During the week I went to see Dan Sultan play at the Forum Theatre in Melbourne. While the venue is pretty, it's really like a giant pub gig. I don't mind pub gigs, but I prefer them on a smaller scale. It turned out to be quite a bizarre night.
My friend and I had both been out and about during the day. She was coming straight from work; I had dropped into home to drop some stuff off and then head straight out again. After dinner nearby, we headed to the Forum. After showing our tickets we were stopped for a bag search on the way in. One of the security guys asked me if I was carrying any liquid (I wasn't) and cast a very cursory glance in my handbag. I walked through and waited for my friend. I looked up and saw her in animated discussion with a female security guard.
I heard my friend tell the woman, "I'm not tipping my water out!"
My friend left the area and we walked into the venue.
My friend had told the guard that she had some water and she was then told that she was required to tip it out. The reason given for needing to waste the water was "we sell water inside".
We hadn't been inside long when a male security person came and asked my friend to leave. Of course I went with her. I thought it was ridiculous that water should be tipped out for the purely commercial reason of securing sales of water for the venue.
This time, there was a different reason given: we might be carrying alcohol. We weren't and offered security the opportunity to smell the liquid. "We don't do that," came the response. Two other security guards stood around us. This was getting ridiculous!
My friend eventually pulled the water bottle out of her bag, only to discover that it was empty.
I've had a look at the "rules" for the venue. This is an over 18's venue and has this information on their web:
PROHIBITED
Alcohol, cans, bottles, recording equipment, lazers, studded belts or weapons can not be brought onto the premises.
It says nothing about water. Stupidly, my friend's empty water bottle was allowed in which is technically prohibited. I imagine they are specifically concerned about glass bottles which could end up being used as a weapon or missile. Just about everyone takes their phone into these venues and are visible in their use of them as recording equipment.
The whole approach is offensive: three men standing over a small woman because she was carrying water; unclear reasons being given and the compulsion to waste a precious resource.
The female security guard didn't even look in my friend's bag. She only knew about the water because my friend was honest.
This approach was in direct contrast to the approach taken at Rod Laver Arena when we attended the Keith Urban concert recently. Keith actually spoke to the crowd about behaviour and got agreement that security wasn't going to be an issue. It wasn't.
Even at the Melbourne Cricket Ground they take the lid of the plastic bottle, but let you have the water.
I often think there's a type of person working in security. They seem to derive disproportional pleasure from their petty authority and the fact that they can direct other people. I suspect they are powerless in other facets of their lives. (I know that this is a generalisation, but it's also been my experience.)
I was ready to stand in solidarity with my friend as far as necessary (but secretly hoping we would still get to see the show).
I'm very interested to hear the venue's response. I'll keep you posted.
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Monday, 21 July 2014
Monday, 2 June 2014
Rehearsal is for wimps - Sunday night impro!
Last night I did dinner and a show with a friend. The dinner was delicious Asian dumplings (difficult to eat elegantly...do wait until they've cooled before placing them in your mouth) and the show was made up on the spot. It was Maestro, produced by Impro Melbourne.
Maestro is a gladiatorial format. Last night 10 players/actors competed for the audience approval, 9 of them working in vain to avoid elimination in the quest to be crowned the Maestro and win a very special prize.
Two directors randomly draw ping pong balls with numbers which correspond to the numbers on the netball-style bibs worn by players. Sometimes scenes just start; at other times the directors will give a very loose offer and the players take it from there. At the end of each scene the audience clapometer determines the number of points to be allocated to each person in the scene. The audience doesn't lie, but occasionally is happy to play. For example, one actor repeatedly said that he had declared his love "five" times, over "five" days. The subliminal messaging continued until eventually many in the audience awarded the full five points. I did. He deserved the points for having gall and charm simultaneously. At one point in the show, I was the ONLY person who awarded two points and it felt very lonely. I clapped twice, very softly. The power of the human need to conform got me!
Like all great shows based on improvisation, not everything works. I actually love this too. It's great when a scene really comes together and the audience feels the thrill and joy of spontaneity. But when a scene doesn't quite work we see something we don't often see these days - unpolished and raw creative work.
The audience is not immune from the creative impulse. Last night one of the directors told the two players on stage that they were on holiday in a tiny caravan. I was sitting five seats away, so she heard me when I said, "Oh god" in response to the idea of the tiny caravan. She asked me if I'd been in one and asked me to describe it. Off I went: "Everything is close together - too close together. The bed is in the kitchen, the stove is on the bed, the TV is on the stove..." I could have added that you can flush the toilet and do the dishes from the comfort of your bed too.
