I consider myself to be pretty damn good with names. Introduce yourself to me and it's likely that my little brain, which is generally only concerned about what my next meal will be, will note your name down and hand it to me discreetly the next time I need it. Of course, this method isn't foolproof and has lead me to constantly call someone Max for a whole day of rehearsals until they finally corrected me and told me they were actually called Matt. And I'm used to constantly being called the wrong thing. While not massively unusual, people struggle with the pronunciation of my name meaning that I get called all manner of things. I've described such occurences here so why not have a read of that rather than me going over the same old stuff again.
But why am I chattering on about this now? Well, today I had to go and do some ADR for a shoot I was part of last year. It's very close to being released and the director just needed to correct a few bits that oddly sounded like we'd temporarily submerged ourselves under litres of tar for certain lines. So off I went, not really considering that there might be any of the other actors there. But as I was just climbing into the director's car to be driven to the studio, I see one of the other actors coming out of the station. Avid readers will remember him as letchy Actor 1, a particularly troublesome being who was very much the down point for much of the shoot. I applied my fake smile, gave him an actor type hug and cheek kiss and it was only then that I realised I couldn't remember his name. I'd spent so much time referring to him as 'Letch' when discussing him that his real name had packed it's bags and flown away months ago without me even noticing.
Oddly, the deepest depths of my brain that is mainly reserved for 90s indie lyrics and people's birthdays who I don't even speak to anymore, had kept hold of just his surname. Great. I could sound like some old schoolmaster when talking to him. Thanks brain. Now thankfully, unless you need to introduce the person to someone else (and then, forgetting their name is hell on mouldy toast) so it wasn't too much of a problem. And all was resolved when the director finally slipped his name into conversation which I then followed up with that wonderful thing of dropping his name into every sentence until I left.
And a quick note about ADR...even if your Irish accent is pretty poor anyway, it's damn hard copying your awful attempts from two months ago. And I'm sorry to say that there is now a video out there of me breathing heavily into a microphone in a room full of men. Your eyes are no longer safe, people...
Thursday, 26 January 2012
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
Actors Wanted
I find Gumtree an endless source of entertainment. Where else can you find an advert for someone genuinely looking for a flat in East Finchley just underneath someone's confession to the world that they are simply a liar (this is a true advert. I just saw it.) So I get a huge amount of pleasure searching for what people put up as 'acting' jobs on there.
Yesterday. while on one of these whims. I typed in the world 'actress' to see what jobs came up. I was expecting the usual short films, maybe a couple of local theatre groups looking for new members but I most certainly didn't expect to find this...
http://www.gumtree.com/p/community/sociable-actoractress-wanted/95150189
Putting aside the many questions I had whizzing around in my head (how nervous is she around her boyfriend? Who in their right mind would ever ask an actor to state their own fee? And most importantly...WHY?!) I mainly wondered if this is what people think actors do? Just because we're comfortable in becoming someone else for a few hours on stage or screen, do people think that we're happy to do this in real life? Surely this is the job of an escort? Or am I being an idiot and this is the best 'job on the side' an actor could dream of? I have to admit that I am hugely intruiged by the story behind this advert and it's taking a whole lot of willpower not to apply just to find out.
It did get me thinking though about how people perceive actors and what we're happy to do in real life. How many of us have been asked to approach someone just because we're performers and therefore we must be more outgoing? People will instantly presume that just because we have no qualms about parading around on stage dressed as a mouse that we have no problem going up to someone and asking if our group of twenty can all have free drinks for the night. And people also assume that we're going to be incredible liars. Somehow, because we're happy to pretend we're someone else, it's presumed that we're utterly convincing liars. We're not. Well, I'm not. I can pretend that I'm a 10 year old girl until the cows begrudgingly come home but ask me to pretend that I didn't eat that whole family bag of McCoys and that lie detector buzzer will go off in an instant. When I'm lying, I will create such a over-elaborate story that it won't be long before I'm revealing to you what grade I got for my Spanish GCSE mock exam and what I ate for breakfast on 24 May 1994. And I can see why people think that acting is a form of lying because it essentially is. But when you're an actor, you've been given your character and your lines and you know your boundaries. When you're lying, there are no boundaries and so the possibilities are endless which is why it is much more difficult and why this poor girl in the advert would never want me to be her wing-woman.
