There's something very special going on in the West End at the moment. In amongst all the ridiculously well-advertised and vastly overpriced musicals and plays, all boasting their super famour line-up, is a wonderful little show. It's on at the Soho Theatre and it goes by the name of Swamp Juice. Amidst all the glitzy, so-called glamour of the West End shows is a gorgeous little beast that will mesmerise you for a bewitching hour.
I'd seen a ton of rave reviews for Swamp Juice while I was up in Edinburgh last year. However, due to already being involved in two woeful children's shows, I was unable to find the time to see it inbetween time spent performing to an empty theatre and wondering just how quickly one could suffocate themselves under a giant inflatable cow. So I didn't see it. And, I'll be honest, I was vaguely aware of it being on at the Soho Theatre at the moment but I hadn't really given it any thought about heading down. However, fate was being a wonderful mistress on Saturday night and T was given a surprise night off. So, giddy on the excitement of having a sudden weekend evening to ourselves and being a pair of overgrown kids, we booked tickets for the one children's show that was on in the evening (sorry Matilda, we can't afford your eye-watering prices right now...)
The evening started interestingly. I think I've mentioned in a previous blog how I'm constantly baffled about how difficult audience members make finding a seat. It has always seemed like such a simple system but I don't think I've ever been to a show where someone has sat in someone else's seat. But there's no such excuse at the Soho Theatre as their seating is unreserved. However, people still made finding a seat more confusingly difficult than a team of lemurs trying to solve a Mensa puzzle. There was climbing, clambering and some of the most feeble shuffling that I've ever seen. Worried that we'd gone to see a show that only appealed to the socially inept, we were worried.
But the lights went down and the next hour was full of awesome incredibleness that I'm not going to try and explain. What I will tell you is that it's a one man show that somehow keeps you gripped for sixty wonderful minutes while this one, very clever performer keeps you entertained with shadow puppets made of junk. It's inventive, it's funny and it'll make you feel like a child seeing things for the first time again. And then, just when you think he's exhausted the world of shadow puppetry, you're treated to something I wasn't aware was even possible in the theatre. (I won't ruin it because I fully expect you all to go and see the show this week.) When the show was sadly over, T (who even got to be part of the show) and I spent a good long time after excitedly gabbling about the things we'd just seen. It's on until the 5th May and you can book tickets here (and I strongly sugggest that you do.) Even if you think puppetry ain't your bag, I can't recommend this show enough. In the world of theatre where so much is based on how you look and how well your name can sell tickets, it's incredibly heartening to see a show that just uses rubbish, lighting and just a love for their craft that outshines them all.
Showing posts with label children's theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children's theatre. Show all posts
Monday, 23 April 2012
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Ticket to Ride
It was announced this week that a quarter of children in this country have never been to the theatre. Of the 2,000 parents surveyed, 25% declared that their children, aged between 6 and 12 hadn't attended a theatre. 60% hadn't attended a classical music concert and 40% hadn't been to an art gallery. Now, to be fair, I'm not sure if I'd attended a classical music concert before the age of 12. Although I quite liked classical music when I was younger, thankfully my parents realised there were a zillion things I'd rather be doing at the age of 10. Like making epic compliation tapes and practicing my signature for when Leonardo DiCaprio finally decided to ask me to marry him.
But I realise I was very lucky when I was growing up. Firstly I had parents who considered it extremely important to ensure that I didn't just spend my days moping around the house. Many weekends were spent travelling around the country going to museums, seeing shows or getting lost as we desperately tried to find an ancient ruin in the times before sat navs had been invented. I lived in a city where there was plenty going on plus I was an only child growing up in the 80s and 90s so everything was that bit cheaper. And that leads us beautifully to the reason why children are growing up seeing less theatre and that's because it's so bloody expensive. I am pretty sure there are plenty of parents out there who would love to be able to take the little mini versions of themselves to see all the wonderful things there are out there but their budget just won't allow them to.
