You’re either a matinee person or you’re not.

This is true of both audiences and performers.

As a member of the audience I love a matinee if I’m standing or outdoors. Or standing outdoors. There’s something wonderfully odd about stepping out of a theatre in daylight and heading out to eat. It’s also a lovely way to see a musical, as you can keep the songs in your head for an evening.

Having said that. As a performer, they don’t half throw me. For a start, you have to break the routine of going to the theatre in the early evening. And then you have to perform twice. Twice. I mean, really? Isn’t it bad enough having to do it once?

The Jolly Lion considers what to do with his evening after a matinee…

But, when you’re over the idea of having to do it twice (twice? I mean, really?), there is pleasure to be had. It doesn’t come in the performance at all, it comes in the gap between the two shows.

Is there anything quite like having to kill a couple of hours with your cast without being able to have a drink in the bar. Past pantomime successes and failures have seen pizzas in rehearsal rooms (great success) fish and chips in changing rooms (stinking failure) and meals at the local pub (no fun for the organiser and there are always meals that go missing – all in all, a mixed bag!).

But, if you’ve ever sat on stairs going through the songs on a castmate’s iPod, you’ll know you can learn more about a person than you’ll ever want to. And that is the magic of matinee.

Next year ‘M’ will be for Musicals

On Saturday ‘L’ was for Learning Lines

HATEMAIL

It is the first card that will haunt me the most. I came home from work, picked up the post and there was a card. Inside was a simple message. It read “STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND”.

The next thing I did was a mistake and plays directly into the hands of people who send anonymous letters.

I thought about it.

I ran through a list of people I socialise with or work with. I could think of plenty of married people, a fair few that are engaged and a lot that are single. I realised that I didn’t know anyone that I would consider to be in a stage in between.

And so I put it on one side and tried to forget about it.

That was in January. Now in April, I am writing a blogpost about it. Of course, you will come to understand why…

The following day another card came to my family home. It was a bereavement card. Inside the message simply read, “IT WON’T BE LONG”. The envelope had not been addressed to me.

It was at this stage that I contacted the police.

I had a very sincere fear that this was a threat. Again, I was left with my thoughts. I wanted to tell the person sending the cards that I had no interest in their girlfriend. That I had no particular romantic interest in anyone. That I was just looking to do my job, rehearse my play and quietly get on with life without disturbing anyone.

It was then quiet for days.

Had I overreacted in calling the police? I asked the officers I spoke to about how to deal with it and what would happen next. I recall one saying that it would escalate, and I remember that making me laugh nervously.

Escalate?

From telling my family that it wouldn’t be long before I died?

The only escalation I could envisage was actually being killed. Trust me when I say that that can play on your mind.

The reality was much worse.

That week a friend contacted me to say she had received a letter about me. At that moment I knew the person sending the cards were connected to my theatre group.

I contacted the chairman of the group and he told me that he had received similar materials.

I then told my employer of what was happening. Letters had been received in my workplace as well.
The allegations in these letters were far worse than somebody carrying out their death threat. At least, if they were to kill me, I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

The motive behind the letters, which were from a false name and false address, was to have me removed from the play I was rehearsing at the time.

In the coming fortnight as the frequency of the letters increased, I received messages to “WATCH OUT!” with pictures of eyes, they sent me painkillers, “FOR YOUR HEADACHE!” and then the more cryptic: “YOUR FAMILY KNOWS, YOUR GIRLFRIEND KNOWS, YOUR EMPLOYER KNOWS, YOUR THEATRE KNOWS… WHO NEXT?”

I was baffled – I was scared – I was watching out like you can’t imagine – I was facing the biggest performance of my amdram life – I was going to work like nothing had happened, but knowing that people there knew.

My family became a sounding board for the most ridiculous theories as to who it could be, my closest friends grew tired of hearing about it. Meanwhile I used the blog to put on a brave face. I don’t want you to think I was completely submissive. I tried to fight it. I wrote Come Along and Support Miss Julie and the rehearsal diaries that followed to show my poison pen writer that there was nothing wrong. That it was all systems go. That everything was fine.

