Backwards Theatre Workshops August!!!

The Third Point of Reference
A theatre/improvisation/music workshop. (Come and have fun improvising, acting, singing, or even just observe, no pressure.)
Monday nights during August at 7:00 (3-09, 10-09,17-09,24-09.)
@
The Chisenhale Dance Space
64-84 Chisenhale road
Contact: Ian 0207 987 9678
Stella 0208 694 0197
backwards theatre

Delbert's Glasses illustration

Delbert's Glasses (Children's Story)

Once upon a time there was an elephant named Delbert Trunk who liked to look at everything. He liked to look at a tree. He liked to look at a lion. He liked to look at a river. He liked to look at a cloud. He liked to look at a flower. He liked to look at a mountain. Everything! That was all he did. The other elephants in the herd did important stuff. Banking. Book keeping. Stamping about. Inventing things. But all Delbert did was look.
But then he got ill.
He went to the herd Doctor, Dr. Tusk, who said, you have eye disease from too much looking! You must stop. So Delbert did as he was told, for he respected the medical profession, and he closed his eyes.
Forever.
The other elephants led him about by the trunk, so he was okay, but he didn’t look anymore. Not at a tree. A flower. A lion. A river. A mountain. Not at anything.
Nothing! And the Doctor was pleased. You’re cured! Yes, said Delbert. Cured. And everything seemed fine.
But then at the weekly stamp in the big clearing Delbert did a strange thing. He was supposed to stamp to the right, but he stamped, to the left! The herd was shocked. Delbert was called before the elephant council. Why did you stamp to the left? I just forgot. Forgot?! Forgot?! But an elephant never forgets! Sorry. There was much shock and outrage throughout the herd. But it didn’t stop there. Delbert now continually forgot stuff. He forgot to trumpet on hearing a lion roar. He forgot to take some flowers to the elephants’ graveyard. One time he even forgot he was an elephant! In the end it was too much. He was called again before the elephant council. Delbert! You’re banished! What?! Yes. Banished! With a capital ‘b’! but…but… but… no buts!!! Pack your trunk. So Delbert the elephant packed his trunk and said goodbye to the herd.
He wandered in the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights until at last he fell in a heap on the floor, next to a cave. Oh why was I so obsessed with looking? Why? Look where it’s got me! But then he heard a noise in the cave. It was the sound of a drum going bum, bum, bum.
Oh no! Now I’m going mad and hearing drums that go bum, bum, bum! But out of the cave appeared a tiger. A tiger? In Africa? Yes. A tiger. And he was banging a drum, and there was a funny look in his eye as if he were flying high in the sky. But then he saw Delbert and he said, in tiger-ish, which luckily Delbert spoke, he said, I am the shaman tiger of the wilderness.
On my magic drum I fly to dimensions unknown, to find answers to tricky questions and stuff. Really? You bet! In Africa? Yes! What’s your tricky question? And Delbert explained.
The shaman tiger thought long and hard and then he began to bang his drum, bum, bum, bum, and that faraway look came into his eye, and it was obvious he was… and eventually he said. I have travelled to the dimension of elephant conundrums and I have it. What? The answer stupid. And he thrust out his paw. And in his right paw were a pair of glasses. These, he said, are elephant conundrum glasses! They aren’t. They are you know. And these glasses will answer your question. And then he disappeared back in his cave. So Del-boy stood there holding the glasses. What a strange tiger. He should be in a circus, or something. Then, without opening his eyes he put on the glasses, and even though his eyes were closed, HE COULD SEE! SEE! They really were magic glasses!! And in a flash he knew what to do!
40 days later he arrived back at the big clearing and there was the herd stamping around as usual. Delbert put on his magic glasses. He looked at the herd, with his magic glasses, and what did he see?
?
He saw a bunch of idiots stamping around from right to left and from left to right, trumpeting at lions, and so on, and doing stuff, simply because they had always done that. Just a bunch of socially conditioned pachyderms! engaged in a lot of absurd ritualistic behaviour patterns, thinking they were important, when in truth they were just being a bit silly. And Delbert took off the glasses and opened his eyes, for now he could see. He didn’t need to look anymore. He could see!
Yes. Delbert had seen beyond the herd mentality which, as ‘Long Trunk’ said, the famous elephant philosopher, is the beginning of wisdom and stuff! And Delbert didn’t identify with the herd anymore, and he went and to live near the waterfall, and he set up a business as an independent trunk examiner, and soon the elephants were flocking, well, not flocking, herding to him, with trunk related issues, the like of which, well, you never, no not like, ever. And he met a nice lady elephant and lived happily ever after.
　
OH! The glasses? Yes. They are in a special glass case above his desk just waiting for the day when a young elephants get tired of just looking and come to him to ask him, if they can try them on.

