It Begins

"A living room, in which the entire action takes place. The time is around midnight during a summer heat wave. STUART is seated in an armchair, sleeping, downstage left, beside a small table with books on it. He is in his early to mid-thirties, wearing a plain black t-shirt and khaki knee-length shorts. A sofa is placed centre stage, and there is a window upstage centre, facing out onto the street. The window does not have to be physically present, but it is important the actors have a defined space with which to consider its presence. A few moments pass in silence. Then there is the sound of a telephone ringing. It continues to ring for a short while, but is suddenly cut off. After a few moments, MELANIE calls from offstage."

Stalemate, my new play. The idea has been seeded and grown; the meticulous planning is over; and all that remains is to finish what I have started. The first draft is due to be sent out on the 31st of this month. It needs redrafting at least once by the 15th of November, ready for a rehearsed reading on the 24th, two days before my birthday. November is going to be a busy month.

Why I Love The Theatre

I remember being in a corridor of my aunt's one-bedroom flat in North London, when I was about 6, pretending to be several people at once, playing a scene I had been improvising for at least an hour on my own to an imaginary audience. When I was a little older, in my school playground one of my teachers was trying to get rid of me (I was an irritating child) by asking me to pretend to be a statue while she went on her way. According to her, when she came back I was still frozen in the pose I had assumed some time before. When I was 13, I was cast as Othello, which was performed as part of the Shakespeare Schools Festival at the Stratford Theatre, East London. When I was 15, I went on my first trip to the National Theatre: Henry V with Adrian Lester playing the lead. Ever since my teens, I've been hooked. While the other boys were talking about football and girls, I was writing plays and bunking off PE lessons to buy tickets to shows at the National. With the help of my teacher, mentor and friend Jo, I performed in at least one show every year - be it play, cabaret or even playing characters as part of the school open days.

I became obsessed. Too poor to go to the theatre every week (and also getting into trouble for missing lessons), I started to research and watch performances by celebrated actors long since dead. Michael Redgrave, Ralph Richardson, John Gielgud, Richard Burton, and their Lord Laurence Olivier; all of them became my heroes, alongside modern actors such as Chiwetel Ejiofor, David Tennant, Alan Rickman, and Sirs Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi. Theatre spilled into a love for radio plays on BBC Radio 4, which I listened to with a religious fervour far surpassing that of my grandmother. I read plays in between lessons, I helped Jo run the Drama after-school club, and I even wrote and performed an hour-and-a-half-long radio play, which probably wasn't any good, but that didn't matter: I had found my vocation, and I would stick to it.

I took an A-level in Drama and Theatre Studies (an experience which very nearly put me off the theatre for good), and then came to university with only one extra-curricular activity in mind: join the Drama Society. Since then, I have performed in four on-campus plays, taken one to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival on behalf of the society, produced one play, and directed another. Although I didn't personally get involved in any drama activity in Madrid (which I now hugely regret), I still studied Spanish and Latin American drama - especially from the 20th Century - and went to see as much as I could, all the while missing being on stage myself. Now, having returned, I've thrown myself back into it by being cast in two plays - one an independent show being performed in a theatre-pub in Brighton, the other a pre-recorded role in a campus performance. In December, I will be applying for Acting courses at five of the UK's leading Drama Schools, and depending on whether any of them take me, I will soon embark on my professional journey. I don't want fame;  I just want to work.

Whenever I speak to people who knew me as a child, they say I was always performing. Why did the Theatre capture me so much? Because it was the first place I saw everything. I may seem obvious and a little pretentious to say it, but Life and the Theatre are inextricably linked. Despite the clear distinction between everyday life and a play, an audience will connect with the actors in front of them in a way which is not reproduced in any other manner. Even outside of what may be considered conventional Drama, the Theatre is there in front of us. If we watch a football match or attend a conference or concert, the crowd, or audience and players, or performers work with each other to produce a form of mass hysteria. Sometimes this can cause amazing effects and influence the way we think and feel. There is no difference between the feeling one might have watching his country lose at the World Cup final and the end of a Tragedy. The only difference is what he is watching.

Entertainment has always evolved and sometimes died out. We don't watch bear-baiting (unless Simon Cowell counts), but people will still flock to a West End or small town theatre to watch some strangers pretend to be other people and play out their lives: their fears, their routines, their prejudices, their desires, and - most importantly - their potential. Because that is what the Theatre is about. Actors may get the credit, Directors may have great visions, Set Designers and Choreographers may contribute to the aesthetic beauty of their art, but the Theatre brings out and celebrates our potential. Intellectuals have said so since the beginnings of civilisation. The Theatre only serves to prove this to us.