I was left to do ‘Miss Julie’ without a single letter to my home or my workplace.

But before the run of the play was complete I knew that I could not go through it all again. I pulled out of the next two plays I had lined up. The excuses I gave were pathetic. Somehow, we got through the run, but I looked at every member of the company, wondering if they were going home of an evening to write to me. At times I felt like I trusted nobody.

One of the hardest things to hear is people saying, “you’re letting them win.”

If you pull out of the plays you’re letting them win.

If you talk about it you’re letting them win.

Well I’m sorry, but I stayed as quiet about it as I could for weeks, and from where I was sat, if there is a winner – and I don’t believe there is – it was certainly never going to be me.  It was them from the moment they sent the first card.

And surely, if I stay quiet and say nothing, what about the next person it happens to?

I feel as though everything I thought about my world has been completely destroyed. And I want you to know. I want you to know because if you see me around you will get the jovial front. If you read the blog I hope you would think that nothing particularly serious was wrong.

You see, I am broken and I am not afraid to admit it. I fear my own letterbox. I hate checking my post tray at the office. Thinking about this campaign of hatred has made me physically sick. I can barely remember a time before this started and do not know how anything but time will ever put this right.

And so I write this today because I want you to have whatever satisfaction you get from doing this to me and my family. You are welcome to that satisfaction. Have it. I hope it brings you great comfort.

In amdram, there are a limited number of variations of conversation. There is the one that starts, “how are your rehearsals going?” and there is, “so, what are you doing next?”

“What are you doing next?” became the opening that allowed me to spread the word. My answer was always, “nothing.” The person asking would say something about how it’s good to take a break from it. I could then tell them no, I desperately want to get back on stage, but I do not intend to until I know who was sending the hate letters. Word gets around.

A month later another card was sent to my office. There was a picture of a lot of toy soldiers lying on the ground. The message read: “J TUCK – ALL FALL DOWN SOON!”

All fall down. Soon.

The thinking about it starts again. It hasn’t gone away.

Another quiet month, then this week it started again. A card came to my employer setting out the A to Z of my character. What do we think might motivate someone to do an A to Z about me?

Also this week, I received a call from a member of a neighbouring drama group who had also had a card warning them off allowing my involvement in their company.

This card changed the shape of my week.

I am now more afraid than ever. I have spoken to the person I believe is sending the letters. They deny that it is them and have asked me to pass the latest materials to the police. I am content to do so.

But this is my request for the day. If you have received a card, letter or message about me, kindly contact me by email – thejollylion@gmail.com – I will give you the crime reference number to forward it on to.

I just want it to end. I just want everything to end.

Normal service resumes tomorrow.

Yesterday ‘L’ was for Learning Lines.

LEARNING LINES

How do you eat yours?

I’m a great believer in walking to work with a script in my hand, whether I’m in a play or not. That’s my time for learning lines and that’s my place. It’s the only time away from the rehearsal room that I properly knuckle down and put the work in. Mindless repetition of words and hope for the best.

I’m certainly aware of people who have line buddies – I’ve been known to go through lines with others away from rehearsals in the past, but those occasions are very few and far between. I can’t imagine how awful it must be for the other person to have to go through learning the lines too. No doubt they would know the script far better come performance week.

Perhaps you’re a recording person. Reading the script to your iPod so that you can play the words back to yourself whilst around the house or out and about. Do you record your own lines to get them in your head or do you record the rest of the lines in the scene and then say your own lines in the gaps so you know your cues safely?

The Jolly Lion takes a break from reading Shakespeare’s histories and dabbles in the tragedies – it’ll soon be time for comedies again…

I’m not sure that my way works.

There have certainly been enough productions in the past where I have needed the assistance of a prompt.

It has always been the part of the whole acting thing that I found tiresome, until I found Shakespeare. Suddenly there were lines that I didn’t mind having cluttering up my head. Chunks of plays that stay with you and have residual value. Lines I will learn, even when I’m not in a play.