The scene that resulted, was silly and funny with more and more people being invited to come into the caravan (of course it was raining outside) and doing the simplest thing like getting the milk out of the fridge required the skill of a contortionist to climb under and over the other people in the caravan.
Another highlight was the discussion between the two yokels about what exactly an "air strip" is. (It's a strip of specially imported air!)
Permission to be silly and play is one of the things that drew me to improvisation years ago. I use it daily in all kinds of situations. (Last week I wrote a new song inspired by the rats I had discovered in my roof...it's all done, but it could be a country song or a shoo-wop song and I can't decide. I might keep playing and turn it into a rap!)
I was reading something today (I can't remember what) but it was a statement that spontaneity is an essential ingredient for us to perceive other people as authentic. It makes sense; if you're in a spontaneous mindset, then you're present, open, listening and ready to dive in. If you're in a spontaneous mindset, you're not worried about what anyone else is thinking of you or busily planning your next comment when you should be listening closely to someone else.
Impro Melbourne runs classes if you want to tap into your spontaneity. Or you could go along on a Sunday night and have a lot of fun for $10!
I left feeling inspired, even though it was dark at 4:30pm on the first day of winter.
Do you improvise? Have you seen Maestro? What did you think? What's your favourite impro format?
Maestro is a gladiatorial format. Last night 10 players/actors competed for the audience approval, 9 of them working in vain to avoid elimination in the quest to be crowned the Maestro and win a very special prize.
Two directors randomly draw ping pong balls with numbers which correspond to the numbers on the netball-style bibs worn by players. Sometimes scenes just start; at other times the directors will give a very loose offer and the players take it from there. At the end of each scene the audience clapometer determines the number of points to be allocated to each person in the scene. The audience doesn't lie, but occasionally is happy to play. For example, one actor repeatedly said that he had declared his love "five" times, over "five" days. The subliminal messaging continued until eventually many in the audience awarded the full five points. I did. He deserved the points for having gall and charm simultaneously. At one point in the show, I was the ONLY person who awarded two points and it felt very lonely. I clapped twice, very softly. The power of the human need to conform got me!
Like all great shows based on improvisation, not everything works. I actually love this too. It's great when a scene really comes together and the audience feels the thrill and joy of spontaneity. But when a scene doesn't quite work we see something we don't often see these days - unpolished and raw creative work.
The audience is not immune from the creative impulse. Last night one of the directors told the two players on stage that they were on holiday in a tiny caravan. I was sitting five seats away, so she heard me when I said, "Oh god" in response to the idea of the tiny caravan. She asked me if I'd been in one and asked me to describe it. Off I went: "Everything is close together - too close together. The bed is in the kitchen, the stove is on the bed, the TV is on the stove..." I could have added that you can flush the toilet and do the dishes from the comfort of your bed too.
The scene that resulted, was silly and funny with more and more people being invited to come into the caravan (of course it was raining outside) and doing the simplest thing like getting the milk out of the fridge required the skill of a contortionist to climb under and over the other people in the caravan.
Another highlight was the discussion between the two yokels about what exactly an "air strip" is. (It's a strip of specially imported air!)
Permission to be silly and play is one of the things that drew me to improvisation years ago. I use it daily in all kinds of situations. (Last week I wrote a new song inspired by the rats I had discovered in my roof...it's all done, but it could be a country song or a shoo-wop song and I can't decide. I might keep playing and turn it into a rap!)
I was reading something today (I can't remember what) but it was a statement that spontaneity is an essential ingredient for us to perceive other people as authentic. It makes sense; if you're in a spontaneous mindset, then you're present, open, listening and ready to dive in. If you're in a spontaneous mindset, you're not worried about what anyone else is thinking of you or busily planning your next comment when you should be listening closely to someone else.
Impro Melbourne runs classes if you want to tap into your spontaneity. Or you could go along on a Sunday night and have a lot of fun for $10!
I left feeling inspired, even though it was dark at 4:30pm on the first day of winter.
Do you improvise? Have you seen Maestro? What did you think? What's your favourite impro format?
Monday, 10 March 2014
Cultural intake - what I've been seeing and hearing lately
I've had a cultural kind of weekend.
