Thursday, March 29, 2012

Sunday Morning

The festival line-up for the Main Progamme at the Grahamstown Festival has been announced.  Yay.  And our play 'Sunday Morning' is part of their new one-man-show line-up.  Yay again.  Recently we changed the name from 'Roadkill' to 'Sunday Morning'... A little less violent!  And a lot more poetic.  It's a leap, I know, but it fits the work much more.  And titles are not meant to send people away.  I like 'Sunday Morning' because nothing ever happens on a Sunday Morning... Long lazy lie-ins... full fatty breakfasts... hours pouring over the newspaper.  Normally.  But not this morning.  Da Da Daaa.

Along with the new name we are expanding and adapting our stage design with the brilliant and talented Alastair Findlay as well as our poster design with the brilliant and talented Chantelle Louwrens... How lucky we are.  So yes.  Hope to see you in Grahamstown.

The new poster artwork x

Robyn Sassen wrote a wonderful review for us during our Goethe on Main run last year... and here it is if you fancy a read...

My View:  A gem of a story that unfolds like a curvy road, “Roadkill” will give flight to your heart and turn your head.

What a privilege it is to be witness to the consummate and collaborative skill of a team that works together with such generosity and respect, not only for the narrative unfolding, and the audience witnessing it, but for one another. "Roadkill" is one of a new generation of theatre gems, moving boldly and beautifully from funding-draining issues which draw irrevocably from the true business of theatre-making. This team works with what they have, to make theatre. And what they have is priceless.

But it is more than all of this. Not only is Cuningham’s performance as the crux and central character of the work flawless – he takes you from raucous laughter to the brink of bitter tears, and then pops a really funny metaphor at you to get the tears running in earnest and your audible sobs maskable in a paragraph of laughter – but it is the magnificently crafted writing of the work that enables it, devoid of set, of other cast members, of fancy expensive finery, to soar and touch the chords of what it is that makes us human.

While we don’t get to know Cuningham’s character by name, from the outside, as it were, we get to know him from the inside first, and explore with him his sense of deep sadness at how his life as a fine art photographer has not turned out to be the astonishing critical success he was led to believe it would. He has his flaws, but he’s human, and the angers and sadnesses he articulates about dissolved dreams and a sense of powerless in beholding the seamless transition into his life by his girlfriend are convincing, articulate and something you can empathise with because you, too, are human.

But more than this, the story is coloured by writing so graphic, so poetic and so carefully hewn, that images flit through your sensibilities, illustrating the work in your mind’s eye.

Above all, it’s a work which you emerge from, flushed in the presence of something wonderful, conceived of, like William Blake’s oft-quoted universe in a grain of sand, through the idea of a story cast against a world of shattered values in an urban microcosm. True greatness: a play which calls out not only for festival circuits, but for long runs in mainstream theatres.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Hula hoop Queen

When I was about 8 I was the queen of hula hooping.  It's true.  I could out-hula hoop anyone in the playground... two at a time, on my hand above my head, around my neck, my arm, my finger... So when we got tasked to find a skill that your clown could possibly do... I thought I'd try rekindle my hula hooping champion skills.  They must still be there... right?  So this weekend I managed to steal an hour to find a toy store and brought a hula hoop.  Yay.  Childhood memories.  It must be like riding a bicycle.  Five minutes and i'll be running competitions in the courtyard.  Not.  Hula hooping is impossible.  Oh my word.  Firstly an adult cannot hula hoop with a kids hoop... and it just about killed me to keep it up for 5 seconds.  And i'm stiff!!!  Amazing.  Blind.  But to get to the toy store to buy the hoop I passed the Duomo.  And it is still a very big very beautiful building! x


Barbara who can spin for ages... I mean ages... and not fall over!  That's a skill.
This is her clown Andromeda Andromeda. 

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Hark... who goes there?

Yes so it has been a while since I've said something... and it's not that i've had nothing to say... quite the opposite actually.  Our second term ended and as I was taking off my costume from playing Polonius in our Commedia dell'Arte version of Hamlet the taxi whisked me away to the airport for a two-week break back home in Joburg.  Two weeks of family, our pets, the swimming pool and... I know I keep banging on about it...  SUNSHINE!  This is my fifth winter in a row!  So I feel quite excited about summer clothes and sandals.

Rewind.  So now...  Hamlet.  In 22 minutes.  Mmm the full play in 22 minutes.  Well not the full play... But our version of the full play.  What a riot.  And of course it was wonderfully mad... with only the odd Shakespeare line thrown in here and there.  Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!  Frailty thy name is women!  To be or not to be... you know, all the big hitters.  Naturally.

In short... we worked out an event narrative structure (called a canovaccio in the world of Commedia) and then the idea is to improvise within this... but you have the structure to lean on and support you.  And herein lies one of the differences between acting and playing... the actor will execute the structure as it is - moving from one beat to the next.  The player allows whatever new happens to happen and if the audience responds then they go deeper into that until it is over and only then do they return to the structure and move on.  For the most part we only found a few moments of raw play... but when they happened it was so exhilarating.  It requires a whole new level of listening... because it is not pure improvisation.  You know what is going to happen... but how it happens can change and develop and grow.  And if something new is planted in an earlier scene it can come back in a later scene.  It is definitely not boring.  Of course we also played in mask - so the performance is immediately heightened to a whole other level of madness.  And the thing is... as our teaches keep telling us... if the canovaccio works and the performances are good then the piece will work... but if you play... really play... its on a whole other level.  You have to have fun.  It's a rule.  Have fun!  It's not that easy.

This is one of the most exciting things I have learnt.  I know there are lots of exciting things.  But this one rocked.  It somehow incorporated aspects of everything we have learnt up till now.   Changing the space.  Character.  Images.  Technique.  Rhythm.  Madness.

Helena as the Queen (in the mask I made)... back stage getting ready just before our last performance

Slowly getting into the state of the Queen... 'Oh Dear!'  ....Vampish.  Over the top.  Fickle.  Confused.
And very very funny.

Vika as Ophelia (in the mask Helena made) peeking out from the paraventi...  Hamlet gave me a love letter.  It says...
Dear Ophelia, I love you love.  Love, Hamlet

Me playing Polonius (in the mask Barbara made), Ophelia's father... You must remember this a kiss is still a kiss.

So now... returned for the final term and slap bang into clown...  The red nose.  The smallest mask of all.  Aaaah.  And it is so terrifying.  Because your clown is not a character.  Your clown is somehow and aspect of you that wants to come out and play.  And as Giovanni said the other day... sometimes other people love your clown more than you do... you cannot control what comes out... allow yourself to fall... aaaaaah.

So it's the very beginning of this journey and we kicked off with solo performances for the first years... who of course hadn't seen our clowns yet.  It wasn't a performance as such... it was more the reason for the clown...  Sad.  Mean.  Bizarre.  Needy.  Pompous.  Bossy.  Chaotic.  Militant.  But all of them naive.  Mostly funny.  And sometimes poignant.   We were allowed to use objects but no real skills like musical instruments, singing, dancing or too much talking.  An object.  And three minutes.  Go.  Make us laugh.

I was in such a state that I actually walked on stage without my red nose on!  I couldn't believe it.  Of course I was told immediately and had to start again... Apparently this happens often... actors in mask shows step out with their masks on top of their heads having forgotten to pull them down.  So funny.  And a bit of gift... the more energy you have the better.  It seams.  I'll post some pics in the next one.  

So yes.  Welcome to the wonderful world of clown.  We'll see.  Eee.