The Third Point of Reference!

As a performer have you ever felt that you were not getting across the footlights? That you failed to communicate in some way? Or that the production you in which seemed a good idea to begin with, now feels flat and uninspiring? Now it would be only human to deny this has ever happened. To put on a brave face. The show must go on darling! Put in another context anyone who has ever tried stand-up comedy will know just how hard it is to make people laugh. Virtually impossible. These ‘professional’ comedians really do earn their money. So. Is the situation hopeless? Are we doomed to strut and fret our hour upon the stage and all to no avail? Well. My experience does confute this. I’ve learnt, through various means, that we can, how shall I say? Communicate better. Get more personal fulfilment from performance if. big IF, we know where to begin, or how to shift the focus on this issue. And this is crucial. So often we fight the wrong battles in life and get no result as a result! Think! If you have chosen wrong battle to fight, it does not matter how much effort you put in fighting it! It still won’t yield a result you can use. So where to begin is crucial. Another thing to realise before we chose or begin, is that most problems stem from accepting the conventional thinking on a given subject. We don’t think outside the box. We don’t recognise that if we are failing, and we following what we were taught at respectable institutes of learning, then we must have been taught wrong. Or maybe no entirely wrong, but still there was some lack, or a wrong emphasis, or something. We must acknowledge we have missed something.
Having said all that I’ll explain conclusions I have come to. In performance generally speaking, despite all the theory that now exists, still, no value is put on subjective states. The performer’s own inner experience is not valued. What we have is this.
Self Projection
Self Awareness
The outer, the technique, the projected part is valued over the inner; the performer’s awareness or subjective experience. So then the new starting point, the way to shift the focus on this issue is to start with self awareness.
SELF AWARENESS
If the performer has self awareness, and by this I mean in the ’depth psychology’ sense of himself, and not just as an actor in a play, this creates two distinct poles in performance. The doer, and the awareness of doing. When the audience supplies the third point of reference, this creates a dynamic which is essentially triangular. (See my diagram!) What do we get without self awareness in performer? Answer is a straight line, as it goes straight from performer to audience. No triangle! What this means scientifically is that with two poles you have stasis. The best example is earth and moon. A predictable relationship. If a third body could be added all three bodies would start to behave erratically. Chaos would be introduced! This real science! What it means though is that with the third point of reference you get a dynamic, which does possess change. It does get across the footlights. Now how does that fit with theatre as we know it? Now think. This situation already exists. The self awareness element in theatre is the writer. Think! Shakespeare! Pinter! Wilde! Moliere! Schiller! These are very self aware individuals. So the scripts they produce provide this dynamic. The third point of reference. Hoopla! The performer, without self awareness, really is just the will-less puppet of the writer. He cannot take from a performance anything for himself. It can only ever serve the writer’s purpose. Looking at the current theatre world I think actor’s beginning to realise this. Right now, the writer is out of vogue. I should know. I am one. Now the trend is for self devised stuff. Installation type stuff. Solo stuff. Writers if they are used, must cater to current trends by being relevant, or writing about specific issues.
This means of course, if your play is about the plight of the Scandinavian sausage-makers, it will have no sub text. It will be doing the literal job of informing people about something, so there won’t be room. Put another way writer’s cannot just create from their own imagination as Pinter of Beckett would have done. People would say, but it’s not relevant! Think of the Scandinavian sausage makers!
　
　
As regards the actors, what this means for them, is that they have realised, semi-consciously, what a poor deal they have been getting. But. BUT! just to dispense with the writer, is still not a solution! unless some new way to introduce self awareness into the equation is found!
Well. It bad for me to pick on actor’s. People in general do not possess self awareness. Not just actors. But still, the fact that there has been a change of sorts is progress. Now all that’s needed is for courageous people to go a bit further in dropping the outmoded agendas which still do largely run the performance universe. How?
Do not begin with how the audience will perceive a production or performance, begin with how you as a performer experience being in something. This may sound crazy and alienate audiences to certain extent but still. That is the way forward. With this shift of focus now it doesn’t matter if the work scripted, unscripted, devised, whatever, as now self awareness is definitely part of the equation.
　

