Archive for the ‘ Theatre ’ Category

Jason Robert Brown


One of the most talented people writing for theatre at the moment is one Jason Robert Brown.  I tend to get blank looks if I mention him in real life, though I’ve recently discovered some fellow fans of this amazing man.  He not only writes and arranges music, but he plays piano like a demon (a very musical demon) and has an incredible voice with range, depth and passion.  You can tell this from his printed music, full of twiddly notes in the accompaniment and including long, held notes that probably have tenors the world over cursing his name.  Not me, though, as I’ve not yet attempted to learn any of his songs.

In terms of theatre, he’s written a few diverse musicals, none of which I’ve yet seen, though I have tickets to see Parade in September, at the Donmar Warehouse.  Most exciting.  This is his most ‘traditional’ musical, really, and tells the tragic true story of Leo Frank, who was lynched in 1915 for a crime he did not commit.  His other shows are Songs for a New World, which is a song cycle notable for ‘Stars and the Moon’, which has been recorded by a whole host of female artists; The Last Five Years, a two-person musical telling the story of a relationship from beginning to end and end to beginning at the same time; 13, which has a cast of teenagers and centres around a bar mitzvah; and a chunk of the score for the stage adaptation of Urban Cowboy.  They have little, if anything in common, other than JRB’s gift for composing technically challenging, emotionally revealing, passionate music.

Recently, I’ve been listening again to his album Wearing Someone Else’s Clothes, which is just as excellent, passionate and engaging as his theatrical scores.  I wish I could explain what it is about his music and performance which impress me so much, but I must simply say that it’s well worth checking his work out.  He’s often referred to as a successor to Stephen Sondheim, but that’s not entirely right, as Jason Robert Brown has a unique musical voice quite different to Sondheim’s, though comparisons on grounds of composing talent are entirely justified.  Brown has a great website which includes a bunch of his songs that can be listened to on-line.  There’s also a blog, which he often uses to address questions from his fans in a consistently amusing fashion.  Do yourself a favour and investigate this talented man.

Gotta dance?


Dance has rather been on my mind recently, for a number of reasons.  I’ve had to do a spot of dancing in The Sound of Gershwin, where I was taught how to do the Viennese waltz.  A colleague is about to be wed, which always leads to interesting speculation on the potential form of the reception – barn dance, disco, live band?  And I borrowed the Library of Doom’s DVD of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, quite possibly the only ballet I’ve watched all the way through.

Dance is not something that comes naturally to me, though I am improving slowly.  I can follow choreography, but it takes quite some time to learn it, and dance on stage only tends to look good once the steps have become second nature so that the performer can throw him or herself into it wholeheartedly with a sense of abandon.  When I can reach that point, dance becomes as joyous as song.  Unchoreographed dancing is even harder, though I will sometimes allow myself to let go and do more than simply wobble from side to side at a disco type event.  I much prefer a barn dance if I’m a wedding guest, as you get told exactly what to do, and my Christian upbringing has exposed me to many barn dances and ceilidhs over the years.

When I watch dance, I have a fairly low boredom theshhold, so the inevitable dream ballet of the 1940s and 50s musicals is like unto a torture to me unless it’s done really well.  Singin’ in the Rain is one of my favourite films, but I find that final, endless dance sequence rather tedious.  The dance breaks in the title number and ‘Good Morning’ don’t bother me, though, which is a little odd.  I think it may be because they spring more naturally from the characters, and I’m a plot and character man when it comes to film and theatre.  It is a truism of the musical that song takes over when words are not enough for the emotions, and dance takes over when even sung words get in the way.  When this is really true, I find the dance thrilling and involving.  Anna and the King’s polka is worth a hundred random dance breaks in less emotionally revealing moments.

Swan Lake, in case you’re wondering, was interesting.  I was variously intrigued, bored and thrilled.  I thought the men of the corps de ballet were far more effective as swans than they were in human form, and I appreciated the comic touches which are sprinkled throughout, particularly the ditzy girlfriend at the opera house.  The swans themselves were amazing.  I was enthralled by the way in which the choreography made them both sensual and dangerous, beautiful and awesome, just like the birds themselves.  Swans are graceful, but rather frightening at the same time.  That they could be both redemption and downfall for the hero prince seemed remarkably apt.  I doubt I’ll ever be moved to shell out the money to see a dance piece at the theatre, but I shall certainly keep an eye out for broadcasts of Bourne’s Car Man, or grab the DVD if we add it to stock.

