Archive for January, 2009

It’s behind me!


The Singing Librarian as the Genie of the Lamp - click for larger version

The Singing Librarian as the Genie of the Lamp

PPA Productions’ Aladdin has been over for almost a week now, and I still feel as though I’m recovering somewhat, despite returning to the Library of Doom full time and resuming rehearsals for my next two shows (no, I don’t ever stop, and I’m not sure I’d be allowed to). I had a terrific time, and really did stretch myself. I would never have expected to sing a Queen song for the paying public or wear and dance in a costume that involved so little material above the waist. Nor would I have expected to be applying quite so much glitter to myself, not to mention the hateful daily routine of self-tanning. The things we do for art!

I had a few days when I really wasn’t enjoying myself, mostly due to worrying too much. Once I accepted that I would never be the world’s greatest Genie (nor probably even Kent’s greatest Genie), but applied myself to simply being the best Genie I was capable of being, it became somewhat easier in the mental department. The cast was very supportive, though, and we buoyed each other up, since everyone had at least one “what the heck am I doing here?” day. By the end of the run, I was really enjoying the performances and was remarkably unselfconscious about wandering around in my beautiful but revealing costume.

I shall treasure various memories, mostly of exciting ad libs forced on various people by circumstances beyond their control. Technical problems, memory issues, unexpected heckling from the audience and so forth. I shall certainly always remember the scene in the final performance when the Dame decided he was going to try to make me laugh – a great battle of wills. I came so very close to laughing, but made it through (biting the inside of my lip eventually) and the audience thought it was hilarious, so everyone was a winner. The axe which hit the wrong person then went missing is also a firm favourite.

Would I ever do something like this again? Absolutely yes. Tiring, not at all easy, but so rewarding, thanks largely to the wonderful cast and crew. It’s behind me now, but I hope to return to the world of “oh yes he should” the next time panto season rolls around.

The Genie's Make Up

The Genie's Makeup

2009
01/31
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Wardrobe malfunction!


It was one of those moments when you really hope that nobody in the audience is looking your way.  If I’m lucky, all eyes were centre stage gazing adoringly at Aladdin and Princess Jasmine.  In the final few seconds of last night’s show, you see, I had a serious wardrobe malfunction.

The Genie costume took a little bit of getting used to for me, as it exposes more flesh than I am accustomed to exposing and certainly could not be worn by a lady librarian.  The main items are some baggy trousers, a hat, two cuffs and a diamond-shaped thing that covers my shoulders and bits of my chest and back, attaching to the front and back of the trousers via two of the diamond’s points.  It was intimidating at first (and has required the use of fake tan to avoid the make-up procedure taking several days), but I have become accustomed to it and can now say that it is a great costume.  When it behaves itself, that is.

Last night, happily singing and dancing my way though the big finale song, I reached a moment when the principals are all on a raised platform while the dancers do crazy stuff below us and realised that my costume was coming adrift.  It is held together at the front by two hooks and eyes and a popper.  The popper had come undone and I hastily reaffixed it during the next bout of hectic freestyle movement, making sure that my back was to the audience.  All was well, or so I thought.

Perhaps my next few movements (we were very near the end) were more violent than usual.  Perhaps something was in the air (others had costume issues as well).  Who knows.  But in the final couple of bars, we all take a final bow.  As we did so, the hat decided to make its presence known and I struggled to keep it on.  We stood up, and I felt pleased with myself for not losing it, but worse was to come.  On the final beat of the music we all stretch an arm up high and grin madly.  I stretched, and all three fastenings came undone as my costume made a bid for freedom.  I had to grab hold as quickly as possible to prevent the diamond flying too far up and the trousers falling down (they are only figure-hugging near the ankles) and as the lights went out, the hat finally decided enough was enough – it did not want to be on my head for another second.  Blackout, front cloth in and…laughter.  Trying to hold my errant costume together, I could not help but laugh.  I had no idea if the audience had noticed (if they had, they’d have gained a very brief glimpse of a lot more Genie chest than they were accustomed to), or if the director had noticed.  At the beginning of the run, I’d have been mortified and horribly embarrassed, but nine performances in, it just struck me as hilarious.  How a week can change your point of view!

2009
01/24
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Panto frolics


Well, Aladdin at the Margate Winter Gardens is well under way, and the cast and crew are enjoying a day off, all hoping to recover enough energy and vocal strength to continue through the next week’s performances. It has been a lot of fun and a lot of stress, a general roller-coaster of emotions and activity. The audiences seem to be enjoying themselves, which is the aim of any pantomime (the genre should function as a theatrical ‘gateway drug’, getting kids hooked on theatre) and we have continued on, despite the inevitable technical hitches and a fainting Chinese policeman. We have thus far given five performances complete with everything from malfunctioning mangles to singing clouds, puffs of smoke to unexpected audience participation, all the ingredients of a fun panto.

I spend quite a bit of the show either sitting in my dressing room or pacing the corridors, and have discovered that the latter is inadvisable if the junior dancers are around – apparently either I or my make-up is (or am) terrifying in semi-darkness, causing them to jump, start or squeal. Some younger audience members also seem to find the Genie disturbing, though one young person did tell the Dame that his favourite bit of the panto was when I appeared – hearing about this cheered me up somewhat.

Many things about the show are a joy and it has not yet become routine for me. The cast are amazing, on stage and off, from Widow Twankey who can ad lib her/his way out of any sticky situation, to Aladdin, who has shown such openness and determination to learn new skills. Many of us have been on a steep learning curve and we are constantly on our toes. Some particular joys for me:

Dodging dancers. During some numbers, I provide off-stage backing vocals, and in one of these there is a dance break, where I must remember to clear a space for K, one of the incredibly talented senior dancers, to jog past as he exits and re-enters the scene. I have no idea whether he sees me smile and nod to him as he goes past, but I find the moment strangely reassuring, a sign that the show is going as it should.

Waiting for the pop. As is traditional, the Slave of the Ring and the Genie of the Lamp appear in a puff of smoke. There is a health and safety side to this, as any actor too close to the pyro which provides the smoke could easily be burned, so our mantra as we are about to enter is ‘wait for the pop’. On one occasion I got confused, or possibly over-excited, and failed to wait for the pyro to go pop, so I had no puff of smoke. Entirely my fault. Of course, I now get a significant look from the pyro-man every time I’m about to enter to remind me not to do it again.

Listening in. The show relay is a very handy thing, allowing actors in far-off dressing rooms to hear what’s going on and thus know when their scenes are approaching. During Aladdin, it has also been a source of amusement to me. Having seen the scenes so many times in rehearsal, I know how things are supposed to go, so it’s always interesting listening for deviations and wondering what’s gone wrong (or unexpectedly right) at any given moment. Hearing Widow Twankey ask one of the crew to remove a stray prop or the Chinese policewomen get confused about which one of them is which is almost as funny as seeing it unfold in front of me. More intriguing is trying to work out why someone says “oh, that was unexpected!” or similar. The thrill of live theatre is possibly never more evident than in panto when it seems absolutely anything can (and does) happen.

Freestlying. Actually, if we’re listing joys, that’s a lie. In choreographic terms, I don’t think there is any word that’s more scary than ‘freestyle’, at least to a non-dancer like myself. There are parts of the big finale that are freestyle, but I think most of us principals have settled ourselves into a routine for those moments, and do essentially the same ‘freestyle’ moves each time. Anyway, by the time we reach freestyle, I’m having so much fun that I can’t help but smile even if I have a blank and can’t think what to do.

Tired as I am, this has thus far been an amazing experience, quite unlike anything else I’ve done on stage thus far.  I have cried with laughter and cried with frustration.  I have invented a new key to sing in (though thankfully have not returned to it) and danced my socks off (if one who is barefoot can be said to dance their socks off).  I have met new people and got to know others better.  And I only have a week more of it to go.  I’ll be a little relieved when it’s over, but I know I’ll miss it.  It has been wonderful to have a licence to be utterly daft for a few weeks and the sound of the audience shouting “it’s behind you!”, even if they’re not actually shouting to me, is a sound to be treasured.

2009
01/19
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Things that panto rehearsals have taught me


Flyer for Aladdin

Flyer for Aladdin

This week, I have mostly been rehearsing for Aladdin, the pantomime to be performed very, very soon at the Winter Gardens in Margate.  On Tuesday, the cast (sans Dame, who arrived on Wednesday), met and began blocking the scenes.  We were soon into the swing of audience participation, learning the songs, figuring out how much teasing people can take and generally getting the show ready.  It’s always nice when casts get along together, and we do.  I have also discovered that we have much to teach each other.  I’m sure I have much still to learn, but for the benefit of my readers, lessons from the first week of rehearsals include:

Men should not moisturise. Ever. According to Princess Jasmine, it is unmanly.  As are many other things, including shaving your armpits (but really, why would any man want to shave their armpits?).  Baking biscuits is a good thing according to all who consumed the ones I took in on Wednesday, but it is also unmanly.  Drat!

I come as a package deal with the Emperor of China. To be fair, we are friends, but we seem to be seen as a unit, possibly a double act by some people.  If we were to become a double act, we could definitely use our middle names as the title of our act, but I shall leave that title as a mystery.

Tradition! I love panto, and I love all the traditions of the genre, but it has been very eye-opening to see just how many traditional elements and rules there are, sometimes competing with one another.  Most people are also very protective of their character and their gags, which can be quite amusing.

Padiddle. This is a wonderful game to play with a car full of people on a wintry night.  If you spot a car with one headlight out, then you shout ‘padiddle!’ and score a point.  Simple, but most amusing – well done, PC Pong, who introduced the game to us.  Apparently, according to my extensive research, it has been played with varying rules for decades, but this simple version is fine for me.

Black canvas trainers are de rigueur. They are spreading like a plague among the cast.  My favourite panto rehearsal picture so far is the shot at the foot of this post, looking down at the matching feet of the Genie, Aladdin and PCs Ping and Pong.  I did let the side down by wearing a different pair of trainers to today’s dance rehearsal, though.  We may be able to make them official uniform by the time we’re finished.