Compendium of bogus mythology!

THE COMPENDIUM OF bogus legend,folktale & MTHYOLOGY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1.in a cave,on an island under a fortress is imprisoned, the man/god. his skin covered in sores, he rages continually to see the sun. in the fortress lives an evil sorcerer with a bird's claw for a right hand.
2.a hero is born under a bush which afterwards bursts into flame.
3. once a year a town sacrifices a child by taking it to malevolent wood and throwing it down well.monster is invisible. child chosen by a sign. birthmark. which actually a transfer placed their by town holy man. father of chosen child goes to fight monster.makes monster materialise by making it angry.
shoots it with gun that has bullets of love he was given by town cripple who he befriended. takes proof to town of monster. rips off transfer. exposes holy man who jumps from top of tower.
4.mother given magical womb by a god.she gets pregnant just by imagining her child.child grows up very charismatic. attracts army of acolytes.they storm palace. he becomes tyrant.time of oppression. mother guilty. she begs for audience with him. has proof he her child. once in his prescence she kills him and then herself.forest grows up around palace and trees all turn to stone.
5. a male wizzard and a female wizzard meet at midnight in thunderstorm and fell in love. they have male child. name him seth. omens at his birth. a crow flies up a drainpipe. a man in china and a man in peru cough in unison. a pork pie shaped cloud pauses over sainsburys. but they discover seth has fault. defect. imperfection. HORROR! right hand only 4 fingers. he's one digit down! seth grows up normal way. house full of magic,spells and sorcery.then when he 10 yr old, discovers hand has mind of it's own.he can't control it but whatever it leads him to gives him power and makes him feel good. seth keeps this a deep secret but as power grows so his connection to world diminishes, until at last,a grown man,on thundery night he finds himself alone and afraid. he knows it's the hand. in that dark and terrible night he makes a decision, probably influenced by that movie, evil dead 2. so he buys strong pain killing drugs and a chain saw. in the morning, it is done. the hospital say he is lucky to live. story in paper .evil dead hand horror man alive!slowly he recovers.he leaves hospital. trains as a counsellor with the positive sunflower harmony counselling co-op in brockley, and does good work listening people talk about their probs. at co-op he meets fat janet. she a jellyfish fan. they hit it off. fall in love.they go greek islands for honeymoon. on campsite at santorini during a thunderstorm the goddess of love materialies, in the tent! they wish they'd brought the bigger one with an exterior frame. they saw it in blacks. only 130 euros! the goddess looks a lot like pamela anderson, and she says to seth. you have impressed the gods with your passion!and we grant you this gift! and a lightning bolt came out of her eye and hit seth's arm and a new hand grew! this one with 5,5! fingers!and so it was, seth was made whole, and janet was glad too, because now he could wash the dishes, grandma!