But is the beauty of words enough to the replace the beauty of rehearsal, life backstage and the thrill of performance. Who am I trying to kid?

The whole not-having-a-play-to-look-forward-to thing has been a bit tiresome of late.

I’ve enjoyed learning things for fun and looking at different hobbies, meeting new people and am delighted to have expanded the writing side of my life (how marvellous that traffic to the Jolly Lion has quadrupled since I started the A to Z Challenge – and a welcome hello to newcomers!). But it’s time to audition again.

Now, I know I said I wouldn’t set foot on stage until I found out who was behind the campaign of hate letters that my family, my employers, my theatre and my friends have received that have attempted to run my reputation into the ground. But the good news is, that time has passed.

I do now know who it is.

And I can prove it.

You want to know who?

SPOILERS!

You’ll have to come back tomorrow, when ‘H’ will be for Hatemail…

Next year, ‘L’ will be for Lighting

Yesterday ‘K’ was for Kettle

KETTLE

Behind every great amdram group is a kettle.The kettle is the backbone of the society.

Nothing stops a director quicker than a kettle boiling in the corner of the room.

The person who boils the kettle usually isn’t afraid to wash up the mugs. They are always content to miss the second half of a rehearsal or show to do the washing up.

They drift through rehearsals quietly, putting a biscuit on a tray, quietly taking details of who wants tea and who wants coffee.

There is no greater gift of service to your company than being the bringer of refreshment.

And, of course, this extends into the performance weeks to the providers of ice cream, the pourers of tea and coffee, and sometimes something stronger. If you can keep the audience fed and watered, they are bound to be a more cheerful crowd.

Even at set builds and set strikes (yes, before you ask, I have been to them on occasion, cheeky!) even the most helpless with a hammer or drill can wield power by taking control of the kettle.

I don’t want to oversimplify, but he who controls the kettle controls the room.

Now, who’s for a cup of tea?

Next year ‘K’ will be for ‘Kings’

Yesterday ‘J’ was for the Jolly Lion

THE JOLLY LION

There was a time, more than twelve months ago, that this website went by the name of Jolyon’s Theatrical Reviews. That was a rubbish name.

Not Jolyon, you understand. Jolyon is a great name. Sure, it’s a tough one to grow up with, because it was very rare and people struggled to spell it or say it. But oddly, people remember it.

Can’t think why.

The best thing about it is that people say it differently. Now, I’m a Jo-lee-on kind of guy, but I understand there are some of us that prefer Jolly-on – I’m not one of them. Nevertheless, there were some young scamps during my schooldays who thought that ‘Jolly Lion’ would be nickname of desire. And, let’s face it, when there’s a whole generation of kids who point at you and shout “There he is!” because you looked a bit like ‘Where’s Wally?’, Jolly Lion is the sort of name you might adopt in your adult life to bring a bit of branding to a play review website.

The photograph that the Jolly Lion never thought he could work into a blog post…

Recently though, it has got worse. Once you have branding, you have identity. The Jolly Lion went to Llanelli, even though he was never going to write a blog post about the place.

At the Teignmouth Drama Festival, he and I had a particularly odd experience in the bar at the end of the night. He was sat on a table, minding his own business, when the Festival adjudicator came over looking slightly confused and asked why there was a stuffed lion on the table. Before I had the chance to tell her who he was, four ladies from different parts of the bar, all members of different drama groups, happily replied, “That’s the Jolly Lion!” – as if that were obvious.

A glass of wine is all it takes to get the Jolly Lion dancing on a table with a ring on his head…

Then more recently still, he came along to meet some local writers who have all hooked up through NaNoWriMo (that’s national novel writing month in November) where he acted as a beacon to allow newcomers to find us easily.

Unfortunately, you only have to turn your back for a moment these days and he disgraces himself.

And so today’s post is really a ‘best of’, for the A to Z visitors, or those who just fancy a trip down memory…

The first review: A Trio of Lighthearted One Act Plays – South Brent Amateur Dramatic Society, when writing reviews was as much about the welcome and the raffle as it was about the play!