Worryingly, due to a lack of auditions and acting work on the horizon, I'm not entirely sure when my next blog will be. Hmmm, best see if that advert is still up...
Yesterday. while on one of these whims. I typed in the world 'actress' to see what jobs came up. I was expecting the usual short films, maybe a couple of local theatre groups looking for new members but I most certainly didn't expect to find this...
http://www.gumtree.com/p/community/sociable-actoractress-wanted/95150189
Putting aside the many questions I had whizzing around in my head (how nervous is she around her boyfriend? Who in their right mind would ever ask an actor to state their own fee? And most importantly...WHY?!) I mainly wondered if this is what people think actors do? Just because we're comfortable in becoming someone else for a few hours on stage or screen, do people think that we're happy to do this in real life? Surely this is the job of an escort? Or am I being an idiot and this is the best 'job on the side' an actor could dream of? I have to admit that I am hugely intruiged by the story behind this advert and it's taking a whole lot of willpower not to apply just to find out.
It did get me thinking though about how people perceive actors and what we're happy to do in real life. How many of us have been asked to approach someone just because we're performers and therefore we must be more outgoing? People will instantly presume that just because we have no qualms about parading around on stage dressed as a mouse that we have no problem going up to someone and asking if our group of twenty can all have free drinks for the night. And people also assume that we're going to be incredible liars. Somehow, because we're happy to pretend we're someone else, it's presumed that we're utterly convincing liars. We're not. Well, I'm not. I can pretend that I'm a 10 year old girl until the cows begrudgingly come home but ask me to pretend that I didn't eat that whole family bag of McCoys and that lie detector buzzer will go off in an instant. When I'm lying, I will create such a over-elaborate story that it won't be long before I'm revealing to you what grade I got for my Spanish GCSE mock exam and what I ate for breakfast on 24 May 1994. And I can see why people think that acting is a form of lying because it essentially is. But when you're an actor, you've been given your character and your lines and you know your boundaries. When you're lying, there are no boundaries and so the possibilities are endless which is why it is much more difficult and why this poor girl in the advert would never want me to be her wing-woman.
Worryingly, due to a lack of auditions and acting work on the horizon, I'm not entirely sure when my next blog will be. Hmmm, best see if that advert is still up...
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.
Friday, 20 January 2012
Corporate Questions
I love corporate jobs. They pay well, you're wonderfully looked after and they tend to only take up a day or so of your time. As long as you don't crave emotional depth from your work then they're pretty much the best jobs out there. I value bacon sandwiches and endless cups of tea over being emotionally moved and that is why I love them so very much So, I was rather excited to get an audition for one yesterday. It had everything you want from such a job. It's well paid, it would be one day's filming just down the road from where I live and it's never going to be seen by anyone I know. As jobs go, these are the ones I want to make sure I don't have a mad panic about rent at the end of every month.
I headed off to my audition yesterday ready to smash it and make sure they couldn't even consider giving the role to someone else. I'd received the script the day before so I was familiar with it (it's hard not to be familiar with a script that is more exclamation marks than actual words.) As scripts go, it was actually one of the better written ones but the problem is with corporate scripts is that their main purpose is to get as much information across as quickly as possibly. This means that the sentences tend to be full of technical jargon that you don't really understand and seem completely unnatural. I've had roles where I've suddenly had to quote acts passed in 1979 in the same casual way that I might mention that I quite like your cardigan. So what you end up with is a very awkward script that is a beast to try and nail in an audition.
The point of the piece I was auditioning for is to help those in jobs where a high proportion of the staff are on the more socially awkward end of the scale. The idea being that they're far too clever at what they do and therefore find it incredibly difficult to ask questions. And it was very lovely of the company to help us get into character by putting in a representative from the company in the waiting room to sit with auditionees. I'm not 100% sure why they needed to be there unless they'd heard on the grapevine that actors are very lightfingered when left in a room with office furniture. But anyway, she was very pleasant but clearly determined to make as little conversation as possible which is lovely when it's just the two of you in the room. All my usual attempts of polite conversation were flatly rejected and it's only now that I'm starting to wonder whether this was actually part of the audition to see if I'd learnt anything from the script.