Solo Performance in Perspective

Here are a few ideas about solo performance that I’ve arrived at after doing quite a bit of it. I think there are definite things to take into consideration that will help you as a solo performer. First thing to realise is solo performance very different to being in a group work. It has a very different dynamic, obviously. It is in a sense much more dangerous so the more you understand it before you start, the better.
The first thing then to consider is to discriminate between being
A. A performer.
B. A communicator.
The Performer.
This is someone who supplies a service. They serve an audience, director, writer, etc. They very concerned with technique. Impersonation. Looking right. Sounding right. They are not interested in expressing themselves, only in serving to entertain.
The Communicator.
This is someone who fulfils a need for the truth to be told. They are performing to express themselves. They don’t provide a service because they have something to say personally, from the heart, to the audience. They not so concerned with appearance and technique. They not perfectionists.

Now. Ask yourself. Which one am I? If all you wish is to serve to entertain. You are a performer. If you personally have something to bring forth to put in front of the audience, then you are a communicator.

What I have outlined falls in line with great realisation of method school that an actor should ‘be’, rather and ‘act’. A performer ‘acts’, and a communicator just is. A performer has ‘technique’ with which he impresses people, a communicator has his passion which he hopes will carry the day.
Having tackled the main issue let’s move on to some sub issues. First. You must own your own space, as a solo performer, when on stage. One exercise that will help with this is to practise saying “I am!” very loudly in public spaces. This teaches you, owning your space to do with you only, and not the audience. Also it means being unconventional or free of public opinion. To play effectively a mass murderer you would have to go against people’s ideas of right behaviour.
Now. What to perform? Many performer’s choose to sing other people’s songs. This even demanded by the producers of shows like the X factor. And of course in straight theatre it often someone else’s script. But think. It is much easier and more effective to perform your own script, for this is your voice. For good or bad. And. Should you wish to discover more about yourself, creative writing and performance is a good way to do it. Don’t fall into trap of thinking that if you are a performer you are not, or can’t be, a writer. We all of us can do everything. The things we can’t do being merely ‘latent potential’. Or something we have just not focussed on.
Writing. All writing is performance captured on paper. It is a false perception to see it as literature, poetry, post modern fiction, or whatever. Don not get trapped into thinking that writing has anything to do with making marks on paper or typing in your computer. We are writing when we talk to a friend inasmuch as we ‘make up’ what we say. We ‘write’ it. Think!
Audience. All audience’s are the same. If you think opera audience different to football crowd you wrong surprisingly. The group-mind exists wherever people come together. And it always the same. It universal. This minor point but don’t expect the audience to vary in it’s response. It won’t.

Music. Theatre. Comedy. Do you need different approach? Answer no. There are elements of all in all. If you are trying to write any of said, remember to try and drop any kind of agenda you have. Don’t try to be funny if writing comedy. Don’t try to be theatrical for theatre, darling! Allow it to be true to itself. The agendas we have are not a product of our true selves, they are a product of ideas and beliefs thrust on us by an unfeeling social machine. Heavy.
Scripted and improvised. Only an extremely experienced performer could impro his show. You need a script. But a script is only a fossilised improvisation. As we write we improvise in a considered way. For example. “It’s true you look good”. (Consider.) “It’s true that beauty is in you.” (Consider.) “It’s true that your beauty shines like the new morning sun!” TICK! The opening idea was an impro and the considering part was writing. But it does begin with impro.
Another writing point is to begin with a concept or conceit as the Elizabethans liked to call it. This is just an idea that informs the whole thing. After that finding a structure will also help greatly. Structure greatly helps to increase meaning. These things belong to the considering part but it all does start with impro.

