As it's World Theatre Day, I really thought I ought to do a very quick blog. Well, to be honest, after writing in the sun all morning, I was feeling a bit sleepy but my mind is a little active and the nap I promised myself has been foregone. I'm sorry.
So what to write about on this special (?) day? I mean, it can't be that special because no one sent me a card to mark the occasion. I've received no flowers and I'm pretty sure I've seen no mention of it on the news. In fact, the only reason I realised that it was supposedly today is because I saw it on Twitter (of course.) So I thought that maybe I should write about how little we seem to care about theatre but that seems a bit sad, especially on such a gorgeously sunny day, and also because even I sometimes get a little tired of being negative all the time. So instead, I thought I'd write about a few of my theatre highlights from my life. Excited? You better be.
The first play I will always mention when someone asks about a standout show is Light by Complicite. I saw this way back when I was in 6th form when I still didn't quite realise how magical theatre could be. I remember going into the theatre being annoyed that I had ended up next to one of the tutors when really all I wanted to do was to be sat as far away from them as possible so I could carry on chatting to my friends. However, as the lights went down in the Almeida, I was transfixed by a tale of a village ravaged by an illness. The use of puppetry and staging was something that I'd never witnessed before and, since then, every other play I've seen has been measured up against this mesmerising show.
While we're still with my 17 year old self, let's look beyond the dubious bob I decided to get and the dodgy jeans and look at another play I first witnessed during this time. The Woman In Black. For anyone who has ever seen this, I think we'll all agree that this play showed us just what can be achieved on stage. Never did I realise just how terrifying theatre could be. I mean, I don't know why I was surprised just how frightening real people could be when they're right in front of you but it surprised me just as much as every single surprise in this play. It's a play that caused me to sleep with the light on for three weeks and one that I would gladly take anyone to see. I've now seen it three times having dragged other people along and I get such delight watching their distraught little faces as scare after fright after horrificness happens on stage.
And now, as I seem to be working in chronological order, we have another excellent play which has stuck with me ever since. The Pillowman. I first saw this when a reasonably unknown David Tennant was in it. It's all about a writer who is interogated about the gruesome stories he has written and how they mirror a number of child murders. It's grisly, funny and utterly magical. And another play that I've seen several times as I continuously insist on dragging others, trying to make them enjoy all the things that I like.
And finally we move into the heady days of last year's Edinburgh festival when T dragged me to see a show by the theatre company Theatre Ad Infinitum. He'd seen a show by them the year before and was fascinated by it so on one of our rare afternoons off, we went to see their new play, Translunar Paradise. Played with only two actors and an accordion player, it looks at the process of grief. This play is, without doubt, the most moving piece of theatre I have ever witnessed. For a play that contains no words, it's unbelievably touching and if you don't have tears streaming down your face throughout much of it then you have a heart of stone and a soul of iron.
So there we have it. My humble opinion on what's good. I apologise that it's not full of whinges and whines and complaints. We'll save that all up for tomorrow. And now, to celebrate World Theatre Day, I'm off to the cinema. Hooray!
Showing posts with label Edinburgh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edinburgh. Show all posts
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Monday, 23 January 2012
Location Location Location
I was all set to write about this rather upsetting news...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2012/jan/21/eton-stage-screen-luminaries
But I realised I've been a bit ranty of late about the extra opportunities I think boys have. And I also reaslise that I often come across like a bitter little actress who should probably just get a sex change and quit whining. And finally I'm pretty sure, due to the increased amount of ranting I've been doing of late, there's probably a large collective sinking of hearts when you all think I'm going to embark upon another blog where I desperately try to get my point across in five paragraphs or less.
So I'm not going to blog about that as I'm fairly sure you already know my thoughts on the matter and, if you don't, they ain't great. Let's just leave it at that, eh?
