I’m
semi-excited.
 |
| Chris Thomson in rehearsals for Twelfth Night |
I’m sitting in a
temporary pre-fab English block that might conceivably be made out of quite thick
paper, there is no heating, and it’s January sometime in the late 90’s. We have
to endure a double period of English before lunch, sat in our hats and coats,
under the jurisdiction of Mr Harrison; a six and a half foot, lanky, sad-sack
of a man whom is visibly terrified of the modern teenager and always wears a
look on his face that is very similar, I would imagine, to that of a balding
and particularly melancholy basset hound. The present mood, in this room of
under-insulated 12 year olds, is that of ‘not-excited’. However, the rank of
the excitement is promoted to ‘semi’ (ooh-er) when Flop-Sweat Harrison hauls
the VCR and TV set into the room, rattling along on its crappy little trolley.
We have been
studying the Scottish play. Lanky Harrison has been doing his best to get us to
engage and understand some of the text but he’s struggling. We have been
particularly focused on the scene involving the drunken gatekeeper, which is
supposed to be comic relief apparently, but I can’t see it at all, I don’t
understand it. In fact, I don’t really understand much of the play at all, we
have been looking at it for two months and I’m still not quite sure what the
whole plot is. I know there are witches though, Big-and-Long Harrison has tried
to push the witches; ‘Witches are cool right?’ In a presumably desperate
attempt to get us to engage with the play, he has found a video of it in the school
library and he’s whacked it on before slumping down behind his desk in a clammy
crumple. We sit through it, because anything is better than doing actual work.
We are all agreed that it seems terrible; the gatekeeper scene is still not
funny, probably because we still don’t understand what the hell is going on. It
finishes, Mr Tall-and-Moist heaves himself up from his chair ejects the
cassette.
“So, what did we
think of that then?”
“Well Sir”,
Danny Wiggum, class anarchist, “I thought it was wank.” A giggle arises from
the small hoard of his mates through a heady haze of pre-pubescent sweat and
Lynx Africa.
“And why is that
Danny?”
“It’s just not
for me, Sir.”
‘It’s not for
me.” Well, isn’t that the problem? 400 years since Shakespeare started writing,
with the intention of entertaining everyone, and here we are at a point where
the world has skewed the intention to the point where Shakespeare seems to be
perceived as for the academic, artsy and privileged audience. Looking back at
that classroom I can see it starts right there. I don’t know how it is
approached in school now, but if it hasn’t moved on then I’m sure the young
teens of today are on the back foot about the whole thing, just as I was. Now,
in fairness to Sop-Flop Harrison, that version of Macbeth was crap. I have seen
it since and it is still ‘wank’. But look at that gatekeeper scene now and I
can see it as no other thing than an absolute gift. A gift for me; the actor,
and for everyone else; the audience.
 |
| Richard Soames as Feste in Twelfth Night |
Grassroots open
with Twelfth Night today. It has been nothing but an absolute privilege to
watch and help our company build this show from the text up. I am slightly sad;
as many of the moments I have seen flourish over the past few weeks I probably
won’t be seeing again, as I will probably be neck
 |
| Emily Jane Kerr as Maria in Twelfth Night |
Jim Conway brings you a pompous yet charming Malvolio. Darrel Davy has built you an
Antonio in the form of a tender gentle giant. Richard Soames’ Feste is a
wonderful pondering puppet master. Emily Kerr’s Maria is ballsy and endlessly
energetic. John Pickard brings to you a brilliantly bumbling and oblivious Sir
Toby Belch alongside Benjamin Bonar’s precision comic delivery of the tragic
underdog, Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Kit Lloyd has found a Sebastian that is curious
and impulsive with an infectious energy that is a joy to behold. Tamaryn
Payne’s Olivia is clever and refreshingly light and an excellent match for Ellie
Nunn’s fearless Viola. Duke Orsino appears in the smouldering form of Louis
Labovitch. I’m there as well, lolloping around, playing the Priest and the
Captain, both of which I’m told are passable incarnations at the very least.
We made it for
you. All of you.
Twelfth Night
runs at Leicester Square Theatre from the 5th April to the 14th May.
Come and see it.
It is really quite good.
No comments:
Post a Comment