Friday night, I went to the Melbourne Recital Centre to hear the Balanescu Quartet play. Well, it was quartet plus occasional drum kit and looped recorded sound. Visual interest was added with film, including projections on the back of the music stands. Perfect! This was always redundant space and it's great to see it used for something other than advertising!
Anytime I hear music played in Elisabeth Murdoch Hall it is magical. The sound is incredible, no matter what is being played.
On my daily walk past the Malthouse Theatre, and on my way to the Balanescu Quartet, I stopped in at the box office and bought a ticket to see Simon Stone's production, "The Government Inpsector". It was to be a production of "The Philadelphia Story", but rights were refused and this production cleverly turns this rejection into an opportunity. I needed to see it out of curiosity, if nothing else.
I had the best seat in the house (centre front) and laughed myself sick for the duration. It was a matinee though and I wondered how the "language" would go down with the audience. I walked out still laughing, but noticed the rest of the audience seemed quiet, reserved and then I overhead one woman say to another, "Well, it takes all types of people doesn't it?" The I noticed she had been sitting beside me. Was she talking about me or the play?
It's delightfully creative and refreshing. Who needs to see another production of "The Philadelphia Story" anyway? The Age has a review here.
Yesterday, it was off to the movies to see "Her", the film that won the Oscar for best original screenplay and has one of my favourite actors, Joaquin Phoenix. It's an interesting premise and I would suggest, is actually a science fiction film. It's set sometime in the not too distant future where technology is familiar but can do just a little more than what mine does for me right now. Phoenix plays Theodore, a man separated from his wife and living alone with only virtual reality "people", the receptionist at work and a woman who lives in the same building for company. He purchases the new OS1, a "smart" virtual assistant, customised with a female voice (played by Scarlett Johannson) and falls in love with her. There's a suggestion that she also falls for him.
Cut 30 minutes out and it would have been fantastic.
Oh, and get the two women sitting next me, chatting away as thought they were alone in their loungeroom, to SHUT UP!
Tomorrow night I'm off to see Cuban jazz pianist Roberto Fonseca at the Melbourne Recital Centre. I'll be selling CDs too, so if you're there, come and say hello.
What have been doing lately?
Friday night, I went to the Melbourne Recital Centre to hear the Balanescu Quartet play. Well, it was quartet plus occasional drum kit and looped recorded sound. Visual interest was added with film, including projections on the back of the music stands. Perfect! This was always redundant space and it's great to see it used for something other than advertising!
Anytime I hear music played in Elisabeth Murdoch Hall it is magical. The sound is incredible, no matter what is being played.
On my daily walk past the Malthouse Theatre, and on my way to the Balanescu Quartet, I stopped in at the box office and bought a ticket to see Simon Stone's production, "The Government Inpsector". It was to be a production of "The Philadelphia Story", but rights were refused and this production cleverly turns this rejection into an opportunity. I needed to see it out of curiosity, if nothing else.
I had the best seat in the house (centre front) and laughed myself sick for the duration. It was a matinee though and I wondered how the "language" would go down with the audience. I walked out still laughing, but noticed the rest of the audience seemed quiet, reserved and then I overhead one woman say to another, "Well, it takes all types of people doesn't it?" The I noticed she had been sitting beside me. Was she talking about me or the play?
It's delightfully creative and refreshing. Who needs to see another production of "The Philadelphia Story" anyway? The Age has a review here.
Yesterday, it was off to the movies to see "Her", the film that won the Oscar for best original screenplay and has one of my favourite actors, Joaquin Phoenix. It's an interesting premise and I would suggest, is actually a science fiction film. It's set sometime in the not too distant future where technology is familiar but can do just a little more than what mine does for me right now. Phoenix plays Theodore, a man separated from his wife and living alone with only virtual reality "people", the receptionist at work and a woman who lives in the same building for company. He purchases the new OS1, a "smart" virtual assistant, customised with a female voice (played by Scarlett Johannson) and falls in love with her. There's a suggestion that she also falls for him.
Cut 30 minutes out and it would have been fantastic.
Oh, and get the two women sitting next me, chatting away as thought they were alone in their loungeroom, to SHUT UP!
Tomorrow night I'm off to see Cuban jazz pianist Roberto Fonseca at the Melbourne Recital Centre. I'll be selling CDs too, so if you're there, come and say hello.
What have been doing lately?
