Breaking the Tape

And so, here we are. Another show gone; the theatre dark again. Whilst Ladykillers went out with a huge emotional bang, for me Chariots of Fire ended with more of a limp over the finishing line. The feeling of disappointment was somewhat palpable: we could not escape the audience asking us why it was finishing early and there was a taste of bitterness in the air.

Personally, I felt surprisingly little on Saturday, which could not contrast more with our last closing night. There is virtually nothing I will miss about the show, and it is actually a relief to know I won’t be watching it again. Already the lines and finer plot points are melting from my mind, as if I’m waking up from a long dream.

The house was almost full for both shows on Saturday. I was working on bar, but sneaked into the back of the stalls at the end to watch the curtain call. I clapped for the members of the company who had been friendly in our seven months together, especially for wonderful Nickolas, who stripped off his academic robes and joined in with the final laps around the track! The whole audience were on their feet, even, touchingly, a severely disabled girl who was determined to show her support for the show. It really did inspire many people, which is great to know, although it was never my cup of tea.

At the end, our team would disband once again, but still I felt very little. For me, the worst had already happened. Some of my dearest friends had already left. My emotions had been drained just a few nights previously when the incomparable Klara had her last night. I cried on the street at the bus stop with her (she has gone to Chile for at least five months) and so nothing on Saturday could rival that strength of feeling.

For comparions sake: our team on the last day (we got the same shot last time)

Myles, Maria and I went down to visit Nickolas in his dressing room afterwards to say our own goodbyes. He is a very unique person; quite the most immediately open and friendly actor I’ve worked with. He is honest, generous and funny and he is without doubt the thing I shall miss most about the show. He tells us he will include Myles in his autobiography, which, if true, would be staggeringly brilliant.

Feeling deflated, and a little angry with the world, I wasn’t in the mood for the partying we had planned for afterwards. I couldn’t stop thinking about the ending of our last show, and the stupid contrast in the way everything felt. Then, I was carried on a tidal wave of emotions; I wanted to be involved in every moment of the day, soaking it all in. I wanted to run down to see the cast afterwards and find out if we could attend their party. This time, I didn’t even want to.

However, this was our closing night and so a collective decision was made to block out all the bad things and to focus on having a good time. So, as large glasses of wine and double measures of spirits were ordered in a packed bar full of people we knew, with music blasting out, I loosened up. I requested Lulu (naturally), ignored some people and focused on others and actually began to have fun. The bar we were in learnt it was our closing night and duly played the Vangelis music, dear oh dear.

 And then, a slightly strange turn of events occurred when my friend nudged me and gestured over to the bar. There, with a few friends was Stephen, who had been one of the principal actors in The Ladykillers! I hadn’t seen him since that last day and had even missed him at the end of that. It was so absurd that he should turn up all these months later when we were celebrating the closure of the subsequent show, and so incredibly amazing to see him! Being at this stage softened and merried by rose, I approached him without qualms. Being in a similar state, he was equally glad to see me, it seemed, and we hugged like old friends, chatting for ages and catching up. He introduced me to his friends and called me ‘Rach’ like he always used to.  It was all utterly surreal and wonderful.

Later, Maria and I saw him again and she asked him to recite one of our favourite lines from the play he used to say. Poor guy had some issues remembering what on earth we were talking about but we cajoled him into performing in the end. We discussed going onto the same club afterwards but in the end went separate ways. I was amazed at the random coincidence of him turning up on the last night of Chariots, thrilled to have seen him and happy in the knowledge that I have spoken to nearly all of that cast since the show closed. I still do miss them/it very much. It was even stranger a coincidence seeing as an envelope for Peter had arrived at stage door that same day (first time in months – someone really missed the boat!) and we had post there for Marcus, another company member too. It was like being in a time warp!

After that, the night mirrored our last closing night perfectly, in that we moved from the same bar we’d been in before to the same nightclub, danced there til it closed and queued in a nearby McDonalds for breakfast food (only tastes good in that specific set of circumstances). I got home in the early hours of the morning and slept immediately. When I woke, I felt a pure and satisfying sense of closure (and a very sore head).

