Ruth Ellis

Sunday 10th April 1955 – Easter Sunday to be precise. Bleary-eyed Britons were wakened by the peal of church bells. Christians reflected upon the resurrection. Slavering children avariciously attacked their hordes of Easter eggs. And in South Hall Park, Hampstead, a woman armed with a 38. Calibre Smith and Wesson revolver fired four successive bullets into her lover.

The woman was Ruth Ellis, the lover David Blakely. Ellis had a chequered history, beginning with her childhood experience of rape at the hands of her father. Thus, the first Ellis ever knew of sexual relationships not only took place at a hideously inappropriate age, but was informed by domination, pain and abuse. This unhappy pattern was to continue into her adult life, resulting in a short-lived marriage to an aggressive alcoholic.

Ruth with her lover David Blakeley at the Little Club in 1955

It was in 1953 that Fate would entwine the lives of Ellis and Blakely, leading to the two-year courtship which would end in tragedy. From its inception, their relationship was beset with problems, a dangerous mixture of passion and jealousy. Both possessed powerful feelings for the other, but neither seemed able to commit. They continued to see other people and their own relationship increasingly descended into patterns of envy and physical violence – one such interaction leading to Ruth suffering a miscarriage after David had punched her in the stomach. And so went the unhealthy cycle, until – on that unsuspecting Easter evening – there came the dramatic denouement, when Ruth Ellis approached David Blakely outside a pub and shot him dead.

At this point, capital punishment was still the sentence passed down for murder. There is an understandable, if cold, logic to this train of thought; the idea that intentionally taking a life – and the grief this causes for many – should be met with the forfeiture of the culprit’s own life. But its history goes farther than that; capital punishment had in the past been the sentence for other crimes, some much more minor by comparison, to the extent that the term “Bloody Code” is a modern term for Britain’s legal system as it stood in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. By 1800, there were no fewer than 220 crimes which could be punished by death, including the act of being in the company of gypsies for a month and the theft of goods valued at as little as 12 pence – roughly £12.60 in today’s currency.

Unsurprisingly, the harshness of the system brought calls for reform, beginning in 1808 when Sir Samuel Romilly had the death sentence abolished for minor offences such as pickpocketing. From this, a series of further changes spurred; in 1861 the number of offences liable to result in capital punishment stood at just five, treason and murder being amongst them.

At the time of Ruth Ellis’ trial, the death penalty for murder was still more than a decade away from being abolished. However, there was discussion amongst the media and the public over whether her case warranted such punishment, or even whether she should have been charged with the lesser crime of manslaughter. The violence she had suffered at the hands of David Blakely was suggested as grounds for a reprieval from hanging, with many feeling that a custodial sentence would have been more appropriate. It is often said that by the standards of the law today, Ruth Ellis would have been charged with manslaughter rather than murder.

 

The Magdala pub in Hampstead, the scene of the shooting

 

However, the trial must be viewed through the lens of the law at the time – and within the framework of the legal system then, it can be argued that there was no other option but to find her guilty of murder. It must also be said that Ellis herself did little to help her case; she herself stated that she did not want a reprieve from the death sentence and seemed to believe that her punishment was just. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” she remarked. In light of this, there has been speculation that, after killing her lover, Ellis willed death upon herself so that she might continue to be with him, that perhaps even the murder itself was her way of ensuring that she and Blakely would never be parted.

In a letter to Blakely’s grieving mother, Ellis wrote, “I have always loved your son and I shall die still loving him.” Could this hint at the agenda behind the events of that fateful Easter Sunday? Was David Blakely’s death just the first tragic act in a greater drama? Had Ruth Ellis already chosen the conclusion when she pulled the trigger? Could she have intended all along for the chain of events to close in the way that she wanted – her own consignment to death – her delivery back to David Blakely for eternity?

By Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson. This piece will also appear in the programme for ‘The Thrill Of Love’. 

The Ghost of William Terriss

What do the Covent Garden tube station and the Adelphi Theatre have in common? Other than both locations being in London, one would be hard pressed to think of much else that might connect them. Yet there is a link – in the form of a gentleman whose life, due to its premature end, came to include themes of jealousy, insanity and murder.

The man in question is William Terriss, a nineteenth century actor whose first outing on the stage took place in 1868 at Birmingham’s Prince of Wales Theatre. Over the ensuing years he became strongly associated with the swashbuckling hero character type and his star began to rise in the 1870s. Additional dramatic and comedic roles – including parts in The Shaughraun and The Rivals – saw him gain even greater prominence.  In 1880 he joined Henry Irving’s company at the Lyceum Theatre and it was during this decade that he made his first appearances at the Adelphi. By now, he had become a highly regarded performer, described by the New York Dramatic Mirror as “one of the greatest and next to Henry Irving, undoubtedly the most popular actor in England.”

William Terriss would undoubtedly have continued to draw acclaim into the new century – but sadly, tragedy intervened to dictate otherwise. For several years, Terriss had helped acquaintance-cum-struggling actor Richard Archer Prince, to find work in various productions. Despite a falling-out, he maintained his loyalty by sending him money through the Actors’ Benevolent Fund and persisting in finding him jobs. Prince, however, was becoming increasingly mentally unstable and dependent upon alcohol. By 1897 his overall health had deteriorated to the extent that he was virtually unemployable.

On the evening of 16th December 1897, Prince hid himself in a doorway close to the Adelphi stage door. As Terriss entered to prepare for his evening’s performance, Prince attacked and stabbed him to death. Due to Terriss’s popularity, the murder created a sizeable media stir. The following trial found Prince guilty but also insane, so he was incarcerated at Broadmoor Asylum until his death in 1936. What was seen – by the standards of the time – as a rather lenient sentence led Henry Irving to complain, with some justifiable bitterness, that “Terriss was an actor, so his murderer will not be executed.”