Instead, after seeing a conversation on Twitter over the weekend about audition locations, I thought I'd add my thoughts. Now, on the whole, I've been lucky when it comes to the places I've auditioned in. I had no idea London had quite so many church halls but, thankfully, most castings I've attended have been in spacious and suitable rooms. Thankfully, most people in charge of these things realise that you need a space that is open, airy and is in a location where people don't need a degree in map-reading to find. But of course, there are a few people out there that get it wrong. Sadly some people think that any space is suitable for you to sell your acting wares and here are a few of my very worst...
I've written before about the awful experiences of auditioning in a director's basement where I performed an excruciating version of 'Happy Birthday.' If you've yet to read about my woeful time, you can have a gander here...
http://professionallyresting.blogspot.com/2011/09/mind-readers.html
Now that was mainly about my inadequacies as a performer but the ridiculous location really didn't help. I'm always dubious about auditions held at someone's house and, really, if I was a sensible actress I'd never attend them. However, I do always make sure that I let someone know where I'm off to and I make sure that I've written a little stack of goodbye letters to my nearest and dearest just in case. But what I often find with auditions that are held at someone's lovely little home as that they don't bother to tell you beforehand that you'll be spending the afternoon in someone's abode. Many a time I've been wandering up and down residential streets, convinced that I must be in the wrong place until I see other confused actors all doing the same thing. And auditioning in someone else's house is awkward. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't know what the director's children look like before they've even had a chance to hear me stumble through their poorly written script. Of course, the above audition took it one step further and I was lead down to his cellar like the victim in a low rate horror film. If it was in a film, I'd have been screaming at me to just get out of the house and run. But of course, I just happily followed like the desperately out of work actress that I am.
Next up is the outdoor audition. Now I've only had to do one of these but I imagine the experience is generally the same however many times you find yourself in this situation. The director had mentioned before meeting him that there might be a very slight chance that we'd be auditioning outside but he was pretty sure he'd be able to get an indoor space. I don't need to tell you that, of course, he didin't. Instead I had the wonderful experience of auditioning in the middle of Hyde Park under the watchful eye of many a tourist and countless people desperately trying to seek out a bit of sun on their lunchbreak. I can't imagine my over the top storytelling managed to make their holiday or precious thirty minutes away from the office any nicer. And it's only when you're outside, being watched by people who have no idea what you're up to, that you suddenly become very conscious of how ridiculous how you look. I was instantly very aware of how my I flail my arms about and everything I said seemed far louder than it should've been. Amazingly I got the job although I wonder how much of this was to do with my talent and more to do with the fact that are very few actors who would put up with such conditions.
However, top of the list is an audition I attended a few years ago for a show that was going up to Edinburgh. It was all about arranged marriages and I was up for the part of a woman who had attempted to burn herself alive. The audition was being held at a church hall in west London and I spent my whole journey there psyching myself up so I was ready to portray the character with the correct amount of dignity. I arrived at the church hall to find a note taped to the door to say that the auditions were now to be held around the corner in McDonalds. I re-read the note several times, convinced that there must be some mistake but no, it most definitely said McDonalds. So off I went, suddenly wondering what I was letting myself in for. I arrived and it was absolutely packed so I had to hang around outside while the auditionee before me finished up. I stood there, just a pane of glass between myself and my rival, and it's the closest I've come to just walking off. But of course, I didn't. Obviously I knew deep down that one day I'd want this anecdote for a blog about my pathetic career. I was finally called in (I say "called in" but they actually just made a sign through the glass which I presumed was my cue to enter.) I sat, and over their Cheeseburger wrappers, I pretended to be a suicidal wife. It was completely impossible and I was actually pleased to see a few weeks later that the director had actually ended up casting herself in the role. Clearly I wasn't the only one who struggled that day.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2012/jan/21/eton-stage-screen-luminaries
But I realised I've been a bit ranty of late about the extra opportunities I think boys have. And I also reaslise that I often come across like a bitter little actress who should probably just get a sex change and quit whining. And finally I'm pretty sure, due to the increased amount of ranting I've been doing of late, there's probably a large collective sinking of hearts when you all think I'm going to embark upon another blog where I desperately try to get my point across in five paragraphs or less.