Anyway, it was impossible to feel too sad about leaving the Gielgud itself because I knew I’d be back there on Monday. I have worked two afternoons on stage door so far, which have been unlike anything I’ve done before because the ‘get out’ has been happening. This, for those who don’t know, means exactly what it sounds like it means: lots of blokes come in to rip out the set, and put it in a truck, and dressing rooms, wardrobe etc are all cleared out. It’s been busy, but has gone well so everyone’s been in a good mood and the box has felt like an island of calm in amongst all the passing craziness as people run in and out of the building lugging various bits of equipment.  One of the stage managers gave me a serving of Quality Streets on a plate and Nicko popped by to collect the rest of his things, to wish me ‘happy Easter’ and to give me a crème egg(!) Marcus also came in to collect his post so chatted to him for a while: another old LK face from ‘back in the day’.

It has been strange finishing work by 6.30pm and locking up by myself. Today, it was literally by myself: I was the last one left and felt a mixture of mild terror and excitement at the responsibility bestowed upon me! It was very weird being the only person in the whole building and responsible for locking it up safely for the night. With our first evening off on Monday, we went to the theatre (I know) to see ‘Privates on Parade’. It was unlike anything I’ve seen and very well done. Myles knew the understudy who was playing that night so we went for a drink with her afterwards. Tonight, I have simply enjoyed a whole evening to myself in the flat, cooking dinner at a sensible hour and watching DVDs and the first episode of Ben’s Death in Paradise. Strange having a vested interest in the programme and knowing so much about it. Funny to think I was sent messages from that set and have been shown photos of the crew there on their breaks.

Thursday is my birthday and I’m going out tomorrow to celebrate. It’ll be quite nice having the whole evening for a change: we can start as soon as I put the padlock on the stage door! I then have a long weekend in Bristol to look forward to. I’m told I should be ‘very excited’ about my birthday present! Man of mystery. I shall turn 26 which is officially closer to 30 than 20, but will do my best to remain unconcerned, do what I enjoy and hope that the year ahead will be a happy one.

2012 in the world of me.

Memorable books I read:
Life of Pi. The Road Home.

A memorable film I saw:
In The Loop

A song I sung to myself with appropriate lyrics:

I can't win, I can't reign
I will never win this game
Without you, without you
I am lost, I am vain,
I will never be the same
Without you, without you

I won't run, I won't fly
I will never make it by
Without you, without you
I can't rest, I can't fight
All I need is you and I,
Without you, without you

Oh oh oh!
You! You! You!
Without...
You! You! You!
Without...you

Can't erase, so I'll take blame
But I can't accept that we're estranged
Without you, without you
I can't quit now, this can't be right
I can't take one more sleepless night
Without you, without you

I won't soar, I won't climb
If you're not here, I'm paralyzed
Without you, without you
I can't look, I'm so blind
I lost my heart, I lost my mind
Without you, without you

Oh oh oh!
You! You! You!
Without...
You! You! You!
Without...you

I am lost, I am vain,
I will never be the same
Without you, without you
Without...you

A memorable and defining moment:

 Tee hee.

Plays I saw:
The Ladykillers, The Sunshine Boys, Noises Off, Blood Brothers, Chariots of Fire, Goodnight Mr Tom, The Wizard of Oz, We Will Rock You, The Kings Speech, that one at the Arts Theatre I can't remember the name of, Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, The Bodyguard

People I met whom I admire:
Stephen Fry, Robbie Coltrane

Holidays I took:
Lithuania, Dartmoor, Serbia/Montenegro, Sweden

Random low points:
15^th April

Random high points:
14^th April: last day of Ladykillers. And actually the whole of the year up until that point. Walking to work with Peter. Seeing Ben and James subsequent to us closing. Ab Fab party. Miming ‘Phantom of the Opera’ at the back of the Grand Circle there with Kieron, mirroring the actors on stage. Seeing QI, Would I Lie to You and Chain Reaction being recorded. Spotting filming in Soho and attending a lecture at the Royal Institute (perhaps a ‘crazy’ moment!)Trips eg Madame Tussauds, roller disco and Winter Wonderland. DVD ‘B.J.’ nights with the gang. The glamours of the Chariots of Fire press night. Watching the Olympic Opening ceremony in Victoria Park, with the fireworks and helicopters in real life just over the trees. Seeing the flame being carried by Eddy and Patsy, and also past our theatre, with Vangelis on a podium! Having to babysit the latter afterwards. The day we met Lulu. Viv moving to London. Lunching in an abandoned village on a hilltop overlooking the bay in Montenegro. Watching sun rise over the frozen lake in Sweden.

Greatest achievement:
Getting a piece of writing shortlisted to the final 8 of a competition run by Virago publishers.

Proudest moment:
Attending Joseph’s first birthday party. Being missed by various important people. Winning a hamper at the Gielgud Christmas Quiz!

