Production Diary: '113' at Theatr Bont, Bridgend
Production Diary: 113 at Theatr Bont, Bridgend
Sunday 7th December: The First Day Back
2 months after we last performed the show, myself, Isobel Glover, and our director Rio Joubert are back in the rehearsal room for 113. We are going into our 6th production, which is to begin in 3 days in Bridgend, South Wales. All that stands between us and our Welsh debut is today's single, 5-hour rehearsal. This might sound pretty fast-and-loose, but to be honest it's a mercy - we've put endless hours of rehearsal into this play already, not to mention 18 performances (the muscle memory is pretty well-ingrained). Bear in mind, the show is now so slick that we can do it in under an hour, so long rehearsals allow us to go through the entire thing multiple times.
But what makes today exciting is that Isobel, Rio and I are rejoined by Sali Adams (who plays a character called "J.Doe"), having not performed with her since July. Sali was part of the show in Leicester, Oxford and Islington, but wasn't with us in Edinburgh or Camden. For those shows we were lucky enough to be joined by Lily Lefkow, a trained, professional actor. Still, it is nice to have our original gang reunited, and Sali injects some wonderful positive energy into what might otherwise feel like quite a repetitive recapping process.
To our slight surprise, everything goes smoothly. Despite Isobel being quite ill, the show itself has been so heavily rehearsed that we could probably do it in our sleep, and a couple of months off seem not to have made much of a difference. The only significant challenge is that, for the first time, our Bridgend shows will be given in traverse staging (where rows of audience members sit on two opposite sides of the stage), so we have to adapt to face out towards them and avoid looking directly in each others' direction. Literally, our backs are against the wall. It's not easy, but we've done the show in so many different configurations now (end-on, thrust, end-on with a diagonal wall which gave us a 90º triangle-shaped space to play in, and in Leicester we even played with having the audience onstage stood shoulder-to-shoulder to become the wall themselves) that we're pretty used to adapting each moment for wherever the audience is.
I also have to admit that, despite all our groaning about endlessly rehearsing a play we've been doing since February (mainstream professional actors would scoff, but it feels like a long time for us), this story does still get to me. Even in a procedural, half-energy rehearsal run, by the end I am still tearing up on behalf of a character that I think I still genuinely love. Bring on Bridgend.
Wednesday 10th December: Of Colds and Coaches
A spanner in the works. In the last couple of days, I've become ill with this winter's first rubbish cold. Why does this only happen when I'm performing, or about to? Thankfully, the sore throat seems to have cleared up, and that's the real killer (I've done 2 or 3 shows before with a throat infection - not fun). Still, I was ill for 113 5, had two months of good health, and now am ill again for 113 6. Lots of sleep, lots of tea, and lots of drugs will hopefully have me sorted out before our first performance tomorrow...
Isobel and I catch the 8pm coach from Victoria. We get in just past midnight, are scooped up in writer Ethan McLucas's car, and shortly arrive at the BnB, which is a genuinely lovely house decorated for Christmas. A long day finally over, we collapse into our beds.
Thursday 11th December: Our Welsh Debut
Our first morning in Bridgend, and the illness has unfortunately not gone away. Whilst Isobel is stuck working remotely, the rest of head to the theatre, which we find in the attic of the West House Hotel, a cozy, rustic pub. Time to set up and programme lights and sound. We have gone ahead with the plan to do put this quirky black-box space into traverse, and the stage really is unlike anything we've used previously. Essentially, I have a space about 3 metres wide but not much more than a single metre deep, at the end of which is a single small row of audience seating. Using the width is going to be imperative, as taking more than a single pace forward will have me treading on the audience's toes.
Despite persistent colds, and stomach pain that's been bothering me all day, we get through the first show without trouble. We're used to the space now, and it feels like we're well-prepared for the rest of our run. Fingers crossed the overnight meds do their thing and tomorrow we wake up free from all irritating ailments.
Friday 12th December: I'll Send You Back a Card-iff We Make it There Alright
That did not happen. The cold is beginning to subside now, but the stomach pain has gotten worse and is a major thorn all day (although I usually don't notice these things when I'm actually performing). Still, it does not ruin a very enjoyable day trip to Cardiff where we take a brisk tour from the bay and the Millennium Centre, up to the Victorian arcades and the indoor market, finishing at the Castle, which is all decked out for Christmas. Isobel is not able to join us as she's working, but, on the upside, she seems to be feeling better when we get home. After a lovely dinner, we are ready to take on our second night.
