the passing over of place as experience
Scroll
Non-place
These last few months have been busy ones. Writing a play is often a process of discovery. You have the map of your previous navigation, but it is rarely of much use. And sometimes the things you discover are not immediately apparent from the content on the pages…
The cognitive dissonance between the person we perceive ourselves to be and the person others see is least for those who don’t give a shit. Blithely crashing through life, the Stanleys of this world lose not a wink of sleep on what others think of them. Whilst society can hardly be split into ‘Stanleys’ and ‘Blanches’, the latter group will move heaven and earth for others to see them in the right light, even if that means living in a perpetual twilight.
“Some are in the darkness…others in the light”
We see the moon and the moon sees us…and the shark with the teeth pearly white. One minute in and an orchestra introduces that most recognisable of songs: Kurt Weill’s Mack The Knife or Mackie Messer as it is known in its native source text; a piece on people and their amorality. A disembodied face shines as ‘The Moon Over Soho’ (Josefine Platt), suitably elevated betwixt glittering curtains. Those four world-weary yet entertaining minutes set the tone. Then suddenly, the societal structure of which the moon sings protrudes: inflexible, delineated, skeletal. A structure without sinew or tissue. A construction in progress. A machine for living…on-stage or off. Each person hierarchically valued as decreed by a strict system of rigour.
What would you do if your native country ended up at war with your parents’ native country? Where might your loyalties lie? How much love have you for your parents? How much have they for theirs? Patriotism is a complex equation wherein variables change value with time. All very well fighting for culture and values, the question is: whose?
Surviving an event where other people experience loss of life is likely to follow, if not define, you for the rest of your life. This was the lot of Yuri Yudin.
In January 1959, 10 experienced Soviet hikers set out on an expedition to the Ural Mountains. Part of this initiative was the attainment of the highest level of Soviet accreditation. An honour none of the party would attain. 9 hikers died on Kholat Syakhi and the sole survivor, Yuri Yudin, earlier succumbed to the recurrence of an ailment forcing him to abort his mission. Yudin became one of life’s guilty without guilt.
The danger of presenting the body as complete in itself is that the society which gave that body its place in a code of social relations turns on it. Sophie Scholl and her friends spent a long time pondering how an individual must act under a dictatorship. And when that dictatorship finally arrived, they were confronted with Nazis.
Keys; check. Wallet; check. Mobile; check. Checked your privileges? Perhaps you should. FlawBored - a trio comprising Samuel Brewer, Chloe Palmer and Aarian Mehrabani - are going to ask you!
Compared with French counterparts Voltaire and Comte, Scottish philosophers are perhaps less well known amongst the general public. The protagonists thrown up by the Scottish Enlightenment are, no question; their equal. Enquiry Concerning Hereafter goes some way to redress this. Duane Kelly’s play, directed by Andy Corelli, presents the friendship between David Hume and Adam Smith in their autumn years. They debate, laugh, cajole, challenge and support each other as they stave off the impending tap of Charon’s staff.
The evidence of testimonial witness is that once there was another point of view; existing beyond the critical angle of mainstream public opinion, and thus cut off. Suppressed…with force if necessary. The trick of time is always to take that which was once thought beyond the pale and veil it with incomprehension that it was ever contentious at all.
After The Act by Ellice Stevens is a piece of verbatim theatre that entwines several stories within its narrative. It begins with a group of lesbian protestors who storm the BBC 6 O’clock news on 23rd May 1988. “We have rather been invaded” utters a seemingly unperturbed Sue Lawley…
There is a poem which threads through Dance The Colour Blue, refering back to The Odyssey. A plea from Penelope to be heard. Although, thanks to Homer, we can never be sure we are hearing this enigmatic character clearly.
The poem appears here in full. The third stanza is added for completeness. It did not feature in the play.
Penelope
Once on a overcast morning, I asked the messenger Hermes
Is time a dancing boy whose legs move bright with speed?
Tenderly taking my hand, he affirmed my familiar fate
Denizens, five score men, claiming a tenure of nature that’s yours
Me; tears stain my face entering more deeply into my heart
Swiftly days pass, Odysseus, for the dark chases them away
Three years last you laid by my side, must yet I prepare for three more?
