N is for Nativity Plays - drama in a nutshell

N

I don't know how it works elsewhere in the world, but for virtually every British child, the nativity play is the standard introduction to live performance.  Every nativity play contains a microcosm of every play ever produced.   All illustrations by Giotto.

Mary
There will have been ferocious competition for the female lead.  Reactions to the ultimate choice will vary from shoulder-shrugging "meh, it's not a very good part anyway" to "I know it should have been me, but I was just too good to play opposite Joseph".  These opinions will be expressed in audible whispers at every rehearsal.  If Mary is ever absent, there will be a flurry of eager readers-in, eyeing the director and hoping that the miracle will happen and someone will say "we've made a terrible mistake, you are clearly much, much better and shall replace her right now".

Joseph
It will have been very easy to cast Joseph as only two boys will have been eligble to play the role at all and one of them will have been absent on audition day.  The performer will take one of two forms.  He will either be sublimely confident or a gibbering inaudible wreck.  In either case, he will be mollified by being allowed to wear a beard.  Joseph and Mary will behave as though they are plague-ridden and refuse to hold hands.  Both will repeatedly say "we'll do it on the night".

The Magi
These three will be clowns.  They will probably be the most experienced performers and know that the best parts do not necessarily have the most lines.  They will make the whole cast laugh and everyone will adore them.  The director will not adore them.  At least one of them will have already played the role before and will know how to do it better.  They will not learn their lines as they will assume that the other two will.  During the performances, they will suffer collective memory loss and go through their scene three times in different iterations.  On leaving the stage they will have a massive and highly audible argument about whose fault it was.

Gabriel
Gabriel will either be a reject Mary (see above), or taking their first important part.  In either case the role will be taken extremely seriously and the performer will shoot resentful glances at unruly cast members.  The director will learn to dread those faintly pursed lips and the whispered "can I just ask you something?" 

Angels
Angels are obsessed with their costumes.  Furtive arguments will break out over length of dress and amount of tinsel.  They will always have a solo spot of some kind which will be impossible to rehearse as the whole team will only be available at the dress rehearsal.

Shepherds
This is the ultimate home for the too young, too shy and too grumpy.  They will want to be part of the play, but will feel that the whole project is an excuse to chat to their mates.  Some will find relative anonimity a relief, but there will always be a contingent hunting for ways to make themselves noticeable.  In a year's time, such performers will be playing Magi (see above).  Shepherds become obsessed with props.  "Can I have a stuffed sheep?"  If there is a Head Shepherd, he will be the other potential Joseph (see above).  He will need a special prop and woe betide anyone who tries to move or use it.  "That's my crook!" followed by a solid thump and tears is standard at this point.

If you think the above is cynical, all I can say is visit your local Operatic or Dramatic Society and look for yourself.  The person waving their arms, looking despairing and trying not to have a breakdown is the director.

Last classes of 2011

Got my last set of classes today.

I always do a mental tally of what's been achieved over a term - nothing formal, just a kind of balance sheet to help me focus on what needs to be done next.  A priority roadmap, I suppose.

We have dates for all our productions and some of them are coming up very soon indeed.  Antigone needs to be ready in the first week of March - which essentially gives us 6 rehearsals (12 hours) plus a dress/tech to get it right.  Planning is on course for that.

The cast have the bones in the right place, but some are behind on the lines.  Among the principals, nice performances are emerging, but they need to find more variety.  With these heavy roles it's a great temptation to give each line the same weight in an attempt to convey all the ideas.  That leads to shouty, dull performances, so we'll be looking at finding ways to give some light and shade to the scenes.  Most of the story is basically a monster family row played out in public, but I think there needs to be a greater contrast in the rare moments when Chorus and principals are not on stage together.

Malfi is now fully blocked at last.  Spent Thursday working through the small bits we never managed to do before, worked through the fights and sent the cast home with instructions that lines must be learned for progress to be made.  Costuming on that is moving ahead as it's complex and a pain.  We can't do a "proper" period, so we'll be concocting a house-style.  If it is internally consistent with the world we're building, it will both work and look good.  Fabric and colour are the keys here.

Faustus has the longest rehearsal period.  It also has the widest spread of cast experience and the big issue here is to help them blend.  Everyone is talented and some are very promising, but for a lot of this large cast, this will be their first attempt at a major piece of classic storytelling.  I'm lucky enough to have been able to seed it through with some very good, very experienced senior members who are acting as mentors (whether they know it or not).  I am much further behind with costuming ideas on this one, but that isn't the priority here.  Not yet anyway.

As far as Bowes goes ... well now.  The nativity went well (I didn't see it, but my spies are everywhere).  We are now therefore back to Drama Club only.  What normally happens is that we get a lot of new members off the back of the nativity (which is partly the idea, after all).  They start again in January and by the end of the Spring term we should be working on whatever their summer show will be.  I'll write something for them.  The theme pretty much has to be the Olympics (2012, unavoidable).  Some kind of Greek myth I think. 

