Is "Man & Boy" Cursed???

A couple of years back, I was involved in a very funny play at Stirling, “Last Tango in Little Grimley.” For those of you who don’t know the work, it features almost every possible disaster that could plague a theatre group, plus all the usual dramas of out-of-control egos and control freaks. BUT nothing in “Last Tango” could compete with the mayhem at Garrick these last few days. Actually I’m beginning to wonder whether the damn play is haunted – plagued by the demons of past entrepreneurs, who don’t want the truth behind their shady facades outed in the spotlight! Herewith our tale of woes thus far in staging “Man & Boy”: 

Firstly, I’ve learnt that being a Yoga practitioner is not calming, quite the opposite!  A bloke who teaches yoga at the hall next door to Garrick gets very angry about parking arrangements on Monday nights – banging on doors and yelling abuse. Thankfully there’s no shows on a Monday night, (although I’ve no doubt Punch is still there!), only rehearsals! Anyhow, I’ve crossed yoga off my future must-do list, having seen first hand the stress, anger and turmoil it obviously generates in its practitioners.

Then on opening night last Friday, the Greens had hired the same next door hall for a night of music. We looked on nervously as assorted rusted cars held together with gaffer tape and “Save Gay Whales” stickers arrived on masse, with dreadlocked band members and musical instruments assembling.

I’d been through a bad noise problem a few years back, at The Rechabites, when the “gentlemen’s club next door had suddenly started playing archetypical “stripper” music. However on that occasion, (and to my utter surprise), when I approached them, they very graciously (gentlemen really) agreed not to start the music until 10.15pm each night. Sadly there was no time to establish a gentlemen’s agreement on Friday night. But what an education! There is such an art to acting an emotionally draining play when the theatre walls are vibrating with the feral sound of badly played Black Sabbath and a wailing female singer sounding like a keening witch from MacBeth! Oh God, I've said the dreaded name! On the other hand, there is a silver lining in every cloud – we never once heard a Qantas jet taking off or landing!

Saturday was another bloody disaster, but this time, entirely of our own making – every actor dropped lines (including me) – and I’m not talking inexperienced players here! One poor cove (a good actor, who never makes big mistakes), froze completely. I’m sure some in the audience thought it was lead actor Wayne Garton making the mistakes NO! Manfully trying to overcome his own small stuff-ups, the poor bastard was also trying to feed everyone else. Me? There’s one line I have managed to drop every night and as it’s time came closer, I thought, “Get it right. Don’t forget the f!@#$ thing, on this night of all nights, when he’s carrying everyone else.” I forgot it! The audience was gracious, Garton rightly threw a hissy fit, I’m still embarrassed thinking about it and we drank until 3.00am!

And Sunday??? Good news people! It was flowing like a dream. We all knew we’d nailed it. Drama, emotion, energy, timing and movement perfect and no noise from the hall next door! Then Interval and we bounded down the stairs to the Green Room, laughing like loons. Crack! The power went off. No lights, no sound, no computers, no hope, no show! A phone call confirmed no power until at least 6.00pm, so home we all went, actors, crew and audience alike, vowing to meet again.

We’re gonna beat these demons when the curtain goes up again next Thursday night! Meanwhile, I’ve had this idea for a script!

All Good Things

A Muse