Barfly Don didn’t much care for them…but here were the sounds on the jukebox in Dance The Colour Blue:
Home At Last - Steely Dan
Counting Backwards - Throwing Muses
I Want More - Can
Monkey Gone to Heaven - Pixies
Too Shy - Kajagoogoo
Felt Mountain - Goldfrapp
Reelin’ In The Years - Steely Dan
Dress You Up - Madonna
Landslide - Fleetwood Mac
Tom’s Diner - Suzanne Vega
Lovelight - ABBA
Looking back on the run of Dance The Colour Blue is like recalling a dream: you’re convinced it happened, you just can’t point to or touch it. What I do know is…the production was smooth…the cast were exquisite…the audiences were appreciative… and the direction was flawless. And even though the world views everyone in its same unwavering regard, there is a change in my perspective as I look round. It was a beautiful production. A professional production. And that is…something.
Tonight was my first ‘first night’ as a writer sitting in the audience. Usually I’m part of the stage management. That’s the nature of fringe theatre. But as part of a professional production, my role is just ‘the writer’. More time. I’d say ‘more time to relax’ …but that’s stretching it! I needn’t have worried, for in the hands of director Olivia Millar-Ross, and actors Habiba Saleh, Rory Grant, Billy Mack, Dani Heron, Nicola Docherty and Kareem Nasif, the play was always in the safest of hands.
Today we had the dress rehearsal of Dance The Colour Blue…and…
We’re ready to go!
For the last 3 weeks, director Olivia Millar-Ross has worked with the actors in order to create a world that is caught somewhere in the mid-late 90s. It was a time of optimism: a decrepit government ready for the scrapheap, a century of conflict breathing its last; and new music scenes appropriating the past. I won’t say what happened next in the real world. Best for us to remain with Nicky, Mikey, Liz, Suzy, Pete and Don in The Everlasting Arms…where the music is good, the beer flows, and the banter is better.
It’s a new experience for me: to occasionally sit at the back of a studio whilst a play develops before your eyes. It’s a privilege too. To be the writer watching the emergence of an interpretation of your work. Director Olivia Millar-Ross is doing a truly superb job of bringing Dance The Colour Blue to life. I’m not exactly sure what I expected but I am learning a lot that will be useful when next I direct a play.
Today was the first day of rehearsals for Dance The Colour Blue. This is possibly the calmest sentence I’ll write…for it went as well as anyone could’ve hoped for!
If dramaturgy is a ‘mode of looking’, then Stephen Daldry’s production of JB Priestley’s An Inspector Calls invites us to look at the house of the Birling family as a gothic dystopia of privileged victorian living. The house on stilts tilts towards its audience with the threat that it may well fall on them. It is a manifestation of the grotesque - potted with the barnacles of laissez-faire capitalism. That this looms behind a curtain is simultaneously absurd and impressive.
A few days ago, we held another read-through of Dance The Colour Blue. I’m pleased to report that the new version of the play read well and got positive feedback from the readers. It is always satisfying (as well as something of a relief) to hear the script as you had intended it when written. A couple of edits here and there were required to tighten some dialogue…and that is now done.
Body shaming is such an ever present feature of modern day society it’s surprising that it retains any remnants of power to surprise yet further…and then you discover, as a man, the extent to which 51% of society are shamed: women.
The Vagina Monologues has been a presence in theatres ever since creator V’s (formerly Eve Ensler) performance off-Broadway in 1996. 27 years later it is still finding new audiences - this one in Dundee - and still has the power to shock.
27 years later it is still finding new audiences - this one in Dundee - and still has the power to shock.
The rotating stage at Manchester’s Royal Exchange Theatre moves to the slow rhythmic climes of the Deep South. Maggie, played by Ntombizodwa Ndlovu, enters like she owns the place - and for the first half hour, she does. Regaling Brick (Bayo Gbadamosi) with her half-formed thoughts and remnants of gossip. Gossip, it so transpires, with which she has more than a passing relationship. Her partner, Brick, has little room for manoeuvre figuratively or literally (having recently broken his leg) and can do little but to lie around on bed and listen. It is better than risking the alternative
A new edit of Dance is complete. Which is great! I never take it for granted that there is another edit to be had. I considered the feedback from the last read-through and I think I have made a pretty decent fist of addressing all the points made during that session. I’m pretty pleased with the result. Naturally, I think it is the best edit to date (which is a good sign). I even wrote a document to reflect on the feedback: the points I took on board and the differences they made; and the points I did not take on board, and why not. It will act as a polaroid of my thinking at that time.
A second read-through beckons!
The script’s perfect! Of course it is. Why would it not be? It’s the best version of it there’s been. Until you reach the Read Through session, that is. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful opportunity to have professional actors read your work, bring life and nuance to your words. And that’s when it hits you: the script is not perfect. It’s far from perfect. Pass the binoculars…we’ve some distance yet to go.