So! Are you ready to begin? Do you know what your are?
Well. It doesn’t really matter as the above are not firm fixed rules but merely guidelines to help you think about performing. Nothing is really set in concrete. All things overlap. Or as Stanislavsky said: “Is that my hand in the ice bucket? Help!”

dialogue on a park bench

DIALOGUE ON PARK BENCH


(Woman sitting on bench. Man enters and sits next to her.)
Man.Oh god! When are we going to admit how boring and stupid it is to live the way we do? When!?
Woman. (Pause.)What?
Man. I said. When are we going to admit how boring and stupid it is to live the way we do? When!?
Woman. (Pause. Thinking.) What? Everything is fine. We’ve got Harry Potter. The Arsenal. The Time’s Literary Supplement. What more do you want?
Man. I’ll tell you what I bleeding want.
Woman. No need to swear.
Man. I want meaning. You idiot.
Woman. Now resorting to personal abuse will not help your case. Now be more explicit.
Man. Yeah. Right. Explicit.(Pause.) Look around at our godless world completely devoid of any kind of sacred element.
Woman. Oh! It’s religion you want! What? Protestant. Catholic. Hindu?
Man. No!!!!! Not religion!!!
Woman. Not religion??
Man. No. I want a sacred element.
Woman. But we have that. Look at all the spiritual bookshops like ‘paradox’ and ‘arcane’ and the new age crystal healing centers like ‘quartz.com.’ there’s definitely a sacred atmosphere in those places.
Man. Look. That ain’t sacred. That’s our view of the sacred. We’ve turned it into something nice. Digestible. Commercial. To suit us and our tastes. We made god into a product just like everything else.
Woman. Oh you shouldn’t take god’s name in vain. He might curse you with boils, or something.
Man. That’s just what I mean. God isn’t a name. A word. God is some kind of transcendant intelligent purpose beyond words or names.
Woman. Oh. He won’t like you saying that. Oh no. Not at all.
Man. And are you a Christian?
Woman. Yes. Yes I am.
Man. And do you go to church?
Woman. Well.. not exactly to church. It’s too boring. But I believe in love thy neighbor and do unto others etcetera.
Man. Yes. But you don’t go to church.
Woman. No.
Man. Because it’s boring.
Woman. Yes.
Man. So to all intents and purposes, if you don’t bother going, you have no church, because it doesn’t work for you, so what you need is one that does. A new kind of church. A church without god.
Woman. How can you have a church without god. That’s stupid.
Man. It would be the godless church of the sacred.
Woman. No! no! That’s impossible! Sacriligeous! Awful!
Man. And it would be shaped like a giant sphere, and inside it would be zero gravity and the vicar would be a red Indian, floating round with a pair of sacred pliers pulling out people’s teeth!!!!
Woman. (Hands over ears.) Stop! Stop! That’s horrible. Crazy! Insane! And you are a bad person to say it.
Man. Well. At the moment we have a church that people don’t go to. What’s the point in that?
Woman. Are you suggesting we should scrap thousands of years of religious history?
Man. No.
Woman. Thank… god.
Man. I’m suggesting we learn from it. Adapt it. Allow it to evolve. We can keep the church, but not our idea of what should happen in it. I mean. Take sex.
Woman. I thought we’d get round to sex, sooner or later.
Man. Why is there no sex in church?
Woman. For very good reasons, which must be obvious even to someone of your dubious moral standards.
Man. No sex, despite the fact that everywhere you look in our society/culture, in every pop vid, advert, movie, you see sex sex sex, and that even though we are, quite obsessed with it, the church, in it’s infinite wisdom chooses to act as if this were not the case, taking strategy of , if we just ignore it, or pretend it is otherwise and act all pure and pious it will just go away.
Woman. I suppose you. You’d have the pope making a porno vid or something.
Man. (Pause.) Yes! What a great idea! And afterwards he could explain that a true religious attitude embraces all aspects of life and he is in favour of pornography only he hopes people could use it as a springboard to a more meaningful relationship.
Woman. Oh god! I think ive definitely heard enough of this twaddle! Sex. Springboards. Churches. The next thing is you’ll be saying mankind had his dna spliced with an alien sub space crocodile. NO! Don’t! Enough is enough! (She stands. Hands on hips.) You know it’s people like you who underminded the moral climate and created all the dissatisfaction and unrest we see in the world. You spread unsettling and un nerving ideas that infiltrate the mass psyche causing hysteria outrage and confusion. Stop it! Stop it! Keep that big gob of yours, (takes hold jaw pressing lips shut.) shut! Sealed. Closed. (Letting go.) You want a better world? Just stay like that. Do us all a favour! (She exits. He sits with his lips compressed. Curtain.)