Craziest moments:
Supping drinks at the ‘after-party’ of the RI lecture. Partying with Stephen Fry at the press night. Relaying messages and keeping secrets for celebrities. Helping Lulu tweet. Drinking champagne and gossiping backstage at Nicko Grace’s birthday party. Having royalty at our Christmas do. Wearing an Olympic Gold medal. Writing to Ian McEwan and Hugh Grant.

A first:
Becoming a Godmother. Driving a car (sort of). Tasting a cigarette. Stage door keeping.

A last:
Impossible to say any more.

A defining food:
Focaccia bread!

A Valediction Forbidding Mourning

Crawling out of the dusty woodwork as the turning of another new year is a good excuse to get writing. The few months since I last wrote have chugged along with no great dramas, with nothing much to report really. Chariots still ran. Usual front of house craziness happened. A few fun events were attended but in general it’s all been quite quiet. I have been trying to bust out of the theatre and almost managed it on a couple of occasions, but it didn’t work out. My target for leaving by Christmas got blown well out of the window but there was the sad glimmer of the glamorous temptation of Helen Mirren in February. Then, just before Christmas, we were hit with the news that after all ‘that’, this show was to close early, shortly after the new year.

I don’t know what lies ahead at the moment. I’ve been saved slightly by the offer of some stage door shifts in the upcoming few weeks but this really should be my catalyst to finally move on in the hope of finding that ‘proper job’, or at least the first step towards it. I cannot afford to stay in London without any income to support that search though, so went through a very rough few days after hearing the news, thinking I’d be so suddenly forced to move away. As it is, I may be able to hold out now til the end of January, and so maybe therefore Helen Mirren. I know I need to leave the theatre, but there’s no point in doing that unless I have something to go to; at least as it stands I have a job of some description.

So, the future looks a little uncertain at the moment, but, being a new year blog, I want to use the opportunity to look back. Last year, I did a roundup of 2011 and want to do the same again now. I’ll also post a summative account using exactly the same prompts as I did a year ago, collecting some of the high- and low- lights!

Once again, I see 2012 as being a year of two distinct parts. They can be separated almost to the hour, and the line between them is the last day of The Ladykillers. It’s strange how at the time I even knew just how momentous that occasion would be. Before was happiness, security, friendship, a job I loved, glamour and laughs. Afterwards was the unknown. I wrote a lot about it at the time, and so won’t repeat my feelings in depth here, but suffice to say things have never been quite the same since. I muddled through, worked at Her Majesty’s and learnt what the real pull of the Gielgud was. We counted the days til our return for Chariots, and the play certainly came with its fair share of amazing moments: working there over the Olympics was an honour; we met Vangelis; we had the Torch come by our theatre as the music drowned Shaftesbury Avenue; we met medallists from Team GB and I tried on a Gold medal; the press night was incredible and we’ve had loads of fun getting to know *some* of the actors, especially Mr Grace.

There have been ups and downs with the front of house team. I’ve experienced extreme frustration and there was even a period when I actively disliked coming to work. However, we’ve come through all that too and we finish the run again with a fantastic group of people whom I will miss. My close group of friends have got even closer and some of my favourite times this year have been sitting up with them all night talking and laughing til we cried.

Yes, I still feel the pressing need to find a new job and to earn more money; yes my income here doesn’t quite support me and yes I need to work out a way of being able to see my boyfriend more often. The close of this show (this weekend) feels completely different to last time. With The Ladykillers there was that desperation for it not to be over, because I loved everything about that job. Now, I feel no emotional attachment to the production at all and no great desire to keep in touch with anyone involved as I have The Ladykillers. However, Saturday will mark the end of yet another era as our team is yet again scattered and I’m not sure how many more times I can come through that. I will miss the ‘family’ here terribly, but know it won’t mean the ending of my most precious friendships. What will be will be, and although things may never be quite the same again, I have made more than one ‘friend for life’ (to quote the show). So I shall try not to be afraid of the unknown and remember that if all else fails, 2012 has given me great memories and true friendships which will hopefully last for years to come.

