100 - Time's Up
With less than 12 hours to go til we open there's no denying it, time is well and truly up.
As director, the only thing I can do now is thank the universe for delivering up such a wonderful team of actors. They've been magnificent throughout. I could not have hoped for better.
It seems an age since the call went out for five brave actors to create worlds as fragile - and beautiful - as soap bubbles. In fact it was exactly two months ago.
Rehearsals kicked off on May 16th and in these last six weeks the 100 team have clocked up just short of 48 hours of pure sweat bringing the piece to life.
Looking back from this vantage, it occurs to me that I must have been mad to think the task we set out on was do-able. I am in no doubt that it could not have been done without the team's total committment to the piece and their willingness to give it maximum effort at all times.
They worked like Trojans and never baulked at the challenging physical tasks demanded of them. Just as importantly, they brought rich supplies of intuition and creativity to the development process. And the key to it all?
They allowed themselves through co-operation, care and humility to connect with each other in heightened mutual awareness, with the end result being, a wonderful ensemble of talented individuals working together as one.
It has been a huge honour for me to assist these five brave actors in the creation of their production of 100 and I have every faith they will have touched a great many hearts and souls before the run is over.
Break a leg, team !!
100 - cast at work
Saturday, 28 June 2008
100 - Director's Programme Notes
Like so many others, I'd watched the plane disappearing into the side of the tower; the flames erupting, the debris falling, the tiny figures jumping into the void.
And then the second plane, tilting wildly as it sliced through the first tower's twin.
The visual impact of these scenes had me in a trance state even before the stricken buildings collapsed onto the rescue workers below.
Bearing witness had left me stupified. Humane feelings beyond reach, obscured, denied from me by my amazement.
Where was my compassion? I felt guilty. I wanted to connect. I wanted to empathise. But how? And when?
The reckoning, when it came, was swift. The human cost of the disaster finally got through to me, when I heard the messages that had escaped from the catastrophe by phone, as those about to die spoke last words to loved ones.
Silently intruding into those private moments compelled me to imagine myself in the same situation. But who would I phone? And what would I say?
These were the most uncomfortable questions I had ever asked myself and the truth was,
I had no answers. The realisation was overwhelmingly profound.
The power of that moment came back to me the following August. I was in Edinburgh for the Fringe and was lucky enough to get in to see the play that everyone was talking about that year.
I had no idea what it was about and certainly no idea how hard it would hit me.
The play was 100 and the reviewer from the Scotsman newspaper, who was at the same performance as me, wrote that it moved her more profoundly than any other theatre she'd ever seen.
I entirely concurred.
In fact I'd resolved to one day be involved in a production of the play, even before the performance had ended. I've been nagging directors to take it on ever since. In a way I'm glad none of them did. When I was asked to direct at the Crescent there was no hesitation. 100 was top of my list. At last a chance to see it again!
I should make it clear that the play has nothing whatever to do with 9/11. In fact I'd say it has very little to do with death at all. I like to think of it more as a celebration of life.
If it achieves this by confronting its audience with some rather discomfitting questions along the way, it does so with the very best intentions.
Like so many others, I'd watched the plane disappearing into the side of the tower; the flames erupting, the debris falling, the tiny figures jumping into the void.
And then the second plane, tilting wildly as it sliced through the first tower's twin.
The visual impact of these scenes had me in a trance state even before the stricken buildings collapsed onto the rescue workers below.
Bearing witness had left me stupified. Humane feelings beyond reach, obscured, denied from me by my amazement.
Where was my compassion? I felt guilty. I wanted to connect. I wanted to empathise. But how? And when?
The reckoning, when it came, was swift. The human cost of the disaster finally got through to me, when I heard the messages that had escaped from the catastrophe by phone, as those about to die spoke last words to loved ones.
Silently intruding into those private moments compelled me to imagine myself in the same situation. But who would I phone? And what would I say?
These were the most uncomfortable questions I had ever asked myself and the truth was,
I had no answers. The realisation was overwhelmingly profound.
The power of that moment came back to me the following August. I was in Edinburgh for the Fringe and was lucky enough to get in to see the play that everyone was talking about that year.
I had no idea what it was about and certainly no idea how hard it would hit me.
The play was 100 and the reviewer from the Scotsman newspaper, who was at the same performance as me, wrote that it moved her more profoundly than any other theatre she'd ever seen.
I entirely concurred.
In fact I'd resolved to one day be involved in a production of the play, even before the performance had ended. I've been nagging directors to take it on ever since. In a way I'm glad none of them did. When I was asked to direct at the Crescent there was no hesitation. 100 was top of my list. At last a chance to see it again!
I should make it clear that the play has nothing whatever to do with 9/11. In fact I'd say it has very little to do with death at all. I like to think of it more as a celebration of life.
If it achieves this by confronting its audience with some rather discomfitting questions along the way, it does so with the very best intentions.
Tuesday, 24 June 2008
Solomon Gordon
Solomon's fascination with acting began when as a very young child he piled up cushions in order to climb up and turn the television on. He had wanted to watch his favourite cartoon but found himself captivated by the black and white film that happened to appear. He has no idea what film it was but the vision has lived on in his memory and may have influenced his decision to take a degree in Drama Production and Creative Writing at Buckinghamshire University. 100 is his Crescent debut and his return to the stage after a two year absence.
Paula Wall
Paula studied acting, directing and writing at Manchester Metropolitan University to gain a BA (Hons) Degree in Drama and Writing. She went on to complete a diploma in Physical Theatre at the London Academy of Dramatic Arts (LAMDA). Since completing her studies she has worked professionally in theatre for over four years. In this time she has worked as actor, director, writer, technician, educational facilitator and company manager. She has thoroughly enjoyed being involved in 100, her second play for the Crescent Theatre and is still nervously pondering over the choice of her favourite memory.
Paula studied acting, directing and writing at Manchester Metropolitan University to gain a BA (Hons) Degree in Drama and Writing. She went on to complete a diploma in Physical Theatre at the London Academy of Dramatic Arts (LAMDA). Since completing her studies she has worked professionally in theatre for over four years. In this time she has worked as actor, director, writer, technician, educational facilitator and company manager. She has thoroughly enjoyed being involved in 100, her second play for the Crescent Theatre and is still nervously pondering over the choice of her favourite memory.
Neil Warner
Neil is 19 years old. He has been involved in performing for most of his life, appearing in both professional and amateur productions in and around the Birmingham area. He has recently decided to take his acting more seriously and hopes to attend drama school in the coming year. 100 is his Crescent debut.
Neil is 19 years old. He has been involved in performing for most of his life, appearing in both professional and amateur productions in and around the Birmingham area. He has recently decided to take his acting more seriously and hopes to attend drama school in the coming year. 100 is his Crescent debut.
Kerry Murdock
Kerry started acting at 11 when she joined a local youth theatre group and was cast as Toad because "you have a very loud voice." She continued with the group until university where she appeared in TV's student soap opera "Tiverton Road". In 2007 she wrote and directed her own show, "My Voice(s)" which she took to the Edinburgh Fringe. The Scotsman described it as "Beautifully performed, funny and moving." Three months later another play she'd written, "The Veil" was performed at the Progress Theatre in Reading. This time the reviewer could only say "Every season needs its turkey and this may well be it." 100 is Kerry's second appearance at The Cresent - she was last seen lying in bed for the whole of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". She is also involved with the online comedy show thedangersigns.com.
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