I don't think there's many pantomimes I
haven't done. Pan, Alladin, Snow White, Cinders and a couple of
others. I don't mention them on my CV, although a cursory look at my
credits and certain news sites will give a flavour of what I
achieved. I love the imagination of Pantomime, the sheer thrill that
literally anything can happen. Many directors don't understand this,
and insist on blocking and lines and actions being as they appear on
the page, but sometimes an actor needs to spread his wings, to
explore a part, to get under the skin of a character. Sack me if you
will, but that is my opinion.
I well remember having this
conversation with Su Pollard in her house one fine summers' night.
“The trick is Su” I mused “To know your character. To put on
the makeup and the clothes and look into your own eyes in the mirror
and say 'who are you?' and 'What do you want?'” Su repeated those
words to me and I knew the message had sunk in. She also made
reference to my wearing her clothes and makeup. I bit my farewells to
Ms Pollard as she went into the next room to use the phone. My
tuition, I hoped, had helped this starlet, and indeed within months
she was appearing in televisions' The Survivors as a corpse.
Pantomime of course is a staple of the
Christmas entertainment resume, and I feel proud that I was asked to
stand in at last minute for someone who was having dental work. To be
considered for 'third pirate' was an honour indeed, and, as the
director Frank Arbetter said, I was very lucky to get the part. Frank
of course is steeped in theatrical legend like myself, having had a
play on several of the most prominent stages at the Beaulieu Open Air
Charity Theatre event, one of which I was lucky (again) to feature in
called 'Thor-Rah' about a transvestite Viking. It wasn't a tremendous
success, but oddly did reignite Moira Stewarts' career.
One of the things I love about Arbetter
is his faith in his performers. He allows you full freedom to explore
and express the motivations and the gamut of emotions of your
character. Occasionally one will be rehearsing and hear a moan or
grunt from the darkened area, the odd snort, that sort of thing. But
he really trusts you to be faithful to the text, sometimes you would
not even know he was there, and occasionally he actually isn't.
Pantomime of course is an annual event;
many actors from both stage and screen clear their calendars and make
their way to major and minor towns and cities to swash and buckle. I
can't think of a single performer who hasn't donned tights and wig
come Yuletide. I can think of several who have at Easter, or during a
particularly prolonged bout of 'resting', but that's another tale.
One of the things about this particular
genre is the heritage it represents. I spent a great deal of my time
in preparation for this, watching Alan Ladd, Errol Flynn and anyone
else who had gadded about in tights. Tights work – for the male –
is surprisingly under-tutored in the thespianic world. In other
forms, Ballet or suchlike, there are manuals and instructions and a
certain number of magazines and websites dedicated to this subsection
of the arts, but nil (as far as I could find) for the actor. A simple
web search produced little of interest, let alone bookmark, and an
enquiry at my local library resulted in a request to leave the
premises. Even the great Mel Brooks failed in his documentary – I
assume that's what it was – Men in Tights. I sat through about
twenty minutes before becoming totally annoyed and sticking the
cassette in a toaster. So not only am I no further in my exploration
of male tight technique, I am also without toast.
Another aspect of pirate based activity
is swordsmanship. There are few things which scream 'heroic lead'
more than a sword fight. Guns are overused, knives are not dramatic
enough and all that gadding about in martial arts... well, it's just
not, is it? No, if you want an authentic, brave, charismatic male
lead then you simply have to have a sword fight. And you need decent,
manly swords as well, not these things which would look good next to
the butter dish. To this end I have at my own expense, mind you,
engaged the services of Francis Meng. Meng is probably the best sword
fight teacher in the country.
(A word to the wise, if you are
thinking of following my advice then look up these tutors under sword
fighters, and not fencing. This is a mistake I have made, and some of
the answers you will receive will be quite unsavoury)
Six weeks of an hour a day cavorting
with sabres and I am quite the Zorro. Of course, I have had niks and
grazes, slices and cuts and one particularly personal loss, but I
really feel so much more comfortable (apart from the stitches)
handling a sword now. Meng even said it was a pleasure to duel with
me, and ceased charging me informing me that 'the slicing and dicing
was payment enough'. Bring it on, I told him. He very much brought it
on, to such an extent he got quite carried away and was about to
reenact the Sean Connery death scene in Highlander when the doorbell
went.
Ah, I have just had my call. So I must
leave you. I shall return.