Standing Up for Female Comics

I’m going off-piste today to write about an issue which has been bugging me for some time. In the last few days I have come across an unusually high number of articles, interviews and blogs which focus on the issue of women in comedy. It’s a topic which journalists keep returning to, despite the fact that one should assume by now that it is such a commonplace phenomenon it is barely worth debating. But debate they do, and yet nothing I have read recently has quite satisfied me. I am no expert on the field by any means, but appreciate good comedy as much as the next person and am a fan of stand up, sketch shows and panel shows. Some of my favourite comics are women and yet their gender has never been something that I have considered, as such. It is not as if I go through some kind of filtering process when first assessing the talents of a comedian: are they a woman? If so, are they good enough to be liked? And yet, there is in popular media an almost obsessive need to link sex to humour.  The question is brought up time and time again.

I am not the type of feminist which people associate with anger and tirades; indeed I barely register on the scale of feminism at all. I am absolutely pro-equal rights, however, and do get angered by examples one comes across in everyday life of where women are treated as second best, weaker or are objectified. Despite the leaps of progress that have been made over the last century, women are still not equal to men. The ‘Everyday Sexism’ project proves this (http://www.everydaysexism.com/

). Perhaps the question about how women fit into comedy is always posited to comediennes because it gives them the outlet by which to justify themselves: to defend their profession and to have their say in a male-centred world. I am writing this not as a feminist rant but to merely speculate reasons behind why females in comedy are still a relatively rare breed and to consider the value of constantly questioning their place there.

The traditional environment of the comedy circuit can be intimidating. The stage in many clubs is something reminiscent of a bear pit, or a Roman Gladiatorial Arena. An entertainer is placed in the centre of the ring and has the task of making the audience laugh nearly constantly for their whole time slot. This audience are demanding: more often than not they are rowdy, drunk and apt to lose their normal inhibitions. It takes a great deal of confidence to step into that situation, especially when hecklers decide to make their voice heard. Many women are put off by this idea and it takes a tough kind of person to bat this off. Jo Brand has spoken about how invaluable her background in mental health nursing was in stand up: “hecklers aren’t imaginative and I have to say, hats off to them, psychiatric patients really are.” She adds that many women “find the knocks harder to take because they are naturally less self-confident...they could not stand the fact that they were being abused about their physical appearance endlessly every night.” Although some women stand ups do make it beyond the fringe and become more widely popular, such as Sarah Millican, it is noticeable that it is generally only male stand ups who can take their shows to arena tours or to TV shows such as Live at the Apollo.

Those brave enough to try have to be good. The old ‘women aren’t funny’ complaint could be blamed on the type of weak female stand ups who bleat about men, menstruation and motherhood. I was once at a comedy club and a female comedian stood up to take the stage. My male friend muttered, ‘Oh God, a woman. I bet she talks about her periods.’ Sure enough, her ten minute routine was entirely on that topic. It is frustrating that she should have been so unimaginative. This ranting, bitching style is not uncommon. Is this again a form of defence? Perhaps women feel it can appeal to the women in the audience whilst also fascinating (or at least appeasing) the men? To truly entertain the whole audience though, more originality is needed.

A recent article by Katy Brand in The Telegraph examined the link between women’s beauty and their comic talents. It asked if women could be both beautiful and funny simultaneously. The question that I was asking on reading was: why should this even be considered? Why are we still debating such issues, even if, as Brand does here, they try to suggest that looks shouldn’t matter? After all, no one would write a similar article about male comedians; their looks aren’t important. Instead, it is only their comedy talents which are judged. Brand does her best to make this point, but still, in the process makes comments such as “The cast of the film Bridesmaids was more of a mixed bag in the looks department (in terms of mainstream beauty), but they were all equally funny”. Here she tries to make a valid argument but undermines it by declaring who is good looking and who isn’t. Does anyone ever think about the relative attractiveness vs. funniness of the cast of The Inbetweeners, or of Mitchell and Webb? It seems females cannot escape the apparent significance of their physical appearance, even from the scrutinising assessments of other women.

Just as the most successful female stand ups have to brush off aggressive comments, the most successful female comedians of the sketch show and sitcom genres don’t care about how they look. BBC staples such as Catherine Tate, French and Saunders and Miranda Hart prioritise being funny over looking pretty, much to the advantage of their shows. As it happens, they are all beautiful women, but this is irrelevant to their comedy and they would rather act behind a clownish appearance, cover up with makeup and prosthetics or generally do whatever they think will get the biggest laugh. Of course, some of their best sketches come from the sheer shock of their altered appearances once in that state – take French and Saunders’ ‘old men’, or Catherine Tate’s ‘Nan’ – but transcending this is their astute observations of the behaviours of these characters.