But does Terriss’ story end there? Some might claim not, since this is where we come to the association between the Adelphi and the Covent Garden underground. Following alleged sightings, rumours have persisted that Terriss’ ghost maintains a presence at both places, the first of such reports taking place in 1928. A young actress – referred to as “June” – claimed that while sleeping in her dressing room, her bed began to shake, followed by an appearance of green mist, whereupon she was seized by an unseen entity. She also reported hearing two knocks on the dressing room door – this reputedly having been a communication used by Terriss to inform his girlfriend, actress Jessie Millward, that he had arrived at the theatre. Since then, other performers have asserted that they have seen Terriss walking around the Adelphi.

Similar stories at Covent Garden are professed to have taken place up to as late as 1972. One such tale is recorded in Peter Underwood’s book Haunted London, which relates the experience of ticket collector Jack Hayden, who, whilst “making a final check that the platforms were deserted, suddenly noticed a tall and distinguished-looking man walking along the west-bound subway and climbing the emergency spiral stairs. Hayden quickly telephoned upstairs and told the booking-office clerk to apprehend the man…Hayden himself took the lift up and met a puzzled clerk, who said no one had emerged from the stairs.” This was followed by a sighting of the same man days later. Upon being shown a photograph of William Terriss, Hayden was adamant that this was the person he had seen.

So Terriss transitioned from being one of the most highly acclaimed actors of his age to a figure of ghostly lore. Does his story end at the moment of his murder? Or could we potentially be witness to a sad phantom sweeping the stage of the Adelphi – or hear the spooky clatter of a cane upon Covent Garden’s lonely corridors? No one can know, and perhaps it doesn’t matter. Maybe what is more important is that the name of a gifted performer has, in some form, survived. Like so many talented people, William Terriss could have fallen into the abyss of theatrical history, overshadowed by the passage of time. Instead, his presence has persisted in the excited whispers of Adelphi performers and railway employees. And the next time I find myself at Covent Garden station – or the Adelphi Theatre itself – I’ll make a point of nodding my head to him.

by Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson

Looking Back… 2017 in Review

In 2017 we presented three plays in three different venues – quite an achievement! The Spring production of Alfie was the last to take place at the Commemoration Hall before its closure for major refurbishment works and also went on to represent the Club (in an abridged version) at the Cambridge Drama Festival. Probably best known from its big screen incarnation starring Michael Caine, Bill Naughton’s play premiered in 1963 and pictured a London still in an austere post-war hangover and yet to explode into the vibrant, swinging 60s. Alfie became our biggest selling show on record (beating previous record holder Outside Edge by one ticket!) & drew high praise for an ‘energetic & entertaining production’ from the Festival adjudicator. The cast & crew worked incredibly hard on this production to make the many transitions between scenes & locations as seamless as possible, giving the production a slick & pacy edge – a genuine team effort. Combined with an evocative soundtrack & period wardrobe Alfie was a tragi-comic affair for our audience with a central character you either love to hate, or hate to love.

Finding an alternative venue for our following two productions was a big project for the committee. We felt it was essential to stay in Huntingdon, preferably not too far away from the Commemoration Hall so as not to inconvenience our audience too much. We also wanted to keep our excellent front of house experience in place so facilities for a bar were also a must. The Town Hall offered two spaces which lent themselves to different styles of theatre, it was close by and the dates we wanted were available. The Town Hall it was. The Assembly Room on the top floor of the building would be our venue for Shakers, the comedy by John Godber (Bouncers, Up N Under) & Jane Thornton. Vicky Spurway made her debut in the director’s chair and assembled a talented cast, half of whom were brand new members. The four actresses faced the challenge of playing multiple roles, switching instantly between the many & varied customers as well as the long-suffering waitresses of Shakers cocktail bar. The cast & crew pulled it off superbly – drawing an excellent review from our NODA rep Julie Armstrong who commented “I left the performance with a smile on my face and the 1980’s soundtrack ringing in my ears. Shakers was a fabulously fun piece of theatre!” Thanks to a grant from the Freemen’s Trust of Huntingdon we were able to light the show with a brand new portable lighting kit which has enabled us to perform in ‘non-theatre’ settings.

As soon as we reached the decision to present Arthur Miller’s The Crucible in the Town Hall’s historic Court Room for our Autumn play, we strongly suspected that we would have a commercial & critical success on our hands. And so it proved, as all five performances went on to sell out long before opening night. Under Rae Goodwin’s meticulous direction & with an exceptionally strong cast & crew on board (many making their debuts for the club), this production felt like the culmination of a lot of hard work over the last 3 or 4 years. It was bold, daring & powerful, presented within the intimate confines of a venue where the audience were just inches from the action. A glowing NODA review ended “with a wonderful and atmospheric setting, inspired use of music, great direction and an excellent cast, HDC’s The Crucible was a triumph!” Indeed, The Crucible has been nominated for Best Play at next May’s NODA district awards.

At the Donmar Warehouse for a workshop on ‘Limehouse’

As well as all the on-stage activity there was a busy social calendar in 2017, including theatre trips to see new plays – Fracked  at the Cambridge Arts and Limehouse at the Donmar Warehouse in London, where we also took part in an open workshop on the rehearsal process. We enjoyed a fabulous acting workshop with actor David Hall, where we covered aspects of movement & voice & learned a great deal. The Crucible director Rae Goodwin attended the RSC’s Big Backstage Weekend to go behind the scenes at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford Upon Avon & learn some tricks of the trade that we can feed into our productions.  I also attended a workshop on directing hosted by Theatre 503 Artistic Director Lisa Spirling – an opportunity to learn from a professional director, which was invaluable – lots of techniques & ideas that will find their way into our rehearsal room. And of course to cap it all off there was our fantastic Christmas Party in December. A great opportunity to let our hair down after a challenging & ultimately rewarding & satisfying year. Here’s to 2018!