I thought I'd do some incredibly lazy, vague investigative type journalism to attempt to illustrate my point. So, imagine two lovely parents in Birmingham decide to take their two children to see the Saturday matinee performance of Matilda. Even if they go for the cheapest seats available which are £25.00 each, that's £100 just to see the show. They don't know London all that well so they decide to take the train there. The cheapest return available for them is £75. Right, so that takes us up to £175. If we then take into account however they get to the train station, underground travel when they get to London and the fact that they might fancy remortgaging their home so they can each have a sandwich and a drink at some point during the day then you're probably looking at a day trip that costs well over £200. Suddenly you can see why 25% of kids haven't been to a theatre before the age of 12. Of course, I realise that our little Birmingham family could attend something a little closer to home. Why not see Oliver! at the Birmingham Hippodrome this weekend? Oh yes, because four tickets for their Saturday matinee this weekend would set you back £170. I could fly to Rome and back for less than that. Maybe Birmingham family would like to forego their little theatre trip and pay for me to go on holiday instead? No. OK. Just a thought.
I realise that there are plenty of free things that parents can do with their children to ensure that they are culturally fulfilled little beings. We are exceedingly lucky with the sheer amount of museums and art galleries that this country has that are free to enter. Many an afternoon I have marvelled at the fact that I can kill a few hours in town by wandering around the National Portrait Gallery for absolutely nothing. But how many 6 years want to spend every weekend traisping around another museum? Sure, the Science Museum is a whole load of fun but after a few weekends even the most enthusiastic scientist is going to start getting a tad bored.
And why should it be that children are the ones that have to miss out? I'm aware of why theatres are having to put their prices up. As the cost of everything else increases, tickets have to go up in value to ensure that everyone can get paid and so the damn show can be put on in the first place. But if only an elite handful of people can then afford to attend then it hardly seems worth it. Instead we're just creating a world where the lucky few can still see these wonderful shows that are being produced while the rest of us remain blissfully unaware of what's going on out there. All we can do is bitterly read the dazzling reviews rather ironically written by someone who has been lucky enough to see the show for free. And I appreciate that there are schemes out there such as the under 26 one which encourages those under 26 to attend the theatre by giving them free tickets but is that really enough? It helps ensure that young people are still going to theatre but it's not allowing children to grow up being aware at just how wonderful the theatre can be.
I've realised that I don't know what the answer to this and this has basically been just me whinging away for a couple of paragraphs (yes, I know that's what all my blog entries are.) If I knew what the answer was then I would take great pleasure in camping out in every box office across the land until every theatre took note and stopped ticket prices being so depressingly expensive that just looking at a booking page makes me want to cry. But I don't know what the fair solution is. Because if we start cutting ticket prices then people stop getting paid and I don't want to write another blog about actors not getting paid. Of course, as soon as someone pays me to be in something then I'll stop worrying about this because I'll be back to defending the cost of ticket prices but for now, I'll be enjoying camping out on my little soapbox. If someone would bring me tea, biscuits and maybe a few theatre ticket vouchers then I'd be hugely grateful.
But I realise I was very lucky when I was growing up. Firstly I had parents who considered it extremely important to ensure that I didn't just spend my days moping around the house. Many weekends were spent travelling around the country going to museums, seeing shows or getting lost as we desperately tried to find an ancient ruin in the times before sat navs had been invented. I lived in a city where there was plenty going on plus I was an only child growing up in the 80s and 90s so everything was that bit cheaper. And that leads us beautifully to the reason why children are growing up seeing less theatre and that's because it's so bloody expensive. I am pretty sure there are plenty of parents out there who would love to be able to take the little mini versions of themselves to see all the wonderful things there are out there but their budget just won't allow them to.