INFINITY

The Stranger

I saw the stranger at the window,
he motioned me to stop.
There was something eerie, unnerving about him.
I turned and ran!
Blind panic coursing through my veins
like a bursting dam,
inundating the sleeping vales,
as I sped on, alongside a tram
and there in the window
sat the stranger! grinning a grin!!
Accursed stranger!!
And so I ran on
his smile pursuing me
under the lonely sky
until I found refuge
in the pages of an old antique book,
where swains, Knights and damsels bold
vouchsafed their troth
and plighted their.. plight
in a verdant sceptred sequined isle
set in a verdant sceptred sequined sea
and I by divine right
most correct aristocratic and fair
it’s monarch true!
it’s King!
in a palace, sumptuous and rich,
fit for a King! which I was
with a rich and goodly court
full of goodly courtiers
and here, to entertain me,
the King person, My Fool!
AARRGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
twas the stranger, dressed in motley
cap’n bells, holding a rubber chicken
and so, down to the servants quarters I nipped.
and out the back door, I ran
perused by the jester’s ringing laugh
as into a war zone I blindly fell
dark ominous skies, over twisty lanes
and in the distance the continual pock pock pock
of the guns, big Griselda and enormously fat Freddie
‘You there!’
‘What me sir?’
‘Yes you sir. what’s your regiment?’
I was being addressed y a fattish man I Colonel’s uniform.
‘The fourth foot and mouth sir.’
‘Well take this dispatch to the front.’
‘Yes sir. who shall I give it to sir?’
‘General stranger DSM and bar.’
Without stopping to think
I leapt into a passing taxi.
“To the front!”
I opened and read the dispatch.
“Situation hopeless. Men exhausted.
Enemy overwhelming. Oh Mother.
Where did I go wrong?
My bitter tears fall like the Sybil’s leaves
onto this fractious ashen earth.
Yours sincerely, Brigadier Smyth.
P.S. send more coffins, we’ve run out again!”
The taxi sped through a barren ‘no-man’s’ land.
Shell holes.
Torn barbed wire.
The occasional MacDonald’s.
At last H.Q. loomed out of the mist.
A large country house, standing strangely untouched
In the dead centre, of that barren place.
My interview with General Stranger
Filled me with apprehension and nervous tension
so I nipped into a pissior
for a quick one off the wrist.
As I jerked furiously away
I searched for a suitable image
to facilitate spurting.
Valerie Singleton? No.
Michelle Hunnziker? No.
Ah! I know! A robot.
Wearing a blonde wig,
& a wonder bra! Perfect!
AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Success! & I shot my life giving seed
All over a cartoon crudely drawn
on the bog wall
of Adolf Hitler being buggered
by Winston Churchill!
H.Q. was a gloomy place.
Officials wandered around looking serious and unhappy.
I was directed to a waiting room
I waited.
As I waited it all came back to me.
The stranger.
My panic.
The Antique book.
The war zone.
My nervous tension.
Spurting.
The General will see you now.
I entered furtively.
An old man with a lined face
sat at a large desk.
A window behind him
The sun streaming in.
“You have something for me?”
“Yes sir. This.”
He began to read the dispatch.
“Hopeless…Ashen…mother…coffins eh?”
“Is it all in order sir?”
“Yes. Private…?”
I looked at my name tag.
“Private…Stranger sir.”
“& do you know who I am?”
“Yes. You are General Stranger sir.”
“& not only that!”
& he ripped off his mask to reveal
‘the’ Stranger, leering at me,
Towering over me, a look of triumph,
On his strangely familiar, yet unknown face!
But luckily, in the waiting room,
I had had, had had
A Realisation!!!
“Not so fast ‘the’ stranger.
I think not.”
& grabbing his face I pulled.
The mask over the mask
(What an existential nightmare!)
came away to reveal…
standing before me…
looking abashed and caught out …
why…
It was me!
The stranger was I!
Stranger to me.
Stranger to you.
A stranger to what I felt welling up now
from that deep deep well,
at my very core.
A response to the pained troubled being
who now stood before me.
deny it if I can. Why…
It was love. Love.
& I warmly embraced the terrible stranger
who had perused me
all my days.

