Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts

Acting and Me Acting

Although I love to write for the theatre, and although I can seem to be quite a boisterous person when I’m ‘on show’, I never imagined I would actually perform in a play.

But I did.  Three of them, in fact.

It’s over now and I don’t think I will ever do any more.  Thinking back on it, though, it was an adventure that I wouldn’t have missed out on for the world.

My friends Donna and Oísin and Eamon are all into theatre and they’ve all acted and directed and produced stuff down through the years.  


They had this idea of forming a theatre group to do amateur productions and tour them on the national play circuit competitively. 

They had a play in mind and they needed a fourth actor… so they came and got me.  In fairness, my credentials for this role were quite impeccable – you had to sit on a chair, be tortured, say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ quite a bit and look unshaven and distressed.  I do that stuff all the time in real life so I said yes.  We formed our theatre group called KODE (our first name initials) and things got rolling.

If it had been a ‘hard’ role, with lots of line to learn, I would probably have said no.  I wasn’t sure I could learn a pile of lines – I can’t even remember a person’s name without a half-hour’s study – but this play had very few lines for me and that helped.

Of course it wasn’t an easy play at all.  It was ‘One For The Road’ by Harold Pinter, a play of power and torture and neglect of human rights in which a husband, wife and child are tortured by a dispassionate and rather terrifying authority figure.  As it turned out, I had to ‘act’ much ‘harder’ than I ever could have dreamed.

We took the play around the country.  Friday evenings, when normal people were watching the latest comedy show on Channel 4 and swigging cans of beer, we were shivering in the dark wings of some community hall in God-knows-where, waiting to spring out and alarm a reluctant audience.

Eamon invariably asked me the same question as we were standing in the dark waiting to go on…

“What is my first line?” he would ask. 

He was joking of course.  Eamon and Donna are both consummate actors.  In their scenes together they threw such vitriol and physical violence at each other that the audience often recoiled in shock.  It was something to see.

I often think that ‘One For The Road’ was our best play.  But I was hooked now and came back the year after to play ‘Golly’ in ‘Ritual For Dolls’.  I guess, of the three I played, this role suited me best.  I got to dress up pretty wildly and hide my face behind a ton of boot polish.  I also had a ton of lines but I managed to learn them and even retain them to this very day… “Behold”, my heart says to me, “here is the love of your life…”.  

Before I went on, I used to sit on the floor in a corner, in full Golly regalia and people walking by would jump when I said hello to them – they thought I was just a big dummy… yes, yes I know…

They were exciting times, comradely, tense, hilarious, fulfilling, memorable and I think it helped my theatre writing too.  I think I got a better sense of what was possible and actually expanded my view of what could be done on stage rather then contracted it.

Every night we went out there without prompts of any kind.  If we messed up or forgot our lines, we were on our own.  There was a real element of the high-wire act about the whole affair and I won’t soon forget it.

Time has moved on and now, happily, at the end of this week, Donna and Oísin get married so KODE will all be together again, at least for a little while.

We may not go so far as to put on a play but we’ll surely remember those good times and re-tell a few of our  ‘war-stories’.

It was the best of times it was the worst of times…

… and all that jazz.

Alone and in The Dark - My Best Saint Patrick’s Day Memory

Saint Patrick’s Day has always been a fairly low key day for me.

I’m not a big fan of parades and I’m not a big fan of excessive drinking either so that immediately removes two of the key elements from the equation.

That’s probably why my favourite St Patrick’s Day memory has nothing to do 'shamrocks' and 'crock’s o’gold' and such. In fact, for probably the last time, it’s that movie again.

On 17th March 1981, I was living in Sherrard Street in Dublin and going to college. 'No college on Paddy’s Day though, so the choice was go to Mass or go to the Parade.

The Parade was quite good… for a parade.

But afterward, the families all dispersed, the shops all shut, and ‘The Flight of The Doves’ was on the telly at home. There was nothing else for it, it simply had to be a movie.

Luckily there was a new film just released that I wanted to see and it was on at the Screen on The Green. I walked through the dregs of the revellers in the beaming afternoon sunshine.

