The magic of theatre
My
first ever job was in a theatre. I was fourteen years old and worked
front-of-house at the Theatre Royal in Bath. I worked Friday and Saturday night
- and often the Saturday matinee – until I was eighteen. I never did manage to
see the theatre’s famous ‘Grey Lady’, but I did once bump into a bewildered
Lauren Bacall in the stalls and point her in the direction of the dressing
rooms.
I
loved my job. We would work in short, intense bursts: the cloakroom, the
tickets, the drinks orders, the ice creams... and then, there would be a lull.
And I would sneak into the back of the stalls and watch the show. I could only
ever see the same bits of any given play. Never the beginning. And never the
pre-interval “cliff hanger” moment. But if I had my wits about me, I could
usually hang on and see the end.
I
have no doubt, looking back, that that early contact with theatre had a huge
impact on the rest of my life. On the route I took; on the choices I made.
Those years I spent catching tantalising glimpses of literally hundreds of
plays are the reason I chose to do Theatre Studies at A-level. And why, when I
went on to read English at university, I ‘steered’ my degree as much towards
the work of playwrights as the rather traditional curriculum would allow me.
And when my love of theatre morphed slowly into a passion for film, it seems
fitting that I should end up working as a script supervisor. I wonder, do I
take such delight in a well-structured script because I had to ‘piece together’
so many incomplete ones in the early days?!
Given
all this, I don’t know why I’m so taken aback when I see theatre working its
magic on the kids we teach in our workshops. I spend enough of my time talking
to parents about the benefits of kids committing to a project or working in a
group or facing their fears (and an audience) on stage, I shouldn’t – logically
speaking – get so exhilarated when I see kids step out onto a stage for the
first time – and change forever. But it is one thing to know something,
intellectually, and quite another to witness the reality.
Take
our first workshop, for example. None of the kids had ever taken part in a
drama project before and there came a point – with the end just coming into
sight - when it became a struggle to keep them motivated. They got distracted
and messed around. And I started to worry – as you do – that we had bitten off
more than we could chew. I knew instinctively that they would understand once
they finally stepped out in front of that audience - the adrenaline rush, the
applause! - but I wasn’t prepared for the transformation that took place when
the moment came. The kids had their first taste of the magic ...and they got
it. Forever. I’m not saying their behaviour has always been perfect in
subsequent workshops (!), but we now only ever experience ‘darkest-before-dawn
syndrome’ in new kids that sign up.
We’ve
seen kids transformed on a personal level too. We have seen more than one
father in tears as they watched their son or daughter on stage – more used to
seeing them in the headmaster’s office than the limelight. And have looked on
in amazement as one particularly shy boy slowly ‘unfurled’ before our very
eyes. We’ve watched a mother swell with pride as her autistic 4-year-old son
found his mark on the floor - and stood on it. And we have watched naturally
boisterous boys taking great care not to break their props.
I
have no way of knowing whether these kids will grow up – as I did – feeling
that theatre has had an impact on their lives, has formed them or changed them in
some way. But I do know that teaching
theatre to them – giving them, at the very least, a taste of the magic - is immensely
rewarding. And it has (once again) changed me.
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