Know Your Audience

“Oh, crap. My phone has run out of battery. Never mind, I don’t need my phone for the next few hours because I’m about to watch a play and be entertained by people.”

That’s what this fool should’ve thought the other day as he went into a Broadway play. Alas, he didn’t. Instead, he joined the legions of appalling audience members that continue to plague actors.

Ok, ok. That sounds a bit harsh. Now, don’t get me wrong. Actors would be lost without an audience. Without them, we’d just be prancing around for the hell of it. That’s not performing, that’s just a Wednesday night in your bedroom. And you can’t put that on your CV. Believe me, I’ve tried.

But I can pretty safely say that all actors have an audience horror story. From the late Richard Griffiths ordering a woman out of the auditorium because her phone went off to to Patti Lupone stopping mid-performance to yell at an audience member for taking photos (something which, rather ironically, was audio-recorded and uploaded here…)

Then there are the stories of couples having sex in auditoriums. And, of course. Who doesn’t get turned on by a good proscenium arch and a cracking safety curtain?

So what is wrong with audiences? Is it that we now watch too much TV and are so used to shuffling and eating and chattering through a whole box set? Are we all so ridiculously important that even a couple of hours in a theatre can’t do without us blustering about? And heaven knows, theatre is trying to keep up. Tweeting seats, immersive productions and even online streaming of productions so you can still prat about at home without worrying that your decision to eat a whole family bag of Doritos is putting off the actors. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe audience members just don’t know the line anymore? Sometimes they're being expected to get up and be involved and other times they're expected to sit still for hours on end in stony silence. 

The optimistic actor in me (that’s the one that applies for acting jobs and puts ‘running’ as a skill on my CV…) likes to think that it’s because the audience become so engrossed in our performance. Your parading on stage as a demonic horse (yep, I’ve played that role) is so mesmerising that they forget they sound like a horse eating a multipack of Hula Hoops. I want to believe that, I really do. But I’ve been performing while a man sighed so heavily that I nearly blew off stage so, sorry optimistic actor, I think you’re wrong.

So is it audiences being rude or, as actors, do we need to stop being so precious? Historically, theatre audiences were far more boisterous. I’m sure Nell Gwynne was up against far more than someone’s phone going off or a quick fumble in the front row. As actors, do we need to just get on with it? Or should an audience member's rudeness be addressed for all to see? Like being asked by your teacher to share your little joke with the past, is it right to call these things out? Do we owe the rest of the audience a flawless performance or, actually, do they love being part of this confrontation? 

But going back to our man in Broadway...y'know, sometimes we need our phones in the theatre. What if we can’t afford the programme but we need to know what we’ve seen whatshername in before. Have you tried concentrating on Coriolanus while you try and why you work out thingy carrying the stick? And what about those terrible plays? No, you don’t need a phone because you’re going to be that guy, sat in the back row with your face lit up like a Glo Worm toy. But, dammit, watches are stupidly hard to see in the dark. Just a quick sneak to see what….OH GOD, HOW HAS ONLY 20 MINUTES PASSED?

So, here are a few little rules…

1.)  Leave that bag of Salt & Vinegar McCoys at home

2.) If step 1 is too difficult then learn the valuable art of sucking crisps.

3.) Check your phone is on silent

4.) If step 3 is too difficult then cut all ties with your friends and family before heading out

5.) Remember the set is not for you. Actors don’t just randomly walk into your places of work to use your things, so don’t do the same to us.

6.) If step 5 is too difficult then I think being outside might be more your thing.  

Lesson The Pain

I realised this morning that, give or take a couple of weeks, I graduated from drama school exactly 9 years ago. Bloody hell. Gnarls Barkley was at number one with Crazy. We’d only seen 2 series of The Apprentice. The best mix up on TV had just happened when Guy Coma ended up accidently on BBC News. And, like it knew there were a whole new bunch of actors in need of procrastination, Twitter arrived…

But, after a few hours of dicking about on Twitter, it got me to thinking about the lessons I’ve learnt in those 9 years. There are fair few supposedly wise words that I’ve kicked to the curb; chiefly that a pair of character shoes and a character skirt are a wise investment. I can only assume drama schools suggest buying these so you can own something that gathers more dust than your acting career.

However, a fair few have stuck and, because I’ve got a spare hour and blogging time is scarce these days, I thought I’d share them with you.

Lesson 1: KKK

Now, when we were told at drama school that we should consider the KKK when looking at potential jobs, I was shocked to say the least. I know the industry is rather in favour of white actors but, really? They went on to explain that when you’re faced with a job offer (it took a while longer to learn what one of those was, sadly) you should consider the 3 Ks:

Kicks

Kudos

Kash (hey, we weren’t at drama school for our excellent spelling anyway…)

I must say, I dismissed this at first. When you graduate and you stare into the awful void that you thought would be your glittering career, you, sometimes foolishly, take on whatever job you can get your hands on. But it’s wonderful for those jobs you’re just not sure about. So, when in doubt, see if you can get at least 2 of the 3 Ks covered. And it kinda works. Of course, you can never be entirely sure and we’ve all had those jobs that we thought would be fun but ended up being an utter nightmare (hello eating dried apricots on a riverbank at 2am…) but it’s a handy little technique for those of us who are a little less decisive than we’d like to be.

