Tuesday morning, I ran a somewhat conventional voice warm-up for the cast, concentrating in the latter half on facial articulators and tongue twisters to lead into the unfamiliar muscularity of Shakespeare’s language. We played with the Shakespearean insults I had asked them to prepare. At first this was an exercise in memory (as it usually is), but gradually the actors let go into the words. This actually happened quite rapidly after I asked them to accompany their insult with a physical gesture, whether it be a known rude gesture, or a made up one. Not only were the gestures hilariously creative and brilliantly executed, but also, the actors truly began to relish the language in firing the insults to each other. The mind/body/voice connection never ceases to amaze me. I think the actors were enjoying the exercise as much as I was. Or they were acting really well. Or both.
We then looked at the opening scene of the play, incorporating the idea of gesture. I am hoping this can be further welded into the dance-off beginning for a sense of flow. Dion had already begun blocking scene 1, so they showed me the work so far (very exciting), then we worked to include the prologue into the sequence, dividing up the lines amongst the cast, with choral work and movement. We -Dion and I- like the idea that the fighting is about to begin in the street when the actors suddenly break the fourth wall and reveal to the audience what is about to happen. Then they return to the point they froze in and start the dialogue from “Do you bite your thumb at us?” The thumb-biting will (fingers crossed) be the final movement of the dance-off.
The hip-hop choreography was next on the agenda, and it was uber cool to watch the moves unfolding so far. Big shame I missed the first session, as I fear I’ll never be able to catch up, and never be able to bring these specific skills back home to my country’s dance floors, sorry Winston, sorry Frankie. We spent the second half of the day blocking the second half of play. I had happy moments to dominate whilst Dion employed his superior design skills to notate the set arrangements as we blocked them. His perspective drawing is fiercely adept. It’s like watching the birth of tetris. The walls of crates are becoming an exciting playground for the show, with a multiplicity of arrangements.
Wednesday morning’s mime class was a particular treat, having seen some of the very skills we were practicing on stage on the weekend in Cape Twon. We revised isolation, (even down to moving different shoulder, elbows, wrists, fingers in different directions at different rhythms = brain implosion); pulling on a rope, flying and swimming – who knew my shoulders were so unfit? -learnt walking (on the spot, bring on the moonwalk), and wall/where’s the exit? (I think there is a more technical term for this, maybe counter-point thingymejig?) movement. SOOOooo much fun. And frustration. At least I can tell when I’m stuffing it up completely. That’s the first important step towards brilliance, I’m sure.
The rest of wednesday involved basic blocking to finish off the play, although we postponed the scenes with fights until Thursday as Matt, Ubom’s US intern, is coming in to do combat choreo.
Wednesday evening, Janet was sadly under the weather, but not so sadly for me, as I scored her ticket to see ‘Desperate First Ladies’ by Pieter-Dirk Uys (And his chorus-line of Goddesses, Gargoyles and Grannies). Pieter is the Dame Edna of South Africa, the first man to make drag famous here, and despite his biting political satire, survived performing through the numerous political manifestations over the past 30 years or so, by making everyone laugh with his absolute brilliance in wit and craft. Andrew prepped me on this background as we drove up to the Rhodes theatre. I knew I was in for a treat as it seemed the whole of Grahamstown had come out to see the show. The foyer was buzzing, and it became apparent the show was sold out, and their was a large hopeful crowd on a waiting list standing by. I felt rather chuffed but also a little guilty as I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to appreciate the humour as much as a local would. Quite the opposite. I both laughed uproariously with the rest of the audience, but also experienced a condensed socio-political and cultural lesson in the most joyous way possible. There were a couple of jibes at Australia which made me chuckle. My favourite was a questioning of why Australians look down on South Africa for the treatment of indigenous populations…. “Look how many Aboriginal people are left, compared to Africans”. Amidst the laughter, there were also a few moments were I was moved to tears. This is clearly a man who loves his country deeply, and embraces the vast array of people who live here, with all their faults and quirks. Politics, humour and magnificent skill in acting.: a totally fulfilling evening at the theatre.
Thursday – fight club!