The cinema was deserted except for the ticket lady. I bought a ticket off her and went in. There was nobody to check my ticket, the shop was closed-as-hell.

The cinema was pitch dark. I stumbled into a seat which was thankfully empty. As the gloom cleared I saw that finding that empty seat was no great trick, the whole auditorium was completely deserted. I watched the previews and the ads and waited for some other people to come in but nobody ever did.

A short while before the feature was due to start, a phone started ringing somewhere in the building. Nobody rushed to answer it. Fearing that it would spoil the movie , I went and found the phone in a little empty office and answered it myself.

“Hello?”

“What time is tonight’s show?”

I checked a chart on the wall.

“Eight Thirty.”

“Thanks.”

Then I went back and watched the movie, all alone in the huge cold theatre on St. Patrick’s Day 1981.

Man, I loved that movie so much that day.

I’d offer a prize for someone to name the film but that would just mean that the answer to every quiz I ever did here would be ‘Body Heat’.

Have a happy St. Patrick’s Day - whatever you may do.



"Midnight..." An Extract

As discussed somewhere previously, I don't ever talk about what I'm currently writing.

I don't talk much about things I've finished writing either.

I don't really talk much about writing at all. Which is odd, because I thought I would.

Anyway, here's a short extract from one of my more recent theatre plays for teens. It's called 'Midnight in the Theatre of Blood' and it isn't exactly about what you might guess it is about.

That's the original cast, by the way, on the right.

A merry cohort, I'm sure you'll agree



SEAN: Tess...

TESS: Hi. You wanted me, after the loo. God that sounds so wrong.

SEAN: I wanted to ask you...

TESS: Yes?

SEAN: Just...

He pauses, kicks around the hall.

TESS: I'm getting old here.

SEAN: No, feck it. I can't.

TESS: You have to. I'm hanging now.

SEAN: It's just that... God, it's like cutting open the metaphorical feather pillow out of a first
floor window.

TESS: You're doing it again.

SEAN: What?

TESS: 'Mr. Obtuse.'

SEAN: Sorry. What I mean is; If you throw all of the feathers out of the window, you can try
and try but you'll never get them all back in the pillow . The garden will never be
the same again.

TESS: You're afraid of opening Pandora's Box.

SEAN: Exactly. God you're...

TESS: Stop! If you say I'm clever it will imply you didn't think I was clever before and
Pandora's Box will be well and truly open.

SEAN: Right, good...

TESS: Well?

SEAN: Yes...

He kicks around a bit more, struggling.

TESS: Ever hear of Morrissey?

SEAN: Who?

TESS: Morrissey...

SEAN: Weird kind of guy. Branch in his back pocket or something... 'Meat is Murder'!

TESS: That's him. He had a song when he was with 'The Smiths'...

SEAN: And?

TESS: It fairly aptly addressed our situation here, I think. It went...

TESS speaks the next lines kindly.

TESS: "Shyness is nice but... shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life you'd like to..."

She starts to sing, softly and quite sweetly.

TESS: "So if there's something you'd like to try, something you'd like to try, ask me I won't
say 'no' how could I...?

SEAN: I...

TESS launches into a manic little version of 'Ask Me' dancing and all.

TESS: So... ask me, ask me, ask me...

SEAN: I...

TESS: ...ask me, ask me, ask me...

SEAN: I love you.

TESS stops dancing abruptly.

TESS: Sean...

SEAN: Shit, shit shit shit. I did it.

TESS: You did what?

SEAN: I cut the pillow, I opened the box. The feathers are everywhere.

TESS: Poor Mr Obtuse. Listen the feathers might be out but... they don't look so bad.

SEAN: Don't they?

TESS: No. They look... kinda nice... decorative... like snow... all around the garden.

SEAN: Yeah? So...?

TESS: Maybe though, just for a while, we could pretend they're not actually 'feathers'.
Maybe they could be just a sort of 'synthetic foam stuffing' - or something - until we
see how we... get on... And then we could worry about them turning into actual feathers...
at some... unspecified... later date.