Cast will range in age from 6-11.  I will probably only have one or two boys at most.  Ability will also be varied.  Suggestions? 

Closing on opening night

... or to put it another way, they have their dress rehearsal tomorrow morning and performance in the evening.  It went much, much better today.  Followers will know that "much, much better" is not a high bar but there was sufficient improvement that the staff and I heaved a collective sigh of relief.

In the hope of energising everyone at 9.20 in snow-bound Bowes, I lead a warmup.  This went extremely well and included some high comedy for the masses.  I backed away from the cast as we went through some breathing and projection work and walked into a set of trestles I didn't know were there.  Collapse.  Also, it must be admitted some pain as them there trestles be sharp.  If it caused the resulting performance, I'll obviously need to find some way to publically cripple myself before every show I direct.

What worries me is that might actually be a good idea.

Rehearsals on the brink

Today was not good for the nativity crew.

The plan - and one has to have them - was to run the whole thing and then sort out anything outstandingly dire.  This was their last run before they arrive at the village hall on Monday morning.  It was all dire, so staggering through was the best we managed.

There were multiple interruptions, some of them weather-related, but most of them to do with it being Friday at then end of a long week.  Attention spans were not so much short as non-existent. 

One of the angels still knows none of her lines, but is capable of quoting anyone else's and does so at the drop of a hat.  I can sympathise (it's so much easier to learn other people's lines), but irritating.  The competent shepherd was on holiday, leaving his less talented team-mates floundering.  One bodyguard went on strike and the other had to go to the dentist.

Tiddles the cat fell over in the playground, hurt her back and spend the rest of the afternoon sitting on an icepack.  I still don't know if we have a Joseph or not.  The child playing Mary has gamely learned his lines as well and will say them if necessary.  The Wise Men were so engrossed in being cool and funny that they forgot where the audience was and spent their whole scene looking in the wrong direction.

The songs ... oh, dear.  An awful lot of hopeful faces looking at the five who reliably knew the words.  Bad luck then, when all five were on stage and unable to sing.  Also a good deal of squirming around to see what the person behind them was doing, poking each other and wailing that so-and-so was supposed to sing that bit and why weren't they.  Floods of tears from so-and-so.

To cap it all, the weather started turning nasty and a couple of mums turned up to remove their offspring.  They live in very far flung spots and faced the real prospect of not being able to get home.  At this point I was wishing I hadn't been able to leave home.  The minor positive was that everyone knew when things had gone wrong, just not when it was them.

All will be well on Monday.  To be honest, I have seen worse.  But not very often.

"Where's the star?"

Another afternoon spent attempting to get this nativity play sorted out.  We are scarily short of time.  At least, I  think we are scarily short of time and so do the staff, but the children are completely serene.  They have two weeks tomorrow.

Today's big deal was putting together the final scene.  It lasts at most two minutes.  It took well over an hour to sort out who came on after who.

"Just remember who you follow."
"But I don't follow anyone."
"No, because you are Mary and you come on first."
"Then I can't follow anyone."
"That's right.  You just have to remember."
"This is HARD."

Midway through, the child playing Joseph announced to the world at large that he probably wouldn't be here for the play and did that matter? 

"Yes, it does a bit, but don't worry, Mary can say your line."
"Oh, OK then."

Topping it off was the collective mental breakdown about where the blasted star they've been talking about throughout the whole play actually is.  I did what I've done every single other time I've been asked this question and pointed to the appropriate spot. 

"Now show me where you point when you point to the star."

Fingers randomly all over the room, in their neighbour's ear, shrieks, shouts, wails of "you're wrong," and one single tiny angel pointing in exactly the right direction.  Out of a cast of 20.

I am glad today is nearly over.

"It's not a sheep, it's a tup."

I've spent most of the day working on the nativity play and many things collided - which amused me a lot.

The children playing the shepherds are a mixed bag.  One of them is a new boy who is thrilled to be a shepherd, because he is one.  He's 8 and has been working with sheep since he could toddle.  One of the other boys produced a toy sheep which Shepherd Kid looked at critically for half a second and announced it was a tup.  General nodding all around as they agreed, it was a tup.  For the uninitiated, that's a ram.  Shepherd Kid pointed to the rear end and said firmly, "Got to be a yearling tup, the balls will drop reet soon."  It's a tiny rural school - of course they know this stuff.  He wasn't being anything other than informative and will be making an appearance in Mikelmerck. 

Sheep crop up a lot teaching drama in the Dales.  I hold outdoor rehearsals during the summer if possible, but have had them interrupted by oncoming flocks of sheep. 

"They's me dad's.  They've got green bums."
"Great.  Now get back to the rehearsal."
"My dad's using blue this year."
"My dad won't use that, says it's unlucky."
"Tisn't.  Only numptys think that."
"Don't call me dad a numpty."
"ENOUGH.  Go from the start of the scene."