Monday, 16 December 2013
Playing in the park
I worked yesterday. On a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon. I didn't mind a bit. In fact, I had a blast. I'd been engaged to provide some unusual entertainment at a group's Christmas Party.
The brief was to lead a group of people, who are used to speaking in public, in some "impro". Initially my heart raced. To many people watching any form of improvisation, it can seem like a piece of cake. It is - if you practise and train and hone your craft. It's not something that you just walk up and start doing. Whenever we watch skilled experts doing anything, they make it look easy and we often think we can just start at the same level. (This seems to happen with actors more than musicians).
I've learned that good improvisation has rules (which may seem counter-intuitive) and that there's an essential mindset that must be developed. These rules are quite opposite to how much of the world generally operates: "there are no mistakes", "say 'YES'", "don't edit, go with your instinct" and so on. So what to do with a group of novices for two hours at the Christmas party?
Start simple and emphasise fun and the value of letting go and trying stuff. Before long people were removing - or rearranging - items of clothing, moving wildly to music, creating a barnyard of animals (everything from mosquitos to crocodiles, dogs to pigs and a koala who just hung onto a tree). We created an orchestra where every person was an instrument which had only one sound.
While we were hanging around waiting for everyone to arrive, as they introduced themselves, several people took the opportunity to put caveats on the extent of the participation for the afternoon: "I don't sing." "I like watching, but don't want to do anything." "I'm not funny." "Just don't make me...[insert specific fear here]." As the afternoon progressed, I noticed that as more fun was had, inhibitions faded away and people threw themselves in. There were some genuinely funny moments as self-consciousness slipped away and people were appreciated for their offers.
There were some children also participating and they provided excellent instruction for the adults. Children don't hesitate to throw their bodies and souls into anything imaginative. At one point we were doing a word at a time story. It was pretty whacky already and then one of the children added a word which was unexpected. An adult "corrected" the child and offered the word that most of the group was probably expecting. Disappointment and fear flitted across her face. I asked her for her word again which she offered and that was the word incorporated as I reminded the group that there are no mistakes and the mantra is "yes". The level of discomfort in the group rose and then ebbed as the story progressed anyway.
I started thinking about how exciting the unexpected can be and wondering why our default is often to steer things to be how we expect them. I suppose it's a fear and a desire to control.
At the end of the afternoon, people were singing Christmas carols with the lyrics taken from the "Chairman's Guide to Meetings and Organisations" and "Real Estate Mistakes". Suddenly any idea that "I don't sing solo" had disappeared and people asked to have a go.
This was the perfect place to finish. For a couple of hours, the people had been able to play freely. Working in the beautiful gardens on a sunny Sunday afternoon, playing with people, was the best place I could have been. I love my work.
When was the last time you played?
The brief was to lead a group of people, who are used to speaking in public, in some "impro". Initially my heart raced. To many people watching any form of improvisation, it can seem like a piece of cake. It is - if you practise and train and hone your craft. It's not something that you just walk up and start doing. Whenever we watch skilled experts doing anything, they make it look easy and we often think we can just start at the same level. (This seems to happen with actors more than musicians).
I've learned that good improvisation has rules (which may seem counter-intuitive) and that there's an essential mindset that must be developed. These rules are quite opposite to how much of the world generally operates: "there are no mistakes", "say 'YES'", "don't edit, go with your instinct" and so on. So what to do with a group of novices for two hours at the Christmas party?
Start simple and emphasise fun and the value of letting go and trying stuff. Before long people were removing - or rearranging - items of clothing, moving wildly to music, creating a barnyard of animals (everything from mosquitos to crocodiles, dogs to pigs and a koala who just hung onto a tree). We created an orchestra where every person was an instrument which had only one sound.
While we were hanging around waiting for everyone to arrive, as they introduced themselves, several people took the opportunity to put caveats on the extent of the participation for the afternoon: "I don't sing." "I like watching, but don't want to do anything." "I'm not funny." "Just don't make me...[insert specific fear here]." As the afternoon progressed, I noticed that as more fun was had, inhibitions faded away and people threw themselves in. There were some genuinely funny moments as self-consciousness slipped away and people were appreciated for their offers.
There were some children also participating and they provided excellent instruction for the adults. Children don't hesitate to throw their bodies and souls into anything imaginative. At one point we were doing a word at a time story. It was pretty whacky already and then one of the children added a word which was unexpected. An adult "corrected" the child and offered the word that most of the group was probably expecting. Disappointment and fear flitted across her face. I asked her for her word again which she offered and that was the word incorporated as I reminded the group that there are no mistakes and the mantra is "yes". The level of discomfort in the group rose and then ebbed as the story progressed anyway.
