The light is dimming…and the dream is, too.

Posted on by RoseIW

What do you do when a dream comes true?

Celebrate, of course, and thank your lucky stars that you were fortunate enough to accomplish something you wanted so badly.

But what comes next?

OvertureI’m facing this question at the moment and, rather poetically, it’s all because of a musical about dreams…

After every show, I write a Facebook status, proclaiming how thankful I was to have
been a part of it and what it meant to me, often throwing in a few anecdotes and a photo or five to illustrate the point.

Jacob and SonsThis time, I wrote just one line: ‘May I return to the beginning…’

Every show is special, but sometimes you happen upon a production with an extra something. You can’t name it, but you know it’s there.

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was one such show. Except it wasn’t. When the curtain fell on the final performance, I fell to pieces and it was up to the unfortunate Pharaoh (sorry, Brad!) to pick up those pieces, while the Choir, Chorus, Brothers and Joseph looked helplessly on, some certain they were just witnessing another attack of the normal post-show blues, others – rightly – not so sure.

Joseph's DreamsJoseph went above and beyond everything I had ever imagined, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that made it that way, because every time I thought about it, I’d find a way to convince myself the dream hadn’t ended: there was the after show party, the reviews, the feedback on social media, the DVD, the photographs…

It ended a couple of weeks ago, though, with the presentation of £6,275 to three charities. It was the last meeting of ‘Team Joseph’. And as I drove away from the presentation, towards a rehearsal for another show, I cried.

Because Joseph was not ‘just another show’.

Go Go Go JosephFor the eight-year-old, who performed in Joseph at primary school and gazed up at the Narrator, wishing to be them and willing herself to be worth that role, it meant a childhood dream come true.

For the eleven-year-old, who mimed the hymns in school assemblies because the other girls sniggered at her because singing in assembly wasn’t ‘cool’, it meant beating the bullies who stole her voice.

For the sixteen-year-old, who hated the way she looked, with her spots and her braces and her puppy fat and her frizzy hair, it was a boost in self-esteem that no money could ever have bought.

DSC_0720For the twenty-three-year-old, who auditioned time and again for musicals, who gave her all and was still overlooked every single time, who was left wondering if maybe she just wasn’t good enough, it was proof that she had the talent to hold a leading role…and the reviews proved she could nail it.

For the twenty-six-year-old, the jaded twenty-six-year-old, who was buckling under the pressure of other people’s problems without a word, it was a place to be happy.

DSC_0526I said to myself, several times during the rehearsal process, that I didn’t know what I’d do when Joseph ended, because I was pretty sure it was the only thing holding me together. And those I told laughed it off, or dismissed it as typical thespian drama, or just glossed over it with a worry of their own.

The problem is, I wasn’t joking.

I’m struggling now, and scared to say as much for fear of the reprimands I will face from people who perceive it to be ridiculous that something so commonplace as a musical could hold someone together.

Some people perform for a living, and some live to perform. I fall into the latter category, and there are always post-show tears and post-show blues, but this time it was – it is – different. So much of my heart and soul went into Joseph that, some days, I don’t think I even came out of character. It consumed my every spare moment, and some moments that were not so spare; I’ll confess that more than once I doodled the names of the colours and characters on notes taken during a conference call.

Joseph will have a place in my heart for as long as I live, and I’m not sure anything will ever match the whirlwind of emotions that I felt at every rehearsal, every performance. Frankly, the number of times I got home from a rehearsal and cried with happiness is just embarrassing.

DSC_0470 (1)And when the curtain went up on opening night, and Joseph – played, incidentally, by one of my dearest friends – came over to me during his first rendition of ‘Any Dream Will Do’, we grasped each other’s arms for a few bars longer than directed, willing each other not to cry because we’d done it. It was really happening, and neither of us could quite believe it.

Moments like that are ones that, if I call them to mind, make me feel like I’m there again. They’re moments I will never forget.

In January 2015, when I suggested to the committee that we tackle a musical, and I had to pitch for forty-five minutes to convince them we could do it, I never dreamed that I would wind up playing the Narrator, part of a cast and crew in excess of eighty impossibly talented people.

And now it’s over, I feel a sense of loss that I can’t quite place, and all the things that were so easy to deal with before are suddenly so much harder to handle.