So I'm not going to blog about that as I'm fairly sure you already know my thoughts on the matter and, if you don't, they ain't great. Let's just leave it at that, eh?
Instead, after seeing a conversation on Twitter over the weekend about audition locations, I thought I'd add my thoughts. Now, on the whole, I've been lucky when it comes to the places I've auditioned in. I had no idea London had quite so many church halls but, thankfully, most castings I've attended have been in spacious and suitable rooms. Thankfully, most people in charge of these things realise that you need a space that is open, airy and is in a location where people don't need a degree in map-reading to find. But of course, there are a few people out there that get it wrong. Sadly some people think that any space is suitable for you to sell your acting wares and here are a few of my very worst...
I've written before about the awful experiences of auditioning in a director's basement where I performed an excruciating version of 'Happy Birthday.' If you've yet to read about my woeful time, you can have a gander here...
http://professionallyresting.blogspot.com/2011/09/mind-readers.html
Now that was mainly about my inadequacies as a performer but the ridiculous location really didn't help. I'm always dubious about auditions held at someone's house and, really, if I was a sensible actress I'd never attend them. However, I do always make sure that I let someone know where I'm off to and I make sure that I've written a little stack of goodbye letters to my nearest and dearest just in case. But what I often find with auditions that are held at someone's lovely little home as that they don't bother to tell you beforehand that you'll be spending the afternoon in someone's abode. Many a time I've been wandering up and down residential streets, convinced that I must be in the wrong place until I see other confused actors all doing the same thing. And auditioning in someone else's house is awkward. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't know what the director's children look like before they've even had a chance to hear me stumble through their poorly written script. Of course, the above audition took it one step further and I was lead down to his cellar like the victim in a low rate horror film. If it was in a film, I'd have been screaming at me to just get out of the house and run. But of course, I just happily followed like the desperately out of work actress that I am.
Next up is the outdoor audition. Now I've only had to do one of these but I imagine the experience is generally the same however many times you find yourself in this situation. The director had mentioned before meeting him that there might be a very slight chance that we'd be auditioning outside but he was pretty sure he'd be able to get an indoor space. I don't need to tell you that, of course, he didin't. Instead I had the wonderful experience of auditioning in the middle of Hyde Park under the watchful eye of many a tourist and countless people desperately trying to seek out a bit of sun on their lunchbreak. I can't imagine my over the top storytelling managed to make their holiday or precious thirty minutes away from the office any nicer. And it's only when you're outside, being watched by people who have no idea what you're up to, that you suddenly become very conscious of how ridiculous how you look. I was instantly very aware of how my I flail my arms about and everything I said seemed far louder than it should've been. Amazingly I got the job although I wonder how much of this was to do with my talent and more to do with the fact that are very few actors who would put up with such conditions.
However, top of the list is an audition I attended a few years ago for a show that was going up to Edinburgh. It was all about arranged marriages and I was up for the part of a woman who had attempted to burn herself alive. The audition was being held at a church hall in west London and I spent my whole journey there psyching myself up so I was ready to portray the character with the correct amount of dignity. I arrived at the church hall to find a note taped to the door to say that the auditions were now to be held around the corner in McDonalds. I re-read the note several times, convinced that there must be some mistake but no, it most definitely said McDonalds. So off I went, suddenly wondering what I was letting myself in for. I arrived and it was absolutely packed so I had to hang around outside while the auditionee before me finished up. I stood there, just a pane of glass between myself and my rival, and it's the closest I've come to just walking off. But of course, I didn't. Obviously I knew deep down that one day I'd want this anecdote for a blog about my pathetic career. I was finally called in (I say "called in" but they actually just made a sign through the glass which I presumed was my cue to enter.) I sat, and over their Cheeseburger wrappers, I pretended to be a suicidal wife. It was completely impossible and I was actually pleased to see a few weeks later that the director had actually ended up casting herself in the role. Clearly I wasn't the only one who struggled that day.