poem for stella

tesco tragedian

The honey-colored air
drips over suburban lawns
policed by the negative police
standing guard over suburban mores
as Mrs Lear loses it in Tesco’s
because they have no brazil nuts,
and rants at the remote unfeeling gods.
“You bastards!!!!
I’ll shovel shit in your graves!
I’ll spit on your graven images!
I’ll piss on your altars!
you deaf and dumb Simon Cowell clones!”
Then she breaks down and weeps,
her painted fingernails clawing
the bitter fractious earth,
stroke Tesco’s laminated floor covering,
and the bemused assistants pause,
mid shelf stacking,
to stare uncomprehending,
and above them the Gods too,
taking note of Mrs. Lear’s aguish;
her heartfelt misery,
exchange concerned looks
for they do care,
only are prevented from interfering
by a clause in their contracts which states
‘if a mortal party of the first part,
influenced by a divine party of the second part,
is party to a part at a party,
(wearing a party hat ((divine or otherwise))
then the said party shall……’
Back home Mrs Lear cooks tea for Hubert.
For once she feels strangely forgiving
when he crankily insists
on watching the repeats of Top Gear
on Dave;
and as she does the dishes
the honey-colored air
drips over suburban lawns
lending all things that grow
an unearthly, ethereal glow.


Sunset.
Crow flit over the furrow.







Zen trousers 2009

glamour gurl 4

glamour gurl 3

glamour gurl 2

glamour gurl 1

Exchange theatre production of 'The Flies'

What sets the Exchange Theatre apart, in my opinion, is that they understand
drama must, in order to communicate, have both a technical surface level, and a deeper 'feeling level'; and that this cuts across conventional definitions of theatre by working on different levels at once, to give us something which combines, or 'fuses', the incompatible; the mis-matched. Things like Mythology with say, Rock N' Roll. Like it or not, not matter how much we protest we are open minded, the theatre, our theatre, is very conservative, and does not mix up the high and the low, the populist and the classical, the crude and the sophisticated. Like it or not our theatre is very superior and snobbish, considering itself above other 'lower' art forms like say the cinema, and in this regard will not get it's pristine hands dirty; the result of which is in 99% of new theatre, there is no communication, no 'feeling level', and what we have instead is some kind of artistic/social/cultural agenda, foisted upon us, which simply seeks to brow-beat us into agreeing with it. However, like Caliban looking in his mirror, the theatre, our theatre, will never in a milllion years admit this and protest, (too much,methinks,) that this is not the case. That because actor/luvvies emote, it does have a feeling level, and because actor/luvvies get the accents, costumes, styles, etc. right, it does DOES communicate darling! which is patent rubbish but a patent rubbish quite invisible to the theatrical eye! "Is this a patent rubbish I see before me, it's rubbishy agenda, tilted, in my direction?" Well yes frankly it is. Which is why we must clebrate the Exchange Theatre's production of 'The Flies' which sets a new direction in terms of 'our' theatre, darling!
Why is the Flies an important play? Answer. Because it tackles head on the issue of human freedom. This was the core issue in all Sartre's philosophy, and here, via greek myth he attempts to dramatise, to show, to act out on stage a story which embodies this issue. No one before or since Sartre has attempted to tackle such a monumental issue head on, and this has to be applauded. Neither is his attempt out of date. If we look around at this moment in time, we still see a world where people possess freedom in name only, and where we are ruled by conformism. CONFORMISM! Deny it if you will, made of an immovable iron dogma; and this despite all the scientific and artistic advances of the twentieth century! Like it or not we are still floundering around in freedom's shallows and still utterlly defeated by the riddle of freedom's Shpinx! Of course we are! So it is that we must congratulate The Exchange Theatre for their production of The Flies, which once again prompts us to think about this most MOST important of human issues. What possible hope is there if we give up on this? What? Add to this the fact that this production understands the key element in this whole issue. A thing most people are blissfully unaware of, and this is that the only solution in terms of our freedom is a RADICAL one. Radical in the sense of determined. Going against trends. Acting despite public opinion. And this is the essence of their production. Fusing Sartre's somewhat academic piece with a live rock band is a stoke of radical genius!Terrific! This and it's bold staging fuse new life into the old beast. This production is one of the few notes of hope in a world where global ecological, and economic problems escalate daily. Everyone should see it and everyone should ponder like Orestes does, what exactly it does mean to see the 'flies' around us, to take responsiblity, and to shake off our 'bad faith' so that we might at last, at least, attempt to be free.

