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Week 1

The Boys are Back!

But you might not recognise them.

It's been a year and four months since the all-male Shakespeare company, Propeller, were last on international tour, and in that time rumours have been rife about what the next tour might entail. Would we be doing histories, comedies, or tragical-historical-pastorals? Would we still be doing Shakespeare at all? Would the company still be based at The Watermill Theatre now it has a new Artistic Director? And (the age-old prayer on the lips of any all-male theatre company) was the director finally going to let girls in? Propeller fans will be reassured to learn that the company is back with new blood, getting boisterous with the Bard, bashing the Watermill stage to bits, all-bloke, and rearing to go!

For those of you who have never heard of Propeller and don't know what all the fuss is about, here's what you've been missing. 

Somewhere in the mists of time, a director called Ed Hall got a bunch of blokes together to perform Henry V at a tiny theatre near Newbury called The Watermill. Audiences seemed to like it, so Ed got the same bunch of blokes together to do more Shakespeare, called it Propeller, and the company has been bringing its own energetic interpretations of William's work to audiences around the world for the last eleven years. But what makes this theatre company really different is that each actor is paid an equal wage, and once he's been part of the company, he has to sack himself, i.e. he will automatically be offered a role in the company's next production. This means that over the years the company has built up a long-lasting camaraderie, with many of the actors coming back again and again for more Shakespearean action.

But this year things are a little different. Ed and Propeller continue to produce (The Merchant Of Venice and A Midsummer Night's Dream), but this year only 5 of the 14 actors in these productions are old company members, and the new boys out-number us severely!

This made the first day of rehearsals this week a little daunting for all involved. I remember my own fears, when I first signed up in 2006, upon hearing about the lads' various initiation rites - the obligatory leap into The Watermill pond, the 40 company press-ups before every show, etc, etc, all the usual boy stuff - and all true I hasten to add (just to scare the new boys!). But now, the tables are reversed, and we old dogs are understandably frightened of what new tricks the new kids on the block will have to teach us. And let me say, that, yes, these new guys do have new tricks, new talents, new ideas, new skills, and dashing new faces for the ladies. Same old Propeller, new look. Exciting times ahead.

So, the first day. After the usual meeting and greeting and forgetting everyone's names, Ed chats for a bit about his ideas for The Merchant Of Venice. Something about a prison. OK. Something about us all shaving our hair off. What?! Is this a new initiation rite or is he serious? Ed moves us swiftly on to getting to grips with the text. As usual, this has been skilfully edited by our resident scholar, Roger Warren. Or as Roger himself chooses to put it, butchered. If Roger has indeed taken a pound of flesh off this version of the play, it is probably a good job for us actors:

Shakespearean language is about 400 years old and, as you can imagine, it can be tricky if you're not used to it, both to speak and to understand.

When I first joined, I recall Ed being very strict with us about how to speak Shakespeare's verse. But what's this? It's only the first day and I am amazed to find that these new boys need practically no help with the verse whatsoever. I suspect they've done it before. Personally, I call that cheating. They never taught us how to speak verse that well in drama school.

Apparently, one of these new guys is a champion street dancer too. Another is a virtuoso violinist. I mean. It just makes you sick. And they all seem really friendly and fun too. So far, it all seems suspiciously too good to be true.

I wonder, will all this talent and good-humour last through the rehearsal period until we preview in Poole in December? I mean, put a bunch of blokes together in a room for 5 weeks; assign them roles in a play traditionally acknowledged to be brimming with racism and violence; set it in a prison where that hatred is turned up full heat and where some of the men are force-feminized into female roles; and ask them all to shave their heads.

Sounds to me suspiciously like a recipe for a reality TV show. It could get nasty.

Week 2

Begins with a full head of hair for all...

Well, we have battled through week 1, and so far we have all managed to keep our hair on!

Before we started rehearsing, Ed and the production designer, Michael Pavelka, decided to set this new production of The Merchant Of Venice in a place where the racial tensions and commercial ruthlessness in the play would make sense to a modern audience: a prison.  Michael showed us his definitive model for the set on day 2 – row upon row of gaol cells. And he hinted to us, as Ed had on the first day, that it would look great if we all shaved our heads to a number one.  Silence.  He shrugged. Well, as far as we the actors are concerned, the set may be decided, but the hair debate continues…

The first 4 days were not very glamorous, but absolutely crucial in helping audiences to understand the words. We spent them analyzing the text of the play: working out what the language means; discovering which words to stress to give the clearest sense of the prose; and hammering out the meter of the verse. And (for those of you who read last week’s blog) don’t worry, those new boys did need a few pointers with the verse after all – as did we all.

While reading the play, we all tried to imagine how the story could be told in a prison setting. Some bits seemed to work brilliantly. It got us all talking about Louis Theroux’s documentary in San Quentin prison, in particular about how this might inform our female characters, and how, by setting the play in gaol, we as an all-male company could play the female characters as men who have feminized themselves.