Thankfully I was quickly saved from the waiting room of doom and was ushered into the longest boardroom the world has ever seen. The person in charge, instead of waiting until I made the trek to the other end of the room, decided to introduce me to the panel while I was still barely visible to them. This lead to a wonderfully awkward, hardly audible set of 'lovely to meet you' greetings and then a confused look on everyone's faces as they they wondered if they still needed to shake my hand once I'd finally reached my chair. For some reason, my brain panicked and I decided that I really ought to shake the hand of the company representative who was sat opposite me. Sadly, I made this decision before realising that the table was far wider than I am tall and I ended up looking like a snooker player attempting some fancy trickshot.
The audition itself went ok and I was pleased with how I read everything (despite an alarming moment when one whole sentence came out Cockney.) However, it was clearly obvious when I left that the job wouldn't be mine. It's that slightly sympathetic tone that someone takes on when they tell you that they'll be in touch soon that just makes sure you know that you're going to have to find your rent money from somewhere else. They said that they'd be in touch either way so I've now got a joyous four day wait which I know won't end in good news. Best start saving the pennies for next month's rent then.
I should also mention that the incredible people at The Actors' Guild are now kindly featuring my blog alongside Steve Dineen's superbly written blog. The Actors' Guild is a wondeful resource for actors and I wholly recommend you check them out here.
I headed off to my audition yesterday ready to smash it and make sure they couldn't even consider giving the role to someone else. I'd received the script the day before so I was familiar with it (it's hard not to be familiar with a script that is more exclamation marks than actual words.) As scripts go, it was actually one of the better written ones but the problem is with corporate scripts is that their main purpose is to get as much information across as quickly as possibly. This means that the sentences tend to be full of technical jargon that you don't really understand and seem completely unnatural. I've had roles where I've suddenly had to quote acts passed in 1979 in the same casual way that I might mention that I quite like your cardigan. So what you end up with is a very awkward script that is a beast to try and nail in an audition.
The point of the piece I was auditioning for is to help those in jobs where a high proportion of the staff are on the more socially awkward end of the scale. The idea being that they're far too clever at what they do and therefore find it incredibly difficult to ask questions. And it was very lovely of the company to help us get into character by putting in a representative from the company in the waiting room to sit with auditionees. I'm not 100% sure why they needed to be there unless they'd heard on the grapevine that actors are very lightfingered when left in a room with office furniture. But anyway, she was very pleasant but clearly determined to make as little conversation as possible which is lovely when it's just the two of you in the room. All my usual attempts of polite conversation were flatly rejected and it's only now that I'm starting to wonder whether this was actually part of the audition to see if I'd learnt anything from the script.
Thankfully I was quickly saved from the waiting room of doom and was ushered into the longest boardroom the world has ever seen. The person in charge, instead of waiting until I made the trek to the other end of the room, decided to introduce me to the panel while I was still barely visible to them. This lead to a wonderfully awkward, hardly audible set of 'lovely to meet you' greetings and then a confused look on everyone's faces as they they wondered if they still needed to shake my hand once I'd finally reached my chair. For some reason, my brain panicked and I decided that I really ought to shake the hand of the company representative who was sat opposite me. Sadly, I made this decision before realising that the table was far wider than I am tall and I ended up looking like a snooker player attempting some fancy trickshot.
The audition itself went ok and I was pleased with how I read everything (despite an alarming moment when one whole sentence came out Cockney.) However, it was clearly obvious when I left that the job wouldn't be mine. It's that slightly sympathetic tone that someone takes on when they tell you that they'll be in touch soon that just makes sure you know that you're going to have to find your rent money from somewhere else. They said that they'd be in touch either way so I've now got a joyous four day wait which I know won't end in good news. Best start saving the pennies for next month's rent then.