DSC_0498I need to find a new dream, I suppose…but no matter how I try to fix on something I want as much as I wanted that, I come up blank. What comes next, I don’t know. Perhaps it will hit me one day, with as much force as this one did, but – at this moment – I am very much of the opinion that, truly, any dream will do…

–

All-Singing, All-Dancing

Posted on by RoseIW

Last week, I was asked to run a singing workshop at a summer school for a group of 22 dance students between the ages of 5 and 12. I agonised, for days, over what on earth I could teach that would hold the interest of all students, male and female, from the youngest to the oldest.

And then, thanks to my cranky old iPod, it came to me. A classic: ‘Do-Re-Mi’ from The Sound of Music.

I’d warm up with some basic vocal games and exercises and then move on to a rousing rendition of Disney’s ‘Let It Go’ to get them through the initial embarrassment of singing in front of other people, something half of them had never done before. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t need to hand out words for this one! Frozen fever is still strong with children everywhere, it seems…

And then we would turn our attention to the main event. They seemed to enjoy the workshop, but it struck me just how afraid they all were of their own voices, how nervous of messing up the song. So we added some silly actions and I made the one twelve-year-old in the room our Maria, in an effort to boost her obviously low confidence in her voice.

“I can’t sing on my own,” she said. “I can’t sing.”

“You can,” I insisted. “I’ve been listening to you for the last half an hour, you’ve got a lovely voice!”

She gave it a go, and I had to turn the backing track right down for her to be heard. On her second attempt, she was a little louder. By run-through number three she held her head up high and sang to the rest of the room.

It was amazing to watch these children, some as young as five, engaging with a classic musical theatre number and with each other, offering encouragement and help to those who struggled to remember the words or the actions.

Singing workshops are difficult – you never know what you’re going to be faced with, if they’ll like the song you’ve chosen or if they’ll throw themselves into the work or not. But I can honestly say, having run many more workshops for adults than children, what most amazed me was how, after their initial shyness, the children gave the workshop their all and tried every single thing I threw at them without fear of reproach or ridicule from their peers.

That rarely happens in the adult workshops, where you can be facing a roomful of people who have spent their whole lives believing they ‘can’t sing’ and spend the whole time battling that notion. In the twelve-year-old ‘Maria’ that process had already started.

I find it fascinating, but also sad. And I feel privileged to have been given the opportunity to work with the children I met last week – I hope they went away feeling as confident in themselves as I felt in them. What a wonderful way to spend a day!

It’s A Big, Bright, Beautiful Show!

Posted on by RoseIW

It’s hard to believe that the film adaptation of Shrek was released fourteen years ago, in 2001, to critical acclaim the world over. The unorthodox hero stormed the box office and the hearts of cinema-goers worldwide and earned himself several sequels off the back of his initial quest to rescue Princess Fiona.

Equally hard to believe is that Shrek: The Musical has been out since 2008 and, although familiar with the soundtrack, it’s taken me seven years to see it at the theatre. On Friday evening, at The Mayflower in Southampton, I rectified that.

With most of the dialogue lifted straight from the film – after all, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! – and a songbook of original numbers to complement the action, it’s no wonder that this show is still filling houses. It’s a laugh-a-minute romp through the swamp!

The scenery is astounding, the Dragon is stunning, the stage is awash with colour from beginning to end and no detail is too small. It was the perfect setting for the tale, and those doing the telling did not disappoint.

The backbone of the show is the relationship between Shrek, played by Dean Chisnall, and Donkey, played by Idriss Kargbo. Both were on top form, their dynamic flawless, setting the bar high for the rest of the cast.

Luckily, their fellow performers were more than up to the challenge! Shrek is a true ensemble piece – only four cast members don’t play multiple roles – and each and every one of them was thoroughly invested in immersing the audience in the story.

Particular mention must go to Candace Furbert’s roof-raising performance as the Dragon, Keith Henderson’s energy as Peter Pan and Will Haswell’s excellent nose-control as Pinocchio.

What really struck me about this show was that it was like stepping into the film – each and every voice and accent was so close to the original; it added an extra dash of magic to an already enchanting show.

Often enough, new musicals will try to introduce songs that are, quite frankly, impossible to remember, filled with discords and odd intervals for the sake of trying to give the audience something ‘new’. Catchy modern show-tunes are getting harder to find these days, but Shrek: The Musical has them in abundance.

‘I Think I Got You Beat’, ‘Freak Flag’ and ‘Big, Bright, Beautiful World’ were just a few of the numbers people were humming as they left the theatre. But it was ‘If Words Fail’ that was the unlikely show-stopper of a number – not in the traditional bright-lights, big-notes and jazz-hands sense, but in a softer, subtler way, a song that resonates with any poor soul whose ever had those crippling nerves that come with a first confession of their feelings.

