AlBarclay

Third Othello.

We’ve all invented time anyway. But we almost got it in under three hours including the interval. Tim came to the pub afterwards which means he didn’t want to strangle us all.

Time bends in live theatre when you’re performing. And it hugely changes through the run.

First night. You are waiting for your cue for three or four millennia, then the lines before your cue come up. You enter. You exit. Lines? Did they? They certainly might have. Nobody died. Was I wearing the right clothes?

Third show? Space starting to happen. These things we say, there’s time within them starting to open up. We have said them loads but we’ve kept them fresh. We need to know more about it all now. There’s space starting to happen.

I played a clean show tonight which I needed. Details might have shifted in terms of where I placed myself, but vocally a clean line and heard, singing on point, didn’t feel like a dick. Didn’t throw lots of plans at myself either thankfully. It’s typical that I got gloves yesterday and used them twice, they’re just noise but Annie observed positively this evening that my journey has been *despite* my intellect. That’s a clear observation. It’s not really that helpful for actors to be left brain clever. I’ve gone towards my body as best I can, with the help of the likes of Wendy Allnutt and now just glorious Lou.

Scott said in the dressing room that his favourite moment tonight was when as Lodovico I walked through a narrow piece of stage where Jono, holding two swords, was so actively trying to get one of them into his scabbard that he had no fucking clue that the brother of the pope was an inch away from the other naked blade. Lodovico saw a sword pointed at him. My reaction was entirely honest, small but truthful. Cost about half a second and did the Tim thing of truth. 100% Factory, plus helped catalyse conversations with other company members about how we all go after “the truth” and what that means. It’s a fascinating game Tim gets us to play. Maybe the game noise is designed to flood the left brain. Right brain dominant players like Annie have an immediate advantage if they trust they can play. Annie reminds me so hard of Maz, one of the Factory people I’m happiest to play with. I hope our conversation tonight opens a similar freedom to the one I am so familiar with from Maz.

I wanna post pictures but I’m being careful. I’ll try and talk to the company about this but I’m not sure if I want them to know about this blog generally… Kester knew I was blogging on the Olympics and it didn’t cause ructions but I guess I’m even more cagey cos acting has always been my primary …

This is the second time in twenty years that I’ve met Georgie. She’s living in Stratford and the first time was when I got home off my face last week. It’s not her fault, it’s the association. I knew I didn’t want to do it again.

This evening we spent time with one another without overaugmenting chemically. She is a mother and it looks like she’s made an actor with one of her daughters. The daughter doesn’t want or need any advice from the old lag. Still, Georgie is making sure I’m visible to the daughter. It’s smart. Me and my lot, we are the kids who ended up doing the drama. Very few of us were the drama kids, excusing the memory of our dear Factory founder Alex. Alex and I were the only two people recalled for my Guildhall first round on the morning I was there. He knew a lot of the people in that room, and they knew him. I knew nobody. Bless Wendy, my movement teacher and first round panelist, who made me her special project for three years…

I’ve been on a campaign for Wendy since I’ve been in Stratford. She is an actress who taught movement, and her teachings are some of the deepest I’ve known. Her work came out of Trish Arnold and Litz Pisk, and she understood my bodybrain connection issues. Her husband was Colin McCormack, he was often around at our drama school shows, just as a support to Wendy but also as a training actor he was someone I could watch doing things at the level I’m at now. He was literally the first actor with a portrait photo put up in The Dirty Duck. He was part of why there is an “actors bar” there.

Hence my campaign. Nobody wants to take responsibility for the fact that his portrait has been randomly removed. There are pictures of emptyheads I love. But where the fuck is Colin? He died very suddenly. Wendy quite rightly wants her husband’s original picture, signed, to go back up. Nobody wants to take responsibility for taking it down, I have no idea where it might have been and only remember him as an older gent, maybe my age.

Wendy Allnutt quite literally changed my life. She was the decision maker for first round at Guildhall. She saw a project – “when I first met you, you were a floating head.” Yep. I was The Mekon. Wendy and Guildhall, now Lou… My dear friend Helen… Head to heart. I’m grounded now and good at my job. When the two recalls were both called “Alex” for my first round audition at Guildhall, I honestly wondered if they couldn’t remember which one of us was me and which was Hassell. I’m glad I went to the pub with Hassell afterwards. I could never have imagined how we would share friends. He’s off into another of his crazy trajectories…

I’ve been trying to get Midjourney to draw the mekon. It is spectacularly crap at it. It WILL NOT be disproportionate. Here’s the prompt for this image. I was getting fed up:

Tiny body, big head. Tiny body big head. Tiny body big head. Come on midjourney, I’m asking for art here and I know you can do it. The Mekon has a tiny tiny body, he floats on a disc because he is entirely brain. That’s why he has a huge head compared to his body. You keep making the body match the head. Stop it. It is a completely disproportionately tiny atrophied body. The Mekon with a tiny tiny body. 2% body, 98% head. DO NOT MAKE THIS BODY PROPORTIONATE!!!! This creature is pretty much completely head. Drawn by Frank Hampson. Cartoon panels. The Mekon sits with tiny tiny legs crossed on his floating disc. The Mekon has a head so much much larger than his body. His body is out of proportion tiny. His head is out of proportion huge. His head is so much larger than his body it’s almost like he’s just a head. He looks confident and dangerous because he knows he will defeat Dan Dare. Please forget the need to be proportional. The mekon is supposed to have an atrophied body. –

These are the best I could get. Show this to anyone with a brain who thinks Ai is the future. Nah. It’s just a dumb tool.

Good lord. Show number two.

I’ve had some gloves added, and also a purse for letters. We are trying to be non literal with letters so I was a bit discombobulated when I was given a container for them. “I’m not gonna be taking any letters out of this,” I found myself saying. Later “You don’t like the purse!” “No it’s fine, I’m just not sure if it’s in the world I’m in where letters are transferred instantly. But that’s a Tim thing.”

Still, then I got some gloves. “Which side is Jethro wearing his gloves?” Ok I’ll have gloves in my belt fine. Jethro has them and my guy is miles posher than his guy this time. So I’m gonna use the gloves, I am thinking as I wander over to my entrance sans sword. “I’ve been travelling,” I think. “I might be wearing my gloves if I’ve just arrived,” I think. My costume change has been delayed because of new staging, I’m already behind time compared to previous times. I’m thinking there’s loads of time still. “Ah fuck, I didn’t put my sword in the scabbard,” I find myself thinking, with one glove on, about exactly one minute before my entrance. “There’s at least five minutes until I go on,” thought my evil previous shows brain, remembering the long wait last night. “I can go get my sword.” So off I went, glove still attached, to get it from the other side of the huge auditorium.

I only realised my mistake when I heard lines right by my entrance. I fucking sprinted back without sprinting. “Lodovico!” I hear Will say with unusually heavy push. “and look your wife is with him” and I’m on the bang, coming through the audience, looking happy as you like, no sword, glove on, talking. “Save you worthy general”. I hit the light and know that Tim and the people on stage know something unusual happened, but only a touch of pace was lost. I then instinctively go into a fucking great big flourish which is entirely character appropriate and designed to stop TC from guillotining me and then excoriating my face from all existing portraits. Do I pull it off? I’m Al Barclay. More to the point I’m well supported. Juliet did the deepest curtsey in the history of curtseys, making herself interesting to look at for the second I needed. Thank God we are an ensemble. I ask myself how I can get so thrown off by a pair of gloves and a purse, but I’m telling a story about someone who gets more thrown off by a handkerchief.

But yeah, career first nearly late entrance. I was discombobulated after. Did some unnecessary walks on stage with all the adrenaline, was trying to make up for the near drop with energy spam as is my way so lost some specifics but also craft caused me to drop into my weight and ground. Didn’t send me up into the stratosphere. I’ve really grounded in my work since those early days when my Vata Libra Air sent me flying.

I made some Pitta offers I wanted to make with the gloves – near strangling Iago myself until I stepped on “oh a dagger, perhaps I’m better off going home”…. it’s better to propose such things now when Tim is here to either say yes nothing or you’re a twat, all of which have deeper and deeper nuance the further you go towards knowing he wants you to be the best version of yourself.

Vocally solved last night’s issues. I was thoroughly warmed up and maintained it through the whole show. That’s what I needed to do last night. I wasn’t pushing, I was the voice of status: “Hi, my brother’s the pope. I’m only here in this shithole because I wanted to see my cousin.”

Much more experimentation. Much more joy. Free ensemble. We’ve only just begun and Colin counted it there are at least 8 Factory people and I count 9 cos Juliet came and played for early shows and she’s always gonna have a space. Ten with Jox who was 100% Odyssey Squad and I personally pimped him into some really powerful improv positions, knowing his strengths and calling him a friend. This is a really delightful company. We are now doing internationally recognised Shakespeare, as is correct. We are in charge of it and it is a fine show. It looks so good. Judith and vast team, Paule… everyone heading up the visuals have nailed it, and then Donato and Jox with the sounds… If I start trying to name people I’ll be here until sunset.