I should also mention that the incredible people at The Actors' Guild are now kindly featuring my blog alongside Steve Dineen's superbly written blog. The Actors' Guild is a wondeful resource for actors and I wholly recommend you check them out here.
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Noises Off
Today I should be blogging about the audition that I just got back from. In the tradition of my blog, that would be the most likely thing for me to come back and report on. But, that will have to wait until tomorrow because, in a first for 2012, I went to the theatre last night. Oh yes, Miss L, because her wonderful friend got her a free ticket, ventured out of the house and pretended to be all cultural like.
I went to see Lovesong at the Lyric Hammersmith and on the whole, I'd recommend it to anyone that fancies an evening out in West London. It's written by Abi Morgan who, if you don't know by name, you definitely know her by her work. She's written a rather small film that's currently out known as The Iron Lady. You might have heard of it. She also wrote Shame which is out at the moment and Birdsong which is on BBC1 very soon. So yeah, she's doing alright at the moment. And the writing in Lovesong is bloody good. There are some gorgeously moving moments and all four characters are beautifully and delicately written. Despite the depressing nature of the story, I laughed far more than I cried and I came away feeling more uplifted than I expected to. There are some movement style pieces inbetween scenes which I personally found unecessary. I'm sure if I'd been in the midst of my GCSE Drama then I'd have loved them and would have found some meaning behind them but my cynical 28 year old brain just found them to be a bit tiresome. I do wonder if directors have become scared of just putting on a straightforward play. I admit that there are some incredible pieces out there where movement adds a wonderful new quality to the performance but when the writing is as tight as it was in Lovesong, all it did was detract from the performances.
But enough of my thoughts on the play. Basically I enjoyed it and I reckon your money would be well spent in going to see it. What I really wanted to blog about today was how exasperating theatre audiences are. I admit that my friend and I committed the first cardinal sin of theatregoing and because we were too busy chatting in the foyer, only entered the auditorium a minute or so before the show was meant to be begin. We checked our tickets and found that our seats were conveniently located slapbang in the middle of the row. After shuffling by angry people who were far more organised than us, we settled down and the lights came down as we were still in the midst of the wine glass/coat/bag dance. Within seconds of the show starting we realised that we were sat in front of possibly the most awful row of theatregoers. They bafflingly laughed at random lines (who knew the term 'peach tree' was funny?) and I swear they were munching their way through ASDA's entire stock of crisps. Bag after bag was opened as they guffawed at seemingly normal lines. They then became confused by some of the tricksy staging used to conceal the actors on stage. It was a shock when it was first used but within a nanosecond, it was plainly obvious what they'd done. Well, at least it was to everyone else in the room. Row M were so mesmerised by this that they then spent the next five minutes loudly whispering to each other to try and convince themselves that there wasn't some sort of evil witchcraft taking place on stage. Just as they finally managed to understand elementary staging, one of the characters makes a shocking revelation. Cue a gasp worthy of the pantomimes, followed by a whispering Mexican wave of 'Bitch!' as though we'd suddenly transported ourselves to the Jeremy Kyle show. Needless to say they remained audible throughout the whole play and any suspension of disbelief was utterly ruined.
I'm always amazed at how rude audiences are. I know that there are sometimes things that can happen on stage which can make you react in a way you didn't expect. I dare anyone to see The Woman in Black and not scream several times. Or for anyone who saw Oxford Stage Company (now Headlong) and their performance of Rookery Nook, you'll know that it was impossible not to remain laughing throughout. And if you see Translunar Paradise and don't find yourself sobbing by the end then you have a heart of steel. I don't mind those kinds of reactions. In fact, I think they're incredible. They show just how immersive theatre can be and I think it's amazing that you can completely forget about all the bills you have to pay and the work you need to get done for just a few hours and instead just allow yourself to be moved by what you see on stage. It's the other noise that really winds me up. Regular blog readers will know that I have a huge weakness for crisps but even I can go without them for a few hours. And unless you're actually dying (in which case, I wonder whether you should be seeking medical attention rather than watching Richard II) do you really need to cough in every pause?