Matt does a range of work with the company, but has a special interest and skills in stage combat from his training in America, so it is a blessing to have him available to us. There is no stage combat here as a subject in South Africa at universities and drama schools, as far as I can discover. Dion, who loves his karate, is considering seeking a grant to train in it, which I think is a marvellous idea. And a necessity. The lack of combat training first came to my attention when Sisonke fell plonking on to his knees with “I defy you stars”. I could hear Scottie Witt in my ear, saying: “lower your centre of gravity first” and Michael Toome with his poignant anecdotes of older actors with knee issues from youthful, repetitive self abuse whilst “in the moment” of just such a physically self-violent action. . It was quite shocking to realise this kind of training is virtually non-existent here, making my Shakespeare & Co winter seem beautifully indulgent and making me feel extremely privileged for my years of indoctrination with Scottie and Nikki at QUT. I have taken for granted the pleasure of working with Scott, Nikki and Nigel in professional engagements since graduating. And thank the union for making it law. The foundation I’ve been given has no doubt saved me from numerous injuries and long-term pain. I am passionately hopeful that this kind of training and skills development and appreciation takes off here. (Dion, I hope you’re reading this one. You could be the master, wax on, wax off).
At a philosophical level, it is intriguing that a society with a self-acknowledged reputation for violence has not included this in the study of performance craft. “We don’t need to be taught how to fight – this is Africa” joked one of the cast members when I asked them about it. So thursday we worked on the scenes with fights and dances in them. Both choreographers- Matt for fight, and Nomstibisi for hip-hop- brought superb displays of pizzazz to our story. The more I work in the industry, the more I appreciate the specialized skills of others and the importance of a professional attitude in embracing help from those who really know their field, for the ultimate benefit of performer, director, story, show and audience. This goes for all elements of design as well. Leave it to the pros.
Matt, Ilana and Themba at combat choreo practice.
Thurs arvo the rain came suddenly and heavily. Janet picked me up from outside the Masonic Hall, I waited huddled in Barati’s car till she arrived. Meanwhile, Andrew rode his bike home and arrived completely soaked through while somehow making it look like an enviable ride. An early night for all. No internet, because of the rain?? Or because I’ve used up all the bandwidth for the month…
By the end of Friday we had worked through all the scenes in terms of blocking, including marking through the fights and the Capulet party hip-hop dance. We are still waiting on times for our two dance choreographers to work simultaneously on the dance-off opening. The dance-off is integral to establishing two houses “both alike in dignity”, and conflict for the beginning fight scene: “do you bite your thumb at us, sir?” Monday maybe we will get to this crux.
After a hard week of rehearsals, a drink or several was necessary, so we headed to Slip Stream Sports bar, also know as Triple S. This is a grungy-looking place with a few seedy characters loitering about, but cosy none-the-less. An old man alone at a table, an aging raver dj thumping out some hard core beats at 5.30pm. We took our place near the pool table and proceeded to get our asses whipped by Thami, our shark Juliet. We ladies drank Vawter, which is along the lines of a pre-mix Smirnoff but much nicer and much more quaffable due to its less sugary-sweet consistency. Being exhausted, I left after only three Vawters and returned home to a warm bed to sleep.
Saturday morning, I went with Janet and Andrew to breakfast at café Devine, a newly opened place in town. We met Anna there, a lovely American lady who works in the journalism department at Rhodes. Anna and Andrew both told me about the local artist Sally Scott whose work in oils and pastels is on display at the café. Sally is evidently a prolific artist, working also in sculpture and textiles and her recent work with the drama students at Rhodes involved shoes: ‘The Red Shoe Project’: Students made two pairs of shoes from various textiles of fabrics that they found, bought, created. 1 of the shoes represented their inner self, while the other, their projected self. The teachers then presented with this array of inspired shoes, tried to put them into matching pairs. After this phase, the students then corrected the teachers’ pairings. The last phase involved the teachers trying to guess which pair belonged to which student. Finally, the students and teachers all met together to discuss the process and discoveries. This was an end of first term exercise and apparently was a profound and revelatory experience for both teachers and students, and a beautiful way to get to know each other better. The project has had a variety of manifestations outside the university world, exploring self-knowledge and the sharing of stories and experience. Anna said she had taken the workshop after her divorce and it sounded like an incredibly powerful journey and story.
