TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF A DRAMA COMPANY
About the article
This is a digitised version of an article from The Cayman Compass's print archive. Occasionally, the digitisation process introduces transcription errors, or other problems.
See the article in its original context from March 1985.
Brought to you by
Here, Colin Wilson, gives his second personal account of the true life trials and tribulations of a drama company, as the performance approaches. It is Tuesday 19th. March, my telephone rings. It is (Oh no!) Mein Fuhrer (actually Tony Osborn - C.D.S. chairman), "Colin, old fellow, are you going down to the jolly old rehearsals of 'Noises Off tonight to write some more of that rubbish of yours?" I remember to say "yes" down the telephone and not to nod.
"Excellent", he continues, "I also went down the other night to see how they were getting on and took some snappies of the cast and the other hangers on. I wondered if those Compass chappies might like them - could add some colour to your article."
I duly grovelled down the mouth piece and thanked him profusely and rushed over to the C.I.T.B. building which he commandeers ("There will be no escapes") to pick them up. On looking at them I saw that they were in black and white, "They'll certainly 'colour' up the article" I mutter to myself getting some strange looks from passers by.
Evening comes and off I trot down to the dungeon again - the Middle School's strange looking annexe where the rehearsals are taking place. These start promptly at 7.45 p.m. Jeff Parker is the first to arrive at 7.50 p.m. "Promptness is waning." he tells me. Anita Munyard is the next to arrive. "I'm not saying anything "to you," she says pointing at me, "for fear it will be taken down and used against me for a cheap joke!" She's right there - one can't get cheaper than this, I don't even get paid for it.
Gradually the rest of the cast arrives and it is immediately apparent only half the cast have read my previous masterpiece - half the cast are still speaking to me. There are three notable absentees. Karen Marshall (who would only be required to say one line tonight), Clive Munyard (blowing his trumpet at 'Bugsie Malone' at the High School) and Linda Hart (blowing her nose in bed with 'flu).
Like all good directors, Nick Press is the last to arrive - smoking a cigarette, looking wide eyed into space and carrying a Millers Lite box containing 'props'.
I meet for the first time, a very young and extremely pretty girl called (and this is the truth, I wouldn't lie to you) Belinda ('Binnie') Aldwinkle - the Producer.
The rehearsal starts at 8.40 p.m. after Anita mumbles something about "paying babysitters 10". Act III is being rehearsed tonight, "for the first time," someone whispers.
What the audience actually see is the farce "Nothing On" performed near the end of it's run with the actors by now fed up to the teeth with it and with each other (various love affairs have taken place and finished) and some bitchy things are said on stage and all manner of disasters happen.
What has "Nothing on" got to do with "Noises Off" is about a drama group putting on a play called "Nothing On".
That's simple - but it's not! The plot of "Nothing On" centres around a plate of sardines with all sorts of fishy going and coming ons. Fiona Honan and Martin Couch have finished their love affair and are spitting at one another, Ken Jones still can't get his doors unlocked (or is it locked?), Jeff Parker still can't understand the play (he's not alone), Brian Bridson is even more drunk (he plays himself) and Anita Munyard is very prim and bored with the whole thing.
As I was leaving, the real stage manager (Ken Jones plays the one on stage), Mike Marshall arrived with his father in law. He sat down, fingered his nose, looked thoughtful, grinned, rubbed his nose, sniffed, stroked his chin and twitched his nose. A real classic pose! I remarked to him that "Noises Off" had reached the stage where one thinks it can't possibly be ready to be acted before a live (hopefully) audience in less than three weeks.
He cocked his head at me, smiled wisely like an old trouper and said, "It'll be alright, lad, on the night." Which of course it will be - so be there.
Next week (please Compass Editor) I will relate the true story of a water tanker interrupting rehearsals and Nick Press's trip to San Francisco. Watch this space.