The favourite play of 2011: Quills – Exeter Alternative Theatre, which made me realise that local theatre could be all the dark and edgy things I’d like it to be, just as long as you live in the big city. And by big city, I mean Exeter.

Highlights of 2012 include: The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui – Exeter University Theatre Company, Daisy Pulls It Off – The Teignmouth Players, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum – Newton Abbot and District Musical Comedy Society, Revenge – Bijou Theatre Productions and Tess of the d’Urbervilles – TYKES.

The Jolly Lion’s Facebook Pages For South Devon Drama Groups is still up to date (but keep me posted if your group moves or you’re not on the list and want to be!).

Whilst on of my favourite observations from within a production came The Night After The Night Off in ‘As You Like It’ last year, and my most embarrassing review of a professional show came during The Phantom of the Opera.

If you’re suitably theatre’d out by this point, why not join the Jolly Lion at The Doctor Who Experience?

Next year ‘J’ will be for Juicy Parts. Behave.

Yesterday ‘I’ was for In The Round.

Tweet

GRATITUDE

A lot have people have taken this heading for the A to Z Challenge today.

Perhaps it’s because whatever we choose to write about, we have a lot to be grateful for in our chosen field on blogging. Mine is amdram, so who should I be thanking?

If you hate the ‘all about me posts’ pass over this one and head straight to ‘H’ tomorrow. For those who feel nosey, come along for the ride as I thank (at least) two people from every production ever…

In 2004 I appeared for the first time with the Shiphay Amateur Dramatic Society in the SDDF Award winning ‘Pickwick Papers’. I was fortunate to be given my first big break by Nigel Howells (who this week directs another Dickens classic, A Tale of Two Cities, at the Little Theatre, Torquay). Meanwhile, I was given a warm welcome by the company, but I am most grateful to John F Shorter, the only other twentysomething chap in the cast, for keeping me as sane as I was going to be.

So put off was I by that performance, I did not return to the stage until 2006. Then, with the same company I was cast in, ‘Last Tango in Whitby’. There I am grateful to Dorothy Pemble, the best dance partner a young man would ever need. Also to Ted Parker, who kept a rowdy audience in check through funnier performances – nearly having to remove some of my family, who laughed in the serious bits.

The same year in ‘California Suite’ I must thank the two ladies who appeared in my scene, Louise Bourton and Rachael-Elizabeth Broadhurst for all the fun and games. This brought my first experience of seeing somebody else suffer from first night nerves and led me to be haunted by the line ‘oh yeah, I bled on the carpet, Stu’ forever more.

Fredi Wright, David Jackson and Mark Gillham in ‘Cinderella Goes West’

‘Cinderella Goes West’ was my first pantomime in 2007, where I must thank Pat Bidder for the opportunity to appear in a show that she wrote, directed and was reviving on the strength of its previous success – it really is a great script! Here I will also thank Mark Gillham, who was the fourth member of my ‘California Suite’ scene, and the only young man I have appeared on stage with in Torquay who I really thought knew what he was doing and wasn’t just playing at it.

With ‘Trivial Pursuits’ I must thank Pat Gillies and Peter Davis, with whom I laughed my way through one of the biggest and funniest parts I’d ever get to play. Again, I feel haunted by a line, “I’ve never seen anyone look less like a nun.” It’s a Frank Vickery play about a musical society, my advice is stage it – it’s bonkers.

The Cast of Rumpelstiltskin.com

By 2008 it was back to pantomime with ‘Rumpelstiltskin.com’ and here I will be eternally grateful to work colleague, Sarah Carson, for stepping into the am dram world for one play only to become the perfect pantomime princess. I must also thank director Jan Pitwell for letting David Jackson and I have most of the songs – we loved it!