This never happened in London.

Also made cake for lovely gaming group friend with random ingredients.  Plan A was to bake a chocolate diner cake which has gone down well in the past, but lack of time, lack of chocolate and lack of castor sugar all conspired against me.  Instead I ended up using soft brown sugar and baking a thin sheet of sponge.  This was later split into three, sandwiched with buttercream and homemade raspberry jam and pronounced a success.  The way ahead is clear for further experimentation with this recipe.  The thin-ness of the sponge meant that the sugar dissolved properly - which was the worry as it isn't as fine as castor.  It cooked fast, but was still light and spongey.  Not flexible enough to roll I suspect, but I may try it anyway. 

Half term - oh how shall I fill the hours?

Bar the casting of the nativity play on Friday, I have no rehearsals or classes for the next two weeks.  This lull should be used profitably, but I'm afraid it won't be.  Or not as profitably as it would be used if I was a better organised person.

The brain says that now is the moment to get some concrete work done.  Such as finding out how to work the sewing machine I've been loaned.  Such as making a proper business plan for the future.  Such as ordering logs for the rapidly approaching winter.  Such as continuing to empty the house.  Such as making sure son has trousers that fit.  And so on and so forth.

The heart says that most of this will, in fact happen, just not in a particularly orderly way.  I'll get distracted.  I'll find myself looking at the contents of the freezer and making piles of useful, but not needful danish pastry dough.  I'll get side-tracked by another gaming system and build myself a character or two.  I'll chat endlessly to the online friends I chat endlessly too (you know who you are).  I'll read a lot of books.   Plan a lot of shows.

I will also, of course, do a lot of game updating.  Tombs I and II are both mid-battle and I want both encounters to shift along a little.  Rune Stones have just defeated the Jeevesian cyclopes and now need to find their way into the old mines.  Lost City is just kicking off and will take some watching as I don't know their powers yet.  Plus the games I'm in, which are all chugging along.

Actually, when I think about it, I'll probably do more than I plan to do, but it will somehow feel as if I've done less.  That doesn't seem right.  A list maybe?  I just need something to convince myself that I'm not really sitting about doing nothing.

Suddenly it's summer

It's very odd.  The last couple of days have been warm.  Really warm, as in teeshirt weather even for the non-hardy.  The qualification is necessary as we live in the tough north and for a lot of the population even a blizzard doesn't stop them from wearing midriff-baring tops.  What is even more bizarre is that I've been hearing fairly consistent rumours that October (due to arrive tomorrow) is scheduled for snow.  Mother Nature is playing some pretty strange games.

Friday sees me driving up the A66 to Bowes where I run the Drama Club and will shortly be beginning work on the nativity play (and I'm not going to whine about that until I have to).  Normally Bowes is the last bastion of wind-chill.  Anything resembling wind, rain, snow or frost hits it incredibly hard even when the rest of the county is reasonably unaffected.  Today it looked and felt like the kind of rural idyll Rupert Brook had in mind.

I did the obvious thing and hauled the whole class out to their amphitheatre.  I have mentioned that Bowes is a very pro-active school and among other things they have a very functional vegetable garden backed by a small amphitheatre.  Overlooking the hedge are a pair of brass giraffes.  I hadn't see them before and they were a bit of a shock.  "Oh - them," a helpful parent kindly enlightened me, "our Tanzanian exchange programme."

Over the mild surprise of two life-size brass giraffes, we went on with the session in which I got them to demonstrate as many appalling things to do on stage as possible.  It was a hilarious session and quite an informative one.  By the end they were putting their hands up and bellowing "She's looking at her feet!", "I can't hear her!", "She turned her back!", "We can hear them offstage!", "They don't know their lines!".  "So do you think you can do better than that?"  "YES!!!".  We'll see.  The nativity will be the acid test of that one, but some of it may sink in.

Our own vegetable and fruit tree order has just gone in.  Two apples (Bramley and Braeburn), a stripey humbug pear tree, some asparagus crowns, many onions, shallots and garlic for seasonal planting, many potatoes (first early, second early and maincrops), parsnips, cabbage, strawberries and probably some other bits I've forgotten.  Look upon the Humbug pear and be amazed.  Love at first sight.

Following up

I think I may have sounded too bitter about the nativity plays thing.  There is something about the process which drives me nuts though.

Typically this is the one time of year when even the least drama-oriented schools decide that performance is the right way to celebrate.  It's a golden opportunity for children to find out about the creativity and magic of live theatre by doing it themselves.  That's something I'm passionate about and it really, really gets under my skin when the stuff that's on offer is so very mundane.  It is patronising.  It assumes a lowest possible common denominator.  It is not good work.  It's often worthy work and very well meant, but it's not inspiring.  And I can't help thinking and feeling with every bone in my body that drama needs to be or there is no point whatever to doing it.

I feel very bad about disliking all these plays so much.  I want to love them.  I just can't.