Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Acting (But Were Afraid To Ask, Dear) (15 page)

Word of this legendary battle spread far and wide, and every actor watched from afar. Willy was first to strike as he directed Barbara Dickson in a touching version of ‘Marilyn Monroe’ – so moving that Tim Rice fell to his knees in tears. Then Mackintosh responded with a tactical Elaine Paige move – a perky rendition of ‘Rainbow High’. This took Willy by complete surprise and he was knocked aside by Paige’s violent vibrato.

Barbara Dickson then relished the chance and delivered a deafening version of ‘Tell Me It’s Not True’. Soho got on its feet and applauded. Lloyd Webber was horrified. He realised ‘Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina’ was no match for this, but forced Elaine to perform. She stood in her
Evita
pose, sucked on a lozenge, and sang for her life. It was the performance of her career, and the moment Lloyd Webber knew she was destined to play Norma Desmond.

Now it was Mackintosh and Billy’s turn. The ultimate showdown. There was nothing else for it. A musical-theatre sing-off.

Billy rose to his feet and gallantly burst into a haunting rendition of ‘Shoes Upon the Table’. At the same time, Cameron tore open his jacket, revealed his feline chest hair, and began singing ‘Memory’. London went quiet. All were listening. Agents dropped their clients, casting directors dropped their boyfriends, and directors dropped their scripts. This was the theatrical sing-off of all time.

Billy desperately ball-changed as he sang, and Cameron got on all fours and meowed like a mad man. Barbara Dickson and Elaine Paige were engaged in one-on-one combat. It was a bloody, filthy, aural mess. ‘Memory’ and
‘
Shoes Upon the Table’ should never be sung simultaneously. It was a musical travesty, a challenge to Doctor Theatre, a beckoning to the gods of drama. The singing intensified, Billy’s vocal chords snapped, and Cameron’s meowing intensified into a howl.

Then the miracle happened.

A bright light hovered above Soho and music screeched from the heavens. The doors of The Groucho Club burst open and a distant figure lurched forward. It was the man everyone feared. The man with the ultimate composing power. It was Stephen Sondheim.

Mackintosh and Billy froze. They were in the presence of the biggest Mafia leader of all time. Sondheim had all the gangs in the USA working for him – these two UK boys were no match.

‘Mackintosh. Lloyd Webber. Willy. Billy.
Stop!
This is not what musical theatre is about. Theatre is an art. A craft. A reflection of humanity – and through your brutality you are trying to kill it. We are the creators of this live art. And we must work together. You will all be at peace. Otherwise I will never let you produce any of my work. Including
West Side Story
. Heed my advice. Or I will return with my army of Broadway boys.’

With that, Sondheim did a tremendous jazz-hand salute and ball-changed into The Ivy. And Soho was once again left in peace.

Mackintosh, Lloyd Webber, Willy and Billy’s eyes met. They walked towards each other and held out their hands. Willy produced a knife from his pocket. Each man took turns cutting their palms with the blade. They then all did a bloody handshake and took an oath. They were now blood brothers.

In the weeks that followed, peace was once again restored to London. And, as a mark of forgiveness,
Blood Brothers
opened in the West End on the 11th April 1983 at the Lyric Theatre.

To this day Mackintosh, Lloyd Webber and Billy run London with their army of triple-threat actors. Their legacy has survived, and, thanks to them, London continues to produce the best theatre in the world.

And Willy? Well,
Blood Brothers
ran for twenty-four years in the West End – not bad considering he wasn’t keen to bring it to London. Since then he’s been writing, directing, and slowly morphing into a chubby Trevor Nunn. Bless, dear.

Actors – after a three-show day, when you have no voice, your body is weak, and you feel like death – remember you are living the dream, dear.

Performing

So you’ve auditioned, got the job and rehearsed, you’ve spent hours on the loo trying to learn your lines, you’ve got to know your fellow cast mates and spurned the advances of the sex pest (unless you are the sex pest), you’ve done a full runthrough, a technical rehearsal, a dress rehearsal, and have had far too many notes from your director – and now the time is here! It’s performance time. This is the time when
you
are in control. As soon as you walk onto that stage it is all down to you. No one can tell you what to do, how to do it, and when to do it, apart from yourself. And that is a wonderful feeling. You deserve to be on that stage. It is also a very anxious and trusting time when you hope that the rest of the cast are going to do what was rehearsed. Because if they do not then you could be in trouble. That is the joy of performing – you never know what is going to happen. And if the worst does occur, and a fellow actor starts wetting themself downstage-centre, there is nothing you can do but watch. And laugh. And hope that none of it trickles onto the front row. Because that is live theatre.
Anything
can happen. And that is why we love it, dear!

Some actors say they love rehearsing, some actors say they love performing, and some actors say they love drinking. But personally, my favourite part is the performances. I love watching actors as they grace the stage for the first time and respond to an audience. I adore watching their performances grow and alter night after night after night. And I get
incredibly emotional when I hear the rapturous applause of an audience as they enthusiastically respond to a show I have helped develop for weeks, months and years. It really is thrilling. The only time I don’t like the performance is when the show is rubbish, and the audience hate it. When that happens you can find me in the bar, opening another bottle of Dom, and getting savagely sloshed, dear.