Dean Laccohee (Artistic Director) 

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Witchcraft and ‘The Crucible’

 

Some people might scratch their heads at a modern setting of The Crucible and wonder what relevance it might have for today. But it is often the case that our past and our oldest fables will lend meaning to the currents of the present – such is the cyclical nature of human experience.

In 2017, there are thousands of people in Britain who practice witchcraft. There is an annual ‘Pagan Pride’ festival – currently in its eighth year – where attendees can purchase wands, incense, crystals, and various other ingredients for their pursuits. They can be open about who they are without fearing execution. Modern-day Salem is now a haven for contemporary witches and professional psychics, with many a metaphysical business lining the streets. Its first ‘witch shop’ – founded by Boston-born practitioner Laurie Cabot – opened its doors in 1970. Described as the “grande dame of witchcraft” in the USA, Cabot is “proud of the fact that her witch shop and openness turned Salem into something of a safe space for practicing witches.” But however much we may like to think that we’re a universally tolerant society, there is still very much a cultural prejudice towards the idea of witchcraft. In some respects, little has changed.

Antipathy to witchcraft can be traced to the rise of Abrahamic monotheism, especially traditional Christianity. In the preceding polytheistic pagan cultures, the practice of magic was a natural and popular way of participating in an individualistic spiritual experience. However, the traditional Church frowned upon personal spiritual experimentation and insisted that the only valid way of exploring such matters was to submit to their organised hierarchy. Witchcraft was deemed demonic and those who practiced it – witches – were denounced as the most abhorrent type of evil, traffickers with Satan.

Those who practiced witchcraft were forced to do so in secret – the alternative being to suffer brutal capital punishment. Instead of understanding such customs, society was steadily gripped by a climate of fear, misconception and suspicion. Slowly, insidiously, this collective fear produced an unstable culture of finger-pointing, a world where no one was safe, in which monsters were skulking in the shadows and prowling the streets in search of fresh victims.

 

So people saw witches everywhere – and anything from a run of bad luck to a death in the family could be blamed upon maleficent workings. Huntingdonshire itself was home to what was described by George Kittredge as “the most momentous witch-trial that had ever occurred in England.” This case – known as ‘The Witches of Warboys’ – involved a plethora of accusations against local resident Alice Samuel – and her family – over a period of several years.

The initial allegations came about in 1589. Alice Samuel – then 76 years old – was accused by 10-year-old Jane Throckmorton (whose father Robert was Squire of Warboys.) Jane had become ill and was suffering from seizures; she proclaimed herself the victim of malevolent sorcery. On an occasion when Mrs Samuel had come to visit the ailing child, Jane is reported to have cried out, “Grandmother, look where the old witch sitteth – did you ever see one more like a witch than she is? Take off her black thrumbed cap, for I cannot abide to look on her.”

A number of the Throckmorton family’s maidservants became similarly ill, as well as Jane’s sisters; this led to further accusations against Alice Samuel. Robert Throckmorton’s friendship with Sir Henry Cromwell (grandfather of Oliver) led to a personal visit from Lady Cromwell, in which she interviewed Mrs Samuel about the pronouncements that had been made against her. This took place in 1590, after which Lady Cromwell maintained that Alice was deliberately appearing in her dreams to inflict emotional torture. Coupled with the now numerous allegations from the Throckmorton family, this was enough to indict the Samuel family in the eyes of the public, if not yet the law. After Lady Cromwell’s death in 1592, Alice Samuel was pressured into confessing to witchcraft and, along with her family, was tried in Huntingdon in 1593 – all were found guilty and subsequently faced death by hanging.

When so many are caught in the throes of fear, misunderstanding and prejudice, such travesties of justice are the order of the day. The history of Britain’s witch trials is filled with such stories; innocent people convicted on testimonies derived from ignorance or personal grievances. Hundreds sent to their deaths – all in the name of putting to rout an imaginary wickedness, concocted in the minds of the intolerant and the uninformed, and stoked by the fires of fanaticism.

Britain’s modern-day witches may no longer live in fear of the noose or the stake, but many are still subjected to a cultural alienation stemming from prejudice. There are many things that The Crucible can still teach us, and I’d suggest that one of them is that we might consider applying fair-minded appraisal and comprehension to individuals who are perceived to be following an unconventional route in life. There is an alternative to whipping up a panic and that is the opportunity for open dialogue and a willingness to learn.

by Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson

An abridged version of this piece was published in ‘The Crucible’ programme

A Workshop with David Hall

As a club that is dedicated to producing drama of high quality, we frequently look for opportunities in which to develop and improve as performers. It was with this in mind that we arranged for professional actor David Hall to present a workshop with a focus on vocal work and physical theatre. Being alumni of the Bristol Old Vic, as well as having over twenty-five years’ experience, he was an ideal individual from whom to learn.

