanged greetings as you do and Doug Lucie who I don't know personally said to me "Is that an 'I survived the Glee Club first night party' hat?"! Word gets round.......... I do remember vitally neglecting to open a plate glass door from The Crypt before trying to exit. J had sensibly left a good bit earlier not wanting to witness the full horror. I have to keep to myself the doings of others for fear of backlash but they know who they are if not where they were.

The brown Bally shoes (half-price Heathrow Airport 2000) and the white shirt with the button down collar (which I know some people regard as an abomination but they rather suit me). Luckily I have just had my hair cut (free for subscribers to Time Out at the new Japanese-style place at platform one Euston Station - not bad actually).

All this for a commercial casting tomorrow at 12.40pm. A successful outcome would involve plenty dosh and a trip to S.Africa.

Vain tart?.....Moi?.....That's cruel.

I think I'm trying to highlight the idea that thrift and style need not neccessarily be strange bedfellows. If you see something that's quality, it suits you and it's a bargain, grab it. You never know when you may need it and it's tax deductable.