I went to Worcester last weekend and spent a couple of nights away in an Airbnb. It was a small apartment which in a past life would have been the old fashioned utility room or possibly even a storage area on the side of a big fancy house. Also in the grounds was a gallery with loads of impressive local art and a café. Tasty paninis and cakes to be had. I wanted to buy some art, but it was bloody expensive, understandably so. The apartment was lovely and clean with some useful amenities, but most important, it was peaceful.
The merry band that are the cast and crew of Bull were in Worcester to compete in the semi final of the all England theatre festival. We’d won our quarter final in April and were back once again to present our play. I was feeling confident. We’d cracked out some decent rehearsals in the weeks prior, working on a couple of things and adding in little bits to make the show better. I also managed to add in flicking the ‘Vs’ at another character but I don’t think anyone noticed. Kept me entertained though. It’s important to keep yourself interested with something that can become repetitious.
The Swan theatre in Worcester is a larger stage and larger space for us so adjustments needed to be made to ensure our play worked and we had the volume necessary to convey our parts. The technical rehearsal went well and so the long wait arrived. I popped back to the apartment, relaxed, had another shower and caught up on some Peaky Blinders. Good show. And that Cillian Murphy is a handsome, talented lad. Although Arthur is my favourite character. The time came for me to leave to arrive for the first performance of the evening’s three shows. We’d have time to watch the first one, change and do a line run-through during the second in preparation for our show, which was the last of the day.
Now I had been warned by my hosts that Basil, the excitable black Labrador, was sometimes out and about after hours roaming the grounds. I hadn’t met Basil yet, so as I left I made sure he wasn’t hiding anywhere near my car and headed out to the electric gate. I zappered the gate and it started to open… just as a black blur streaked out from his hiding spot and off Basil went, down the country lane. Shit. I got out my car and tried to coax our Baz back inside the gates so I could go, but he was just too interested in the hedges he’d discovered. I went and found one of my hosts and they shepherded him back in, the little runaway.
Now nerves before a performance are common for most actors. I personally haven’t felt really nervous before a show for quite some time. I always like to be prepared and so trust in myself that I won’t forget a line or miss a cue for a fellow actor and if I do, I’ve got enough acting chops to get myself out of it and carry on. In fact, during the performance, I completely mangled a line, but managed to cobble something together quickly that sounded plausible and was enough for my cast mate to take their cue. No one was any the wiser. What I do get before a show is fidgety and a little hyper. I can’t really sit still, I have this need to be on stage already performing. I just want to be out there doing it because once I’m on stage, that’s the sweet bit and everything just flows.
I got nervous before this show. Whenever we’d performed before I was always ready and waiting in the wings, fully dressed up, for my cue to enter. This time around, because we set the stage ten minutes before we performed and I have about a twenty-five minute wait before I’m cued on, I elected not to get dressed, because I knew I’d be hot and bothered and so could take my time getting ready and try and cool down. The air in the dressing room was stifling. I did not cool down. My shirt was wet through with sweat and I employed some deep breathing just before going on to ensure I was calm. Or at least appeared calm. My character holds the power on stage so there’s no way I could go on flustered.
I was nervous because I really wanted to do a good job. Now don’t get me wrong, whenever I perform I always want to give my best performance for the paying audience and I trust my process that I will give a good performance, but this was slightly different. We only had one shot to perform well and impress the adjudicator and so many others had put so much hard work into the play, I did not want fuck up and let anyone down. I strode on stage, looking confident as all balls, said my first line and slipped into normal acting mode. I was off, being my condescending, sneering, slick best. And by fuck, everyone else in the cast and crew smashed it. I had enough time to take a little look around whilst I was on stage and savour the fact that we had performed this play on three different stages over three different months and we were still twatting it for six. Everyone’s performance was amazing and I truly believed that was the best we’d ever done it.
We didn’t win. I think we came third out of six by a point or something like that. It didn’t really matter in the end. Only first place progressed to the final. We did however win this shiny plate for the adjudicator’s award for a great performance. I think he thought we all, as an ensemble, were great, but just got pipped by another group for runner up. As soon as he announced our show for his award, I knew we weren’t progressing. By winning this award, it meant we weren’t top dog. Still I am heartened by something our director, Hazel, said afterwards in a very content and cheerful tone: ‘I’ve never won a trophy before and now I have two.’ It was very sweet. And much deserved.
PS – The adjudicator called me a ‘smooth git.’ So if we add that to what the previous adjudicator said about me, I am a ‘deliciously arrogant, smooth git.’ Quite apt.
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