David Hall

We were treated to an illuminating and immensely enjoyable four hours. In a sense, teaching a class or workshop is like a performance itself; the teacher needs to demonstrate their passion, or they will inevitably elicit a subdued and bored response from the students. David possessed an infectious enthusiasm which quickly spread and invigorated those of us still bleary-eyed from rising so early on a Sunday.
I think we often forget the extent to which our body affects our communication, and with an extended and embellished form of communication such as acting, it becomes an even greater mechanism for effective portrayal. The merest change in posture can tell an audience a lot about a character’s mood or status. I have always viewed acting as a primarily mental exercise – which it undoubtedly is – but the workshop served as a reminder of the neglected physical aspect and the use of our body to convey as much as we do from the words we deliver from the script.


An exercise which I think everyone found of interest was our work with character archetypes; these being various models of certain kind of personalities which are all, to a degree, drawn upon in literature and drama, and which are all present in human identity. In Jungian psychology, archetypes are thought to be “universal patterns and images which derive from the collective unconscious.” Jung expounded on this in a 1934 publication, in which he argued that:
“…the content of the collective unconscious is made up essentially of ‘archetypes’. The concept of the archetype, which is an indispensable correlate of the idea of the collective unconscious, indicates the existence of definite forms in the psyche which seem to be present always and everywhere.”
Such archetypes include models of ‘The Mother’, ‘The Trickster’ and ‘The Fool’ and one activity included performing a piece (poem, speech, etc) using a mixture of archetypes in our speech. I had a lot of fun delivering a verse of Philip Larkin’s cynical and unhappy poem ‘This Be the Verse’ using the archetype of innocence, which turned his work of pessimism into one of satirical comedy.
I believe that one of the marks of a successful workshop is when the individual teaching it is enjoying themselves as much as those attending, and this was clearly the case with David. It was a day of great fun for everyone fortunate enough to be there, and provided much for us to reflect upon when determining the progression of our approach to performance. We anticipate more of such events in the future, which we’re already looking forward to.

by Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson

To contact David Hall about drama workshops visit his website http://www.davidhall.info/contact.html

 

Hamlet – A Battle For Science?

How to read Shakespeare? That’s a question that has been debated through the years by scholars, literary critics, actors – and secondary school students staring in horror at page after endless page of unintelligible gobbledygook that they’ve somehow got to interpret for their English coursework. The daunting legacy of the Bard can strike as much fear into the hapless schoolchild as quadratic equations and geometry. But unlike the fixed rules of mathematics, there are seemingly no end of ways in which to analyse a piece of literature, and Hamlet is no exception.

Tom Hiddlestone in the recent production of Hamlet at RADA

The most common themes are the obvious – love, power, jealousy, obsession, madness – all have their part to play in the tragic tale of the young prince. But one take on the play diverts the story from the path of human emotion and immorality and places it in the realm of science – or to be more specific, the clashing of two scientific worldviews – geocentrism and heliocentrism.

Before we get into the reasoning behind this analysis, some historical light may need to be shed. Until 1543, the prevailing cosmological theory of astronomers and other scientists was the geocentric model put forth by Claudius Ptolemy, one of the intellectual giants of the Greco-Roman world. Formulated during the second century AD, this model placed the Earth at the centre of the universe (as had other geocentric theories beforehand) and for more than a thousand years, Ptolemy’s work was accepted as the authoritative voice in the field of astronomy.

Claudius Ptolemy

But in the sixteenth century, all that changed. A newcomer had arrived on the astronomical scene, promoting the idea that the Sun, not the Earth, lay at the centre of the universe. That individual was Nicolaus Copernicus, described by Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince in The Forbidden Universe as having “developed his radical new theory in the first decade of the sixteenth century, but refrained from going public for many years.” Copernicus, “reticent…because of the academic controversy his theory would generate” was encouraged by colleagues to share his discovery, which he finally did in 1543, when he published his seminal title On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres.

So began a decades-long dispute on the question of which theory of cosmology was the accurate one. Although much has been made of the Catholic Church’s eventual hostility to the findings, they were by no means alone in their disbelief and opposition. Copernicus’ discovery wholly upended the scientific knowledge of the day – Martin Luther was said to ridicule the theory not out of any religious objections but because he couldn’t believe that astronomers could have been so wrong. “Scholars”, write Picknett and Prince, “were disturbed for another reason…since it implied that human understanding of the order of the universe, and the way one part influenced another, was seriously lacking. If Copernicus was right, then everything changed. The uncertainty – some accepted Copernicus’ new order, others stuck to the old system of Ptolemy – meant that chaos reigned, and not merely in the academic discipline of astronomy, but in the world at large.”

Nicolaus Copernicus

Shakespeare, then, would have grown up in a culture in which these opposing cosmological models were locked in an ideological struggle. He would certainly have been aware of the debate and it is said that he was familiar with Hermeticism (a spiritual-philosophical system which favoured heliocentrism, as it attached great importance to the Sun.) He was also personally acquainted with Thomas Digges, one of the leading proponents of Copernicus’ theory at the time, and it is in part due to this connection that astrophysics professor Peter Usher has maintained that “Hamlet is an allegory for the competition between the cosmological models” – the heliocentrism that was by this point being expounded by Digges and a Ptolemy-influenced geocentric theory that was being advanced by Tycho Brahe.

Perhaps the most glaring reference to this clash of worldviews is in Hamlet’s words to Ophelia – “Doubt that the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move.” Usher’s reading, however, finds more to support his theory. Claudius, he argues, is named for Ptolemy and therefore represents geocentrism, whilst rightful heir to the throne Hamlet represents the Sun (heliocentrism.) It is no coincidence, he believes, that “Hamlet is a student at Wittenberg, a centre for Copernican learning.” Furthermore, he suggests that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are named after two of Brahe’s relatives (Frederick Rosenkrantz and Knud Gyldenstierne) and that their deaths, as well as Claudius’s, are a metaphorical slaying of the old way of understanding the universe. Shakespeare, Usher continues, nailed his colours firmly to the mast as a supporter of Copernican theory:

“The climax of the play is not the death of any of the chief protagonists; it is Fortinbras’ triumphal return from Poland and his salute to the ambassadors from England. Here Shakespeare praises the merits of the Copernican model and its Diggesian extension. Thereby he defines poetically the new universal order and humankind’s position in it…While the last year of the sixteenth century saw the martyrdom of Bruno, the first year of the seventeenth century sees the Bard’s magnificent poetic affirmation of the infinite universe of stars.”