A lovely breakfast, but no soy coffee. Black tea for me. Apparently there is one place in Grahamstown that serves soy coffee, called Home Ground. Makes me think of the South African band Freshly Ground…. “what would you do if I sipped you, soy latte?...What would you do, if I held your handle and slay you down?....”
Saturday afternoon – Mummenschanz!
At the airport on the way back from Capetown on Monday. Andrew had been recognised by a lady in the check-in who said she’d seen many of his shows. Once on board the plane, she approached us again, this time informing Andrew that she is the marketing manager for Mummenschanz, which is currently touring South Africa, and offered him any comps he may wish to use. This was rather lovely and fortuitous as a trip to Port Elizabeth to see Mummenschanz was already on the wish-list for the weekend. Andrew had followed this up and managed to organise tickets for myself and the Ubom company to go to the show in PE this afternoon and he hired a shuttle bus to get us there and back. He and Janet booked their own tickets for the Sunday show.
So we all met at Rhodes and piled into a combie bus. I was hoping we could maybe use the opportunity to run Romeo and Juliet lines, but only the lovers committed to running a scene or two before the singing took over. The combie converted to a choir bus. Songs from past shows made the trip there and back swift and joyous.
The singing bus
Lovely Nox with Port Elizabeth in the background.
Themba and Barati
Port Elizabeth
P.E. taxi rank
MUMMENSCHANZ “The Masters of Make-Believe and Illusion – the show itself was very sweet but perhaps a little dated. The promotional material reads: “Using no language or music, Mummenschanz transcends all barriers of culture with their groundbreaking and quirky theatre style. By using familiar materials, such as cardboard boxes, rolls of toilet paper, masking tape, refuse bags, etc., they create ingenious costumes and expressive masks that change into fascinating and funny creatures on stage”. It seems they have been performing the exact same show since the seventies, and while it was avant-garde then, it left me wanting a little more. Music, in particular. A soundscape was what I craved. Music and percussive sound to punctuate moments would have made a massive contribution, in my inexpert opinion. And surely would not have hindered in any way the show’s transcendence of cultural barriers. Having said that, I was happily entertained. A big part of my enjoyment was watching the glee of small children as they watched and occasionally interacted with the show. When a giant malleable rock rolled out into the front row, I loved the response of the small boy who bashed vehemently at the soft plastic with his tiny fists as though he was fighting for his dear life.
Back in Grahamstown after the show, Ilana was driving, and asked if I’d like a tour of the township as everyone was getting dropped home. No hesitation. I had seen the small houses in the distance across the valley at the edge of town and had been longing for just such an opportunity. As we drove up the hill to the township, the roads became less polished though still formalized by structure and street signs. The township here is well established and more welcoming in appearance than the millions of shanty houses I have seen outside Johannesburg and Cape Town. I’m not certain that this means the poverty is any less consuming, but perhaps the continuity and history makes it less confronting. I don’t know. We passed a house that was bursting with people. Nox informed me it was probably a ceremony, and that possibly a cow had been killed for the occasion. Many people were out and about on the roads, talking, heading home after the day’s work, waiting for taxis to go places. As ‘taxis’ here resemble the combie that we were travelling in, we were occasionally hailed. Thami thought we ought to take advantage of this and had the brilliant idea to use Ilana, Robbie (Ubom education manager) and myself as the white clowns. We were prompted to call out as we passed groups using the taxi lingo: “town, town town, xseula cee cee” or words to that effect, summoning passengers aboard. Hysteria abounded as the waiting potential passenger would look up to see three whities in the combie driving through the township, first open-eyed in shock, then in a broad grin and huge embodied laugh.
On Sunday, I met with Dion to make a plan for the weeks’ rehearsals. Dion’s vision involves breaking the play into three segments or acts, and working through the scenes of each act separately then running the whole Act to link it with transitions between scenes. Very efficient and clever. So we divvied up the scenes so that we could both work simultaneously in two different spaces, for the morning, maximizing our time with the actors. Then in the afternoons we will come together in the larger venue (the Rhodes theatre this week) and work through the scenes in order. It is great that we can now start detailing as the actors have a strong grasp on the story and characters. There is still more room for ease with language but they are sure of meaning, it is now a matter of flow and finding the same level of energy that they have when speaking in their own language. My favourite mis-quote from the week (yes, I feel a little guilt at giggling at this): “…From forth the fatal lions of these two foes…”.
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