I am pretty sure that the first time I saw Minnie working after Guildhall was on stage at The Globe. Tamara Harvey directed the all female Much Ado and she was Hero. I stood beaming in the pit and afterwards got to join the press night shenanigans.
Many years later and again I just stood in that magical space. This time I had three friends on that stage. Min was up there Bottoming away, and two Factory friends were there alongside her and I stood in the wooden O with Lou and felt all the connection to the material and the spirit of that place.
British summertime, and the seasons change their wonted liveries. It was dumping rain on us in the pit and we mostly didn’t care cos of all the warmth radiating from that stage. We stood at the back where we could lean and not get loudly attacked mid show by one of those … helpful and active ushers. We let the rain and the language wash over us. Wonderful use of verse, freedom and mischief, jokes. I’m not gonna write a blog that feels like a review cos that’s not my gig, but I’m gonna write a blog that tells you I was happy there despite the weather. I haven’t seen Michelle Terry since she was appointed Artistic Director. What could have been a very difficult appointment after the tricky departure of Emma Rice has been converted to a joyful reclamation of the actor manager tradition. She played Puck and was the embodiment of naughty mischief. Physically and magically at one with that playing space, she was blending things ancient with things modern, things childish with things very grown up.
Being open to the sky is a huge part of the joy of The Globe. It’s another possibility of chaos – a chance for the gods to get involved. Actors can’t control the thunder, the sun coming out from clouds, the sudden showers… but if they can respond in the moment, that’s when the whole house comes together into one true moment of LIVE. This afternoon it was a pigeon that brought a joyful shout from the house. It flapped onto the stage and was incorporated by all on stage just as Bottom was singing about birds. We watchers all knew this was impossible to recreate and enjoyed the perfection of the actors and the animals playing together honestly. “Never work with children or animals,” say those actors who are incapable of being alive on stage. “Children and animals are joyful gifts if you can respond to them honestly without losing your thread,” say I, and if I was writing that in a manifesto I’d phrase it much more neatly. “Be alive to the chaos and the chaos will be alive to you”? “The things you can’t control usually prove to you how bad your clever plans are”? Who knows but there’s much in it. I love the ephemeral, the moment, the edge. And I love seeing people respond without losing it. Once I did a show when a huge weight fell to the floor just off stage. The two actors on stage at the time were pretending to be in a shitty old hotel. It could have been a gift. Neither of them stopped to acknowledge it, so the whole audience got lost in it instead. If they had stopped, looked, incorporated, continued the house would have come with them, wondered if it was some sort of effect, and stayed with the story. As was the audience were in the bar afterwards saying “what was that bang, it totally threw me off the scene.” Conversely a small child picking a fight with Hamlet during his rogue and peasant slave speech was a joyful thing when Hamlet let the child win for a moment – “Who calls me villain?” “I DO! VILLAIN!” “Breaks my pate across?” … *waits, encourages, gets punched* He brought it back and people were asking him after “did you know that kid? That was great.” It’s what you do with the unexpected. Thinking over the years – and yeah weirdly I did a lot more acting before I started this blog (?) some joyful live incorporated moments that come to mind involve: a bat in a theatre, a screaming toddler in a marquee, a little frog, a string of baby partridges and their mother, a lamb called Tutu… If I really thought about it I’d remember hundreds more but what held them all together was an incorporation and a mystical sense of timing. Animals KNOW. “It was the spirit of Michael Boyd, that pigeon” said one… It was certainly something magical. That building is built with magic in its bones. If you don’t believe that, seek out the correspondence between Sam Wanamaker and Theo Crosby the architect. It’s on a fucking leyline nexus.
Dream is only on for two more days and it’s sold out. Doesn’t matter. Maccers just started and I bet it’s fab. AGAIN I have multiple friends involved. I was there on press night but I was at work. I had to go and be charming and do sonnets to a huge group of women bankruptcy lawyers instead of watching it…
AlBarclay 