I’m gonna go email the ticket people tomorrow so now is a good time if you’ve got a specific time you want to come. I’ll do it all tomorrow but I can’t do comps and would prefer it if you just book and save me the bollocks. But those of you already in a conversation, I think things can be done.

I’m home.

My debut performance at the RSC.

Spike the movement director sat next to Stephen Fry – he directed me in my first ever job in the industry. He was in the house tonight. I’m happy he’s still supporting Tim. I enjoyed that Twelfth Night, at The Globe. I was at the front of the pit while a load of people I’d been running alongside played Twelfth Night, with him as Malvolio.

Tonight I played Lodovico and fuck me was I nervous? I thought I had learned to deal with that shit long ago. Turns out full house at the RSC still can put the shits up me, not to the extent of shakyleg disease, that one is thankfully long gone. But bad breathing, vocal push… I wasn’t totally relaxed out there despite being surrounded by friends and in a safe place. Thankfully I know I wasn’t alone as nobody here is the kid that pretends to do no work and does all the work. We all work hard and then we admit it when we feel like we haven’t worked hard enough. I was pushing on my first entrance.

It does help me inform a character arc for Lodovico, because as I relaxed into my body and breath I realised that Lodo would be similar. He’s come from the rarefied world of high society Venice, into lawless Cyprus. It takes him by surprise, he doesn’t want to spent time in it and he’s damned if he’s going to to die there. So he arbitrates governance, secures future stability and gets the fuck out as quickly as he can. The last two lines of the play I’m just saying “I’m going home immediately so I can tell people what’s happened. BYE!”

But yeah I was nervous. I’m only human. This company exists in the imagination of most actors as an aspirational company. I want my debut to be good. Nerves are the opposite of helping, but perhaps sadly inevitable. Now we’ve done that first fucker we can breathe.

Only one show tomorrow and now the real work can begin because we know what it is and how it lands.

I haven’t been paying as much attention as I might have to when our first public show happens but it turns out it’s tomorrow night. I’ve been trusting the process, and I still do. We did my talky bits this morning under the lights at last. We got to the end of the show. You’ll be able to come and see it from tomorrow. Good lord.

Stage Management Cake Day. The end of the tech. I’ve still got a while to organise press night cards although some people might do them for the opening. It’s such a huge number of people to write cards to, but as expected we’ve come together and got to know each other better in Stratford now, since there’s not much else to do.

It was a party tonight at The Other Place and it’s telling how different I felt about it compared to the last press night I was at round here. It was for The New Real, which might explain things as I haven’t been able to see it yet and barely know the cast. I’ll catch it in October. David Edgar’s Pentecost directed by Peter Clough at Guildhall is still a standout piece of theatre in my memory, and now I’ve got a passing acquaintance with the writer as he’s been very much about in London and here. His works always have a political bent and often make dry reading on the page, but they ping out with good actors and directing. I’d like to see his latest. But instead I showed up at the press night briefly.

I didn’t show up in sexy clothes and stand around looking to be witnessed. I hid in a corner and ate free sausages with my coat and scarf still on, passed the time with a couple of actors and then picked up my mail and did a french exit. Too much to think about with the company I’m part of, even though we have a fortnight of previews and I’m pretty sure things are gonna change a lot from where we are now. This show will still be breathing hopefully for the whole run, even once we lose Tim back into Canada. He’s running a whole great big damn theatre there. We’ve been lucky to have him as long as we have, but we’ve hopefully got him with us for a few more weeks, to keep a careful gubernatorial hand on the good ship Othello.

Tech rolls on. There’s a lot of it. Considering it is a very clean and stark telling of this sad tale, there is a lot of technical stuff to work through. A huge amount. The engine of theatre… This stuff has such history, flying in huge things, trapdoors, massive lights. Sometimes I’ll be exiting down a narrow track with drops into the audience on both sides and a bright light shining right into my eyes, and I have to exit like a normal person walking instead of someone who is concerned they might stack it into the audience and look like a twit.

I’ve finally popped my cherry on the big old stage, teching the first few bits of Lodo. We will finish tomorrow. Tech is a friendly time to experiment when nobody is really thinking about you. Experimentation with physicality and voice. I’m still enjoying the discovery process with my boy. He gives a fuck, Lodovico. And he’s very very high status. How do I settle into this extremely handsome and commanding human being? Well, obviously it’s just who I’ve always been etc etc.

Today has been largely about working out where I need my costume changes, what my show track will be, where my hangers need to be, when I have time down and when I need to be alert. We’ve all been in shows where someone has missed a cue. The key is to never be that someone. It’s not that much to ask but right now it’s bombardment. People who are sure on their words can still momentarily lose the plot when suddenly they’re in a blinding light looking at something that isn’t the person they’ve been talking to in rehearsal. I’m sure all of us have done movies and TV where you only really get one shot and you don’t have all this rehearsal time. We dress rehearse tomorrow, but there are so many previews to come. It’s remarkable. So many previews, and a surprisingly short run.