But at least if you're in a big auditorium, those sounds can be lost slightly. I was once in a play in a very tiny space where a man yawned so loudly that everyone on stage actually stopped to look at him. Clearly he hated the play so much that he then continued to yawn in a similar fashion throughout, becoming more and more dramatic with each mouth opening. It got the point where everyone five minutes we'd have a five second sigh, followed by a ten second wail of a yawn which was accompanied my much arm stretching and was then finished off with a loud, contented second sigh. In the second half, he decided that his yawning wasn't enough and so proceeded to take out his mobile phone inbetween each yawn to see just how much he could put us off. Of course, we were all suitably distracted by this wailing, flashing buffoon and it ended up being the worst performance of the run. But I should be adept at dealing with such nuisances. In my first ever TiE show, where we took an 80s reworking of Much Ado About Nothing, to south London schools, I was welcomed on to the stage in spectacular fashion. Most actors get respectful silence but not me. Instead, while wearing a bright pink boob-tube and a frighteningly short polka dot skirt, my entrance had the soundtrack of 300 schoolchildren all shouting 'urghhhhhh' at the top of their voices. I'm pretty sure Dame Judi Dench never has to deal with such things.
So that was my first theatrical experience of 2012. Maybe I'm best off staying at home where I only have to deal with upstairs and the heaviest footsteps in the world and the weird man next door who shouts obscenties every few minutes. Hmmmm. Best get booking myself up for the year ahead...
I went to see Lovesong at the Lyric Hammersmith and on the whole, I'd recommend it to anyone that fancies an evening out in West London. It's written by Abi Morgan who, if you don't know by name, you definitely know her by her work. She's written a rather small film that's currently out known as The Iron Lady. You might have heard of it. She also wrote Shame which is out at the moment and Birdsong which is on BBC1 very soon. So yeah, she's doing alright at the moment. And the writing in Lovesong is bloody good. There are some gorgeously moving moments and all four characters are beautifully and delicately written. Despite the depressing nature of the story, I laughed far more than I cried and I came away feeling more uplifted than I expected to. There are some movement style pieces inbetween scenes which I personally found unecessary. I'm sure if I'd been in the midst of my GCSE Drama then I'd have loved them and would have found some meaning behind them but my cynical 28 year old brain just found them to be a bit tiresome. I do wonder if directors have become scared of just putting on a straightforward play. I admit that there are some incredible pieces out there where movement adds a wonderful new quality to the performance but when the writing is as tight as it was in Lovesong, all it did was detract from the performances.
But enough of my thoughts on the play. Basically I enjoyed it and I reckon your money would be well spent in going to see it. What I really wanted to blog about today was how exasperating theatre audiences are. I admit that my friend and I committed the first cardinal sin of theatregoing and because we were too busy chatting in the foyer, only entered the auditorium a minute or so before the show was meant to be begin. We checked our tickets and found that our seats were conveniently located slapbang in the middle of the row. After shuffling by angry people who were far more organised than us, we settled down and the lights came down as we were still in the midst of the wine glass/coat/bag dance. Within seconds of the show starting we realised that we were sat in front of possibly the most awful row of theatregoers. They bafflingly laughed at random lines (who knew the term 'peach tree' was funny?) and I swear they were munching their way through ASDA's entire stock of crisps. Bag after bag was opened as they guffawed at seemingly normal lines. They then became confused by some of the tricksy staging used to conceal the actors on stage. It was a shock when it was first used but within a nanosecond, it was plainly obvious what they'd done. Well, at least it was to everyone else in the room. Row M were so mesmerised by this that they then spent the next five minutes loudly whispering to each other to try and convince themselves that there wasn't some sort of evil witchcraft taking place on stage. Just as they finally managed to understand elementary staging, one of the characters makes a shocking revelation. Cue a gasp worthy of the pantomimes, followed by a whispering Mexican wave of 'Bitch!' as though we'd suddenly transported ourselves to the Jeremy Kyle show. Needless to say they remained audible throughout the whole play and any suspension of disbelief was utterly ruined.
I'm always amazed at how rude audiences are. I know that there are sometimes things that can happen on stage which can make you react in a way you didn't expect. I dare anyone to see The Woman in Black and not scream several times. Or for anyone who saw Oxford Stage Company (now Headlong) and their performance of Rookery Nook, you'll know that it was impossible not to remain laughing throughout. And if you see Translunar Paradise and don't find yourself sobbing by the end then you have a heart of steel. I don't mind those kinds of reactions. In fact, I think they're incredible. They show just how immersive theatre can be and I think it's amazing that you can completely forget about all the bills you have to pay and the work you need to get done for just a few hours and instead just allow yourself to be moved by what you see on stage. It's the other noise that really winds me up. Regular blog readers will know that I have a huge weakness for crisps but even I can go without them for a few hours. And unless you're actually dying (in which case, I wonder whether you should be seeking medical attention rather than watching Richard II) do you really need to cough in every pause?
But at least if you're in a big auditorium, those sounds can be lost slightly. I was once in a play in a very tiny space where a man yawned so loudly that everyone on stage actually stopped to look at him. Clearly he hated the play so much that he then continued to yawn in a similar fashion throughout, becoming more and more dramatic with each mouth opening. It got the point where everyone five minutes we'd have a five second sigh, followed by a ten second wail of a yawn which was accompanied my much arm stretching and was then finished off with a loud, contented second sigh. In the second half, he decided that his yawning wasn't enough and so proceeded to take out his mobile phone inbetween each yawn to see just how much he could put us off. Of course, we were all suitably distracted by this wailing, flashing buffoon and it ended up being the worst performance of the run. But I should be adept at dealing with such nuisances. In my first ever TiE show, where we took an 80s reworking of Much Ado About Nothing, to south London schools, I was welcomed on to the stage in spectacular fashion. Most actors get respectful silence but not me. Instead, while wearing a bright pink boob-tube and a frighteningly short polka dot skirt, my entrance had the soundtrack of 300 schoolchildren all shouting 'urghhhhhh' at the top of their voices. I'm pretty sure Dame Judi Dench never has to deal with such things.
So that was my first theatrical experience of 2012. Maybe I'm best off staying at home where I only have to deal with upstairs and the heaviest footsteps in the world and the weird man next door who shouts obscenties every few minutes. Hmmmm. Best get booking myself up for the year ahead...
Monday, 16 January 2012
Chasing
Today is very much a day about chasing things up. This may not be the best idea on the day which is supposedly the most depressing day of the year. It should be the perfect idea in the world as it should be making me feel organised and industrious. However, every bit of chasing up I've done is currently being ignored and I'm left feeling like the invisible actor.
Currently I'm the chaser of one payment, one set of photos and one film. If I'd just begun the chase and still had my victims in sight then I'm pretty sure I'd be feeling joyous and optimistic about my pursuit. But I haven't. Instead, I'm on the fourth leg of the payment run and have just entered the second leg of the film and photo race and it's fair to say that my sprint has now turned into a woefully tired crawl. My emails started out so sunny and polite that I can't imagine how anyone could possibly ignore them. They were full of questions about the recipient's wellbeing and wishes that we get to work together in the future. They were laidback and crammed full of understanding of how busy the recipient was and when I sent them off I fully expected a response in the next day or so.
At first, my payment chase was where I was most successful. Probably because an actress in pursuit of money is something that even Usain Bolt would struggle to beat. They said they realised that there was another form I had to fill out and that as soon as it was done, they could process the payment immediately. I signed the forms to promise that I wouldn't turn into a murderous, drug-taking, alcohol-fuelled thesp and my email was received with a very brief but hopeful 'Thanks.' That email was sent just under a month ago and yet I'm still hunting down these pennies which will allow me to live for another month. So today I began my 2012 campaign and fired off an 'I really mean business this time' email in the hope that they finally take notice and empty the companies entire savings into my account or, y'know, just pay me what I'm owed.