The media tells women to be beautiful. It tells them to dress, eat and behave in a certain way. Women are constantly bombarded with a huge set of ideals: from the covers of glossy magazines; dietary advice; television adverts and window displays. It is not surprising that to drop this ingrained image is hard therefore, especially for someone in the public eye. When considering the points I have made above, it becomes no shock to note that there are fewer women than men in comedy. They have to be able to supersede society’s expectations; not care about looking or speaking in a certain way, whilst being incredibly talented in an original and quick-witted manner.

In an interview with Stylist Magazine, Sheridan Smith made a good point when asked if ‘women have to sacrifice something to be funny’. She enthused about these types of comediennes who will break the mould and be outrageous in the name of a good joke. She gave the example of Kathy Burke as Waynetta Slob, not caring what she looked like. However, voicing a sad truth about the media industry, she then added, ‘That inspired me, because not being your typical beautiful girl, you’ve got to make the most of the roles you are given’. Even in a throwaway comment like that she summarises women’s position in the entertainment world. The ‘beautiful’ ones will get the best roles, the serious dramas and money-making rom coms, while everyone else has to be inventive and ‘make do’. It also suggests that a girl who happens to match society’s idea of beauty cannot or will not go into comedy: presumably men would be too distracted by her face to concentrate on what she has to say! Or perhaps she would be too afraid of making herself look silly as it would sacrifice the best thing she has going for her.

So, women stand ups must be unorthodox in what they say and comedy actresses unorthodox in caring about how they look. Women who appear on television panel shows, meanwhile, must compete with the men in terms of the way they behave. There are increasing numbers of women slowly creeping into shows like Have I Got News For You, Mock the Week and QI but they are still clearly in the minority. A recent episode of QI had all female panellists apart from Alan Davies and a huge point was made out of it. However, no one bats an eyelid on the weeks where it’s all men.

Panel shows of this type have something of a gladiatorial feel to them and contestants battle their wits, fast-paced insults and put downs. It is an intimidating environment in which one has to be faster, cleverer and crueller than the person next to you. Miranda Hart says of the matter, “comedy used to be about clowning about and being self-deprecating but nowadays because all the men are much more competitive it’s got much meaner; it’s about being the cleverest person not the stupidest person.” This puts many female comic off. Those who partake must harden themselves to it: Jo Brand says she can only get on there because she’s ‘mean’. She says that although she doesn’t always enjoy the experience, on good nights it’s great and she feels she’s ‘doing her bit’ for the female sex. No doubt she again employs her background in nursing to help, whilst other women get through armoured with different tactics. Victoria Coren, for example is quiet, contributing just a few things, but using her intelligence to ensure they are particularly relevant and funny. Sue Perkins meanwhile occasionally employs her sexuality as armour, at other times throws herself into the quiz, unafraid of making herself look silly and attempting answers to most questions, uncaring of whether they are right or wrong.

The type of female comedians who appear on these shows, therefore, risk coming across as too brash, snooty, loud or shy. As they stand out because of their usual absence, eyes are naturally drawn to them, with their behaviour analysed more than their male counterparts. These behaviours, as they don’t fit in with the natural idea of how women should be, can seem too rakish, particularly for some male audience members.

On the whole, it is men who complain ‘women aren’t funny’. And to be fair, where do they most commonly see comediennes? At fringe, club or pub comedy nights, where a mediocre stand up may be speaking about her menstrual cycle, or on BBC2 where a woman there will be trying to get her say on a panel of bolshie men trying to out-funny one another. This is not reflective of the whole.

It is simply stupid to sweepingly claim that women aren’t funny, and any man who does is mad to risk saying so if his wife or girlfriend is within earshot. After all, just how many Lonely Hearts adverts request a ‘GSOH’? Humour is a part of life which makes everything more bearable, and it’s not as if the male half of our species give a constant running stand up show in order to make up this quota. So if the ability to be funny is evenly spread, with the potential to lie in everybody, then, like any other talent, it is bound to be more generously awarded to some than others. Therefore, you will get funny women just as you get funny men. Women are funny. But the media and the way women are seen within society can make it more difficult for the ‘fairer sex’ to always be seen as such.

But if you don’t believe me, let me refer you to Susan Calman’s blog, where she makes all of my points in a far more succinct and brilliantly coarse way!

http://www.susancalman.com/blog/women-in-comedy-my-opinion-dont-shout-at-me

References

 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/9571880/So-can-a-woman-be-beautiful-and-funny.html  

http://m.stylist.co.uk/people/people/the-hardest-working-woman-in-showbiz