I’m loving this process, drinking it in. In the corridors I walk past signatures of old friends and acquaintances – there are clusters of names associated with old shows. Some make me curious as they have been painted over. Others make me smile. There’s this long old history of actors doing acting in the place. I’m happy to play my part.

After tech today a few of us grabbed a pint in the duck to decompress. Then I cooked myself dinner and somehow it is really late and I guess I’m going to have to get used to these days that start in the afternoon and end at night. Hey diddly dee. I’m off to bed. These sheets are wonderful.

I got myself into the RST on a speculative tech call – I figured I might not be needed yet but my costume is ready for Lodovico. I wanted to try it out. The fitting in London had been on a sweltering day and I almost passed out. There’s a lot of material. I want to be comfortable in it, but also learn what it gives for free.

It gives so much for free. I would post a picture but intellectual property is important with big companies. I don’t want to blow it before it is officially released even if I’m just a little cog in this machine.

Huge breeches. Beautiful fitting jerkin. A custom made sword belt. I stuck my sword into it, walked around back stage a bit. “I’ll put my lenses in,” thought I. “This lift likely leads to the dressing rooms.”

“It’s just through this door I think.” *click*

The theatre is big and closed to the public today. And suddenly I’m in the locked up public area and the door to the staff section is locked behind me and needs a fob which I haven’t got with me. I’m on my own in this incredible costume with a sword. All the lights are off.

For about twenty minutes I stalked the halls of the RST, a Jacobean ghost. It felt like hours. I considered panicking but figured it was better to just explore. I pressed my nose against glass doors, rattled handles. I likely set off many alarms. Someone would have been watching me at security, chuckling at the eejit actor. I contemplated unbolting a huge wooden door and then running round outside to stage door, but the rain is heavy tonight and I knew that would set off an alarm. It’s one thing to get lost, it’s quite another to disrupt the tech. Up and down in lifts. Finally I found a door propped open leading to the back end of running wardrobe and a familiar staircase and behold! My dressing room. I put my eyes in, and nobody had missed me at tech, and my heartbeat went back to normal.

Now I’m sitting stage right. I’ve been singing “THOO” in a little clump whilst Annie picks up a hankie. Now Sam and I are just chilling out. I won’t be needed again but I’m here in case they go back on it. Tomorrow will be Lodovico tech time, so I can just enjoy listening to other people working for a bit. I love this lot. This is a glorious gig.

Ok guys so… I bought these expensive sheets from The White Company but I was on the phone to Lou at the time and she was quite rightly telling me they were too expensive so I kinda pretended I hadn’t bought them. But the thing is, I write this daily blog and she’ll read it. I’m gonna be really careful not to spill the beans. I’ll need your help. Let’s all pretend that I didn’t spend £110 on these silky smooth 400 wotsit cotton sheets and duvet covers that I am not about to writhe around on. Ok? We got this, right? “Al didn’t buy the sheets.” That’s your line. Don’t put the emphasis on the word “buy”, it’ll make it clear you’re lying. What else would I have done with them? It makes them into a thing. Avoid “the” as well. That’ll just sound weird, like there’s a separate entity called “sheets” that we all ought to know about. Obviously avoid “Al”. I’m not pretending some mysterious benefactor bought them. Avoid “didn’t” too. An obvious lie. “sheets”… that’s your friend if you really have to emphasise a word. It’s at the end of the line so it must be the most important word. “Al didn’t buy the sheets.”

Those of us who are mostly or all in the second half got an unexpected break suddenly. I thought I’d be rehearsing until ten tonight but no, just until half five. That’s when I got the text saying I didn’t need to come back in. “Excellent news,” I thought. I shall do some spring cleaning and then cook my steak.

I’ve done all the washing up. I’ve put the laundry in, although I have no idea how I might be able to hang it up. And then I went to The White Company and NO NO NO I um then I didn’t buy these incredibly soft embracing sheets that are enveloping my little tootsies as I share this with you. Definitely not. I’m lying on the ordinary plastic sheets I’ve slept on for a week.

These grey things were on the bed when I arrived. They are largely polyester. I’ve slept on them since I arrived in Stratford and this morning I experienced my waking olfactory senses before my visual, my hearing, even my touch. The sheets smelt like an unfamiliar creature, like I was sleeping inside something ‘other’. It wasn’t even a familiar comforting ‘me’ smell. It was pungent. Eloquent. Nuanced. It had a name.

