kaberett is a baby Lasher, acquired as a result of the panto. They're here, they're queer, and they couldn't decide which they liked more: the pronoun flashcards, or the cartographical love song. And they've just experienced their first Lashings dress rehearsal...
I'd
been to shows (well, one show); I'd watched the youtube videos; and
I'd bought the t-shirtcanvas bag. I had,
in point of fact, fallen thoroughly in love.
I
am quite possibly the worst kind of audience, though: having seen the
magic happen, I wanted to know how the tricks were done. As it
happens, I've rocked up to Lashings at a new and exciting time: we're
currently trialling split rehearsals, with groups in London and
Oxford working on skits and songs separately, before bringing them
together.
And
that's exactly what we spent this weekend just gone doing , for the show we've written about previously.
We
gathered from our various corners of the country to Oxford, and
specifically to an Oxford quad crawling with people in formalwear,
where we sat on the grass and had a picnic (lashings of ginger ale
were, sadly, absent) while chatting gently about who was going to be
doing what and assigning lines. What surprised me most, as a
newcomer, and perhaps shouldn't have done, is that when Lashings say
they're (we're!) a collective, they mean it: this dress
rehearsal was the longest and most productive facilitated safer space
I've ever participated in.
In
fact, this pretty much set the pattern for the weekend: we'd talk;
we'd act; we'd give feedback. To give a little more detail, and
perhaps a better idea: we began by running only the between-act
patter, omitting the skits we'd rehearsed in our “local” groups,
to sort out the detail of blocking; we had Exciting Technical Drama;
we had mini-workshops on projecting and face-acting. The last thing
we did before being kicked out of the theatre on Saturday was do a
run through: the magic moment of “hold on a second we've actually
made a show.”
Still
feeling pretty stunned, we wandered blinking back out into the
late-afternoon sun and started our debrief, which somehow turned into
a fairly major restructuring exercise: the show you'll be seeing is
not the one we had scripted on Saturday morning! We've swapped some
acts around, edited the script to reflect this, relearned all our
lines, and generally tightened up the narrative structure: and that,
my dears, is what you will be seeing.
However!
We were not all work and no play. I got to mess around doing (very
basic) wheelchair tricks; on the Saturday night, about half of us
piled into Sebastienne's and watched the panto DVD (callbacks!
trifle! deciding we need a subtitles track!); and the following
morning, S & I improvised French toast while wilfully
reinterpreting V for Vendetta to make it less faily.
It
was
after that – during the Sunday itself – that we managed to
ditch the scripts almost entirely, and do timed runs from memory (with a
minimum of bad ad-libbed jokes about QUILTBAG figures in history vs
duvet covers: sorry, everyone).
During the last of these we got out all of our clothes and all of our
props, and it's the pictures from that run that we've been sharing
with you from facebook and elsewhere: snaps taken so that we could
double-check that we were, in fact, facing the audience? Somehow
turned into a pretty good summary of what Lashings is about: we're
here, we're very queer, and we want to sing for you.
[Image:
11 people stand and sit in a semi-circle, wearing coloured tops such
that they form a rainbow.]
And
to prove that it's actually all happening, you can find us in
honest-to-goodness show listings, including the Edinburgh Fringe
Catalogue and interview with the Oxonian Review! I'm absolutely loving alt.sex.ed, though I say so ourselves, and I've got the stage nerves to
contend with! - so please do come along. You'll be awesome; it'll be
fabulous; and if you're very, very lucky, there might even be cake. :-)
this post gives me warm fuzzies.
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