At the door to Theatr Bont, we are surprised by a large bouquet of flowers and a very kindly written card. Before long, we realise that it was left by an audience member from our previous performance - we are please to read that he 'loved it'. A good burst of energy before tonight's show, which goes pretty well again. We have a couple more people in tonight, and we get more giggles from them. When we pop downstairs for pints afterwards, Isobel and I have given our 20th performance of this play. Frankly, I have for a while been becoming less and less keen on (or enabled for) critically analysing my own performance on each night. Sure, there are things about tonight that I probably could've done better, at least insofar as I don't feel like it was literally my best performance. But I've been learning that I'll get nothing out of agonising over it - after all, it's not my first go at it, and it won't be my last. At this point, actual slip-ups are discussed after the audience has left only for their comedic value. Line slips/blanks are particularly appreciated (whilst rare given how many times we've done this play, they are still sometimes inevitable when one is rapidly reeling through an 82-page script), as they give us a free opportunity to ad-lib in character (largely taking the piss out of each other), which we've been enjoying since Edinburgh. Tonight, there are unfortunately no noteworthy cock-up stories to tell. In any case, I'm still making sure to go at each night with the same energy and effort as ever, and that's the most important thing, I think.
I am the last up when all else have gone to bed, as I've told myself that I should write these diaries at the end of each day rather than let them pile up and write the whole thing at once. I know I've said it before, but I really do hope that we all wake up tomorrow totally illness-free. Maybe I'm jinxing myself...
Saturday 13th December: Our Final (?) Performance
Definitely jinxing it. I wake up this morning feeling worse than ever, with a pounding headache. Isobel is feeling better at least. I go for a walk, eat something, and try to get myself ready for our final show tonight.
Our final night has our biggest audience, and I go into it intending to have as much fun as I can, with the hope of some good laughs. Unfortunately, that doesn't quite work out, as it never quite feels like my half of the audience are on my side. Of course, I know you should never worry about whether you think the audience is enjoying a show, but it's difficult not to when they are literally inches away. So, I'm not getting any laughs, and I come offstage a little dissatisfied with my performance. Then again, Isobel thinks it went well (we so often have completely opposite perceptions of how each night went), and the audience is congratulatory as they leave, so it's probably not worth worrying about. It's time to celebrate the end of the run, and a crawl across the various pubs and bars of Bridgend (which is suddenly buzzing on a Saturday night, having been pretty empty for the rest of our trip) keeps me from dwelling on self-analysis.
Until recently, we believed that tonight would be our last ever performance of 113. I was anticipating all sorts of feelings as we gave our last show, and plenty of tears. I had also thought I'd be able to write in this diary about the plot and what it means to me (the danger of spoilers being removed). We now know that tonight is not our final time giving the show together, and that the play will continue to be performed even after Sali, Isobel and I have finished our go at it. There is still the sad knowledge that we are drawing towards the end, but I look forward to doing it again.
Sunday 14th December: The Bridge's End
When writing these diaries, I've tried to keep the focus on the production itself, and what I'm learning from my attempts at acting, rather than just chatting about my personal life. So, I won't tell you about my last day in Bridgend, but I will say a few more words about the experience of doing this show.
Sometimes people ask me why I've kept doing this show for so long. Actually, at one point during this trip I ask myself a similar question: "How did I end up stood in a pub in a Welsh town wearing pyjamas and an enormous Venetian mask?" I suppose the obvious answer is that I love this play. In a very real way it has changed my life, teaching me a huge amount and giving me some great opportunities. As I said last week, I still love this character, and I've learnt a lot from them. But maybe the more important reason is the people I've gotten to know through it. A running joke in our group is calling Rio and Ethan "Mum and Dad." It's silly, obviously, but that gag actually betrays a truth: that our unlikely gang has very much become a little family of our own. There is an environment here that is absolutely not exclusive to the 5 of us on this trip but extends to a much wider group. We look out for each other, exchange creative ideas, take interest in each other's projects, and are excited to be working together. Most importantly, I really believe there's a lot of love in this group.
Before catching the long coach ride home, I'll end off with a quote from the play itself, and hope that Ethan doesn't mind me spoiling one little moment of his script.
"I get you. We get on. We're a team. We could do this. You and me, 113."
As ever, huge thanks are due to Ethan and Rio for looking after us and organising our trip; to Isobel and Sali for being the best castmates and friends one could ask for; and to Theatr Bont for having us.
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