That is why I love the Theatre.

Photo - The Royal National Theatre, on London's South Bank

Theatre Review: Vanya

Vanya, The Gate Theatre (London), 24/09/09

I hate Chekhov. Well, that's unfair, I don't hate Chekhov, I hate what people tend to do with Chekhov. People forget that he writes about the tragedy of existence, but while we exist, we laugh. There are funny moments in every play he wrote - especially the comedies - but people are too keen to up the ante on the misery. Misery's great, but only when portrayed in sharp contrast to those times when we laugh at our own misery, or when we remember how good thngs used to be. That's what Chekhov writes, but very rarely is it ever even acknowledged.

I hadn't read or seen a production of Uncle Vanya before going to see this production, a pared-down adaptation written by Sam Holcroft. I did have a vague idea of the story, but it really didn't matter.

The four cast members were simply perfect. Simon Wilson made for an impressive Doctor Astrov. One felt sorry for Susie Trayling's Yelena, struggling between duty and desire. Fiona Button as Sonya was so endearing, one found oneself smiling and cooing at her naivety, rather than tutting and rolling one's eyes; but it was Robert Goodale's Vanya who stole the show. A mixture of misery and mirth, as explained above, was stirred up by Goodale's doe eyes and lilting voice. His onstage presence with Button was totally enthralling, and the pair of them made for the most depressingly beautiful family. In a play about failure, none were so successful at it as Vanya and Sonya.

Apart from the brilliant acting, I saw the most ingenious use of a small stage employed in this production. A rotating crate was used as shed, house interior, garden and hall. Around it, the space was covered in large packing material and tape, giving the impression these characters and their world had been preserved ever since Chekhov's own time.

As well as getting to see a good fringe show for cheap, we were invited to a question and answer session with the cast and director Natalie Abrahami, during which we had the opportunity to congratulate the crew and discover a few secrets of the production process and the theatre. Not far from Notting Hill Gate tube station, the Gate Theatre is definitely in the book for venues to return to.

Dance Review: Dorian Gray

Matthew Bourne's Dorian Gray, Sheffield Lyceum, 26/09/09

Sheffield is an interesting place. Being the snooty Londoner that I am, I suspected my weekend visit to Tim's stomping ground to be filled with tours of old mines and mills; all the while expecting to be stared at by incomprehensible locals and gagging on the stench of cow excrement. The city centre is, of course, like any other; and slap bang in the middle sit the Crucible and Lyceum theatres. Culture: how lovely! Tim's parents arranged a nice little trip for he, his sister and I to see Matthew Bourne's dance adaptation of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. And that's how I came to be sat in Sheffield on a mild September night.

Put simply, the show was a treat. The adaptation and modernisation of the story was simple, clever, and completely effective. Set in the brutal fashion world, Dorian is a narcissistic and self-important waiter-turned-model, the new face of "Immortal for Men"; Lord Henry Wooton becomes Lady H, Dorian's mentor, lover, and eventual betrayer; Basil Hallward is an obssessive fashion photographer (whose murder is probably the most brutally disturbing I have ever seen on stage, short of Kenneth Brannagh in Mamet's Edmond at the National in 2003); and Sybil Vane becomes Cyril Vane, principal dancer in Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake (who Dorian leaves to die of a drug overdose). The portrait? How about a sinister harbinger of death in the form of the "other" Dorian dancer, hovering about Dorian's life, especially as it becomes more hedonistic, selfish, crazed and uncontrolable?

Let's get the baser elements out of the way, first, shall we? The dancers - male and female - were HOT. And I mean HOT. That's better.

Apart from being an intelligent and accessible adaptation, the show was in turns funny, frightening and unashamedly more explicit than Wilde's already somewhat scandalous novel could ever have been. Bourne, who is interviewed in the programme, explains his choices based on his interpretation: -

"I can't imagine that there is anyone left who is shocked by homosexual relationships in the 21st Century [...] I certainly don't believe that I am taking many liberties with Wilde's story. Wilde suggests that Dorian leaves a trail of infamy, humiliation, suicide and even murder behind him [...] Senseless violence and explicit sex can still be shocking to a modern audience, but strangely more so in the world of dance than in any other art form [...] Dorian Gray is not a pretty story - an ugly story about beauty if you will - I think that the staging should reflect that."