It’s a funny thing dance.  For me it’s both a challenge and a thrill, and can cause me to be enthralled or to reach for the off switch.  It has a language which I know I will never speak, but it can communicate even to outsiders like me.  The joy that comes when I am abandoned to dance, as participant or observer, is a truly special joy.  Sometimes it feels like the most natural thing in the world.  Gotta dance!

6 essentials for life upon the wicked stage


Now that I’ve got a few months before I start rehearsals for any stage performances again (though there are a sprinkling of concerts over the coming months), I thought I’d share some things which are invaluable when messing around on stage.

A good anti-perspirant deodorant.  The level of sweating that goes on under those lights on stage is truly astonishing, and can have many adverse effects.  You can shine inappropriately, you can feel (and eventually smell) unpleasant, you can find things sticking to you when you’re trying to do a quick change, and sweat can affect microphone packs.  I find that most deodorants simply can’t cope with the demands of the theatre, which combines physical exertion with hot conditions and acute anxiety.  Hurrah for the Mitchum brand, which I have found to be very reliable indeed.

Five minutes.  Just a few moments to yourself to think about what you have to do, where you have to be, and what order things happen in.  Whether checking through a written list, or walking the show through in your head, it helps with relaxation and concentration.  It also ensures that all necessary props, costume items and the like are in the right place, as you check each one as you come to it on the list.  A clear head and the ability to concentrate can get you through untold disasters as the show goes on.

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Shameless plug – The Sound of Gershwin


Loyal readers, my posts have been few and far between recently.  I can explain, really I can.  Approximately half of the blame lies with my studies, as I have just e-mailed off the final assignment of the academic year, the first year of my postgraduate foray into the world of Information and Library Studies.  The other half lies with that ever-present aspect of my life, rehearsals.  In ten days, the curtain will go up on The Sound of Gershwin at the Whitstable Playhouse, and the Singing Librarian will be singing the songs of one of the twentieth century’s most successful popular composers alongside two dozen other performers.

From my perspective, this is a rather mad show, which gives everyone much more to do than you’d normally have in a traditional ‘book musical’ with a plot and characters.  We’re simply singing and dancing our hearts out to scores of Gershwin’s songs, from the well known hits like ‘I Got Rhythm’ and ‘Summertime’ to neglected gems like my two solos, ‘Who Cares?’ from Of Thee I Sing and a snatch of ‘That Certain Feeling’ from Tip-Toes.  The solos give most of the company time to breathe and execute a subtle costume change (waistcoats, scarves and so on will be flying on and off throughout the evening), though everyone is called in to duty at various points to dance or react while others are singing.  As the evening progresses, I am seduced against my will, dance a Viennese waltz (or try very hard to do so), tease, flirt, run, march, click and kick.

We’re still putting a few last things together in rehearsal, which is rather scary for this stage in proceedings, so it’s impossible to say how well or otherwise this will hang together as a show, but it should be a lot of fun for performers and audience.  Certain bits of it are excellent, so the rest needs to catch up fast!  Should you feel the urge to see a librarian sing and dance, then please do come down to Whitstable.  Tickets are available by telephone on 01227 272042 or through the theatre’s website, which I cunningly linked to earlier in the post.

Not convinced you know or like any Gershwin songs?  Well, here’s a selection of ten of the more famous numbers that are included: ‘I Got Rhythm’, ‘Strike Up the Band’, ‘How Long Has This Been Going On?’, ‘Someone To Watch Over Me’, ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off’, ‘Fascinating Rhythm’, ‘Embraceable You’, ‘Summertime’, ‘I Got Plenty O’ Nuttin” and ‘The Man I Love’.  With another forty or so numbers included, in whole or in part, I think we just about do justice to Gershwin’s output!

Make ’em laugh


Comedy MaskLaughter in the theatre is almost always a fine thing, a sign that the actors and director are doing their jobs, that the script is up to scratch and the audience are enjoying themselves.  Sometimes, of course, it’s a sign that something has gone hideously and inappropriately wrong, or, if it happens on the other side of the ‘fourth wall’, that a private joke has accidentally wormed its way on to stage and caused a (hopefully) temporary fit of hysteria.

Getting a laugh as a performer is a wonderful thing, but it’s also rather tricky.  It has been my privilege to play two amusing characters over the last 2 years, very different but united in their ability to raise a chuckle from the audience.  Much of the work is done by the script, of course, but it is entirely possible to make a funny line land like a piece of wet lettuce, and also to bring out the humour in a moment that doesn’t absolutely have to be funny (“it’s the way that I tell ’em…”).  I’m certainly no expert, and I have yet to perform in a non-musical comedy (which would require much greater levels of discipline), but that won’t stop me from throwing in my tuppenceworth.