I thought I'd do some incredibly lazy, vague investigative type journalism to attempt to illustrate my point. So, imagine two lovely parents in Birmingham decide to take their two children to see the Saturday matinee performance of Matilda. Even if they go for the cheapest seats available which are £25.00 each, that's £100 just to see the show. They don't know London all that well so they decide to take the train there. The cheapest return available for them is £75. Right, so that takes us up to £175. If we then take into account however they get to the train station, underground travel when they get to London and the fact that they might fancy remortgaging their home so they can each have a sandwich and a drink at some point during the day then you're probably looking at a day trip that costs well over £200. Suddenly you can see why 25% of kids haven't been to a theatre before the age of 12. Of course, I realise that our little Birmingham family could attend something a little closer to home. Why not see Oliver! at the Birmingham Hippodrome this weekend? Oh yes, because four tickets for their Saturday matinee this weekend would set you back £170. I could fly to Rome and back for less than that. Maybe Birmingham family would like to forego their little theatre trip and pay for me to go on holiday instead? No. OK. Just a thought.
I realise that there are plenty of free things that parents can do with their children to ensure that they are culturally fulfilled little beings. We are exceedingly lucky with the sheer amount of museums and art galleries that this country has that are free to enter. Many an afternoon I have marvelled at the fact that I can kill a few hours in town by wandering around the National Portrait Gallery for absolutely nothing. But how many 6 years want to spend every weekend traisping around another museum? Sure, the Science Museum is a whole load of fun but after a few weekends even the most enthusiastic scientist is going to start getting a tad bored.
And why should it be that children are the ones that have to miss out? I'm aware of why theatres are having to put their prices up. As the cost of everything else increases, tickets have to go up in value to ensure that everyone can get paid and so the damn show can be put on in the first place. But if only an elite handful of people can then afford to attend then it hardly seems worth it. Instead we're just creating a world where the lucky few can still see these wonderful shows that are being produced while the rest of us remain blissfully unaware of what's going on out there. All we can do is bitterly read the dazzling reviews rather ironically written by someone who has been lucky enough to see the show for free. And I appreciate that there are schemes out there such as the under 26 one which encourages those under 26 to attend the theatre by giving them free tickets but is that really enough? It helps ensure that young people are still going to theatre but it's not allowing children to grow up being aware at just how wonderful the theatre can be.
I've realised that I don't know what the answer to this and this has basically been just me whinging away for a couple of paragraphs (yes, I know that's what all my blog entries are.) If I knew what the answer was then I would take great pleasure in camping out in every box office across the land until every theatre took note and stopped ticket prices being so depressingly expensive that just looking at a booking page makes me want to cry. But I don't know what the fair solution is. Because if we start cutting ticket prices then people stop getting paid and I don't want to write another blog about actors not getting paid. Of course, as soon as someone pays me to be in something then I'll stop worrying about this because I'll be back to defending the cost of ticket prices but for now, I'll be enjoying camping out on my little soapbox. If someone would bring me tea, biscuits and maybe a few theatre ticket vouchers then I'd be hugely grateful.
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
Confused
It's no wonder us limelight lovers get a tad confused from time to time. The lies we have to consider just to possibly be seen for a job are the kind of ludicrous tales that would make a low-rent fraudster blush. When growing up, I never realised that a strong part of my job would be pretending to strangers that I'm actually fairly competent at playing the flute. And I'm pretty sure, when my parents stared down at me on the day I was born, their one wish was that I would spend my adult days desperately clutching on to a stage combat qualification that expired years ago and claiming that accidentally picking up one Arabic word a year constitutes as learning the language. I mean, it's bad enough that we have to trick our mind into being someone else when we're on stage or in front of a camera but when we're doing it in our day to day life too? Surely that's something to be worrying about.
This morning, while on my daily futile search for work, I found a lovely advert for a children's show. Reading through it all sounded very delightful until it came to the character's description. Physically I fit the bill but the extras required were a little more challenging. However with a little bit of truth twisting, I'm sure I can pretend that I'm the actress for them...
Must be able to sing well - I sound awesome singing Elmo's Song in the shower (if you don't know this song, I urge you to stop reading and go here instead.)
Ability to play multiple musical instruments - as previously stated, I do know how to hold a flute. I can also actually play the piano. Let's just ignore the fact that I've previously owned an oboe, a violin, an accordian and a guitar yet have neglected to learn a single tune on any of them.
