Hawea Flat Hall, Wednesday 15th December 2004
Well, after six weeks of intensive rehearsals, we were ready to roll. Fortunately, the costumes just managed to turn up in time too, squeezing onto the bus at the Frankton Bus stop, after having been lost in transit somewhere in a Queenstown depot. This provided great relief for us all, as it meant that Justin had something other than skimpy boxers to wear for Blackadder.
On the road
Opening night caused quite a stir in the small township. Indeed, there was a raging debate by punters during the interval as to whether or not Shakespeare had ever come to Hawea – I assume they meant his plays and not the great man himself. One young male member of the audience fortified himself with a bottle of red wine, and then kept tapping Spaz on the shoulder throughout the performance to request top-ups. We believe that he was courting and that he did, in fact, manage to wow the woman with Shakespeare. She did not protest too much, methinks, and probably got to sample his measure for measure.
With the use of our incredible set design (thanks to Kurt) we managed to screen the fact that the Hawea Flat Hall features 70s carpet on the rear wall of the stage. This is taking textured wallpaper a touch too far. We could not conceal the fact that it is actually a basketball court, although it was fortunate that the basketball hoop winched up so as not to block the stage, or that the tearooms are located out the back. They doubled as adequate dressing rooms, and screens were positioned so that the audience didn’t have to look at the cooker all night.
There was nothing we could do either about the house lights being on stage, but Wayne manned his position manfully and flicked the switch with aplomb. The weather was foul (not fair, but hovering through the filthy air) and was chilly enough to warrant use of the heaters. These were coin operated and also situated on stage. Spaz had the foresight to arm himself with a stock of twenty-cent pieces – so much more than “just a barman”.
Our audience was most appreciative of the excellent show, and even my nerves wore off as I saw how expertly the cast adapted to the conditions. Among the audience members were a bloke who had been cycling past on a training ride before Spaz coaxed him in out of the rain, and a Burnley fan who roared his approval at Matt’s entrance and subsequent accent in The Tempest. At half time it transpired that he used to run the Wanaka Backpackers and that both he and Spaz had previously heard of each other – how such reputations must carry!
Spaz also got chatting to a woman at the bar who had just been accepted into NASDA. Whilst I agreed that our performance was out of this world, I couldn’t understand why a space cadet should be so thrilled with it, until Spaz pointed out that a ‘d’ does make a great deal of difference. She wanted to know how the actors could cope with so much, and why they weren’t professional. Oh but they are, in all but money at any rate!
A teenaged lad had been brought along by his parents with the promise that he would get to see some Terry Pratchett. Although he thoroughly enjoyed both excerpts from The Wyrd Sisters, he seemed to be most impressed by the translation of Love’s Labour’s Lost. I now have it on my conscience that he will forever think “No shit, Sherlock” is Shakespeare-speak. Cara’s contingent agreed that her performance was excellent and that she had “always been a drama queen”.
We packed out quickly and efficiently, with cables coiled and Victoria shedding light on the proceedings, and drove back over the Crown Range through a right squand’ring orgulous fog in the knowledge that we had kicked our tour off to a great start!
Glenorchy Town Hall, Thursday 16th December 2004
Under the beady eyes of several stuffed stags’ heads, we set up for our second performance at Glenorchy. As “the crew” waited for their meal of burger and chips (staple touring diet), the tour bus (looking much like the Southern Lakes English College bus) pulled up in a cloud of dust. The cast was shown to their dressing room – being a paddock out the back of the hall – and given a brief introduction to the stage. When they finished laughing, we agreed that this would be our most challenging performance of the tour.
The stage does not allow for multiple exits; if an actor exits stage left, he or she must re-enter from stage left (otherwise known as the toilets) unless he or she is Cara, in which case they squeeze through the toilet window. Costumes were thrown from the window, and children and dogs wandered through the ‘green room” asking what was going on?
While Wayne was going slightly mad – no, really, it was in the script – Viq pushed him off stage right and, rather than going with him, muttered “husbands!” and stalked off stage left. She had decided to camp out here for the second act, although she found that her costumes ended up reeking of eau de toilette. Despite such strong competition, however, the best exit award went to Sarah who stormed off one side of the stage before reappearing to storm off the other side, only to find herself locked out of the dressing room and having to knock for admittance.
The split barn door to the “dressing room” had a will of it’s own, either locking at inappropriate moments or swinging open to reveal Cara, dressed in punk fairy outfit, stuffing her face with popcorn. (Mick had got bored with work and gone home early to provide a picnic of prodigious proportions). Because the actors could not tell whether the lights were on or off for their first cue (they were off, honest, I did the house lights!), Spaz had to knock on the door to begin the show and tell Matt that he was on. And he says he will never get on stage…
The confinements of space led to a very interesting and high-energy show. The actors seemed to be having fun – Jo could hardly keep a straight face when Sarah’s moustache fell off in Twelfth Night – and this attitude rubbed off on the audience who gave great amounts of feedback. During the bows, in which no one left the stage because they couldn’t get back on, and Mick nearly brained himself on the lectern, the cast received a well-deserved standing ovation. Of course, it may have helped that there were relatives in the front row, but the pace and enthusiasm of this performance made it the most enjoyable of the lot. When Justin waved his jester’s stick at the audience and instructed them to “Go home”, it was clear that they would have happily stayed for an encore.
omments overheard after the show included “That was really funny”, “Everyone up there was totally amazing”, “How did they manage to learn all those lines”, “What a blast”, and, “So, how does The Comedy of Errors turn out?” This last was to Tanya, who replied that, being as it was a comedy, “happily I should think”. My favourite, however, was “That was better than I had expected”. Who are these (fool)hardy souls who don’t think they are going to enjoy a show and yet go anyway?