SEAN: That sounds good to me.

TESS: Does it?

SEAN: Yeah.

TESS: That's good (laughs) 'cos I don't have a bloody clue what I just said.

SEAN: It's okay, I do, it was just a bit obtuse, that's all.


(c) Ken Armstrong 2008

PS : Here's the song, in case you're wondering...


The Moon Cut Like a Little Book

I am pleased to let you all know that my theatre play ‘The Moon Cut Like A Sickle’ has just been published by those lovely people at the Drama League of Ireland.

Thanks guys!

Here’s a picture of the book because I know you won’t believe me otherwise.



It’s a neat publication called New Irish Writing 2 and I’m in there between Henry Hudson and James E Reid – which is quite a comfy place to be - except that Henry is all-elbows.

My play is written for a teenage cast of five boys and seven girls.

Here's a brief synopsis:

Terry and his friends love to drive their cars fast around town but now that Terry is finally due to get his own car – the fastest of the lot – his girlfriend Lisa is worried that he will come to harm. After all, his brother Joe was killed out on the roads racing his car, history may well repeat itself.

After being dragged to see a production of the Greek play ‘Lysistrata’, Lisa has a great idea.

In that play, the women stopped their men from going to war by…

... 'tell you what, I’ll let Lisa explain in this little extract:

LISA
Yes and we could stop our guys in just the same way.

MADGE
From going to war?

LISA
From driving like idiots.

MADGE
Ohhhhhh!

DAISY
How?

LISA
How?

DAISY
In this great 'Lysterine' play of yours, how did they stop their men from warring?

LISA
They... withdrew.

MADGE
With...?

LISA
...drew, that's right.

DAISY
How do you mean they 'withdrew'? Where did they withdraw to?

LISA
Not 'where', 'what'?

DAISY
Okay. What did they 'withdraw'?

LISA
You know.

DAISY
Lisa... what the hell did they withdraw?

LISA
Everything... their favours.

MADGE
Favours?

DAISY
Hang on... you mean...

She makes an ambiguous gesture with both hands.

LISA
I do.

DAISY
I'm fifteen years old, I don't actually do 'favours'.

MADGE snickers.

MADGE
Yeah, sure.

DAISY
Shut up you.

LISA
I don't mean sex. We're all far too young for that.

MADGE snickers again.

DAISY
I said shut up.

LISA
I mean the things we do do - kissing and hugging and general ego boosting and... just... riding around with them in their stupid stupid stupid cars.

DAISY
Withdraw.

LISA
Everything.

DAISY
Until they stop.

LISA
Until they stop.

MADGE
Or at least... Slow down?

LISA
Stop.

MADGE
Stop.

If you want to hear more, there's a radio piece which RTE One (the National Radio Channel) did about the first production. You can hear it ... no, sorry, you can't anymore, they took it away.

And if you fancy a copy of the little book, contact dli@eircom.net. Ask for Dara and tell him I sent you (he'll charge you more that way). I think it costs fifteen euro including postage.

But really, I’m not trying to flog you a book.

I always think plays are a bit like blueprints for houses – it’s much more fun to see the actual house than the plans.

That's why I’d prefer you to see the play.

So, if you’re a youth theatre group (or know one) who might be interested in a one hour play for a nice-sized cast of 15-16 years olds – a play which has proved itself in a few productions to date – a play which has entertained audiences and delivered a heart-felt kick in the teeth to them too – and, equally importantly, a play which has engaged the young casts right through the rehearsal and performance stages… well, let me know.

I’d like you to see it.

And I have lots of other plays too. I’ll throw in a post now and again about one, to see if you might like any of them.

Finally, for fun, I might as well give a copy of the book away. The first commenter who answers this random question can have a book posted to them by me. The only thing is they'll have to tell me their address and I do tend to come around and raid the fridge.

Random Question: What lady links 'Mack the Knife' with 'From Russia with Love'? There's probably loads of answers but the one I have in mind is the only one that counts.

You don't have to know the answer. This is the internet, go and look it up.