Dance The Colour Blue is a play with a strong female presence. 5 of the 8 characters are female. And of the 4 major characters, 3 are female. So, I am really delighted to announce that Olivia Ross will direct. Olivia is a theatre director and actor. She is currently assistant director of the upcoming post-punk fever dream Sugar Coat which runs 29 March - 22 April at Southwark Playhouse.
This week we kicked-off on the Creative Scotland project Dance The Colour Blue. A 6 month project between Acting Coach Scotland, me and a host of actors yet to be identified (hopefully alumni too) which will culminate in a performance during the 3rd week of June.
Time appears sometimes to sit on two different planes, connected orthogonally to one another. On one, it travels so fast so as to seem wired to the energy meter. On the other, sloth-like: easy to forget we were in lockdown at the start of the year.
Every year, I try to make the most of January and February: the sleeper months where the world feels like a town called ‘Sunday’. Prepare then, and you are able to bolt from the hatches in March. By the end of February, I had completed two read-throughs of two new plays. By March, I was once again editing when I decided to do something I had not done before: apply for funding to put on a play.
More often than not, it happens that I am involved in a project and wonder “how did I end up doing this?"
A couple of years ago between lockdowns, me, Jill Korn and Lorenzo Novani had an idea about developing a filmed theatre event. The idea arose in response to what seemed then a plethora of online theatre events. The ones I saw had suffered due to the medium in which they were presented: online buffering (and any piece which starts with “can you hear me?” loses a lot of the magic of theatre).
Anarchic talent, stuffy TV execs, pleading intermediaries,Spike trods the well-worn turbulent path of unchecked ambition brought before an establishment clique who like to tell their charges ‘the war is over’ whilst simultaneously not having noticed the world has moved on. The set up to the play is readily familiar - a little known but talented man, surrounded by bigger names - AKA The Goons - has ideas his superiors think are above his station and nigh impossible to execute with any measure of success. What ensues is the classic ebb and flow of advance, retreat and entrenchment. A handy juxtaposition, as it happens, to Milligan’s time in the war where the intransigence of his erstwhile military high command perfectly mirrors his experience within the light entertainment department at the BBC. Robert Wilfort effortlessly captures the garrulous energy of Spike Milligan; refusing to buckle before the lethargic behemoth. He corrals his better-paid peers Peter Sellers (Patrick Warner) and Harry Secombe (Jeremy Lloyd) to contribute towards a vehicle of explosive post-dadaist humour. Much to the chagrin of his BBC betters.
“I don’t know anything about this history”
As the most frequent words heard by Rona Munro about the James Plays, the playwright pursues an admirable ambition to dramatise Scotland’s history by writing plays covering the entirety of the Stewart rule in Scotland…to replicate what Shakespeare did for England: make invisible history visible.
‘Donald’ from Clackmannanshire does not go gentle into the night…he rages as he watches the dying light of his telly having just gored it quite literally with a spear. Who amongst us has not felt the same urge? Have you seen whats on your shiny two-grand 7680×4320 pixelated box?
When daily life gets you down: daydream. That’s the message of this modern-day take on Cervantes’ classic novel. Let your inner life take control. And so ‘Donald’ dons his rusty chain-mail, a helmet, and mounts an easy chair to loudly declare his quest for god and valour. All before breakfast. It’s a disturbing sight for the home-help who is due at Barbara’s in ten minutes. ‘Donald’ has no time for such frivolities. He mounts his trusty steed - a mobility scooter - and embarks upon a journey (“there’ll be no tears!”).
FOCUS ON
Focus On
At the very moment of creation, theatre may be ‘of its time’ or be ‘timeless’. That is to say the production has a life beyond that which was originally expected. Whilst a reasonable assessment may be made as to a play’s immediacy, it is impossible to tell with any accuracy whether the piece will endure. The designed terms of engagement; however, may undergo something of a resonance shift, subsequently establishing a useful range within which the play can operate, thereby readily connecting with different audience types. Under these circumstances, an element of timelessness emerges, further fuelling the play’s useful life. Whilst it is not possible for playwrights to design or discern ‘legacy’ at the time of writing, they can ask the question: why now? In so doing, they may well be incognizant to the fact they have also answered the question “why then?” as they write a play which speaks across time.
It is not easy for art, rooted within one medium, to transcend its source and achieve equal salience within an adjacent medium. The well-trod path from page to stage is littered with an unintended dialectic between literature and performance. Curatorial precision is required at all times. This is perhaps most true when considering the memoir: a medium which confers unto the reader the intimacy of personal insight.