Sir Laurence Olivier as Hamlet

But perhaps Hamlet does more than simply showcase the battle between two scientific worldviews; perhaps, in its violent ending it is also lending a voice to the academic and cultural upheaval that comes whenever a ground-breaking discovery throws centuries of study and knowledge into doubt. To leave the final word on the matter with Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince, we may follow them in wondering –

“What was Shakespeare trying to convey about the big heliocentric debate? After all, the play sees the demise of all of its leading characters…So although Shakespeare seems to be championing the new Copernican system, his major emphasis is really the uncertainty that was overturning the world and throwing everything into chaos.”

By Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson 

A mischievous day out to the theatre…

Since Mischief Theatre’s rise to prominence with The Play that Goes Wrong, the company has been soundly riding the wave of success. Two further plays – Peter Pan Goes Wrong and The Comedy About a Bank Robbery have helped cement the group of LAMDA graduates as a fixture in the current West End and dispelled any suggestion that they might have been a flash in the pan.

My first exposure to Mischief Theatre was on a club trip to see The Play that Goes Wrong in February 2015. Delighted with the non-stop hilarity, chaos and robust youthful energy, I insisted that my friend (who had at that point never been to a theatre in his life) accompany me to see it again. It might be a tad excessive to say that I pinioned his arms and frogmarched him into his seat, but ‘fan’ is abbreviated from ‘fanatic’, after all, and I’m sure my cajoling at times took on the tenor of an Evangelical preacher. (As it happens, the friend in question is glad that I got him to go.)

So I already had an idea of what to expect when I went to see The Comedy About a Bank Robbery last month. Although I anticipated a great show, I had to brush back the niggling concerns that I think we all experience when returning to the work of any kind of artist – “what if they’re not as good this time?”, etc.

Any vague doubts I might have had were groundless. The Mischief Theatre actors exploded into action with a verve that I’d been looking forward to. The play charges forward at such a frenetic pace that it can be hard to keep up with every single bit of action (part of the joy of such plays is that you’re sure to spot new things upon a second or even third viewing) but the story introduces us to a the eccentric staff of a Minnesota bank (upon which is soon to bestowed a priceless diamond) and the efforts of a jail-busting bunch of ne’er’-do-wells to execute a robbery (one of whom happens to be the daughter of the bank manager.) Also in the mix is the neighbourhood’s conman/petty thief who begins a relationship with aforementioned daughter, which leads to him being dragged into the diamond-snatching escapade.

The Comedy about a Bank Robbery is a ridiculous farce through and through, delivered with all the outrageousness that I’d seen in The Play That Goes Wrong. For me, particular scenes of note included a Fawlty Towers-esque sequence in which Sam Monaghan (impersonating Mr Freeboys) is forced to stumblingly deliver a potted history of Freeboys’ life, based upon his attempts to read the miming of Caprice. Later in the play, there are no fewer than three Freeboys (minor tongue twister there) – the real one and two impostors – whose multiple run-ins with the police officer and fellow bank staff are a source of much confusion and amusement. There is also a clever segment in which Freeboys and his lackey Warren are conversing in an office – suspended sideways on the wall, allowing the audience a bird’s-eye-view of the scene.

Performances were strong all around, but two that I especially favoured were Sean Kearns as the greedy, self-important bank manager and Tania Mathurin as Ruth Monaghan. Kearns seemed to fairly revel in his role as he barked orders at staff, butted heads with his daughter’s boyfriend and screamed and stomped his way around the stage in a verbal to-and-fro with Officer Shuck. Mathurin at first added a more low-key humorous warmth to the show, but as time stretched on, revealed her character to be just as conniving and corrupt as everybody else. Adding to the show’s charm was the interspersing of short doo-wop songs (performed by the cast) between scenes – matching the time-period of the play, which is set in 1958. Above all, just as with The Play That Goes Wrong, you knew that the cast were having the time of their lives, and their exhilaration and glee spread like a welcome virus through the audience.

If this hasn’t yet convinced you, I’ll leave the final word with theatre critic Dominic Cavendish, who failed to be impressed by Mischief Theatre’s first effort and declared The Play That Goes Wrong to be one of the “worst shows of 2014.” After reluctantly allowing them a second chance, Cavendish emerged from The Comedy About a Bank Robbery with an entirely new outlook. “This is the funniest show in town,” he raved, as though apologetic for his earlier dismissal of Mischief Theatre’s abilities. “The jokes, visual and verbal, are piled skyscraper high…there’s such youthful relish to the playing and so much surrounding theatrical invention that even the hoariest gag earns its keep.”

Glad you finally came around, Mr Cavendish – what took you so long?

By Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson

How To Complain…

I’ve recently been reading a humorous book called ‘How to Complain’, which does exactly as it promises – offers advice on how to go about venting your feelings any time you are the unfortunate recipient of bad service. With dry humour, the writer – sports lawyer Mel Stein – regales the reader with tale after tale of the woes he has suffered from airline companies, misleading travel agents, poor restaurants, and various other businesses that, at some time or another, have failed to deliver the standards that customers have come to expect. It got me to thinking of trips to the theatre, and the irritations that can stand in the way of enjoying the experience to the fullest – and as I progressed through the book, I saw that Stein does indeed cover this area with a chapter of his complaint letters to several theatrical venues.