Thursday, 15 December 2011
Silent Night
I'm sorry for the unforgivable 10 day absense. I'd love to say that this has been down to me being incredibly busy and that I haven't had a second to sit down and write. Wouldn't it be grand if my nearly two week silence was down to me being so in demand that there was no possible way I could commit my fingers to my crumb-crammed keyboard. But of course, we know this isn't the case. The truth is that I haven't written because sadly I've had very little to write about. Because another year is coming to an end and as we're gathering desperately bought presents, hoarding sickly sweet food and frantically trying to catch up with friends before the apocalypse supposedly descends upon us, the acting world has jammed the breaks on. There is nothing out there to be had. A few auditions are being offered here and there but these are either offering no money whatsoever or they're looking for everyone that I'm not.
Of course there are always down times in the world of acting. If you believed every thesp that you speak to then there's never a good time. The beginning of the year is slow to take off, Spring is ok but then theatres are worrying about Edinburgh. Summer is notoriously bad as most of the world inhabits the Scottish capital for a month, everyone comes back and all anyone's worrying about is who to cast as Buttons and then it's Christmas and there's never any point starting anything then. So, if the acting folklore is to be believed, there's about two days in April when it's a good time to be a performer. The rest of the time you may as well admit defeat and stay in bed.
I realise I should either be distraught at this lack of work or using this time off to do incredibly productive things. However, I'm still stuck in the novelty of having days off. Having worked full time for two years in a job I pretty much despised, the prospect of waking up late and being able to meander round in my onesi is still to great for me to turn down. Every morning I've woken up and considered the possibility of doing something a bit more proactive but instead I find myself gazing at Holly and Phil and entering countless online competitions in the hope of winning so much tat that I may never have to work again. I imagine this paints quite the pathetic picture but if you realised just how comfy and cosy I am then you'd most definitely aim your pity elsewhere.
And my laziness isn't being helped by being offered a job that I didn't even apply for. On Monday I received an email asking if I'd be part of a photo shoot in January. It's well paid, for a good cause and the only thing I did to get the job was to exist. The Lethargy Devil on my left shoulder has taken this as its biggest victory yet and my right shouldered Enterprising Angel has accepted defeat and gone into hibernation until the new year. Sadly it seems when panto season descends and the acting world embarks upon it's annual meltdown, the only choice is to settle down with a glass of sherry and a box of Quality Street and enjoy the slow, cosy, sleigh-belled ride.
Of course there are always down times in the world of acting. If you believed every thesp that you speak to then there's never a good time. The beginning of the year is slow to take off, Spring is ok but then theatres are worrying about Edinburgh. Summer is notoriously bad as most of the world inhabits the Scottish capital for a month, everyone comes back and all anyone's worrying about is who to cast as Buttons and then it's Christmas and there's never any point starting anything then. So, if the acting folklore is to be believed, there's about two days in April when it's a good time to be a performer. The rest of the time you may as well admit defeat and stay in bed.
I realise I should either be distraught at this lack of work or using this time off to do incredibly productive things. However, I'm still stuck in the novelty of having days off. Having worked full time for two years in a job I pretty much despised, the prospect of waking up late and being able to meander round in my onesi is still to great for me to turn down. Every morning I've woken up and considered the possibility of doing something a bit more proactive but instead I find myself gazing at Holly and Phil and entering countless online competitions in the hope of winning so much tat that I may never have to work again. I imagine this paints quite the pathetic picture but if you realised just how comfy and cosy I am then you'd most definitely aim your pity elsewhere.