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Baring all for art


Oh, dear.  Not content with attending the powerful, moving play Equus simply for the chance to see Daniel Radcliffe in his birthday suit, the great British public is now being alarmed by Sir Ian McKellen ‘s on-stage nudity as King Lear, in a scene which always seems odd when the actor doesn’t take his clothes off.  It doesn’t help that certain other productions in London at the moment are using naked actors for what seems like pure shock value,as neither of these instances should be titillating or shocking as such, but are a small part of the wonderful plays being performed.  When Equus first opened, I became quite angry with the endless tabloid press stories on the play, which were mostly getting worked up about ‘Harry Potter getting his kit off’.  If they knew the play, they’d be much more concerned by the fact that ‘Harry Potter’ blinds some horses, and, by the way, that’s not Harry Potter (who, I hate to say it, doesn’t exist) on the stage at the Gielgud, that’s Daniel Radcliffe, an actor who will have to play more than one part if he wants to have a career.  Hmph.

Having criticised public and press for getting terribly worked up about dangly bits on stage, I have to confess that I can’t ever see myself going for a role which required me to bare all.  For a start, I think there are very few theatrical situations that truly justify it.  But mostly, I’d just be too embarrassed, though I’d probably use the excuse that I was sparing the audience from nightmares.  It’s strange, as going on stage at all means shedding a whole host of inhibitions, and both acting and blogging could be compared to baring your soul.  I have no qualms about making a fool of myself (as long as I’m playing a role) or taking on a completely ridiculous part.  And on a related note, when the time inevitably comes that I find myself in a stage kiss, I suspect that this will be more problematic in rehearsals than in performance.  I sometimes wonder what other lines I may draw in the sand when it comes to on stage performance, but I know that being a naked librarian is a step too far. 

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Acting like a duck


You keep paddling like the clappers,
Just keep paddling with your flappers,
While seeming to be dreaming and calm.
Just beneath the surface
You may struggle to get by.
But nothing can deter you
If you hold your head up high.

So sing a mother and son pair of ducks in Honk! as the ugly duckling learns to swim.  The image of a duck or swan gliding serenely across the water while its legs are working nineteen to the dozen beneath the surface is particularly apt for theatre.  No matter how polished a performance the audience may experience, you can guarantee that backstage is complete chaos, involving many people whose existence would surprise the paying punters in the audience.  Actors may be dashing about at breakneck speed, changing costumes and locating props.  Crew members all in black will be changing microphones, getting sets into position, acting as crowd control, clearing the stage of hazards, grappling with velcro, safety pins and gaffa tape.  There’ll be a deputy stage manager constantly whispering into his or her headpiece to communicate with cast, crew, lighting people, sound people and more.  Miles of electrical cable coil like snakes around the building, clothing rails are hidden in the strangest places, the sewing machine is very rarely turned off and at any given point, several people will be in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

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After the show


Nearly six months of rehearsals, several false starts, numerous sleepless nights over administrative problems, thirty-nine cast members, dozens of crew and musicians dressed in black, six performances, one visit from the Lord Mayor and a very subdued after-show party, and it’s all over.  There is now a Kiss Me, Kate-shaped hole in my life, and I have the potential to study, or perhaps even relax, on Tuesday evenings and Sunday afternoons.  Since I am young, male, and now on the radar of the local performing groups, this doesn’t mean a quiet life (I’m already back in rehearsals for The Sound of Gershwin at the Whitstable Playhouse and have a July concert to work towards), but I really am going to miss this show.

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Flashforward


In just a few days time I sally forth on to stage once more, for the heady mix of Cole Porter, Shakespeare and general silliness which is Kiss Me, Kate.  This has been a rehearsal period which I will look back on with distinctly mixed feelings, as I have been involved with a number of major headaches both as part of the general run of things and as a member of the Society’s committee.  On the positive side, though, I have got to know some great new people, and got to know other people better, often greatly increasing my opinion of them as people and performers.  As I now pause before launching in to a hectic week in the theatre, I thought I’d take a step back and think about the things I’m looking forward to, in both a positive and a negative sense, over the next seven days.

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Respect your character?


I seem to have a problem.  I get cast in a role, large or small.  I begin rehearsals full of excitement and trepidation.  I learn the words and movements.  And before long, I realise just how much of an idiot my character is.  Once upon a time, I would defend my characters. I offered a sociological justification of Torvald Helmer’s actions in A Doll’s House, for instance, which absolved him of all blame for the play’s ending, and I even managed to find a motivation for most of the things that Roger got up to in Grease.  But no longer.   I simply can not remain blind to my characters’ shortcomings…

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