Production Diary: 'Othello' at the Hen and Chickens Theatre

Production Diary: Othello at the Hen and Chickens Theatre

Wednesday 7th January: The First Rehearsal

Some months ago, the Oxford Repertory Company (a very active amateur rep group of mainly recent Oxford graduates) announced that they were putting on Othello, and setting it in the milieu of the British ska revival and countercultural skinhead movement of the late 70s and early 80s. I happen to be a big fan of ska (I had only recently seen The Beat and Madness, the latter for the fourth of fifth time), and for this I have to thank my father and his obsessive love for Two-Tone. "I could do that," I think, "Dad will like it." After all, I haven't had the chance to perform with Ox Rep yet (I had planned to be in their production of Brideshead Revisited over summer, but it was unfortunately cancelled), although I've seen their productions and know many people who have enjoyed being involved with them. I throw my hat in the ring. 

Iago is taken, I am told (a shame - he is one of the parts I'd quite like to attempt at some point in my life). Actually, I am to play the Clown. A part that most people forget exists in Othello, but our director, Myfanwy Taylor-Bean, seems very excited about him. The big idea is that, rather than just for his two scripted appearances, the Clown will be onstage at other moments throughout the play in what Myfanwy calls "cut-scenes." These are all to be styled in the comical-surreal vein of Pierrot, Cabaret's Emcee, and David Bowie's character in Ashes to Ashes. 

I am basically on board, but I have some reservations. Firstly, I worry about whether these cut-scenes might undermine the tension and gravity of the narrative. Not to mention, Othello is already such a big play which would seem to have enough in it already - is there space for the Clown to take up more room, when most productions cut him entirely? When the audience is wrapt in the exchanges between Othello and Iago (we have very skilled, intense actors for both; see below), are they really going to want me to come flouncing onstage in make-up to try and convince my stiff, unfit body into some half-convincing physical comedy? I am reminded that I have never played a character much like this. The closest would be Puck in 2023, but in that case we could largely get by with a lot of lifts and general jumping about. After all, that was a comedy performed on grass, and Othello will be a tragedy on the relatively small, hard floor of Islington's Hen and Chickens Theatre. Of course, this won't work unless I am excited by the challenges the role presents, and willing to take them on. For the most part, I think I am. 

All of this leads to today, when I am sat on the Elizabeth Line, watching the first proper snowfall of the year out of the window, on my way to our first rehearsal. As you'd expect of a repertory company, the cast is made up largely of their own troupe: Ethan Bareham is Iago, Flynn Ivo is Cassio, Grace Bellorini is Desdemona, Kate Harkness is Emilia, Roman Pitman is Brabantio. Nathan Patterson (Roderigo) is another newcomer to the group, though, so I am not the only one. There are also a couple of familiar faces: our Othello is Joe Bangbala, who played an imposing Macbeth to my Macduff in 2024. Also, Bianca is being played by Chess Nightingale, who I performed with during my first time at Fringe.

My first day feels a little awkward, and not only because I'm still an outsider to this group. I realise that I have no idea what to do vocally or physically with this character. Vocally, I feel a strong instinct to imitate a young Bowie's cheeky, soft speaking voice; but what actually comes out when I open my mouth is bland. Physically, I am caught between going full Arlecchino and trying to match the rest of the cast's more natural and understated body language. I feel particularly useless without an audience to bounce off of (we plan for the Clown to be one of their main points of contact) or set to perch on. I also don't have masses of space to work all of this out - it is very much setting in that I have only 8 scripted lines to work with. Admittedly, I am always lost at the start of a rehearsal process, and usually don't feel satisfied with how I'm giving a character until right at its end (if at all). What I need, I think, is some time to get more comfortable with this company, get bolder, have more fun, enjoy myself more. Eventually, I hope, something genuinely beneficial to this production will emerge. 