I started thinking about how exciting the unexpected can be and wondering why our default is often to steer things to be how we expect them. I suppose it's a fear and a desire to control.
At the end of the afternoon, people were singing Christmas carols with the lyrics taken from the "Chairman's Guide to Meetings and Organisations" and "Real Estate Mistakes". Suddenly any idea that "I don't sing solo" had disappeared and people asked to have a go.
This was the perfect place to finish. For a couple of hours, the people had been able to play freely. Working in the beautiful gardens on a sunny Sunday afternoon, playing with people, was the best place I could have been. I love my work.
When was the last time you played?
Tuesday, 11 June 2013
King Kong - you've got to see it to believe it
My long weekend was very cultural - "King Kong" on Saturday, Cassandra Wilson at the closing night of the Melbourne International Jazz Festival and "Gatsby" yesterday afternoon.
Phew!
I enjoyed all of them in different ways and will start with "King Kong".
"King Kong" is still in preview and it will be interesting to see whether changes are made before the actual opening. It is visually and technically spectacular and to echo one of the characters in the show, it has to be seen to be believed! King Kong himself is amazing. I felt that I was actually looking at this enormous monster, such is the detail of his movements - including facial expressions - and the accompanying sounds. When he roars and stamps his feet, I could feel the vibrations right up the back of the balcony.
Act one was excellent. The story clips along and the singing was terrific. Sometimes I yearned for a united musical identity, rather than the different voices which are inevitable when there are several composers, but I loved the music for itself.
Act two was not as good. I felt that the story slowed right down and the whole thing became messy. It was almost resting on the laurels of the spectacle of King Kong, but lacked a real sense of the destruction of King Kong on the rampage through New York.
There is a character called "High Priestess/Cassandra". I have no idea what this character is doing there. The actress did a fantastic job, but it slowed the whole story down. I think the Cassandra name must echo Greek mythology where Cassandra was cursed to know the truth and to have no one ever believe her or listen to her. She seemed to play a Greek chorus function. Perhaps. But really, this is musical theatre and I don't want to think too hard.
In the end, the lack of a hero was a knife in the heart of King Kong the beast and King Kong the show. Having said that, I'd like to go again later in the season once it has settled in and see what it's like. It IS thrilling, despite its flaws.
I have a confession to make too...I haven't seen any film version. I'll remedy that and see what perspective that adds.
Have you seen the show? What did you think?
Tomorrow, Cassandra Wilson closes the Melbourne International Jazz Festival.
Phew!
I enjoyed all of them in different ways and will start with "King Kong".
"King Kong" is still in preview and it will be interesting to see whether changes are made before the actual opening. It is visually and technically spectacular and to echo one of the characters in the show, it has to be seen to be believed! King Kong himself is amazing. I felt that I was actually looking at this enormous monster, such is the detail of his movements - including facial expressions - and the accompanying sounds. When he roars and stamps his feet, I could feel the vibrations right up the back of the balcony.
Act one was excellent. The story clips along and the singing was terrific. Sometimes I yearned for a united musical identity, rather than the different voices which are inevitable when there are several composers, but I loved the music for itself.
Act two was not as good. I felt that the story slowed right down and the whole thing became messy. It was almost resting on the laurels of the spectacle of King Kong, but lacked a real sense of the destruction of King Kong on the rampage through New York.
There is a character called "High Priestess/Cassandra". I have no idea what this character is doing there. The actress did a fantastic job, but it slowed the whole story down. I think the Cassandra name must echo Greek mythology where Cassandra was cursed to know the truth and to have no one ever believe her or listen to her. She seemed to play a Greek chorus function. Perhaps. But really, this is musical theatre and I don't want to think too hard.
In the end, the lack of a hero was a knife in the heart of King Kong the beast and King Kong the show. Having said that, I'd like to go again later in the season once it has settled in and see what it's like. It IS thrilling, despite its flaws.
I have a confession to make too...I haven't seen any film version. I'll remedy that and see what perspective that adds.
Have you seen the show? What did you think?
Tomorrow, Cassandra Wilson closes the Melbourne International Jazz Festival.
Monday, 25 March 2013
Mobile phones at the theatre - detract from "Other Desert Cities".