But it's not just the reward that I'm after. It's bad enough that I've worked for these people and the very little that I ask in return is currently being dangled above my head, just out of arm's reach. But what's really bugging me is the fact that I'm now just being ignored. I realise people are busy but how long does it really take to quickly reply to an email? Even if they don't know the answer and can't currently tell me when I'll be able to pay my rent/cry at the sight of myself in a novelty costume/cringe at the sound of my own voice, can't they just reply and say that? But no, instead they have all decided to use the tried and tested method of 'let's ignore her and hope she gives up and goes away.' I'm not sure why they have all decided upon this approach and I can only presume that all the directors and producers and accounts type people all got together recently and decided that the best method for really winding up an actress with way too much time on her hands would be to get her to do the work and then pretend that she doesn't exist. Well, let me tell you, all you people who do important things that mean that I occassionally get to do the job I really want to do, I most definitely do exist otherwise T has some serious amount of explaining to do about the amount of dresses in his wardrobe.
However, I have to admit that that this hasn't helped with my theory that I may not actually be visible to the naked eye. That person you barge past as you're walking down the street as if they don't exist? That's probably me. That customer that gets repeatedly ignored? That'd also be me. But I'm pretty sure I do exist. I mean I've got credits on my CV which I'm almost certain that I didn't make up. And there's definitely evidence of my existence on film although they're mainly in the form of adverts, none of which have actually aired. Maybe this means I am actually the world's first invisible actor. In which case I'm off to place my CV at the top of the pile in every casting director's office until I can finally make the leap and get myself seen.
Currently I'm the chaser of one payment, one set of photos and one film. If I'd just begun the chase and still had my victims in sight then I'm pretty sure I'd be feeling joyous and optimistic about my pursuit. But I haven't. Instead, I'm on the fourth leg of the payment run and have just entered the second leg of the film and photo race and it's fair to say that my sprint has now turned into a woefully tired crawl. My emails started out so sunny and polite that I can't imagine how anyone could possibly ignore them. They were full of questions about the recipient's wellbeing and wishes that we get to work together in the future. They were laidback and crammed full of understanding of how busy the recipient was and when I sent them off I fully expected a response in the next day or so.
At first, my payment chase was where I was most successful. Probably because an actress in pursuit of money is something that even Usain Bolt would struggle to beat. They said they realised that there was another form I had to fill out and that as soon as it was done, they could process the payment immediately. I signed the forms to promise that I wouldn't turn into a murderous, drug-taking, alcohol-fuelled thesp and my email was received with a very brief but hopeful 'Thanks.' That email was sent just under a month ago and yet I'm still hunting down these pennies which will allow me to live for another month. So today I began my 2012 campaign and fired off an 'I really mean business this time' email in the hope that they finally take notice and empty the companies entire savings into my account or, y'know, just pay me what I'm owed.
But it's not just the reward that I'm after. It's bad enough that I've worked for these people and the very little that I ask in return is currently being dangled above my head, just out of arm's reach. But what's really bugging me is the fact that I'm now just being ignored. I realise people are busy but how long does it really take to quickly reply to an email? Even if they don't know the answer and can't currently tell me when I'll be able to pay my rent/cry at the sight of myself in a novelty costume/cringe at the sound of my own voice, can't they just reply and say that? But no, instead they have all decided to use the tried and tested method of 'let's ignore her and hope she gives up and goes away.' I'm not sure why they have all decided upon this approach and I can only presume that all the directors and producers and accounts type people all got together recently and decided that the best method for really winding up an actress with way too much time on her hands would be to get her to do the work and then pretend that she doesn't exist. Well, let me tell you, all you people who do important things that mean that I occassionally get to do the job I really want to do, I most definitely do exist otherwise T has some serious amount of explaining to do about the amount of dresses in his wardrobe.
However, I have to admit that that this hasn't helped with my theory that I may not actually be visible to the naked eye. That person you barge past as you're walking down the street as if they don't exist? That's probably me. That customer that gets repeatedly ignored? That'd also be me. But I'm pretty sure I do exist. I mean I've got credits on my CV which I'm almost certain that I didn't make up. And there's definitely evidence of my existence on film although they're mainly in the form of adverts, none of which have actually aired. Maybe this means I am actually the world's first invisible actor. In which case I'm off to place my CV at the top of the pile in every casting director's office until I can finally make the leap and get myself seen.
