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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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

A Day At The Donmar…

HDC’s social calendar normally includes at least one or two excursions to London per year, and the first of these took place last Saturday, when a group of us headed out to attend a two-hour workshop at the Donmar Warehouse, followed by Steve Waters’ new play Limehouse.

Any of the club’s social outings is of course something to be looked forward to, but this occasion particularly stood out for me because of its workshop component. As a group that takes pride in its resolution to maintain a professional approach to our work, this was an opportunity for us to learn directly – and borrow inspiration from – those working in the field of theatre.

If weather can be taken as an augur of what’s to come, then the sunshine and unusually warm temperature (for April) heralded a fantastic day out. Our workshop leader started with a few preliminary ice-breaking exercises aimed at establishing some social rapport between attendees, which served as another reminder of what a communal effort acting really is – without the foundations of mutual cooperation and give-and-take, a performance is sure to suffer. In a professional setting, she explained, such social practices would be a lot more in-depth.

This was followed by some historical background to the occurrences leading up to the subject of Waters’ play; the media-dubbed ‘Gang of Four’ (David Owen, Bill Rodgers, Shirley Williams and Roy Jenkins), and their issuing of the ‘Limehouse Declaration’, which marked the formation, two months later, of the Social Democratic Party in March 1981. Suitably educated on the political atmosphere of early 1980s Britain, we were next divided into groups to experiment with naturalistic and non-naturalistic approaches to acting, which we then transposed onto short sections from Limehouse.

There is a limit to how much can be imparted over the course of just two hours, but I felt that the workshop was adequately broken into sections so as to give us reasonable insight into the approaches used during rehearsals. Their perspective seemed to me to offer an open, experimental method infused with pragmatism, a process in which innovation is pursued, but encouraged to conform to the parameters of the play. While choosing to stage a play unconventionally is something to be admired, there is the potential for such inventiveness to deteriorate into egoistic self-indulgence; my impression of the Donmar Warehouse was that they sought to promote a disciplined and streamlined creative endeavour. What was also striking was the informality of the atmosphere – reflected in their recognition of the necessity to craft an environment which facilitates cast affinity and communal spirit.

Following on from this, we had the production of Limehouse itself, which I thought to be a mentally-energising and thought-provoking play. Performances were very good, especially from Roger Allam (as Roy Jenkins) and Debra Gillett (as Shirley Williams), but I was also impressed with how amusing I found much of it to be. I’d been rather expecting a lofty screed on civic matters, and not being one to overly acquaint myself with political knowledge, I’d been imagining that a fair amount of dialogue would be over my head. That wasn’t the case: whilst certainly providing much to consider intellectually, both in the framework of the 1980s and our current climate, Limehouse is also accessible to those with only a modicum of interest in the affairs of government. The action taking place in a kitchen setting served to further extend the broad appeal of the play; the characters seemed less like politicians – isolated and removed from the public’s general vision of everyday experience – and more like a group of impassioned friends, into whose intimate gathering we were stealing a glimpse.

I think we all came away entertained and having learned a thing or two – and in keeping with our aim of emulating professional, high-quality artists, I expect the club will make use of such experiences in further ventures. In the meantime, we look forward to the next trip out!

by Guest Blogger Michelle Gibson

AUDITION | ‘Alfie’

Audition for our Spring 2017 production – ‘Alfie’ by Bill Naughton. Visit our Auditions page for more details.

AUDITION | ‘Alfie’

Audition for our Spring 2017 production – ‘Alfie’ by Bill Naughton. Visit our Auditions page for more details.