So what calamities might be in store for the unwitting theatre-goer? The play itself might not be to your taste, but you pretty much have to take that into consideration when you book. Perhaps some of the performers might not be up to par, but with something as subjective as acting, that again might be down to the individual alone. What you perceive as the most wooden of actors, someone else might believe to be Hamlet material. Luckily, if you like to complain, you’ll possibly run into some more undeniable annoyances that put a spanner in the works of your evening’s entertainment.

This might be best illustrated by a story. Put yourself in the shoes of your average theatre-goer. You’ve been waiting several months to see a play you’ve high hopes about. Perhaps you’re familiar with the playwright or there’s an actor or two that you really like. You’ve got a decent seat and paid somewhere in the range of £60-£70. You arrive at the venue in good time, buy yourself a drink and a programme, pre-order a wine for the interval, and settle into your seat.

Other people filter through, and that’s when you become aware of them. An obnoxiously loud group just beginning to make their way in. You can hear them from the other end of the auditorium. Two couples – in their forties. One pair look like they’ve just emerged from a tanning salon. You dub them Mr and Mrs Fake Tan. Mrs Fake Tan must be 45 but still dresses like she’s 21. She’s wearing clothes you’d see at a nightclub, not a London theatre. Their friends look like they’d be more at home in your neighbourhood’s grubbiest dive of an alehouse. You nickname them Mr and Mrs Boozer. You hope they won’t be sitting anywhere near you.

Your hope is in vain. They plonk themselves into the empty seats beside you. They are laden down with endless bags of shopping, which look to be in danger of spilling into your leg space. “Mind if we dump this lot here?” asks Mr Boozer, then dumps it around your feet before you’ve had a chance to respond.

You hope that might be the end of it, but it turns out that they’re Talkers. Mr Fake Tan explains that they don’t usually go to the theatre, but he and the wife won some tickets and thought it might be fun. Mr Boozer thinks acting is “poncy” but Mrs Boozer persuaded him to go along because it was a free night out, and there’d be drinks. You nod and smile through gritted teeth

Finally, the lights dim and the play is about to start. Ah! Relief! But your celebration is short-lived – as if on cue (really, it’s as though they time this) the crinkling and rustling of paper bags is heard as the actors say their first lines. The Fake Tans and Boozers have loaded up on snacks for their night out and have chosen this time to break into them.

Your heart is sinking fast. You try to concentrate on the performance, but not only is the crackling of food wrappers a distraction, these four are also some of the loudest eaters you’ve come across. The squelchy, slobbery cacophony emanating from their mouths resembles a herd of cows gnawing in unison. By now you’re experiencing the beginnings of panic, the sense that you are trapped for the entirety of the show with audience members dragged from the lowest echelons of hell. You start to sweat, your pulse quickens. The first ten minutes have already elapsed and you’ve barely heard any of it.

This can’t go on. But it does. You try to cling to a vague hope that this is a set-up, a trick, that you’re secretly being filmed for one of those prank TV shows. Any minute now Peter Dulay and Arthur Atkins will jump out and reveal that you’re on Candid Camera. But it doesn’t happen. Your neighbours have now flipped open the first of their beers and continue to munch their way through what seems to be an entire week’s groceries.

To make matters worse, they’re still talking to one another. Mrs Fake Tan pulls out her mobile phone and starts sending a text message. “What’s this play called?” she asks her husband. None of them are bothering to keep their voices particularly low. You tap her husband on the arm and give him your best icy glare. “This is not a dinner party,” you hiss. He doesn’t understand. He thinks you’ve given him the name of the production and repeats what you’ve said to his wife. Natter, natter, natter. On it goes.

If you thought the interval might be your oasis of peace, you were wrong. There’s been a mix-up and the wine you pre-ordered has been given to another member of the audience instead – Mr Fake Tan, who you know had in fact ordered a cider, and is now enjoying your prosecco. Although you’re aghast at his nerve, you don’t bother to confront him. You angrily join the lengthy queue to the bar. There are eight people still ahead of you when the usher announces that the performance will recommence in two minutes. There’s no chance you’ll be served in time. Wearily, you force yourself back to your seat, though you’ve by now resigned yourself to the fact that your whole evening will be a thoroughly miserable experience.

You get the point. Many people have had their enjoyment of a play or a film considerably curtailed by noisy eating and chin-wagging spectators. While I’m not one who thinks that a complete ban on food and drink should be implemented, there are others (such as Imelda Staunton) who feel it’s warranted. At the very least, it’s an interesting discussion. One which the understandably crotchety Mr Stein might feel obliged to weigh in on, given what he witnessed at an RSC production of The Taming of the Shrew:

“Just as the action had started for real a family, obviously tourists, took up the seats next to me. A mother, father, elderly relative, two children of about nine or ten and, to my horror, another child so young it had to sit on its mother’s lap. Now, unlike W. C. Fields, I have nothing against children in the theatre…these kids next to me, however, were not devotees and they were never going to be as far as I could tell. The elder one wriggled throughout and the younger one steadfastly refused to go to sleep and had to be placated by the mother with a bag of sweets throughout. I’m not sure if the rest of the family got the point either as they chomped their way through the goodies as well, to the point that not only could I not concentrate, but I wanted to scream.”