Each song is stuffed to the brim with comedy, too, even when you’re not expecting it. Even Princess Fiona’s introductory number, ‘I Know It’s Today’, takes a comic turn when an impatient Adult Fiona – played beautifully in the first half by Bronté Barbé – arrives on the scene.  One of my favourite songs in the show, it’s an anthem for little girls the world over who are growing up on fairytales and wishing for their own happily-ever-after.

The biggest bursts of comedy, though, came from Gerard Carey as Lord Farquaad – with impeccable comic timing and a serious vocal talent, Gerard had the audience in fits of laughter with every appearance, whether he was defying gravity or simply walking from one side of the stage to the other. Doing an entire production on your knees is one thing, but to swing across monkey bars, leap over dancers and get down on one knee is beyond impressive; just when you thought he’d exhausted his repertoire of possible moves, he’d pull another out of the bag. Comedy gold.

But perhaps the real star of Friday night’s performance was Nikki Bentley, who stepped in halfway through the performance to take over from Bronté who, due to illness, couldn’t finish the show. The new Princess Fiona opened the second half with ‘Morning Person’, a catchy ditty that delivers as many laughs as it does tap-dancing rats! Her cheeky Fiona flounced, flourished and farted her way through the second half to her happy ending with the audience firmly on side. And with a voice like hers, Nikki is absolutely one to watch out for in future productions – she certainly gained a legion of new fans on Friday!

Shrek: The Musical expertly walks the line between humorous and heartfelt. Although it never stays serious for long, the brief moments in which it tugs at your heartstrings – Shrek and Donkey’s falling-out, Fiona’s leaving for Duloc, Shrek’s final proposal – are so beautifully scripted and delivered that you’ll find yourself welling up every time.

It’s a tale of true love, but not as we know it, and everything that made the film so successful is in the musical, along with a host of extras (look out for the numerous nods to other musicals) that is bound to keep your toes tapping all the way home.

“You’ve never read a book like this, but fairytales should really be updated,” sings Shrek, as he stands to be humiliated in front of Lord Farquaad, Princess Fiona and, indeed, the audience, by now fully immersed in his tale. And he’s quite right. But I suppose you have to kiss a few princes before you find your ogre.

Shrek: The Musical is on tour until February 2016 – check out the website for dates and venues, and make sure you see it if you get a chance!

Understudies: The Show Must Go On

Posted on by RoseIW

Last night, I attended ‘Shrek: The Musical’ at The Mayflower Theatre in Southampton. I was happily tapping my toes and scoffing ice cream when an announcement came over the PA system:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay in starting Act II. Due to illness, the role of Princess Fiona will be played by Nikki Bentley for the rest of the show.”

Well, I’ve been to a fair few shows in my time and can honestly say that this was the first time I’d known an understudy have to take over a role halfway through a performance.

And it got me thinking…

Understudies – and I’ve been one myself, though not on that scale – have a lot of pressure on their shoulders. It doesn’t feel that way at the time, when you’re caught up in performing and feeling the buzz of learning a principal part, knowing that you’re the ‘go-to’ guy or gal if something goes awry; but when the announcement is made and you hear the murmurs of anticipation or the disappointed groans, it can really set your nerves on edge.

It’s hard enough at the start of a show, when people are expecting to see one performer and you step out as an understudy wondering how many of the audience will be taking to social media later to lament the fact they got the understudy rather than the publicised lead.

To step into the leading lady’s shoes halfway through a performance, though, that’s quite the task. To open with comic gem ‘Morning Person’ is an even bigger ask. With little time to prepare and an audience waiting to see what curtain up would bring, Nikki Bentley flounced her way out of the swamp and straight into the audience’s hearts. She was a perfect princess.

I know only too well that this is ‘part of the job’ – if you’re an understudy, you have to be ready for the call at any time, that’s why you’re there. But even so, normally you get a little more warning!

Often, too, the shift of one performer to the leading role results in a quick switch-around in other roles, too. After all, before her unexpected upgrade from biscuit to princess, Nikki was playing Gingy and the Sugar Plum Fairy and someone had to step in to fill her shoes – to my shame, I don’t know who it was, but they were excellent.

It just goes to show how versatile you have to be to cut the mustard in live theatre, often learning multiple roles and choreography. As proved last night, anything can happen at any time and you have to react in the fastest and most appropriate way possible to keep the show running smoothly.

“The show must go on,” as all the greats will tell you.

This show certainly did.

My review of ‘Shrek: The Musical’ will be going live tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled!