Our debut performance has been and gone, there was laughter, there was tears, and there was surprises (for audience and cast members).

After spending the whole day in the theatre: setting the stage, helping where I can with sound and lighting (though that was much more down to our wonderful stage manager) and watching the actors do vocal warm ups. I’m glad to say it all paid off.

The emotion the actors brought to the stage did justice to the story we were trying to tell. From the beginning we knew we had to deliver our story well as not to belittle or offend anyone that may have gone through the situation we were trying to depict. I feel confident in saying we didn’t do this.

People suffer in different ways whether it be from homelessness, alcoholism or rape, and because of this when writing the script I didn’t want everything to be dictated. The actors needed to have the freedom to come up with possibilities themselves of what the characters had done before the play, when they exited a scene and after the play had ended. So many options had to be open not only to be true to victims of these stories but also to keep an audience engaged.

After the performance we as a company were approached with many question about the outcomes of the characters. “Was Ben’s letter to Allie a break up letter or a suicide letter?”, “Was it a letter from a Doctor saying he’d contracted a disease from the rape?”, “Did the letter say who raped Ben?” To answer these questions, though I had in my head what it was when I wrote the situation, it was Joe who played Ben who actually wrote the letter so only he knows how Ben was feeling when he left it with Allie.

Another question was who rang the door bell? Again it could have been anyone: the landlord coming to kick Zoe out, new students house mates, even just a salesman or neighbour. Suitcases in the Hallway was always going to be open to interpretation because in life everyone goes through it different.

Even with the Initial script finished and rehearsals well underway, the development process never ends until the final performance. As we ran the scenes we had over, two concerns became present, firstly the transitions from scene to scene as they all had different time jumps. The second was that it was very naturalistic. There is nothing at all wrong with naturalism, however when your audience heavily consists of university drama students, you know you have to do something a little less predictable then a story that follows linear form. Also with our particular script we all felt the main climax came in the third scene rather than the fourth, no one wants to just sit through formalities after the big reveal.

After reading Harold Pinter’s Betrayal, we discussed as a group whether mixing up the order of the scenes could work for our piece. Put it all in reverse order, as Pinter does, would not work we decided as again it would create issues of when we secrets would all come out. We decided in the end the best way to do would be to start simply with the end scene, then follow on with the opening scene and continue then in the original format. Putting the scenes in this order proved to be much more interesting to watch as the actors rehearsed the scenes as it gave them the opportunity to portray the characters differently. The show now opens with the characters a lot more solemn after everything has come out within the household before then jumping into the second scene (originally the first) where everyone is ignorant to what is to come later on.

With changing the order of the play and breaking away from a performance that was completely naturalistic released a little more to add some more imaginative elements to the script and to help with the time lapses we did this through the transitions.

Our new scene one, leading to scene two transition, became a short music interlude showing all the house mates now getting ready for the final weekend together. In this, the whole setting changes from a bare stage with very little other than large pieces of set (table, sofa, kitchen unit, etc.) into being filled with people and suitcases and boxes. The mood also changes from going from a sad tone of everyone leaving for the final time to everyone seemingly arriving to be together, this is then complimented by the uplifting music chosen of Diana Ross’s I’m Coming Out.

The next time lapse, coming between scene three and four, jumps from the morning where everyone is getting up straight to everyone coming back from the night out. The transition we used for this became a sequence of everyone getting ready for the night: putting on make-up, choosing clothes, finding shoes, etc. For this we wanted to add in something a bit more surreal, we wanted the audience to see how isolated Ben felt, this transition was also complimented well by the music. To make the time seem to be going faster we chose three music tracks blended together rather than just having one single track playing over the top. To help with Ben’s isolation we then also added to this blended track the sound of radio static and white noise to cancel out the original tracks and to focus on Ben.

These new elements of surrealism in the transitions work well in contrast to the main scenes of naturalism. Not only does it help with keeping the scenes constantly moving from one to the other but adding in the surreal elements keeps it a lot more interesting than just watching half a dozen students get ready to leave home.

 

Harold, P. (2005) Betrayal. In: Harold Pinter: Plays 4. London: Faber and Faber, 1-118.

Diana Ross (1980) I’m Coming Out [CD]. 5 mins. 24 secs. Diana. Motown Records.

After many discussions as to what our main narrative would be we finally decided to go with something the majority of our audience could relate to, the end of University. The main setting for our performance is that of a house share of students and recent ex-students. This was going to be their last weekend together before they all move on to pastures new, but what was going to happen to them to make it so memorable?

Out of the topics we previously discussed we felt that the topic of rape was one of the most taboo in terms of society’s views on discussing such an act, even more so when it was the victim was male. This was going to be our main focus for our piece and through the back stories and through lines of the characters within the house we wanted to draw in discussions on alcoholism, student culture and homelessness, issues we realised were the main concerns of the locals in Lincoln.

The only issue with writing about such issues, both for myself and for the rest of the company as we devised our script, was our own lack of experience in these matters. We may have known some people who went through these issues or have heard stories from people who heard stories but that’s not always enough, further research was required.

As the male rape was the main concept with our piece I looked specifically into this. I looked into stories of victims and survivors, looking through forums and reported stories from: Survivors UK, Life Centre, Laurel House and various others. It’s through the stories I read on these sites that I gained some insight and inspiration of what to write and more importantly for a topic such as this, what not to write.

Next is a monologue I originally wrote while we were discussing different issues that we could use, parts of this monologue I then re-used when writing the final script:

 

Rape Culture:

 

I think it was two, maybe two thirty when I left Gemma’s.

Two. No it was definitely two because I remember hearing the cathedral bells ringing.

I always like to get home before the sun comes up, otherwise it’s like the nights never ended.

Something about walking home in the dark as well, I don’t know why, I just like it.

And it’s always darkest before the dawn. It just seems so much calmer in the dark.

Even though the streetlights make it look a bit eerie when it got the mist so low, it’s cool though, like a horror film.

Plus I had to get out really.

Gemma was so wasted.

She could hardly walk, it was hilarious to watch.

Annoying to deal with though. I think she’d had the same drunken heart to heart with everyone there.

Twice, with me. And of course there was the usual trouble with Dave and Cathy.

She should just leave him.

Every time.

He gets caught every time, never gets away with it.

Though tonight he did do it right in front of her, idiot. But…

…she’ll still take him back.

Just to let him do it all over again.

And again.

She’s her own worst enemy.

 

Pause.

 

The moon was so bright, not quite full but still bright, although the clouds did keep blocking it, which was a bit annoying.

Particularly as the streetlights had gone out yet again on some streets.

And typically as soon as I got to…………. The moon was back out.

Now I didn’t depend on its light!

I didn’t like it when I got to the high street though.

There was a small group of lads there, you know the sort.

Trackies.

Drunk.

Smoking.

Not cigarettes.

Possibly harmless.

But you never know do you.

And you know what it’s like, at night.

Unsure.

Particularly when they’re in a big group.

A friend told me once to get your phone out and pretend you’re on call, then they won’t go for you because they’ll be afraid you’ll call for help on the phone.

Though surely if you’re walking along all lit up with technology in view they’re more likely to go for you. Though I will say it does work if you’re avoiding those charity people on the high street.

Still I wasn’t sure what to do, so yeah I got my phone out.

Or at least I tried.

Just as I walked past them, my hands were so numb from the cold I dropped it didn’t I?

I couldn’t stop.

I pretended I didn’t notice and kept walking.

“Oi!” I hear over my shoulder.

Oh shit I thought. I just kept walking

“Oi” I heard again, I heard footsteps behind me.

I tried to pick up the pass, without giving it away you know.

The footsteps got faster behind me.

This is it.

This is how I’m going to die.

Good-bye cruel world.

“You dropped your phone”

I froze. He handed it to me. I didn’t know what to do. I thought he was gonna mug me or something.

“Your welcome.” He said it like an old woman does when you don’t say thank you.

“Thanks” I finally said as he turned away back to his friends.

 

Pause

 

I was dreading the morning.

The proper morning.

When the suns up and everything.

I always dread the day after a night out with Dave and Cathy.

One of them.

Or both of them, will always call me to try and get advice on what they should do about what ever had happened the night before.

Or to find out if the other has called already to ask the same.

Last time I just told her to leave him.

Don’t get me wrong I love Dave, he’s a good friend but they’re just terrible together. They just make each other miserable, you know the sort.

Anyway I finally got to the street before mine. Could just see the orange in the sky over the main town from all the lights in town.

Only a few more houses then the home stretch.

I turned down the alleyway and reached in my pocket for my keys.

I turned down the alleyway and reached in my pocket for my keys.

I could feel the cold metal against my fingers.

I could feel cold metal against me.

Key in the loc. Door open. Thank god, I had put the heating on before I left.

Cold.

Heat.

So cold. I could feel their breath on my neck.

I was so tired.

I wanted to fight, to shout but I couldn’t.

 

Breathe.

 

Their hands were around my neck, pinning me to the wall. I couldn’t breathe.

Finally…

I can’t breathe.

…Bed

Help, me. I can’t breathe. Help me. Cold. So cold. Can anyone help me?

 

 

 

 

https://www.survivorsuk.org/

http://www.lifecentre.uk.com/stories/jasons_story.html

http://laurelhouse.org.au/?page_id=22

As a group we workshopped some of the topic ideas, doing so in role-play situations and debates to help realise different views. As entertaining as it was to do this it showed, more than anything, our lack of both knowledge, and interest of some of the topics we’d initially looked into. What’s interesting for one is not always interesting for another.

With this realised, we decided to narrow down our topics to just a handful of topics we all had an interest in. After these topics were chosen I wrote some monologues and scenes for each one to help give us an idea of where we could go with each topic. Here are a couple of the monologue I initially wrote to help spark some ideas on the direction we could take our performance.

LGBT Monologue:

“You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot….” Everyone’s favourite line of everyone’s favourite Christmas song but like a dog it wasn’t just for Christmas.

Not for me.

Family meals, birthdays, fucking christenings, school disco, the fucking playground. It wasn’t just a Christmas song; it was my song, my march, my fucking anthem. Called at me wherever I’d go. I lost count of how many times it would be chanted at me while they pushed me, kicked me, spat on me.

I lost count of the times I would be taken to A&E after hearing it. I lost count of the stiches I’ve had knowing it wouldn’t long before I’d hear those lines again.

I told this to my nephew the other day and do you know what he said? “Wow,” he said, “I never knew it was so bad round here in the 70s.” “70s?” I said, “The song wasn’t written till ’87. This was the dam 90s. It’s still happened after the millennium.”

It’s the students that amaze me, they come here getting with anyone, no consequences, no one cares anymore. It’s infuriating, they haven’t suffered how I suffered, they’re just happy with who they are.

The bars have changed more than anything. They use to be down a grungy ally way when I was growing up. Then there were a couple, then a couple more. Everyone knew where they were as well. People didn’t bother us, we had our area and we stuck to it. It was segregation but it was good. It was worth it. Next thing girls starting coming in because of the better music and wanted to dance without guys creeping on them. Then normal guys starting coming in because the girls were coming in to dance. It just went from, one of those bars, to one of those ‘friendly’ bars to now, barely even having the theme. Might as well just call it a normal bar, don’t see why they bother with the label anymore.

 

Feminism Monologue:

“Look I’m not anti-feminist but…” That’s a great start to a sentence isn’t it? It’s like when someone says “I’m not being rude but…” just before saying something completely offensive. Or “I’m not racist but…” “I’m not homophobic but…” “I’m not against the fact that there’s a war going on in Syria and the population there are going through some terrible things and if they stay there they’ll die so they need to come to us for some form of safe haven even though our economy is barely strong enough to hold on to our own population, we don’t have enough jobs or houses and the countries basically going to shit but…”. You know they’re always going to follow it up with something that contradicts whatever they just said.