IMPRO:Comedy versus Real

IMPRO
Comedy Agenda
1. Knows what effect it want to achieve.
2. Is conformist. i.e.only embraces acceptable ideas.
3. Releases tension too quickly. Never lives with it and lets it build up.
4. Takes nothing seriously, as it is as prejudiced against seriousness as
serious drama is against low comedy.
Real Agenda
1. Doesn't know in advance what effect it wants or where it going.
2. Has big, non-conformist set of ideas to draw on.
3. Expands world to include comedy, philosophy, etc.
4. Builds tension to release it eventually.
5. Is serious with comedy as a by-product.


At moment, as we all in impro world well know, impro has at moment mostly,
a comedy agenda. With success of Who's Line and similar, all performers
want to go down that road. Not only that, audiences appear to demand this.
And the pressure to please an audience is very great indeed. What i would say though is we should all stop and think. What other profession simply supplies
the demand of it's clients, no matter what those demands are? Answer. PROSTITUTION! I'll say that again. PROSTITUTION! iF You think this is
too strong just honestly examine your feelings after a comedy impro performance. How do you feel? Answer. In truth. Flat and deflated. Why?
Because what has this performance really got to do with you and what you
as an individual need to express? What? Also. Did it contain those uplifting
magical narratives that make impro so worth doing? Answer. No. In comedy
impro the stories are just a vehicle to get to the next gag. Comedy accent.
Bit of silly mime bizznizz, that will always get a laugh. As a pose to this,
Real Impro leaves you inspired and uplifted.


Obviously people do not want to think about this. They'd rather live with the
flat feeling than to have to actually think. THINK! But I WOULD point out this whole
thing does make a mockery of the whole impro ethic. You go to classes. You
are taught the importance of certain things, but then once you actually do get
in front of an audience, all that goes out the window. It turns into a kind of roman games, with the audience baying for blood!

What can we do? One solution would be to acknowledge this honestly, this
split between comedy and real and then do two shows! YES! TWO SHOWS!
Do one to satisfy the comedy hungry mob, where it's agreed that's the purpose. But then do another one, which is agreed should be real. This one having performers who are brave enough to go against peer pressure and actually stop making jokes for a bit! Hard? Yes. But not impossible.

This not as crazy as it sounds. It just about being honest about things. It about
discriminating clearly between things.Remember, comedy Impro is not really Impro at all. No matter what spin you put upon it, it just ain't. And why were you attracted to Impro in the first place? Answer. Because it could provide that magic. That truth, that would make life so much better!!!!!!

TRUST ME. I'M AN IMPROVISER!

INTELLIGENT AMERICANS