Alan Tanner teaches me a thing or two about comic timing…

With ‘On the Razzle’ my thanks go to Olive Bennett, who provided some of the most astonishing props (and a lifetime of cups of tea through the years of amdram at Shiphay!), and Alan Tanner, whose performance as Zangler taught me more about comic timing than anything else I’ve been involved with. Oh, fine, so Brenda and Jo Loosemore were pretty instructive too!

Torturing Winston Smith (Lee-James Bovey)           You can’t.

For ’1984′ I got my first chance to play a serious baddie, in this adaptation of the George Orwell novel. Here I played O’Brien, and I will always be grateful to Lee-James Bovey and Georgia Brooks who were castmates playing Winston Smith and Julia, for being fun to torture and torment. You can’t buy laughs like that. You can’t.

This was the year I got my first part with the TOADS Theatre Company in Torquay. I played William in ‘Katherine Howard’ and had two wonderful lines to deliver. Here my thanks must go to Nigel Howells, for letting me have a part in another of his plays despite all the horrible things I say about being in ‘Pickwick Papers’, and The Courtenay Players, with whom I got to bang a drum during the dance scenes. That’s right, I play instruments too.

Back to Shiphay for pantomime in 2009 and the ‘New Adventures of Robinson Crusoe’. Here I was delighted to be a part of the chorus, and the fun and games came from appearing with John Rea, Dominic Cook and John F Shorter. We were very badly behaved, but they taught me how much fun you can have when there’s no pressure to learn lines and you can spend all your time trying to make the main cast laugh.

Back at the Little Theatre with the TOADS in the Noel Coward classic, ‘Present Laughter’ I must thank Stephanie Austin for letting me go over the top as Roland Maule, and Martin Austen, who played Garry Essendine, the central character. Together they were another warm welcome to a theatre and the production brought me my first and only good review in the local press.

The cast of ‘Love Me Slender’

Off stage my directing debut came with ‘Love Me Slender’ again at Shiphay ADS. Here the list of ‘thank you’s is endless, but the easiest must be to Hilary Gameson and Danielle Nixon, who both stepped into parts with two or three weeks to go to hold the show together. Forever in their debt. The whole cast were wonderful but those girls pulled a miracle.

Dame Trott and Jack, dressed for squatting.

By ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ the 2010 Shiphay pantomime my thanks are firmly at the door of Annie Parker and Pat Gillies, who were my long-suffering wardrobe mistresses and dressers. It was my debut as Dame and they made sure I looked fabulous. A big hurrah to them.

When we took on ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ in 2010 it seemed like we had bitten off more than we could chew. Through this production it was Richard Green that kept me laughing with a delightfully dark sense of humour, and Jonathan Waterworth that had the vision to bring a scaffold tower into a church hall. I could have cried. I think I did.

By ‘The Titfield Thunderbolt’ I was finishing my only full season as Chairman at Shiphay. By this time I had begun to understand that you couldn’t get through a production without techies and backstage folk, so my fond thank you is to Louis Sullivan on lights and Jonathon Cook on sound!

What lady can resist a blue velvet jacket made out of a curtain?

At ‘Mansfield Park’ I must thank Margaret Baker who was my first ever line buddy and Carole King, who made a jacket to measure out of a pair of beautiful velvet curtains.

My second Dame was Widow Twanky in ‘Aladdin’ with the TOADS Theatre Company. In this production it was the chorus that kept me laughing, so stepping away from choosing two names I must thank Di Stokes, Paulette Perrin, Fiona Humphreys and Jean Tolchard, Jason Davey and Nathan Samuel, Sophie Cartwright, Jessica Thacker, Mary Clifford and Sarah Dickinson. They sang like nobody you’ve ever heard, they danced like nothing you had ever seen and they gave it beans. I adored this pantomime and this chorus.

In 2011 we brought an odd play to Shiphay with ‘Speaking in Tongues’. Here I am grateful to John Miles for letting us bring it to Brixham (although I doubt Brixham were too chuffed we did!) and to Jill Coram, the adjudicator for the SDDF who came and gave it a very honest critique. I would restage this with the same cast tomorrow if I could. But I’d be the only one who’d want to.