Lesson 2: We all have our own career path

This was a tough one to learn. You spend your 3^rd year determinedly planning your career. You’ll do a spot of TiE first because, y’know, that’s totally the done thing. Then you’ll do a bit of fringe theatre, a few short independent films…and oh, that’s what I did do. However, that’s when it all starts to fall apart. I thought I’d then do some TV, maybe a major advert and then, obviously, Hollywood would be ready for me and I’d be sorted.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Now, that totally happened for some people in my year. Others got the massive film job instantly and haven’t stopped working since. Others got a TV job immediately and then never worked again. Others gave up the second they graduated and I now get to log into Facebook and look at the houses they own and the holidays they go on. But the majority of us just toddle along our own little road. Sometimes we’re striding along looking fabulous, sometimes we’re stumbling around drunkenly and other times we’re sleeping at the side of the road while surrounded by biscuit crumbs and cups of tea. At some points our paths will cross and at other times it’ll take us out somewhere horribly remote. But I now find having my own path rather comforting. Yeah, maybe I don’t look after mine as well as I should. I’m sure others get more money for the upkeep and others are more resourceful but I like mine just the way it is, potholes and all. Which takes me on to my next lesson…

Lesson 3: Don’t compare yourself to others

This has been the toughest one of all to learn. It seems straightforward but, believe me, it’s bloody hard to not compare yourself to others when you’re sat on the sofa, you’re wearing your oldest pyjamas, you’re picking crisp crumbs out of your hair and you look up to see one of your drama school mates looking a bazillion dollars on TV.

If we didn’t compare ourselves to others then we wouldn’t be human. I don’t care how sorted you say you are, if you say you don’t sometimes look at someone else’s career and then look at your barren CV on your barely functioning laptop and wonder where the hell you went wrong, then you’re a liar.

The point is that, when you see someone else doing fabulously, you don’t beat yourself up over it. Yeah they’re on TV playing a part that you’d kill for but have they ever got to pretend to be an electric toothbrush in a church hall in Derby? Sure they’ve been listed in that ‘Ones To Watch’ article but have they discovered that Papa John’s Special Garlic sauce makes the filthiest, most glorious topping for macaroni cheese? See? You’re doing just fine. You might want to get your cholesterol checked out but, seriously, YOU’RE FINE.

So there we go. 9 years and 3 lessons later and here I am. Sat indoors on a sunny Saturday afternoon wondering where the next acting job is coming from. But I have biscuits in the kitchen, tea on the go, Netflix on the telly and a pair of pyjamas that will last longer than any of the acting careers of my peers so, y’know, my path ain’t looking too bad right now…

To Bee Or Not To Bee

A little Twitter chat last night got me thinking. It got me thinking about horrible, nightmare-inducing things. I got me thinking until I wanted to turn my brain off and never think again. It got me thinking about the 'things' we have to be in auditions.

Y'see, if you have a nice, normal job, you probably didn't have to be something else when you went up for it. Yes, you probably had to be a more eloquent, presentable version of yourself, a being that you don't quite recongise who apparently works well one their own as well as part of a team and whose only fault is the inability to say no but I bet you haven't had to be an inkwell, a fried egg or a giraffe (many thanks to @ThatMrStirling & @Cromerty for sharing their audition woes.) Imagine the dismay when, after a beautifully thought out audition where you perform your monologue perfectly and read the script beautifully, you're then asked to be a broom. It's utterly demeaning and is one of the key moments where you truly find yourself questioning what on earth you're doing with your life.

Having to play inanimate objects is ridiculous. There's a game that some teachers or directors like to play where you're put into teams and random objects are shouted out and you have ten seconds to create that object between you. I think it's meant to show just how desperate actors are to please people but all it really achieves is getting actors to stand in a line with one idiot sticking their leg out while another gurns to try and show that they are representing a pencil. There's nothing quite like finding yourself in a flailing human pyramid pretending to be a piece of cheese to really make you realise that your parents are probably wildly embarrassed by you.

But even worst than this is animals. I love animals. If I wasn't an actor and I genuinely couldn't find myself someone who would support a life of sofa-sitting and crisp-eating, I'd work with animals. They're awesome and better than most humans. But find yourself being asked to be one in an animal and you find yourself in stereotype hell. If someone asks you to be an elephant, what's the first thing you do. Yep, you put your arm in front of your face and wave it around like it's a trunk. Monkey? Get your hands out of your armpits. Squirrel? Yes, I've just made you nibble at an imaginary hazelnut. Putting horrors of animal studies at drama school aside (running around a dance studio in a tiny leotard pretending to be a crane, anyone?) my worst experience was at a drama school audition. If my memory serves me right, we were in groups and had to devise a small movement piece. The rest of the auditionees then watched and were asked to come up with animals that it reminded them of. We then had to take the movement piece as inspiration and perform an extended improvisation piece as those animals. Other groups got lovely animals like lions and horses which mainly meant they got to wander around until time was called. However, when it was our group's turn, some wiseguy decided to shout out 'MOTHS!' which meant we then had to spend the next five minutes furiously flapping around a ground floor studio with windows on every side. All that ensued was bemused looks from other students as they walked on by and five hyperventilating auditionees who were fired up by flapping arms and adrenaline. It was not pretty. There was a myth at the school that one of the dents in the walls had been created by someone pretedning to be a bee. Note to directors: make sure you've got insurance before asking a desperate auditionee to be an airbourne creature...

And then there's trees. Because of this bloody advert:

People will always ask if you had to be a tree while at drama school and I can actually say that yes, I did once have to be a tree. It was during a seemingly innocent voice class and our tutor suddenly threw out the instruction 'And now I want you to be a tree.' Shocked looks all round as we wondered if we were being filmed for a TV prank show but no, he was being deadly serious and we entered a stereotype that we never imagined we'd be part of.

If only they'd ask me to be a resting actress. I can do that one perfectly...