Lake Wanaka Centre, Friday 17th December 2004
From one extreme to the other – the Lake Wanaka Centre is massive! When the cast finally managed to find it, after a couple of phone calls, they couldn’t believe the space they had to play with! Modeled on the same design as Queenstown’s Memorial Hall, (but decorated by someone with a modicum of taste), there are dressing rooms galore, a huge stage, cavernous wings, and even an orchestra pit – which even our creative ingenuity couldn’t manage to incorporate. There were a couple of suggestions, however.
Justin and Matt had previously performed the Blackadder sketch in the Memorial Hall as part of the opening festival for the Summerdaze programme and felt that shouting over the top of a multitude of screaming children had warmed them up nicely. Indeed the acoustics in this hall were such that we could hear every word. We appeared to cater for “the better sort of theatre-goer” tonight as they laughed at all the verbal wordplay, rather than just Mick getting beaten up or baring his buttocks.
The enormous stage had the potential to bring on a session of agoraphobia, so we partially closed the front curtains, thus reducing the playing area. One result of this, however, was that some of the actors, commencing their lines as they left the wings, finished them before they hit the stage. Megan’s final line about “mere oblivion” had heightened dramatic irony due to the fact that we couldn’t actually see her as she delivered it. Justin was so overwhelmed by the extra space that he completely forgot page two of his first link, blindly stating, “It’s at this stage that we join the play”. It wasn’t, but no one seemed to mind. Victoria supplied fudge to keep the actors going through the performance, and operated the house lights via cell-phone message.
We had stiff competition from the carol concert that had been scheduled for the same evening (great planning, that) which meant that our audience was smaller than hoped for, but those who did attend absorbed every nuance. Although they seemed quiet and were quite difficult to play to due to lack of vociferous response, they certainly appreciated the show. Justin had a couple of octogenarian groupies who faithfully awaited for him to emerge from his dressing room, and told him that they were going home to brush up their Shakespeare! Good on them!
We drove home past the unfortunately closed Cardrona pub through the snow that had joined the fog on the Crown Range.
The motley crew
Arrowtown Athenaeum Hall, Saturday 18th December 2004, 12pm
Thankfully, we had already abandoned the prospect of an outdoor performance. It was pissing it down in a most unseasonable fashion. This was, I suppose, the perfect weather for watching indoor theatre, and we doubled our sales on the door, having to put out more chairs – a job nobody minded! When I bought a bottle of port for Scooter, the bloke at the off-licence told me that if he was in charge of the heating as well as lights and sound, I should buy him two!
Spaz, once again, proved his worth as he spotted Duncan Field while collecting the takings from the museum. The CEO told him he had just returned from Sydney, so Spaz replied that he had to come and support the show. Thus he got to see his fellow councilor behave like a Morris dancer, a mercenary father, a know-it-all builder, a drunken monster, a mad eejit, and a dog. Should liven up the next council meeting.
The dressing rooms were downstairs and spacious enough, but a little too far away for ease of hearing cues – beginners’ calls were once again delivered by cell-phone. Prior to the show, Jo read out an article in The Southland Times, which was meant to be about the Summerdaze festival, but was actually all about us. Excellent! The audience certainly got their money’s worth, with the front row being treated to the sight of both Sarah and Justin changing in the first act.
Matinee audiences are always tough and this was no exception. There were a lot of children who bravely endured as much Shakespeare as their parents could force them to. I overheard one explaining The Tempest to his mother, and another announcing loudly that he wanted to go home, but only during the interval. The adults also lacked a little theatre etiquette – when the men came on for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, one was clearly seen to start doing the YMCA moves.
When two old biddies approached the bar and Spaz asked what he could get for them, they asked what he had on offer. In an expansive mood, he promised them he could offer them whatever they desired. One flirtatiously asked if he could promise them the moon, to which he replied that if they watched the show, they would get the moon. They came back giggling at the interval to congratulate him on keeping his promise!
Everyone adapted to the afternoon show expertly and the Arrowtown venue is certainly one to consider for future shows. The pack-out was swift and the crew headed straight to Queenstown to prepare for the final performance.
Queenstown, QPACT Rooms, Saturday 18th December 2004, 8pm
Final night was a sell-out. The biggest complication was working out how to squeeze more seats into the “intimate venue”. The audience ended up being up close and personal with the actors, perhaps slightly more than they had bargained for during the girls’ fight scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, when Cara, sick of only defending, began to throw punches of her own, and nearly wiped out the front row.
The audience comprised of the usual final night three ‘F’s; friends, family and freeloaders. They didn’t seem to object to being cosy, although the heaters being left on perhaps made them cosier than was strictly necessary. Spaz and Blaise realised that there was no room in the inn and sat chatting out in the bar, seated in their armchairs like gentlemen in a club – all that was missing was the brandy and cigars!
With no stage, there were yet more adaptations. Love’s Labour’s Lost was delivered standing up, and Wayne heaved up his leg against Will’s floating form. Gaffer tape came to the rescue and was ripped off the floor to hold Sarah’s moustache in place. Mick was so proud of his scene-stealing lion that even when his lines were cut, he managed to be afeard of it anyway. Matt trimmed his speeches with the precision of a pair of blunt shears, and Megan decided that a skateboard scenario was pushing it. Live theatre is a wonderful thing!
We had an extension to the bar licence, so there were drinks and congratulatory speeches. Spaz would like to thank the cast for dragging the bar into profit on final night. We then adjourned for more drinking and some dancing till about dawn. Jo won the Anne Lyford Memorial Award for outstanding contribution to a dramatic performance. We couldn’t have done it without her. We couldn’t have done it without any of you. Thank-you.