Recently, I purchased a mini-subscription to the Melbourne Theatre Company's 2013 season. It's been a few years since I had the funds and also the interest to invest in this way. I've seen three plays and have two more to come. Everything I've seen so far has been incredible - thought-provoking, moving, funny - everything you want live theatre to be.
On Saturday I went and saw "Other Desert Cities" at the Sumner Theatre. The play itself has all the credentials - Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award nominations - and I'm not going to write a review of the play. I will tell you that I tingled in the most dramatic moments and resolved into tears in the next moment.
As amazing as these moments were, they were spoiled. It wasn't anything about the actors on stage, or the production itself. No. In the climactic scene a mobile phone rang. When a mobile phone rings in this situation, it's not just the phone that causes a disturbance. This particular phone's jaunty tune went for a long time, accompanied by whispers of "shit, shit, shit, shit" as the owner rustled through her bag. The phone is found and removed from the bag and the muffling effect of the bag disappears as the phone cuts clearly through the quiet of the auditorium. The audience becomes restless. Heads shake at the impropriety of it all. There is a flicker of distraction that runs across the actors' faces. The phone choked, we all return to the play.
Now, the climactic scene of this play is meaty. Emotions are running high, secrets are revealed, characters shock us with their passion and deception. You need to pay attention - you want to pay attention. Then a second phone rings. This one is two rows in front of me and I can see the owner. Audience members around me start to groan and tut. The phone is choked rapidly. I want to choke the owner.
We settle back Where were we? Ah yes. A third phone rings. Just behind me - one row back, three seats away and within reach. She actually leaves the theatre with her bag. Good riddance I say.
Prior to the commencement of the play, a clear specific announcement is made to the audience, echoing the signs lining the entrance foyer: "Please turn your mobile phone off." The announcement even contextualises by adding "for the sake of the actors and the audience".
What is so hard about turning off the mobile phone? Or if it must be left on, turning it to silent? All three interruptions on Saturday occurred after interval. Perhaps the announcement needs to be made after interval as well. I find it difficult to understand why people can't take personal responsibility for this stuff anyway. Why can't people consider their surroundings and be well-mannered enough to consider that it will be bad if their phone rings during the show. Surely they aren't going to answer it while watching a play! So go on, switch it off.
Apart from being really annoyed myself, people were talking about the phones ringing, rather than the play on the way out of the theatre. Such a distraction! The actors did well (it must be so tempting to turn to the audience and berate them!).
Go and see this play. And if you do, for goodness sake, turn your phone off!
What would be an appropriate punishment for people who leave their phones on? Has your phone ever rung at an inopportune time? What did you do?
On Saturday I went and saw "Other Desert Cities" at the Sumner Theatre. The play itself has all the credentials - Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award nominations - and I'm not going to write a review of the play. I will tell you that I tingled in the most dramatic moments and resolved into tears in the next moment.
As amazing as these moments were, they were spoiled. It wasn't anything about the actors on stage, or the production itself. No. In the climactic scene a mobile phone rang. When a mobile phone rings in this situation, it's not just the phone that causes a disturbance. This particular phone's jaunty tune went for a long time, accompanied by whispers of "shit, shit, shit, shit" as the owner rustled through her bag. The phone is found and removed from the bag and the muffling effect of the bag disappears as the phone cuts clearly through the quiet of the auditorium. The audience becomes restless. Heads shake at the impropriety of it all. There is a flicker of distraction that runs across the actors' faces. The phone choked, we all return to the play.
Now, the climactic scene of this play is meaty. Emotions are running high, secrets are revealed, characters shock us with their passion and deception. You need to pay attention - you want to pay attention. Then a second phone rings. This one is two rows in front of me and I can see the owner. Audience members around me start to groan and tut. The phone is choked rapidly. I want to choke the owner.
We settle back Where were we? Ah yes. A third phone rings. Just behind me - one row back, three seats away and within reach. She actually leaves the theatre with her bag. Good riddance I say.
Prior to the commencement of the play, a clear specific announcement is made to the audience, echoing the signs lining the entrance foyer: "Please turn your mobile phone off." The announcement even contextualises by adding "for the sake of the actors and the audience".
