This morning we all got shown the model box. “We are looking at this psychologically.” Suggestions of an era, but largely the laser will be focusing on people, interactions… that observation that Shakespeare absolutely nails – a theatre writer that works his way step by step through complicated but entirely human thought patterns. We are working our way through them as well, as a company. We are learning the thought patterns together, we are building an ensemble that is already halfway there. We are trying to make a safe room to fail and to succeed without attributing value to either endeavour.
God damn it is fine to be in a rehearsal room again. It would have been nice to have gotten a job like this earlier in this long career, sure. The company has profile that even the most willful jerk can’t throw in the bin. Perhaps some doors would have opened as a result, some earlier confidence would have been gained to disarm the jerks. I remember some meetings early in my career – even interviews at drama schools. “What will you be doing in twenty years?” “Working as an actor.” “What if that doesn’t work out?” “Trying to work as an actor.” “There are lots of other things.” “I don’t think you understand how determined I am.” “hmm we shall see ” “Yes. You will.”
This is just one job, sure. The actor brain in me is already thinking “How do I ensure momentum?” This is a nice job, but after Bright Young Things the floor opened up and swallowed me whole, and I can’t allow that to happen again. I’ve chased this vocation long. I’ll be running until I can’t run anymore. But a few more opportunities would have been an incredible thing. Maybe my showcases at Guildhall didn’t cut it, maybe I needed to get honed in the fires of longing for a meeting, any meeting, and making/finding work for myself to improve my tool use while I waited and hoped and watched and hoped and participated and hoped. I used to write long mawkish earnest letters, but nothing ever came of them so I was disheartened. Now I show my belly here from time to time, and worry that by showing the cracks I’m taking risks. As if I have to be better than real better than real better than real, where the job is actually to be a person, to be flawed, to be honest, to be human. I care about this work. I fired myself into this work and my friends and my passion kept me in it.
This is one job, until November. Then who knows? I’m frightened my wonderful agent will retire soon, and her good associates keep on getting headhunted at the moment which is extremely disconcerting. But I feel held and understood, seen and supported. That’s a lot to get – it’s what you should get – from a relationship with an agent. Even that took decades to find and she’s 74 now.
The psychology of the piece… Yesss. A big old cast and they’re all lovely. I’m lapping this up and looking forward to the day every day. I’m at home. From time to time I find myself tearing up a bit cos I can’t believe this is happening, and not just for me, I’m surrounded by fellow soldiers and we have all been seeking the bubble reputation e’en in the cannon’s mouth. Only a few days in. A long journey to come. But thank fuck for this job. I love the event work, and it has made my life possible, but this is the counterpoint – this is what it all feeds. And maybe it’s true what I tell myself, that we need the struggle to properly value the moments when it bears some fruit. I’m definitely gonna value this.
AlBarclay 