Denim Rehearsal

The director of the forthcoming production of Denim was kind enough for me to attend a day’s rehearsal. So this Sunday, my family (yep, the wife and kids came – although we did have to cover the kid’s ears on a couple of occasions – my own fault for writing such filthy language!) jumped in the jalopy and dived into the theatre.

This was quite a day for the cast and crew, as this was the first time that they have attempted the script on the stage, it was the first time that they had a set, it was the first time they were attempting it with scripts down and after the tragic events of the last few weeks, this was they the first time the company had been together in a while.

I would dearly love to tell you all about the set as they have developed something stunning and unique – most certainly not what I had in mind when I wrote it, but works better than I could have dreamt up! But if I were to tell you, then it would spoil the surprise and the achievement they have accomplished. Suffice to say you’re in for a treat – and check out the wallpaper.

It stunned me as a playwright, as when writing you develop your own picture of how the characters talk, move and interact. It is the actor’s job to interpret the script, so more often than not, the characters play differently to the way I saw them – and I’m yet to see a bad interpretation. But so many of the cast were playing the characters exactly as I saw them when applying fingers to keyboard! Frightenly so. Indeed my wife commented on more than one occasion that many of the performances were ‘just as I read them’ when she read the first draft.

Did I have comments for the cast? Well, of course I did, but I didn’t pass them on. It would have been completely inappropriate. I’m only the playwright, I have to leave the freedom to act and direct. I did make a point about off-focus acting (when you are on stage, but have nothing to say for a while). If this happens to you (and not just in one of my plays) you have to watch what happening around you. Why? Because this is what happens in reality. You witness things that happen around you. You react to things around you… You listen in to things that are said around you. If you don’t do this, you weaken the plot and performance.

And the performances were great. I would love to mention all of the cast now, but I’ll save my full breakdown for after the production. But for now I have to mention the following:

Pete – Just as I imagined him. He’s going to get the laughs he deserves!
April – I hate this actress! She’s stunning, talented, great vocal inflection, amazing stance and true stage presence. Why do I hate her? Because I wish I had that much raw acting talent.
Hazel – You just have to love this performance, as you like her, you respect her – then you can’t help feeling every last thing she feels.
Stuart – Playing a Dad on stage is one of the hardest roles to play. But this actor doesn’t act it, he is it! Naturally empathic and endearing.
Customers – A new twist for me, but a twist that works beautifully; fed by their ability to use their voices to the full.

And I’m sure I’ll make comments about others later.

If the cast do read this, here is a little (and very true) story that may help you with characterisation and developing your emotions in this play…

Denim was, emotionally, the most challenging play I have ever penned. Being adopted myself, I drew very heavily from personal experience to put this play together – indeed many of Giles’ fears were my own, if over played for the purposes of stage.

About 12 years ago I witnessed my father have a heart attack. I thank God daily that my father and I have undergone tons of first aid training; he knew what was happening to him and I knew what to do about it. But the fear of losing my Dad was unbelievably painful. Thankfully, after a couple of days it became clear that he was going to pull through, even though at that time it did mean that his quality of life was going to be rather severely restricted.

A week after the heart attack I was visiting Dad in Acute Assessment and for some reason I was alone with him. One of his doctors came to the bedside and enquired if I was his son. Dad confirmed that I was and waxed lyrical about how proud he was of me.

“It’s opportune that your son is here Mr Saunders. We do have to address the fact that this is a hereditary condition. We have to prepare your son for the future.”

My father’s eyes welled with tears; the first time I had ever witness him get to such and emotional point. He took my hand as strongly as his condition would allow and stared me straight in the eye.

“Son. This is the first time I’ve ever been proud not to be your father.”

That’s why I wrote Denim.

Your parents are your parents because of what they are, not because of who they are.