Where was I? Oh yeah, basically it’s not about being a feminist is it, it’s about being an equalist. Feminists hate it when a man holds a door open for them because he’s being sexist, he’s not being sexist he’s just being polite, men do it for men to you know! It’s not like he’s just patted you on the arse for a good days work typing his diary, warming his slippers, making him a drink, cooking him tea then performing to the best of your abilities in the bedroom before he goes to sleep ready for you to do it all again tomorrow. He’s opened a fucking door. If anything he’s just making it easier for himself. If he goes first he’s then got to hold the door open till you’ve started to go through it so it doesn’t hit you in the face. And, should he be talking to you, he doesn’t need to pull his neck looking over his shoulder. I can’t work out which would make him more of a chauvinist pig though, talking to woman or ignoring them.

I love it whenever I go for a meal out somewhere, watching how couples deal with the issue of the bill at the end of the night. Does he pay, does she pay, and does she make a move for the purse just to look like she’d be willing to pay even though she expects him to. Will they go halves, will they discuss it, will they compromise, “You pay tonight, I’ll pay next time.” Though who ever really sticks to that promise? I’m as happy as the next person to get a free meal, but I don’t expect it. I’m always happy to pay or go halves or do a “you do this one I’ll do the next” arrangement. Take one of my friends for example, she’s successful in her career, supports herself, and never lets a man buy her food. She says it’s because “she’s a strong independent woman who can take care of herself.” It’s just food love, one meal. Letting him pay doesn’t make you his submissive, it doesn’t put you in his debt. Sometimes a man just wants to pay because he’s enjoyed the evening and your company, sometimes it’s because he doesn’t want to mess around and wants to get away from you. It’s a two way street.

 

 

We all said from the start we wanted something that could have local impact. Something that could either be related to or something that people know about but would never discuss.

Our first aim was to create theatre that explored contemporary, political issues with a satirical twist, to expose the taboo topics of our local surroundings. From this point we all researched and discussed the main issues that occur in and around Lincoln, as well as issues that we within the company felt passionately about. This resulted in narrowing down our potential topics of discussion for our performance. As well as this we also looked into the larger stories in the news at the time on more of a national scale. Our results left us with many potential focus points: evolution, the death penalty, celebrity sex scandals, tampon tax, EBAC syllabus, junior doctor strikes, abortion, disability, generation gap (in relation to race, gender, sexual orientation, etc.), LGBT community, rape/club culture.

With such an eclectic range of topics we struggled to find a link between them that would work well as a narrative for our performance. One possibility to tie them together was putting them in to a news room setting. Using the news program itself to address the big issues and using the production team to portray small scale issues or work place related concepts such as: male-female pay gap, LGB/disability discrimination and the propaganda and hypocriticalness from those higher up in organisation. Here is a small scene I wrote while we were toying with this idea:

 

REPORTER 1: Is this shit really the best we have?

REPORTER 2: Well there is the closing of that mine somewhere in the midlands?              Hundreds of jobs gone, families already struggling…

REPORTER 1: Boring! I can’t put that on the opening segment.

REPORTER 3: What about the recent flooding. Apparently some of the towns affected will cost thousands or hundreds of thousands of taxpayer’s money to repair everything. And also it could have been avoided if repairs were made properly after the last time these places flooded?

REPORTER 1: A weather story? Is that your big answer, “Breaking news, it’s raining in England”. Fuck off! Does anyone have anything?

REPORTER 4: Protests in London this week about the tampon tax?

REPORTER 1: Boring!

REPORTER 2: New developments in Operation Ewe Tree?

REPORTER 5: Oh I heard about that didn’t they say that there was some                politician involved?

REPORTER 1: Who?

REPORTER 5: Some backbencher.

REPORTER 1: Don’t care.

REPORTER 6: Running in, breathless. The PM…

REPORTER 1: Yes? What? Quickly!

REPORTER 6: He’s going on holiday to Spain, leaves tomorrow.

Pause.

REPORTER 1: Right. Prime Minister on holiday for the first segment. Next follow                with ideal hotspots of his location, then maybe a little bit of beach wear, something sexy, not another segment on supportive bikini’s for the weight conscious for god sake.