Circus skills - T will vouch for the amount of times that I nearly fall over, bump into things and drop items. The fact that I've yet to injure myself must mean I have some sort circus-worthy skill.
So, after convincing myself that I'm entirely right for the job, I went about applying. I marketed myself as the perfect performer for children's theatre. I put myself across as the smiley, bubbly performer that I rarely am. I highlighted all the children's theatre that people have bafflingly allowed me to part of and hoped that they ignore all the battered wives, prostitutes and soldiers that I've also played. Proud of my little cheery application, I fired it off and went in search of the next job.
A paid job for an online commercial came up. Perfect. There were two roles applicable for me being a lady type under 30. Excellent stuff. I had two roles to choose from. However, the two roles available were for a French Maid and a Stripper. Oh. Sadly the truth-twisting game didn't work quite so well this time...
Slim - while still able to fit into old clothes, Christmas has most definitely taken its toll and the layer of stilton and Pringles that I'm currently sporting is probably only of interest to those in the insulation game.
Sexy - my favourite pair of knickers is covered in cartoon monsters.
Seductive - the only thing that gives me a slightly husky voice is sleeping next to a wall with a propensity for damp.
Could I really go from marketing myself as the perfect children's performer to trying to convince someone that I'd be the ideal French Maid? The fact is that, despite my high regard for the human race and my firm belief that no one needs to see me flouncing around in a French Maid's outfit, I could easily justify my suitability for this role. And now it has just been announced that a casting website is now allowing actors to add up to five 'character types' to their profile. I'm off to see if I can market myself as the first sex-bomb, girl next door, street-tough, posh, princess. Let's see those job offfers come flooding in.
This morning, while on my daily futile search for work, I found a lovely advert for a children's show. Reading through it all sounded very delightful until it came to the character's description. Physically I fit the bill but the extras required were a little more challenging. However with a little bit of truth twisting, I'm sure I can pretend that I'm the actress for them...
Must be able to sing well - I sound awesome singing Elmo's Song in the shower (if you don't know this song, I urge you to stop reading and go here instead.)
Ability to play multiple musical instruments - as previously stated, I do know how to hold a flute. I can also actually play the piano. Let's just ignore the fact that I've previously owned an oboe, a violin, an accordian and a guitar yet have neglected to learn a single tune on any of them.
Circus skills - T will vouch for the amount of times that I nearly fall over, bump into things and drop items. The fact that I've yet to injure myself must mean I have some sort circus-worthy skill.
So, after convincing myself that I'm entirely right for the job, I went about applying. I marketed myself as the perfect performer for children's theatre. I put myself across as the smiley, bubbly performer that I rarely am. I highlighted all the children's theatre that people have bafflingly allowed me to part of and hoped that they ignore all the battered wives, prostitutes and soldiers that I've also played. Proud of my little cheery application, I fired it off and went in search of the next job.
A paid job for an online commercial came up. Perfect. There were two roles applicable for me being a lady type under 30. Excellent stuff. I had two roles to choose from. However, the two roles available were for a French Maid and a Stripper. Oh. Sadly the truth-twisting game didn't work quite so well this time...
Slim - while still able to fit into old clothes, Christmas has most definitely taken its toll and the layer of stilton and Pringles that I'm currently sporting is probably only of interest to those in the insulation game.
Sexy - my favourite pair of knickers is covered in cartoon monsters.
Seductive - the only thing that gives me a slightly husky voice is sleeping next to a wall with a propensity for damp.
Could I really go from marketing myself as the perfect children's performer to trying to convince someone that I'd be the ideal French Maid? The fact is that, despite my high regard for the human race and my firm belief that no one needs to see me flouncing around in a French Maid's outfit, I could easily justify my suitability for this role. And now it has just been announced that a casting website is now allowing actors to add up to five 'character types' to their profile. I'm off to see if I can market myself as the first sex-bomb, girl next door, street-tough, posh, princess. Let's see those job offfers come flooding in.
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