Thursday 8th January: Opening Night

My second day with Ox Rep goes a lot better, and I already feel as if I'm getting a better sense of this production. The character is coming along (although the voice still needs work, I think), and I have more chances today to play with how he fits onstage. I also get to hear more about Myfanwy's visions for him, which make me increasingly excited for the benefits of set, props, costume and audiences to engage with. It will be some time, though, before I am back in the Othello rehearsal room. The success of our decision not to cut this character is still entirely up in the air...

Thurday 19th February: The First Night

Yes, really. It's the afternoon of our opening, and I haven't been in the rehearsal room for over a month. Granted, I've done a bit of solo rehearsing that was taped and sent to Myfanwy (primarily of a new monologue she has written, which is to be inserted between scenes as a kind of interlude). I arrive in Islington an hour before our get-in starts, so I meet nearby with our new producer Isobel Glover and discuss everything that's happened during the production process I've been notably absent from. Isobel is obviously a very welcome familiar face after our year of performing 113 and Quiet Light together (she also has some experience with this, having produced their Twelfth Night and acted in their Macbeth). There are a few other additions to catch up on, all new to Ox Rep: Ali Khan is Montano, Kit Ford is Lodovico, and Jack Clark is the Commissioner (the Duke). 

Isobel confirms my suspicion that the rest of the cast has been feeling confused and unenthusiastic about my strange role as the Clown, and the show is already lengthy without my scenes (brief as they are). The new speech, which is littered with direct quotes from Bowie lyrics, implies that my Pierrot is a kind of observer trying to make sense of humanity's stubborn insistence on generalising political narratives. I'm on board with the writing, but I'm still hoping to figure out exactly how this half-invented character can enhance the production. 

After get-in, I finally get to practice the monologue in front of others, and reception seems to be positive. In fact, we decide to move the interval such that the Clown speech starts off the second half. This makes me feel a little better, alongside the help of costume (a very 80s New Romantic ensemble) and makeup (Pierrot's iconic powdered face and black tear). Over the course of the day, new ideas also emerge: I can replace a gunshot sound with the blow of a party horn; hand off a half-eaten banana to an audience member when called on for a scene; bring up an audience member to help me drag a body offstage; and the new interval position gives me license to buy a pint during the break and sink it onstage when it's time to begin again. 

Still, many factors are left undecided until the actual performance itself. As it approaches, we decide that the Clown can lounge across the first row watching everything unfold onstage, at least until he's called up for his scenes. 

The show itself is somewhat eventful, with some joyous improvisations ("I think we need a new feckin desk"), but we get through it without any too major incident. In the pub downstairs, I try to gauge whether the audience would rather have the Clown's speech cut, but feedback seems positive. Ultimately, Myfanwy seems very happy with it, and I think you always have to aim to please your director over your audience. I feel I've fulfilled my role in the production, but there a few more tweaks to be made to make the show and my part in it smoother and more impactful.

Friday 20th February: Of Beers and Balloons

I arrive in Islington just past 5 to get ready for our second night. I nip to a party shop to grab some proper white face-paint, and we also blacken my lips using kohl and lip oil, which really completes the creepy clownish look. Isobel has also found a long string of pearls to go under my shirt collar and make me look even more Spandau Ballet.

The show itself goes more smoothly tonight (we universally decide it's the better of our performances so far), and a few new innovations let me have more fun with the Clown. The big one is that we've decided against the party horn, and replaced it with the popping of a bright balloon to simulate a gunshot. Everyone seems to prefer this loud, jarring bang, and the nature of the object ensures that the moment retains its clownish edge. On the night, I get things a little wrong by inflating the balloon during the interval, which leaves it knocking around the stage for some time and eventually deflating on its own. When the scene comes in which the balloon is used, I blow it back up again and all is well, but tomorrow I'll definitely keep it hidden until that specific sequence arrives. 

Many of yesterday's improvisations are reused: I stick with the banana gag, but am surprised that, when I request the snack back, I receive only an empty peel - the audience member I entrusted with the half-eaten fruit had finished it off herself. I also reprise the onstage pint-sinking, and the routine of bringing an audience member up to help me drag off a body. The former proves unwise, as my ensuing speech is hindered by an uncomfortable need to burp. The latter goes well, though, and seems to amuse the audience more tonight. 