Before the stick broke, obviously.

Back at the Little Theatre again with ‘Black Widow’ it was a joy to eat sandwiches with David Gent at the wake each night and I am reminded of the big laugh during one performance where Camille Herbert hit her walking stick so hard on the card table the stick broke in half. Part of the stick was launched across the room with a crowd-pleasing bounce. Watching everyone else keep it together on stage whilst the audience erupted into laughter is the happy memory I have of that production. Hurrah.

Such vanity when it comes to costumes by Angie Gray…

In contrast, ‘Picasso at the Lapin-Agile’ was laughter from start to finish, but here I must thank Liz McGinnes for letting me be a bit part who built his part up every night as Schmendimann. Here I also thank Richard Bearne for hosting a memorable after show party (please take this as a thank you that extends to everyone that has hosted an aftershow party I have crashed – it takes something to rival the Hilary Gameson Shiphay parties, but this one came very close!).

In the summer of 2011 I found Shakespeare with the Countess Wear Community Theatre. We toured a range of venues with ‘Romeo and Juliet’. For this production I am grateful to Judy Impey for wonderful baking (again, extend this to anyone who has baked rehearsal refreshments) and Angie Gray for a wonderful costume.

In the autumn it was with Bijou Theatre Productions I was a part of ‘The Happiest Days of Your Life’. Here I must thank Di Davies for persuading Maggie Campbell to let me into her cast and Lydia Dockray for making me laugh too much in rehearsals.

Rough and tumble in the woods with Ben Tisdall and Becca Lamburn…

In 2012 and ‘As You Like It’ you will have had the chance to read a blow by blow account of my thoughts, starting at the charity night right through the run, as I was seriously blogging here. In this production it is Ben Tisdall and Becca Lamburn that I recall watching with interest every night. They made me feel like I was part of a company that were learning, growing and having fun week in week out.

I have nothing witty to say about this picture

Another summer, another tour, and ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ as Theseus with the Countess Wear Community Theatre. This time it was the four lovers, Sam Emmerson, Zoe Callon, Harry Boyd and Jeanie Scott that impressed and made me want to be better than I am.

At this point, I throw in a passing nod to the extraordinary performance Jeanie Scott gave in a student production of ‘Mary Stuart’ not long after our run was complete, there was certainly great talent here.

And another stunning robe from Angie Gray, just a shame there are other people in the picture to stop you seeing the full length.

And so I come up to date with ‘Miss Julie’ at the TOADS Theatre Company this year. I know I should be thanking Lisa Fletcher for putting up with my not learning lines in her scenes and Di ffitch for casting me twice, but these must play runner up. In this production it was stage manager, Peter West, and Miss Julie, Hannah Samuel, who knew more than everyone else and kept me going. And so I extend that to the friends we make in amdram, who are splendid fellows, on stage and off stage.

If you’ve come this far, thank you for your indulgence. And thank you to all the prompts, I love you all.

Performing with Tony Pinches in ‘As You Like It’ 2012

A final special thank you must go to Tony Pinches, the man who introduced me to this hobby in the first place. We duelled in ‘Pickwick Papers’, he was my butler in ’1984′, married me to Stephanie Austin in ‘Black Widow’ and played Adam to my Orlando in ‘As You Like It’. If we could all be half the gentleman I have known performing with him, the amateur world would be a happy place indeed.

Next year ‘G’ will be for Gratitude, as this was a lot of fun to write.

The majority of the pictures here are by Brian Tilley Photography. The CWCT pictures are by Peter Pojuner. The Mansfield Park, Rumpelstiltskin and Black Widow pictures are anybody’s guess. But let me know and I’ll be sure to thank them.

FIRST NIGHT NERVES

You were cast. The play was blocked. You have laughed and cried through the rehearsal process. You have had concerns about missing cast members at rehearsals, learning your lines, transferring from rehearsal room to stage and whether or not anyone will turn up to watch. You sat back and watched the technical rehearsal arguments with mild amusement. You’ve completed you first full run of the play as it would be in performance and the director sits with gritted teeth, wondering how it will ever come together. You’ve done a performance to a small audience, just to test the waters. Now it’s time for opening night.