And my laziness isn't being helped by being offered a job that I didn't even apply for. On Monday I received an email asking if I'd be part of a photo shoot in January. It's well paid, for a good cause and the only thing I did to get the job was to exist. The Lethargy Devil on my left shoulder has taken this as its biggest victory yet and my right shouldered Enterprising Angel has accepted defeat and gone into hibernation until the new year. Sadly it seems when panto season descends and the acting world embarks upon it's annual meltdown, the only choice is to settle down with a glass of sherry and a box of Quality Street and enjoy the slow, cosy, sleigh-belled ride.
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
First Draft
Yesterday was my first day of being a resting actress proper. My Edinburgh jobs finished last Monday and it has taken a week of zoo visits, Lord of the Rings viewings and vegetable consumings before I can safely say that I have re-entered the real world. Haggis has been replaced with broccoli, cider has been replaced with juice and ice-cream has been replaced with...nothing (who is stupid enough to replace ice-cream with anything? And no, I won't be accepting your frozen yoghurt.) Instead of spending the day watching the best theatre and comedy the world has to offer, I'm back to watching Cash in the Attic and This Morning. And I couldn't be happier. Being in Edinburgh is bloody brilliant but it's relentless. You're tied to the job you're up contracted to do and you have a month of knowing all too well what each day will bring. But now I'm back and I really don't know what's coming up next. This morning I've already applied to play a businesswoman, a gang member's girlfriend and a budding actress and I haven't even emerged from my pyjamas yet.
Starting out again is an interesting thing. Last time I did it I was emerging from the comfort-blanket lined womb of drama school where your hand was being held at all times and you were lovingly passed from institution to agent with your jazz-shoed feet barely touching the ground. Of course it wasn't easy and it took me months to land my first job (cruel twists of fate meant that the first two jobs I was offered never happened) but I could bask in the glow of being a 'graduate.' And then, once you actually get that first job, you find yourself in a pleasing cycle of jobs leading to more auditions leading to even more jobs. But now, like the silly hamster I am, I've jumped off the wheel and now I have to work out how to get it back up and spinning again.
So my life is currently dedicated to contacting agents and applying for jobs while ignoring the little niggling voice in my brain wondering when money is going to start coming in again. Now I find myself in a different type of cycle: I need more credits on my CV to get agents interested but getting those roles without an agent is damn hard. So I'm currently applying for every acting role under the sun that I could legitimately play and sadly, while agentless, this means I'm mainly going up for unpaid work. The Great Unpaid Work Debate is an entry for another day but the fact remains that there will always be projects out there that offer no money and while you're trying to reignite your CV and boost your showreel, you will find yourself applying for them. Move along Morals and pack your bags Pride, there ain't no place for you here right now.
Tonight sees my first audition since getting back from Edinburgh. Check back tomorrow for another entry of woe...
Starting out again is an interesting thing. Last time I did it I was emerging from the comfort-blanket lined womb of drama school where your hand was being held at all times and you were lovingly passed from institution to agent with your jazz-shoed feet barely touching the ground. Of course it wasn't easy and it took me months to land my first job (cruel twists of fate meant that the first two jobs I was offered never happened) but I could bask in the glow of being a 'graduate.' And then, once you actually get that first job, you find yourself in a pleasing cycle of jobs leading to more auditions leading to even more jobs. But now, like the silly hamster I am, I've jumped off the wheel and now I have to work out how to get it back up and spinning again.
So my life is currently dedicated to contacting agents and applying for jobs while ignoring the little niggling voice in my brain wondering when money is going to start coming in again. Now I find myself in a different type of cycle: I need more credits on my CV to get agents interested but getting those roles without an agent is damn hard. So I'm currently applying for every acting role under the sun that I could legitimately play and sadly, while agentless, this means I'm mainly going up for unpaid work. The Great Unpaid Work Debate is an entry for another day but the fact remains that there will always be projects out there that offer no money and while you're trying to reignite your CV and boost your showreel, you will find yourself applying for them. Move along Morals and pack your bags Pride, there ain't no place for you here right now.