But by the time we had finished analyzing the text, Ed had had another idea to add to the crucible. “It’s a prison but not as we know it.” A gaol, but with an existential feel. A kind of purgatory perhaps, where Jews and Christians are waiting for judgment, or reliving past arguments to try to achieve some kind of redemption. “Prisoner Hell Block H!”

Great, I thought, that gives me an idea for music. Previously, I’d been thinking, “What can we possibly do with what we have?” A guitar, a violin, a cornet, a flute, a piccolo, an accordion, a snare drum, the spoons, a clarinet kindly on loan, a metallic hittable set, and 14 singing voices? Now my head started brimming with conflicting religious music, Jewish chants, English hymns, and… my personal favourite, Gospel!

Music in Propeller shows is written by the company. Basically, we jam. We come up with some rough ideas, then Ed listens and says, “That’s too American. That’s not up-beat enough. But what was the thing you did with that guitar, I liked that”. At our first music call at the end of week 1, we brainstormed and came up with some simple Jewish klezmer sounds, some traditional Christian hymns, lots of angry prison percussion, and some heavenly gospel harmony. Ed likes the percussion, he likes the hymns. I just hope he likes the gospel too.

But will this new “Hell Block H” concept mean that we can keep our hair?

Week 3

Behind Bars

In the rehearsal room for The Merchant Of Venice, prison life has begun. On Wednesday morning last week, stage management received a delivery of steel bars, and when we came back after lunch, lo and behold, there were two prison cells in the room - tall, imposing and so fresh from the lathe that we all got greasy hands when we touched them. Grown actors could be seen running to the Deputy Stage Manager to ask for wet wipes. Yes, life is tough behind bars.

Constructing our prison cells is just one of the many jobs for our long-suffering stage management team. This year, like the acting company, Propeller has a brilliant all-new SM team: Claire, our deputy stage manager, who will eventually cue the lighting for the show, is currently writing down every decision and move we make in rehearsals (she uses rubbers and tip-ex lots); Dawn, our assistant stage manager, is shopping for all the potential props and instruments Ed says we might need; and Nick, our company manager, is in charge of all the administration of the production, which means he looks after not only the actors, props and set, but also the budget. I always have huge respect for stage management because they not only work grueling hours doing their own jobs, but also clear up after us actors too. These guys have signed up to a 9 month tour looking after 14 overgrown boys. Good luck to them! They're going to need it.

At least in this production, they can now lock us behind bars when we misbehave. And there's been quite a bit of misbehaving! What do you expect? A bunch of blokes. Metal cages, plates and cutlery. Licence to be raucous under the pretence that we've been locked up for life. A bit of din is inevitable. And we've already broken some crockery. Who in their right mind would invite such chaos? Well, blame the director: Ed Hall.

It's great to hear the new actors in the company talking about their first experiences of Ed's direction. "He actually listens to what you have to say!" is their surprised response, after working with some directors who narrowly stick to their own vision. In Propeller, all the actors are called to every rehearsal, and Ed encourages us all chip in with ideas. Of course, he has his vision too and always has the final say, but the rehearsal process for Propeller is essentially co-operative and creative for all. We may well be behind bars, but Ed gives us unusual freedom to help shape the production.

Despite wanting us all to shave our heads, Michael, our designer has also extended us an unusual liberty with this production. He's asked the actors to write down our own wish list for how to individualise our characters' costumes, which he will then condense into a coherent overall design. I wonder how many of us have written, "I think my character should have a full head of hair."

And speaking of the hair debate, I have breaking news! Some of the boys have already been brave enough to bite the bullet and go for a Number One. Yesterday in rehearsals, two brave fathers of two, Chris 'local Borough Councillor' Myles and Bob '20-years with long hair' Barrett were both publicly clippered in front of the whole company, as an example to us all. Will their families recognize them now they have gone convict?

Week 4

Inside Story

There’s only a week and a bit to go before we open The Merchant Of Venice to previews in Poole! But we have made lots of progress. We have blocked the whole play to find a shape of how it will work on stage, and are now going ‘in depth’ with the scenes, exploring the details of each moment. Most of the music is now written and arranged too, and I am pleased to announce that the Gospel number is in! Well, for now at least: part of the ‘in depth’ process of week 4 involves changing everything we did the week before, so none of us really know yet how the play is going to turn out…

That’s why this week, as there’s not much I can say about the rehearsal process without giving away the finished product, I thought I’d ask Kelsey Brookfield, one of the new boys to the company who will be playing Portia, to find out how he’s settling in with Propeller.

KB: Loving it so far! It’s such a nice feel in the company. Everyone is equal, and we are given the freedom to throw ideas in and collaborate in rehearsals, which means that everyone has ownership over what they are doing. Ed is so calm and open, and he makes everything fresh for the first time. He is not afraid to take tackle problems head on and let us try things out, knowing we can change it later on if it doesn’t work. He makes you feel that you’re on the right path, but that there are more options you can choose too: he keeps you on a path of discovery.