What is so hard about turning off the mobile phone? Or if it must be left on, turning it to silent? All three interruptions on Saturday occurred after interval. Perhaps the announcement needs to be made after interval as well. I find it difficult to understand why people can't take personal responsibility for this stuff anyway. Why can't people consider their surroundings and be well-mannered enough to consider that it will be bad if their phone rings during the show. Surely they aren't going to answer it while watching a play! So go on, switch it off.
Apart from being really annoyed myself, people were talking about the phones ringing, rather than the play on the way out of the theatre. Such a distraction! The actors did well (it must be so tempting to turn to the audience and berate them!).
Go and see this play. And if you do, for goodness sake, turn your phone off!
What would be an appropriate punishment for people who leave their phones on? Has your phone ever rung at an inopportune time? What did you do?
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Life lessons from "Love is in the Air"
Listening to Libbi Gorr on the radio tonight and she's playing John Paul Young's song "Love is in the Air" a hit from 1978. I wasn't very old in 1978 but I know this song very well because it featured in Baz Lurhmann's 1992 film "Strictly Ballroom".
"Love is in the Air" suited the daggy, romantic melodrama and the song had a second life as a hit.
It's also familiar to me because in 1994 I attended a music theatre summer school in Brisbane. Todd McKenney was the dance teacher and he had us all doing the rumba to "Love is in the Air". I hear the opening bars and I'm back there on stage at the Lyric Theatre, ready to rumba. It was such a good time! There were about 80 of us I think. We had all auditioned for one of the hotly contested places. High profile music theatre producers, directors and musical directors were our tutors and the focus was on audition techniques.
We spent a week being put through our paces as singers, actors, dancers and putting it all together in an audition situation. I worked on Miss Hannigan's song "Little Girls" from "Annie" It was exhausting and wonderful. And always so much easier for the blokes because they were so scarce. There were plenty of women and so every audition was very competitive. The cattle calls were such a brutal process.
I remember queueing for hours outside a night club in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley for an audition for the musical "Rent". I was very well prepared after the summer school. The line was moving really fast - never a good sign. That meant that people were being dismissed on the basis of their look or the sound of their first two notes. I walked into the room and had the opportunity to start my song. I started to sing and expected to be dismissed with a "thank you" at any moment. It didn't happen! I got through my entire song! I wasn't called back, but I was thrilled that I'd been able to sing my whole song, rather than just being dismissed on my look. It was like being a writer and having my manuscript rejected, but at least this time, they'd read it! A lot of it was because I'd learnt how to walk in, claim the space as mine and make people pay attention.
I learnt my most important lesson as an actor out of this. I always walk away knowing I've given my best possible performance. If I don't get the job it's because I'm not what they're looking for and I don't take it personally. This is a handy thing for life in general! So is the ability to grab the attention of a room.
I do my best and the rest is out of my control.
"Love is in the Air" suited the daggy, romantic melodrama and the song had a second life as a hit.
It's also familiar to me because in 1994 I attended a music theatre summer school in Brisbane. Todd McKenney was the dance teacher and he had us all doing the rumba to "Love is in the Air". I hear the opening bars and I'm back there on stage at the Lyric Theatre, ready to rumba. It was such a good time! There were about 80 of us I think. We had all auditioned for one of the hotly contested places. High profile music theatre producers, directors and musical directors were our tutors and the focus was on audition techniques.
We spent a week being put through our paces as singers, actors, dancers and putting it all together in an audition situation. I worked on Miss Hannigan's song "Little Girls" from "Annie" It was exhausting and wonderful. And always so much easier for the blokes because they were so scarce. There were plenty of women and so every audition was very competitive. The cattle calls were such a brutal process.
I remember queueing for hours outside a night club in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley for an audition for the musical "Rent". I was very well prepared after the summer school. The line was moving really fast - never a good sign. That meant that people were being dismissed on the basis of their look or the sound of their first two notes. I walked into the room and had the opportunity to start my song. I started to sing and expected to be dismissed with a "thank you" at any moment. It didn't happen! I got through my entire song! I wasn't called back, but I was thrilled that I'd been able to sing my whole song, rather than just being dismissed on my look. It was like being a writer and having my manuscript rejected, but at least this time, they'd read it! A lot of it was because I'd learnt how to walk in, claim the space as mine and make people pay attention.
I learnt my most important lesson as an actor out of this. I always walk away knowing I've given my best possible performance. If I don't get the job it's because I'm not what they're looking for and I don't take it personally. This is a handy thing for life in general! So is the ability to grab the attention of a room.
I do my best and the rest is out of my control.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)