Tonight sees my first audition since getting back from Edinburgh. Check back tomorrow for another entry of woe...
Monday, 5 September 2011
Opening Credits
Acting. Supposedly one of the toughest professions to be in. When you tell people you're an actor they get over the initial excitement when they realise you've never been in EastEnders/Casualty/Hollyoaks and then go on to sympatheticaly say how they understand that it's one of the trickiest careers to be in. It's not. Not really. There are far tougher jobs out there. Acting has its pitfalls but it will never be as challenging as working with abused children, as mentally draining as trying to come up with a cure for cancer or as unforgiving as whatever the correct term is for people who clean up after crime scenes.
When growing up I wanted to be either a pathologist or a vet (there was also a brief period where I wanted to be a highflying lawyer but this had more to do with Ally McBeal than wanting to bring Boston based crims to justice.) However, it soon ocurred to me that although you got to appear in the spotlight of the operating theatre, neither job would allow me to be the centre of attention. So the decision to thrust myself into the world of thespianism was hardly a difficult one to make. While the rest of the world is out there saving lives/designing things to save lives/making things to save lives (I tend to think everyone else bar me is saving lives) I get to indulge in glorious lie-ins, days off and then bask in the glory of congratulations when I land an expenses-only paid job.
So here I am, battling my way through one of the most over-subscribed professions in the land. I've recently taken out two years to earn some money and, with hindsight, my decision to take a break was oddly ill-timed. I was just starting to earn a decent amount of money from acting but I was offered the chance to earn more money working in an office and I grabbed the opportunity with my grubby, greedy hands. So I'm now the twit who is at the front of the supermarket queue and foolishly leaves to get pesto (forgetting that I have enough pesto squirrelled away in the fridge already.) And after a long debate over whether to go for the fresh version or the one in the jar, I've returned to join a much longer queue and now there are less tills open. Or something like that.
This blog should now be the beginning of a long and painful tale of endless auditions as I desperately try to claw my way back. But that's not the case. I'm sorry to disappoint but geting back into it was all rather simple. In the space of a few weeks I had landed myself a couple of roles in Edinburgh shows, I'd handed my notice in and was getting ready to appear in two kids' shows for a whole month. I'll save the rehearsal process for a quieter day but for now just sit back and wait for me to remember to add to this damn thing again...
When growing up I wanted to be either a pathologist or a vet (there was also a brief period where I wanted to be a highflying lawyer but this had more to do with Ally McBeal than wanting to bring Boston based crims to justice.) However, it soon ocurred to me that although you got to appear in the spotlight of the operating theatre, neither job would allow me to be the centre of attention. So the decision to thrust myself into the world of thespianism was hardly a difficult one to make. While the rest of the world is out there saving lives/designing things to save lives/making things to save lives (I tend to think everyone else bar me is saving lives) I get to indulge in glorious lie-ins, days off and then bask in the glory of congratulations when I land an expenses-only paid job.
So here I am, battling my way through one of the most over-subscribed professions in the land. I've recently taken out two years to earn some money and, with hindsight, my decision to take a break was oddly ill-timed. I was just starting to earn a decent amount of money from acting but I was offered the chance to earn more money working in an office and I grabbed the opportunity with my grubby, greedy hands. So I'm now the twit who is at the front of the supermarket queue and foolishly leaves to get pesto (forgetting that I have enough pesto squirrelled away in the fridge already.) And after a long debate over whether to go for the fresh version or the one in the jar, I've returned to join a much longer queue and now there are less tills open. Or something like that.
This blog should now be the beginning of a long and painful tale of endless auditions as I desperately try to claw my way back. But that's not the case. I'm sorry to disappoint but geting back into it was all rather simple. In the space of a few weeks I had landed myself a couple of roles in Edinburgh shows, I'd handed my notice in and was getting ready to appear in two kids' shows for a whole month. I'll save the rehearsal process for a quieter day but for now just sit back and wait for me to remember to add to this damn thing again...
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