Does it sound familiar?

I am sure it does. I think it has been the path to every production I’ve ever been involved with. And whilst I’m happy to believe that it’s all about me – you know, what with my being a man, into amdram, who writes about his experiences – I’m quite prepared to believe this is a common experience.

So we get to opening night. But is there really anything to be nervous about?

Look around you. You have a beautiful hobby. You are surrounded by people who choose to spend their spare time involved with putting on a play. They all want to make it a great success. The paying customers are not there to see you fail, they are there to enjoy the story you’re telling (please don’t read A is for Audience – as it doesn’t help on this point).

You shouldn’t be nervous. This is the chance to enjoy what you’re there to do.

When you’re ready, costume on, sat patiently in the dressing room, take a moment. If you’re in a big cast, look to the older members of the group. Look at the quiet dignity of their approach to the hobby. Anyone who has spent in excess of fifty or sixty years on the amateur stage must be doing something right. Respect that experience and remember that even after all the years on stage, the routine for them is much the same. Why not seek advice from them?

The Jolly Lion is running out of scripts to be photographed with, and we’re only a week in to the A to Z Challenge!

Look at the fearless attitude of the twentysomethings, remember that willingness to go out there, do it, and not give a damn. That readiness to throw yourself out there, regardless of what people think, that is what you are all having to embrace. Find the arrogance of youth within yourself.

If you’re in a small cast or a large cast, one of the most fun ways to calm nerves is to hear the stories people tell of previous productions. The memories that flood back whilst sat in a dressing room can be extraordinary.

And if all else fails, just sit quietly and go through your lines again.

Next year ‘F’ will be for Facebook Poster Campaigns. (With apologies to my brother, Barney Tuck of the Shiphay Amateur Dramatic Society, for not paying tribute to the unparalleled success of his marketing team this year).

Yesterday ‘E’ was for Exit, Pursued By A Bear.

The Jolly Lion is taking part in the A to Z Challenge.

For the full list of blogs taking part click on this link and scroll to the bottom of the page.

Finally, here’s a plug for a play opening tonight – the TOADS Theatre Company, Torquay are performing ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ tonight, and then from Monday to Saturday, click the picture below to link to their website for more information.

EXIT, PURSUED BY A BEAR

“Ignore the stage directions,” says your  director, “they’re just a guide.”

And quite right too, there are times when the directions in the script won’t fit with what you’re trying to do, so you change them. Some of us have taken that approach to the script – can’t remember the lines, don’t say them, let’s just move on.

The magic of this stage direction – you all knew it was Shakespeare, but you get a bonus point if you knew it was from ‘A Winter’s Tale’ – is it allows the amateurs to get away with a death without overacting. The bad guy can be bumped off without any gurning or the need to stand up and walk off during the scene change.

For my point to really survive, you have to assume that the amateur company we talk of, staging ‘A Winter’s Tale’, has been able to do this without a comedy pantomime bear (unless a comedy pantomime bear is exactly the look you’re going for). But we can safely say there are some things that are better happening off stage than on.

On a day beginning with ‘E’ the Jolly Lion turns to his play that never was, Ella Hickson’s wonderful monologues, ‘Eight’.

These include:

• fights between actors who have had no fight training
• death – when your actor is inclined to twitch a lot after death
• sex – with or without consent
• animal attacks (for my favourite of these, follow this link)

Of course, the trouble with my post today is the overall message I feel like I’m sending. If you stage an amateur play, the director should ignore the stage directions, turn a blind eye to the actors ignoring the script, and ensure any of the action people will want to see is set off stage so that nobody can see it. Nice.

Next year ‘E’ will be for Expletives.

Yesterday ‘D’ was for Director.

The Jolly Lion is taking part in the A to Z Challenge.

For the full list of blogs taking part click on this link and scroll to the bottom of the page.