JT : And how do you go about preparing to play a character like Portia? How are you finding it?

KB: Very challenging. People often think of her as a snobby brat, but actually she’s trapped in her situation and not very happy at all. I’ve also been researching women who have similarities with Portia – Kristin Scott Thomas’s character in Gosford Park has been an inspiration, as has Amy Winehouse!

JT: And how are you getting on as a guy playing a girl?

KB: Heels are the work of the devil! They’re so painful, especially on the back. At first I could only cope with 15 mins at a time, but I can wear them for a couple of hours now. But they really help the character: they make me feel like I’m on show and help Portia maintain a sense of power, even though she’s feeling trapped. The corset is great for posture too. It keeps me upright, and I feel quite royal. But the hardest thing is the heels.

JT: Do you ever feel uncomfortable being dressed like a girl in a room full of guys?

KB: There are times when I think, “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” but everyone just gets on with it and accepts you as your character. There were a couple of sniggers at first though when they first saw me in the wig. [That’s because he looks great in it! JT]

JT: Has playing a girl changed your own attitudes to women?

KB: People have described Portia as snobby and bitter, but when you play her, you see things from her point of view. She sees that the men in the play are childish in their petty quarrels and their cockiness. Bassanio promises everything to her, but he doesn’t deliver. And Portia sees through that. Men are just so predictable! Perhaps to women we are.

JT: How are you feeling about opening in under 2 weeks’ time?

KB: Nervous! But I think the play is in a very healthy position. I completely trust Ed and where he is taking us. It’s a scary journey, but we are learning new ways of playing things daily. By the end of this week, we’ll have a huge variety of stuff to play, and that means that when we’re on the road, we’ll be able to keep the play fresh, and surprise each other on stage.

Somehow writing that last question has made me feel nervous too, so I’d better go and check over my lines again…

Week 5

Inside Story

The deed is done. Last weekend, I finally gave in to pressure from the designer. I asked my hairdresser for a number one.

“Let me get this straight,” she replied as if I was crazy. “It’s the coldest weekend of the year, and you want to get rid of your hair?”   I shrugged. “I’ve got to. It’s for a play.”

When I first saw myself in the mirror afterwards I nearly screamed at the transformation. I sported my new look at rehearsals on Monday and promptly acquired the nickname ‘G.I. Jessica’ after my character in the play. I don’t know what they’re laughing at me for – we are all going to have to look like convicts by the time we open in Poole next week!

The head shaving is just one of the finishing touches we are adding to the production in this final week of rehearsals. So far we have just been rehearsing scenes on their own and occasionally running one act at a time, but now, as we begin to run the play in its entirety, Ed is finally able to check that the overall story we are telling will be absolutely clear to an audience.

Looking back over the last 5 weeks, I can now see the structure of the whole rehearsal process: we started by examining the text and working out how to speak the verse and the prose; then we put the play on its feet to bring it to life, developing characters, relationships, movement and music; and now we are preparing the play for an audience, checking the clarity and pace of the production as a whole, and working out which little enjoyable details to keep in and which to cut out.

There’s still quite a bit of work to do, but morale is high among the troops. We are all very excited to find out what audiences will make of the production next week: the prison mise-en-scene; the racist antagonism running throughout the text; the whole ‘men playing men portraying women pretending to be men’ thing that an all male Shakespeare company inevitably entails; and for me personally, the music (I’ve stuck my oar in quite a bit with this and also written most of the capella harmony arrangements for the boys to sing, so I’m hoping they go down well). Together with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the production will go on to tour the UK and the world. And it will be especially interesting to see audiences’ reactions in New York, where the play has apparently not been produced for about 20 years because of fears about its racist content. No pressure on us then!

So are we nervous? Well, it’s true that the last week has seen two of our rehearsal chairs hurled and shattered to pieces in moments of dramatic tension, but that’s not down to actors’ nerves. Throwing chairs around is all just part of the boisterous fun and frolics that audiences have come to expect of a Propeller show, and I don’t think this production will disappoint…

But that’s it from me: my final blog recording Propeller’s rehearsals for The Merchant Of Venice. I don’t want to give too much away (and of course it’s still hard to know what may end up on the cutting room floor) but I can’t bear to leave you without a few ideas of what you can look forward to when you come to see the production. So here it is – what you’ve all been waiting for – The Trailer!

Venice. Behind bars.

Two religions, both alike in indignation towards each other.

Debt. Violence. And love by lottery.  A tale of broken promises, and vows that should never have been vowed.

A prison where all are equal, until love and revenge throw the balance of justice into question.

Oh, and a toilet. And a gospel number. And a bunch of boys with haircuts like Marines!

How is all this possible in one evening’s entertainment? Come and find out...