Let's talk about the dancers again. Obviously, with Bourne being a big name in the dance world, he gets good dancers, but my goodness were this lot good! Each and every member of the cast clipped his or her movements excellently, and balance and grace were perfectly pitched; of course they were, this is Matthew Bourne! Special mention must go to Michaela Meazza as Lady H and Jason Piper as Basil Hallward, both of whom are as good actors as they are dancers. Jared Hageman was watchable as Dorian, but perhaps because I was more enthralled by the other two's performance I felt he could have been stronger with his facial expression of cruelty and the realisation of his fate. I also fancied the ballet shoes off Adam Maskell who played the Doppelganger Dorian. He could doppel my ganger anytime he likes. Crude but true.

The other technical elements of the show were flawless. Live and recorded music was economic as well as aptly composed, while the most immediate spectacle was the rotating stage with one wall built into the centre, enabling deft scene changes.

This is probably the second dance performance I have ever seen (I'm more of a drama man), but after seeing this production, I have no doubt the dance world is in safe hands.

20 Questions

I thought about how I could introduce myself on this blog, when I realised that most readers will probably know who I am, anyway. Furthermore, it's unlikely this will become some widely-read and popular blog. After all, I'm hardly an influential, intelligent, powerful or funny person. Oh, hang on... (naughty, I know, but what do I care? You've got to be able to take some of your own medicine, I say). It occurred to me I could do it the lazy way and answer a whole load of personal questions taken from some internet lists. This way, people who have read me before learn something new, and those who don't know get shoved in at the deep end (innuendo alert).

Anyway, on with the stupid quiz...

Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?
On a stage, or in South America.

Do you feel you had a happy childhood?
No. Where's Dr Freud?

Were you deprived or abused in any way as a child?
Does Organised Religion count?

How do you feel about your mother?
She's dead to me.

How do you feel about your father?
Indifferently.

Do you still talk to any of your childhood friends?
I didn't have very many friends until I was about 13. Those I did have are all wasters, now. I recently discovered that one of them is in prison for dealing heroin. I didn't know him when he got arrested, I'll stress.

How many close friends do you have?
Enough.

Do you like to gossip?
Does the Earth orbit the Sun?

How do you feel about church and religion?
See above.

What are your political views?
Ideologically, I'm staunchly on the Left, and not afraid to admit so. However, there is no political party which really represents my views - for the sake of exercising my right to vote, I go with Labour. Proper Labour, though.

How do you feel about children?
I hate them. Unless they're mine, in which case I would probably think they are the best thing in the world ever. Which is partly why I'll never have them.

What do you like to do on weekends and/or in your spare time?
Spare time? What's that?

What's the first thing you notice in a person of the opposite sex?
That she isn't a person of the same sex...

What do you appreciate most about your life?
That I still have it.

What are the 5 important things you would include in your things-to-do list?
Travel; Learn more languages; that's about it, really - I gave up on being Superman and creating World Peace a while ago.

Why do you think anybody would get into a relationship with you?
Who said I think anybody would be in a relationship with me? In fact, who said I want to be in a relationship?

Do you like having children around you?
Yeah, when they're heavily sedated. Or in cages.

When it comes to career, what do you think would be an ideal job for you?
Dramatic Actor - preferrably in theatre.

If you were to win £10 million, what would you do with all that money?
Save a bit, spend a lot, give the rest away.

If you were to get an opportunity to live anywhere in the world, which part of the world would you choose?
I've already lived there.

Happy, now?

The Bitch is Back

Just when you thought you'd gotten rid of me forever, I'm back! Like cockroaches and the Conservative Party, I'm indestructible!

Of course, there are bound to be people who have stumbled across this blog thinking: "what's he on about? This is the first post!" Well, they'd be right; but there are also scores of readers who know this is merely the second novel.

It all began about this time last year, when I went off on a little life-enriching trip to Spain. I thought it would be a nice idea to keep everyone updated on my activities by starting a blog. I enjoyed it so much, however, I soon discovered I was writing a lot, but not much on Spain or my experiences. As the year drew to a close, I wondered if it would be a good idea to continue blogging. It isn't, since I don't really have the time to spend on a loving work of art, in between university and several other extra-curricular projecs, but what the heck. I like a challenge.

So, to all my new readers, welcome; and to all my old readers, I told you I'd be back. In truly retro style, it's a little bit of old, and a little bit of new, but not as good as either. That said, follow the blog! Read the articles, comment, suggest improvements and stroke my ego as much as you like. It'll be worth it, I promise...