Sunday, 15 January 2012
Lessons
Today the world decided it was time to teach me a lesson. It was a harsh lesson to learn as I slowly woke up on a Sunday morning. As I debated whether I could really be bothered to make the two minute journey to the shop to buy eggs or if I should see if I could cobble together a breakfast out of Wispa bars and ground cumin, the world gave me a big ol' clip round the ear.
Y'see, I wasn't being offered a job yesterday. I was merely, in a roundabout way, being asked if I wanted to audition for the part. However, just because I've been asked to do one job without applying for it, my brain now instantly jumps to conclusions and presumes the whole world is desperate for a piece of Miss L. To be fair though, I think this sentence is pretty ambiguous...
I am looking for actresses and I was wondering whether you would be interested in working with me.
The rest of the email then goes into the filming dates and payment (or lack of) and says nothing about when auditions are or whether I'd be available for them. As I wondered which room to extend to house my hugely inflated ego, I assumed that this meant that they had looked at every other actress out there and decided that they couldn't possibly imagine anyone else playing the part. But of course, the world doesn't work like that. Instead, it lets you think for just a few seconds that maybe you've hauled yourself up to the next rung on the ladder. It lets you wobble about until you just get used to your new, slightly elevated position and then it sends a snake along to drag you all the way back down again.
I've always had a fear, especially with better jobs, that I've got the wrong end of an incredibly long and complicated stick. It probably doesn't say much about my self-esteem but I do often think that I'll turn up on set and no one will know why I'm there. There will then be a frantic look through lots of paperwork until someone has to awkwardly remind me that I was turned down for the job and that I need to go home and learn the important difference acceptance and rejection. Despite the fact that this is still yet to happen to me, it remains a constant and ludicrous worry and yesterday's misunderstanding can only mean that I'm one step closer to one of my greatest fears coming true. Thankfully the little dent to my pride has appeared just in time otherwise it wouldn't be long until I found myself face to face with Trevor Nunn, being told that I've got it wrong yet again.
Tomorrow it's back to actually applying for jobs just like everyone else. Or maybe I'll turn this new found talent for presuming roles are instantly mine until someone falls for it...
Y'see, I wasn't being offered a job yesterday. I was merely, in a roundabout way, being asked if I wanted to audition for the part. However, just because I've been asked to do one job without applying for it, my brain now instantly jumps to conclusions and presumes the whole world is desperate for a piece of Miss L. To be fair though, I think this sentence is pretty ambiguous...
I am looking for actresses and I was wondering whether you would be interested in working with me.
The rest of the email then goes into the filming dates and payment (or lack of) and says nothing about when auditions are or whether I'd be available for them. As I wondered which room to extend to house my hugely inflated ego, I assumed that this meant that they had looked at every other actress out there and decided that they couldn't possibly imagine anyone else playing the part. But of course, the world doesn't work like that. Instead, it lets you think for just a few seconds that maybe you've hauled yourself up to the next rung on the ladder. It lets you wobble about until you just get used to your new, slightly elevated position and then it sends a snake along to drag you all the way back down again.
I've always had a fear, especially with better jobs, that I've got the wrong end of an incredibly long and complicated stick. It probably doesn't say much about my self-esteem but I do often think that I'll turn up on set and no one will know why I'm there. There will then be a frantic look through lots of paperwork until someone has to awkwardly remind me that I was turned down for the job and that I need to go home and learn the important difference acceptance and rejection. Despite the fact that this is still yet to happen to me, it remains a constant and ludicrous worry and yesterday's misunderstanding can only mean that I'm one step closer to one of my greatest fears coming true. Thankfully the little dent to my pride has appeared just in time otherwise it wouldn't be long until I found myself face to face with Trevor Nunn, being told that I've got it wrong yet again.
Tomorrow it's back to actually applying for jobs just like everyone else. Or maybe I'll turn this new found talent for presuming roles are instantly mine until someone falls for it...
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