The funniest thing I can do is sing. The role of the Genie of the Lamp is not a comic role really (which is OK with me, truly it is), but I did manage to raise a huge laugh during the session where we went over the finale in our music rehearsal.  Everything in the show is in a somewhat unusual style for me, but something must have clicked in my head on the second sing-through and I cut loose with my vocal.  This took those who have worked with me before by surprise and made them laugh.  At first, I was alarmed, and thought that I might have done something awfully wrong, but I was reassured that the reaction was because it was ‘so right’ but ‘excessively unexpected’.  Of course, being me, I now fear that I have peaked too soon vocally.  But at least I know that I once did it well enough to make people laugh.

I really ought to charge an ‘Ask a Librarian’ fee. It amused me that when Aladdin wasn’t sure how to pronounce a particular word, he asked me.  Others have checked geographical facts with me (yes, there is a Thebes in Egypt, and yes, Egypt is in Africa) or otherwise sought explanations for the more esoteric aspects of their lines.  However, I drew the line at researching “he’s so fat he…” jokes.  A librarian’s powers are not to be squandered!  I am known to some as ‘D– the librarian’, not just ‘D–‘ or ‘thingummy who plays the Genie’.  This just goes to show that you can take the librarian out of the library, but you can’t take the library out of the librarian.

Panto is hard work, but fun. I think I already knew that, though.  And of course, if you’re in Kent, want to experience the fun, and see the Singing Librarian alongside a whole bunch of talented people including Ben Mills and Mark Arden in Aladdin, come along to Margate Winter Gardens from 16th-25th January.  Tickets can be booked by telephone on 01843 296111/292795.  I, the great djinn, the genie of the lamp, would be delighted to see you there.

The WordPress ‘spellchecker’ function does not recognise the word djinn. How strange.

Proof that the cast of Aladdin all have the same dress sense?

Proof that the cast of Aladdin all have the same dress sense?

2009
01/10
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Ian for a summer


One of my friends has me listed on her mobile phone as ‘Gerald’, as this was the role I played in Me and My Girl, opposite her as Jaquie.  The idea was that she knows a great variety of Davids (mark this date in your diary, it may be the first time I’ve mentioned my name on this blog), but Gerald will probably always be me and only me.

A reminder of this fact, combined with being dropped off at Newport Pagnell service station at Christmas by one of the other Davids of the world, caused me to recall my summer of being Ian.  It is not unusual to be temporarily called any one of a number of names, Chris and Simon being particular favourites, but this is the only time I’ve gone by a pseudonym in real life for any length of time.

This was during my student days, when a summer job was an absolute necessity and was unlikely to be overly fulfilling.  This particular summer I managed to secure employment with Welcome Break at the M1 service station at Newport Pagnell, the town where I grew up.  I was employed to clear and clean tables, operate the floor cleaning monster truck and occasionally to do the washing up, a particularly unpleasant task.  In addition to duties which were less than stimulating to the mind, I suffered a series of problems with the whole point of my presence there – being paid.  Although I was supposed to be paid weekly, it wasn’t until several weeks had elapsed that I received a payslip.  Opening it eagerly, I was deeply disappointed to find that it was for a total of zero pounds and zero pence.  A crushing blow.

I was eventually paid for my labours, but my summer had more confusion in store than simple cash-flow troubles.  When I started, I was issued with my beautiful Welcome Break polo shirt, but they did not have any name badges with my name on.  Not a problem, I was told.  Apparently I didn’t really need a name badge, and as I would only be there for a couple of months, it wasn’t really worth getting one done for me.  Unfortunately, there was one circumstance where name badges were needed: when there was a visit from Head Office.

So, on one fine day, I arrived at the service station, only to be told that there was a visit from Head Office expected today and I should be wearing my name badge.  I politely mentioned that I had no name badge because there were no Davidic ones available, and thus caused a minor panic.  The shift supervisor soon hit upon a cunning plan – give me a random name badge for the day and hope that it went unnoticed.  A quick trip over to the uniform repository and I was ready for work with a name badge proudly stating that I was Ian.  The day passed, for me at least, without any further incident of note.

An elegant solution, one might think, to a very temporary problem.  Unfortunately, this was not to be.  For reasons that were unknown to minions such as myself, the visit from Head Office was extended for quite some time.  And so, because I had been Ian on the first day they were there, I was (at least in the realm of name badges) to be Ian until they went away or I went back to university, whichever came sooner.  You can probably guess which one came sooner…  For several weeks, therefore, my uniform proclaimed me as an Ian, whereas my inmost being knew me to be a David.  My fellow minions were confused at first, but most of them soon learned to trust what they knew to be the truth and continue calling me David.  I refused to introduce myself as Ian, but my Davidic nature went undiscovered for the remainder of the summer, or perhaps it was deigned to be unimportant compared to the real cause of the extended managerial visit.  I suppose I shall never know, but I shall always remember being Ian for a summer.  It didn’t really suit me, but at least I know I have the choice.  David I am, but Ian I could be if necessary.  I was, after all, accustomed to looking round when I heard the name, and could soon get back in to the habit.  But would a David by any other name still be the Singing Librarian?

2009
01/07
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