So I ordered some reasonably priced sheets on Amazon. And then I got released from rehearsal early and I didn’t go to The White Company and spend £110 on these lovely sheets for just one night of smell free sleeping.

I’ll put the quilt on them. I’m gonna cook a lovely dinner for myself hours before I thought I would be able to. Then I’ll have a hot scrub. And then I’ll take myself off to my mad dreams in an odour free hug from these brand new sheets I absolutely didn’t blow money on.

Lou is totally right. I could have got sheets from ASDA that were just as good for a fraction of the price. I just needed to be less of a lazy git and drive there.

So I um I bought some White Company sheets on Vinted, right? Yeah that’s what I did, they’re coming tomorrow or something and then that’ll explain why the buttons say White Company.

Oh fuck it.

I spent £110 on these lovely 400 wotsit cotton sheets. I did it. I’m a profligate. And I’ll sleep well tonight. mmmmm

A day off in Stratford. What is this town?

There’s a little weekend market just outside my door. Lots of stalls and they’ve been selling their things for decades, some of them. Catching the tourist crowds come down to the river. Selling the things they’ve worked out might get bought. But it was cold this afternoon and dark. I was wandering by as they were packing up and “at least we didn’t get wet” was the general consensus. But, winter is here whether we like it or not.

I went for pub lunch with Claire and her mum and dad. My lack of surviving parents always makes me curious about the parents of others. I love Claire’s mum and dad and they bought me lunch so I must be doing something right. We went to The Garrick. We sat just by a gargantuan bust of Shakespeare. Suddenly we are in the machine. Willy is everywhere. I wonder who supplied all these businesses with their Shakespeare paraphernalia.

Lovely roast beef, and a chilled evening and we aren’t even in until 1 tomorrow as they are gradually weaning us into our late night schedule to come. I went to Dirty Duck and caught a moment with some of the cast. Good people. Now it is early by my standards to be horizontal. But I’m thinking I’ll put my head down and have more of the mad dreams I’ve been encountering. I might be on Waterside with heavy footfall, but nothing compares to the big old road forever shouting at me in London.

I’ll be happy here I think. Old ground, old words. Only six or seven generations, but it still feels a long time ago when you consider how the world has changed. He would be horrified at the monstrous commercial vomit that has taken place in his name, but I like to think that this guy who wrote for his mates might have made sense of me. One of his mates definitely had my voice regarding death – I still forget how many people aren’t as easy with the normality of it. If we aren’t dead yet it’s just luck.

The less said about yesterday’s attempt, the better. I’ve rarely found myself so astonishingly incapable as I was when I tried to make that blog. Oddly I remember trying. I had just got in the door, unfamiliarly drunk after an evening with an old friend. We had eaten well, but I had drunk better. As a practical thing, I had put two fingers in and emptied myself. Sleeping on that would have been worse than getting it out, and today it was technical rehearsal all day. Thank the lord I’m only really in the second half. But I needed every inch of sleep I could get and I knew it.

Into the theatre.

With my pass I can get in through all the doors at the RST. It’s lovely, but it’s still a maze to me. My dressing room is shared with Scott, up on the second floor, overlooking the river avon. Chloe is the unfortunate soul tasked with looking after us. There’s daily laundry, so none of that wearing wet clothes malarkey, except perhaps on two show days. My first half is a departure from what I’m used to. I’m dressed up in Jacobean costume just because I sing on stage for a few moments. Then I go sit in a box stage right, surrounded by an array of microphones and amusing singers. For a good chunk I’m the only actor in there, occasionally droning into a mic and trusting that the sound guys are making it all sound like a human voice. We do a midnight song and then some others join and we do a sea song. Currently that’s as far as we’ve got in tech, but I’m beginning to make sense of the fact that, for the first half of proceedings, I’m a musician. Quite a pleasant thing to experience. As you know I like to experiment with different aspects of craft.

The theatre interior will grow to familiarity over time. Right now it is new but energetically it is absolutely howling with currents. This town has played host to so many tellings of so many remarkable tales, channeled with joy and craft and pain through a wide range of humans. Names of friends are written on the walls. Little pictures and memories from other shows that have passed through. So much history here in this sleepy riverside town.

I guess I needed to get that boozyness out of my system for good last night. It was great to see an old friend, someone I haven’t seen for perhaps twenty years. But good lord.

Day off tomorrow and I’m glad of it. Time to gather myself together again before we open. Next week we will get to the bit when I come on stage and do words. That’s quite a thing to look forward to in that building with the team, these lights. It’s exciting.