Let’s have a look at the excitement and tribulations of performing. Starting with your first night. And what’s the most important thing on the first night? The first-night present, of course.

The First-night Present

Many people in the industry get their priorities all wrong. As soon as they get offered a job they spend the next few months preparing for the role, doing research and learning their lines. Whilst this effort is not completely wasted, it is certainly a shame that they don’t spend more time concentrating on the real priority. Namely, the first-night present.

The first-night present is a tradition that dates back many, many years – to one of the most memorable and theatrical nights ever. That first Nativity performance when Jesus was born in a stable was a monumental piece of theatre. It was lit so beautifully by the Star of Bethlehem, and had a wonderful set designed by shepherds. And when the Three Wise Men presented Jesus with gold, frankincense and myrrh, it marked the beginning of the ‘first-night present’ tradition.

A first-night present can change everything. People are judged on many things – the most important being the size, value and originality of the present. Of course, now that times are hard and some actors are forced to take work that pays as little as £0 a week (or minus figures if it’s a ‘profit share’), it may become necessary to remortgage your house to participate in this touching and important discipline. And I think, in time, you will realise it is money well spent.

When choosing a present it is essential you consider what is expected. There is no point buying someone a bra and panties as this could be deemed inappropriate. However, if the bra and panties are branded with the show’s logo then you could become the most popular person in your company.

There was a time when all that was expected was a card. And in some companies this is still okay. But there will always be an air of disappointment and bitterness if everyone else goes to the trouble and expense of buying a gift and you do not. It can take years of buying drinks in the pub to make up for this error of judgement.

You don’t have to buy everyone a different present – and often this is a wise decision, as favouritism will then be judged on the expense of the gift. In fact, it can be very sweet and thoughtful if you get everyone the same thing. However, if you do this, you
must
make the cards personal.

No one likes a card that reads ‘It’s been great working with you.’ This smacks of insincerity and lacks any sense of personality – indeed, you could be writing the card to someone you’ve only just met. It is essential you remember something funny that happened in rehearsals, or if that fails, just make something up.

If you are extra keen on the present and card tradition you could take the ‘stalking’ route and find as much information about every cast member as possible by asking their friends and ex-partners, or by reading their diaries. Of course, this will take up a lot of time – and may result in you getting a restraining order, but you will be very well-respected for your ‘first-night initiative’.

Some of the most bizarre first-night presents I have received over the years include:

Never make the mistake of only buying for the cast. This is highly inappropriate and will get you a bad reputation with everybody else involved in the show. There are so many people to buy for – backstage crew, wardrobe, dressers, stage-door keepers, lighting designers, resident directors, musical directors, cleaners, wig-makers, writers, second cousins of the director, the director’s children, the musical director’s wife and, most importantly, the producer. Be certain that no one is left out. Obviously it is most important to buy for the director, casting director and producer – as they are the ones who will be hiring you again. This is essential to remember – always be thinking of your next job, dear.

When playing drunks, try to remain sober – otherwise you’ll forget how to play drunk properly, dear.

The Company Warm-up

Many actors get confused, irritated and ashamed at the prospect of a company warm-up before a show. They feel that this simple and helpful pastime undermines them as performers – as why should they be forced to warm up? Surely, they argue, the responsibility of warming up relies on the actors themselves – and if they feel warm enough then they should be excluded from this tradition. I’m afraid I disagree. Whilst I see the point that actors are quite capable of warming up by themselves, the sad truth is they
hardly do. If I were to excuse all of my casts from warming up there would be a nation of cold, lifeless actors jumping around on stage every night. And that is only excusable when doing Ibsen, dear.

An actor may argue that they have already been to the gym, had a singing lesson, spent two hours in their local toilets, and been rubbed down by their various partners. Whilst I appreciate that this makes them warm, it does not make them feel involved and included with the rest of the company – which is precisely the point of the company warm-up.

A company warm-up is not mandatory in every show and, indeed, in some companies it is not even considered. However, it is commonplace in musicals and bigger physical shows that a warm-up takes place. It is a necessary part of an actor’s schedule – as not only does it warm and prepare you for the show, but allows the whole company to come together as one.

This is particularly important for big shows, when a warm-up is often the only time the entire company are together. In these kinds of shows you are in a big theatre, littered in dressing rooms at the extremities of the building, and may never be on stage with everyone else in the company. Whilst this can be comforting (particularly if you don’t like your fellow cast members), it can also be quite disconcerting – particularly when performing in an ensemble show.

‘Ensemble’ is a word that is flung around theatres almost as much as John Barrowman. It is quoted by everyone – and all good directors will mention the word at least five times an hour. It instils an actor with a sense of belonging and purpose – as though they are performing with a close-knit band of brothers and family members. But, of course, they are not. They are generally performing with recently graduated
Fame
fanatics who only care about progressing up the career ladder. But by the suggestive use of the word ‘ensemble’, an actor is made to feel at home.