Stein’s advice for such scenarios is to “complain on the spot and complain quickly before you make yourself into a martyr.” And again, for those of us who love to complain he provides a checklist of potential theatrical disasters:

“Broken or uncomfortable seats – Restricted view – Inability to hear – Noisy neighbours – Dirty theatre – Warm interval drinks – Poor access to the bar – Insufficient toilets…”

Enjoy your next show!

By Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson

Pushing & Pulling – A Director’s Workshop

Investment in the future has been a theme of 2017 so far for the club. After being forced from our ‘home’ by the closure of the Commemoration Hall we’ve been set the challenge of being more creative than ever – mounting productions in non-theatre venues such as Shakers and The Crucible which will take place in the Town Hall. A very generous grant from the Huntingdon Freemen’s Trust has allowed us to invest in a brand new portable lighting rig which will ensure that we can be seen wherever we perform! We’re now looking ahead to 2018 for venues and plays.

Earlier this year we sponsored committee member Rae to attend the RSC’s Big Backstage Weekend (which you can read about here on our blog) and this week I spent a day at London’s Lyceum Theatre for a directors workshop with Lisa Spirling – artistic director of Theatre 503 in Battersea. The aim of these two ventures was to learn from the professionals – to develop new skills and techniques that we can use to improve our own productions. Rather than go into too much detail here I’ll try instead to give a flavour of the day & hopefully adapt some of it into a future workshop of our own.

The Lyceum Theatre

As we sat in the swanky Ambassador’s Lounge waiting for some late-comers held up on the Tube, Lisa decided to take us through for a quick look into the Lyceum’s stunning auditorium – the home of the long-running ‘The Lion King’. Lisa mentioned two things here that would later resonate during the workshop. The first involved the dreaded subject of blocking – actors who join the cast of The Lion King are subject to what sounds like a human game of chess or Battleship. There are so many moving parts in the show that the stage is divided into a grid system – if an actor stands in A6 as opposed to A5 he may be run over by a scenery truck. Less rigorous blocking methods would be discussed later. Second point on The Lion King – a big part of it’s success was down to it’s theatrical language. The director decided against simply carbon-copying the animated movie onto the stage and instead delivered a piece of total theatre that still plays to packed houses eighteen years on.

Back down to earth. Why were we there? What did we want to get out of this day? We started with some very basic but important considerations – who is your audience? How big is your venue? What’s the size of your cast? From here we moved to choosing a play and once it’s chosen, how do you prepare to direct it? Several readings of the play are essential – an initial reading to discover the story and further readings from the points of view of the characters. Asking questions of the play is crucial – who, what, where, why & how? One of the key things in any play is – does it make you want to find out what happens next??


This discovery of the play continues into the first days of rehearsal with the cast. Rather than just a straightforward table reading, the cast & crew read through the text, fine-combing it for FACTS, OPINIONS & QUESTIONS. This approach ensures that everyone is equally familiar with the script & has an equal understanding of it. During a read through of our current production of Shakers we discovered that our four cast members had no clue who Alan Whicker was – they do now!

Up on our feet we played around with a series of ‘push & pull’ excercises, designed to inject a physical intention into the lines. Lisa explained that dialogue is never just people talking – in every scene there are WANTS and INTENTIONS. (Remember the old adage “what’s my motivation”?)
We continued with a ‘thought through’ reading of a scene. In this, the actors must vocalise the thought that motivates each line and then speak the line. Another approach is an ‘action through’ or ‘tactic through’. This concentrates on the doing words, the actions in a scene that motivate the words. This forensic analysis allows the cast & director to really get under the skin of the text for a greater understanding. As amateur theatre people we may feel that we don’t have the luxury of time for this kind of work but I felt that two rehearsal sessions dissecting the text in this way would pay big dividends later on in the process.

We approached the subject of ‘blocking’ with some caution. It seems to be a real hot potato, both in the amateur & professional worlds. In Nick Hytner’s book ‘Balancing Acts’ he mentions renowned stage actors who were often relieved to work with directors who literally told them where to stand, where to sit and when to speak. Others like to find their own way. Ultimately it’s a case of ‘horses for courses’ – whatever works for the truth of the moment – as a director you must create the best possible environment for the actors to work in.

Lisa Spirling

Lisa mentioned two things that must ALWAYS be choreographed – sexual or romantic scenes (snogging, basically) and stage combat. Those two things are never left to chance. Other tips Lisa mentioned for blocking included putting something interesting on the fourth wall (a mirror, a window…), working actors into diagonal rather than straight lines and something which had never ever occurred to me before – because we are used to reading from left to right on the page, entrances from stage right have more visual impact than stage left. It’s true what they say – every day’s a school day.

For me directing becomes more and more enjoyable the more experience you have of doing it. As you find your style & become more familiar with the rudiments, your confidence grows and with that your imagination has more freedom to be creative. It’s a passion that you never stop learning from and this day was invaluable. Thank you to Lisa Spirling & to Ambassador Theatre Group for the opportunity!

The RSC Big Backstage Weekend

During the weekend of 6th – 7th May, HDC sponsored me to attend the Big Backstage Weekend; an event organised and facilitated by the Royal Shakespeare Company to provide training to amateur theatre companies across the UK. Needless to say, I was extremely excited at the prospect of learning from such a reputable theatre company and the experience did not disappoint!

Day 1

The weekend began in the Studio Theatre in The Other Place with a welcome meeting hosted by the RSC’s Project Producer, Ian Wainwright. It was lovely to bump into some of our friends from Shakespeare at The George who were also in attendance for the weekend.