As we celebrate after the show, I have somewhat mixed feelings about what I'm achieving in these performances. Having little to do for the vast majority of the play, I'm not sure I've been able to fully prove myself to this group (which I admit is probably something you should never worry about when doing a show). The question still bothers me: Would this production yield a better viewing experience if my 7 or so minutes were subtracted from an already long runtime?

On the other hand, I've gotten positive feedback from other cast members and some who came to watch, so I am optimistically inclined to believe that the Clown's inclusion is worthwhile. The Pierrot-Clown's physical appearance and character concept also seem to inject an important dose of 80s flair that helps to root us in our setting. Most importantly, I think I'm fulfilling Myfanwy's vision for the character. 

Tonight was definitely an improvement both in terms of my own performance and the show as a whole. At the same time, there is an atmosphere of eager anticipation: we all expect our final night to be our best.

Saturday 21st February: The Final Act

Before our final performance, I decide to make some further changes. Dissatisfied with watching from the audience for most of the show, I want to lurk on and around the stage more. We also want to extend the balloon-popping device to cover a second gunshot later on in the show, which has so far been left silent. Most excitingly, Myfanwy has got the theatre's projector working, which allows us to show a film she has made just before the play begins. Composed of different clips from the early 80s, the film perfectly roots us in our setting, and I enjoy watching it from the stalls (where I have been placed strategically so I can manually turn off the projector).

Once the show begins, I choose different, inconspicuous positions around the space from which to watch each sequence. Moving in scene transitions, I keep still during most of the action of the play, so as to draw as little attention as possible - the whole show will be severely dampened if the audience are distracted from the important developments unfolding centre-stage. In one scene I lie on a curtained-off bed far upstage, such that only my head is visible hanging at its foot; in another I loiter on the extreme downstage-left of the playing space; in others still I am simply back in the audience. I think all of this enhances the fantasy of the character as a voyeur, but it is difficult to guess how effective it seems for the audience. In the final scene, I take the licenses I think Myfanwy has given me to become a little more present (though remaining very much in the background), and even extend a single flexing hand from behind a curtain to "aid" in the smothering of Desdemona (an idea that had been floated previously). Isobel thinks this is overdoing it, though it remained quite subtle.

Overall, it feels sure that the final night was indeed our best. The jury is still out on the extent to which the Clown contributed. The cast still seems somewhat split on whether his inclusion was a good idea, though some strongly congratulate me as we celebrate after the show. In case any others are still unconvinced, I'm willing to believe that this is at least partially down to how jam-packed and big the play is even without the Clown, rather than my own ideas or performance. 

Perhaps more important is that I've had a hugely enjoyable time with Ox Rep, and had the chance to encounter new challenges offered by a kind of character I've never played before. Myfanwy and Isobel, with the help of other core group members, do an amazing job of including everyone and keeping the production process relatively playful and relaxed. I'm also very grateful to have been able to meet and work with the other newcomers, all deeply interesting and talented artists in themselves. From RADA grads to former dentists to part-time farmers, I am very pleased to have worked with this lovely, eclectic group of performers. This diary can only end with gratitude for a good time had, and excitement for future chances to see (or be involved in) future shows from this group. Since my Clown probably spoke more Bowie than Shakespeare, I'll finish with lyrics from his song Golden Years in lieu of a quote from the play.

Don't let me hear you say life's

taking you nowhere,

angel

Come get up my baby

Look at that sky, life's begun

Nights are warm and the days are young

Huge thanks are due to Myfanwy and Isobel for looking after us all so well; to Joe, Ethan, Flynn, Grace, Kate, Roman, Chess, Nathan, Ali, Kit, and Jack for being such a welcoming, cooperative, and talented cast; to the entirety of Ox Rep for having me; and to the Hen and Chickens for hosting us.