We stayed in the Studio Theatre for a sound workshop lead by the RSC’s Head of Sound, Jeremy Dunn, who was ably assisted by technicians Nathan and James. For the first part of the workshop, Jeremy explained the various different types of sound equipment the RSC use in some detail; demonstrating how to assemble and use a basic sound system with a microphone. He also talked us through troubleshooting different sound issues we might face e.g. feedback. For the second part of the workshop, Jeremy and his technicians rigged up a sound desk and, using the sound system installed in the space, showed us how to operate the sound desk as well as use software package QLab on a laptop to create a soundscape.

After a delicious buffet lunch, we took a leisurely stroll down the road to the Clore Learning Centre for a set construction workshop led by freelance set designer Alex Marker. During his career, Alex has designed for a wide variety of West End, fringe, touring and regional productions. The first half of this workshop was an introduction to scale model making. A scale model can be an incredibly useful tool in set construction as it can be used to identify and solve potential problems before the set build commences. Alex talked us through the basic equipment and materials needed before challenging us to create a 1:50 scale model based on technical drawings. I partnered up with Julie, a fellow Drama teacher, from the Wirral and we set to work. Thankfully, Alex provided us with a few time-saving handy hints which we took on board and a short while later we successfully presented our scale model.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second half of the workshop was dedicated to set construction. Alex talked us through the essential toolkit for building a set as well as the various health and safety considerations that have to be made when designing and constructing a set. After divulging some helpful money-saving ideas regarding the use of different materials, Alex introduced us to some tricks of the trade; demonstrating how to create a variety of paint effects and successfully create textured surfaces.

Following the set construction workshop, we had the opportunity to visit The Play’s the Thing exhibition. For the exhibition, the RSC have opened their archive to display a variety of artefacts spanning one hundred years of theatre-making at Stratford-Upon-Avon. There were plenty of interactive activities to engage with but it was the costumes that really sparked my interest; particularly Vivien Leigh’s costume from the 1955 production of Titus Andronicus and Anthony Sher’s hat and nose from his portrayal of the Fool from the 1982 production of King Lear. However, my personal highlight of the whole exhibition has to be seeing a copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio.

 

 

Then it was off in search of a bite to eat before attending the evening performance of Anthony and Cleopatra. The production forms part of the RSC’s Rome Season which includes Julius Caesar, Titus Andronicus and Coriolanus to name but a few. The production was presented in traditional Roman dress and used some clever staging ideas; making effective use of hydraulic lifts to change scenes. The two leads, Josette Simon and Antony Byrne had a real chemistry on stage and gave engaging portrayals of their characters. It was interesting watching the performance having participated in the workshops earlier in the day; I definitely had a heightened awareness of the use of sound and was able to recognise and identify the different types of sound effects being used throughout.

After the performance, we popped over the road to The Black Swan – more commonly known as The Dirty Duck and a regular haunt of RSC actors – for a nightcap before retiring to our B&B and, sure enough, as we were leaving we bumped into the cast of that evening’s performance enjoying a well-deserved drink.

Day 2

We were privileged to be taken up to The Other Place rehearsal room for our stage management workshop which was led by Julia Wade, Company Stage Manager of the RSC’s Mischief Festival. The room was being used to rehearse the productions taking part in the Mischief Festival and provided an interesting insight into the rehearsal process at the RSC. Julia explained the different types of roles and responsibilities involved in stage management as well as giving us a forum to discuss our own experiences of stage management. We were shown examples of the different types of paperwork produced by a stage manager e.g. rehearsal notes, show reports. We were given advice on how to mark up a script as well as the opportunity to look though the stage manager’s copy of the Antony and Cleopatra script.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The final part of our stage management workshop was a behind-the-scenes tour of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre which took us into the control rooms of the lighting and sound operators so we could see what kind of environment they work in during a performance. We were also taken backstage to see the quick-change areas, prop store area and stage manager’s desk. It was fascinating to wander around the back of the cyclorama that had been used during the previous evening’s performance of Antony and Cleopatra and also see the props up close. Another highlight of the tour was discovering an RSC tradition: one of the corridors backstage was littered with illustrations and signatures of the actors involved in different productions.

For the final workshop of the weekend we were taken into the auditorium of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre – where we had sat the night before watching Antony and Cleopatra – for a lighting design workshop with the RSC’s Head of Lighting, Vince Herbert and his talented technician Claire. On stage was a rug, armchair and table with a small lamp. We were given a very brief four scene synopsis to light as a collective which incorporated the opportunity to explore practical, character and surreal lighting states. As the ideas flowed, Vince explained – whilst Claire demonstrated – how to use different types of lights to achieve a variety of effects. Vince also demonstrated how to layer the lighting; focusing on practical lighting before establishing the mood. We were given some very useful tips: if an actor is entering the stage during a blackout they should close their eyes a few minutes before to adjust their eyes to the darkness and, when working with thrust staging in particular, find the ‘sweet spot’ where all of the audience can be addressed. Claire gave us an interesting insight into the complexities of follow spot operating; having recently performed the task for the RSC’s innovative production of The Tempest which combined the use of a digital avatar with live actors.

Following the request of another attendee, Claire treated us to a tour underneath the stage of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre to Sub Level 1. Claire explained how the stage could be rearranged to meet the needs of different productions and also gave us a brief outline of the RSC’s technical rehearsal process. We were also given an insight into how the RSC create the effect of flooding the stage with blood when Caesar is stabbed by Brutus: a crewmember on a stepladder with a pump and a bucket of fake blood; reassuring to know that not all of the methods in professional theatres are high-tech!

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable and informative weekend. I’d like to take this opportunity to say a massive ‘thank you’ to HDC for enabling me to participate in the Big Backstage Weekend and I look forward to passing on what I have learnt to other club members as well as putting it into practice for future productions. Watch this space!

by Guest Blogger Rae Goodwin