That's (Animal Farm) Showbiz!

Bleak (Animal Farm rights) House.

Bummer!  We had the rights to perform George Orwell's Animal Farm for all of 8 weeks, till the 'principle agent' changed their mind and decided to cancel our license.  It probably means a commercial theatre producer has decided to try a production. Which is good for us fans of Orwell, but not so good for WE fans of Orwell.  

A bit like when we performed 'Under Milk Wood' in the Wheatsheaf in Fitzrovia, London, the pub where Dylan Thomas met his wife.  It was commercially stupid to mount such a large production in such a small room, but it was the 60th anniversary of Dylan's death. And it was the pub where he met... oh, I've mentioned that.  It was about the sprit of the production, the emotion of the moment.  And not about the money.  I'm not sure our 9 shows in a pub would have rocked the commercial rights holder, but that's Animal Farm showbiz.

And it means our next full theatre show will be the Maverick Theatre Company's 21st Birthday show - Henry V - Lion of England, in April.  And there's no problems with the rights for that.  I wrote it myself!  With a bit of help from Shakespeare, of course.  I might consider cancelling the licence.  But I doubt it...

'Under Milk Wood'. We did it, then, Bach!

Or at least the final blog of this particular production. What can I say! We’ve just finished and I’ve just got back from the last night.  And the consumption of a few drinks with the cast makes this not the best time to write this, perhaps! But it became a big deal for me. As you may have gathered from the previous blogs, I had a number of concerns with this production. Although small in scale it was large in ambition and my first toe in the West End water.  I only actually got to watch the show once myself - because after the dress rehearsal we sold out! Director Katie Merritt did a great job in a very short time. We had some exceptionally talented cast members, especially bearing in mind we were all doing it for no money. Or at least we were supposed to. Fortunately, so many people turned up we were able to pay all the costs, help Maverick and pay everyone some expenses.

                                                                "We Few, We Happy, Milk Wood Few..."

But the real return on this, for me anyway, was more emotional. To feel so close to Dylan Thomas, to welcome world-class artists like Cerys Matthews and her family into our little cramped space above the pub, the kindness and professionalism of the pub staff, the real warmth and appreciation of the audiences, the dedication of the cast and the general willingness of everyone to help out.  It felt like a community. This was a play that became an event and it was so much bigger than the sum of its parts. 

I loved working out with Katie how we were going to make this play work - how we were going to have a female First Voice - everyone naturally thinks of Richard Burton - and how we should spin the story in the style of Shakespeare's ‘Chorus'; how as a play for voices we were going to make it all work without theatrical lights or sound effects. And then how Pretty Polly's song made numerous members of the audience cry!

And on the final performance today the Dylan Thomas Society came to us after a wreath-laying ceremony at Westminster Abbey.  They know every word of ‘Under Milk Wood’ which makes their praise for how we did it even more genuine and touching.

Our production was in so many ways raw and emotional. It was completely 'Maverick Theatre' in its execution.  In a brutal, commercial world we - artists and audiences all - came together in a little pub in London where Dylan met his wife, to share his passing.  The passing of a great writer. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less.  It was special. It's so why I got into this business.  And perhaps the greatest praise finally came from Cerys Matthews. The Welsh former singer and writer from Catatonia, BBC dj, judge of the Dylan Thomas Prize and general culture vulture, tweeted the actors after the show, "You did Dylan proud!"  And my eyes grew as misty as a Welsh valley…!

How to commit Theatrical Suicide with Dylan Thomas - Part One.

I love this image we are using for Under Milk Wood.  It has a wistful quality to it and that is how I feel about some of our writers - especially Dylan Thomas, who was taken from us so tragically early. I also love Wales, and this image kind of sums up my schoolboy holidays in out-of-season seaside towns. This bench has seen a lot, you can just tell.  And it quietly waits for the next joyful - or maybe melancholy - experience. 

But enough wooden bench and more Milk Wood.  He was a smart cooky, was our Dylan, and like most successful people he was also VERY focused.  I think it's fair to say he was single minded and loved the notion of the drunken poet. Perhaps more than was the reality, but that is for another time.  The current excitement is preparing for our Under Milk Wood. We have less than a month.

It might sound trite, but I really feel privileged that I am able to present this incredible play for voices in the very pub where Dylan met his wife, on the anniversary of the day, sixty years ago, that he left us. That was why I wanted to do it at this time and at this place.  I want to feel closer to Dylan Thomas and this just feels like a cool thing to do. Spiritual almost. 

BUT there is a big problem doing this play at this place.  And like most things it comes down to money! I've managed to secure the rights, which is great, but that costs.  Then there are the three unshakeable elements of any theatrical production. Size of Cast and Cost of Production, Ticket Price and Size of Venue and Length of Run.

I won't bore you with the figures, but there is a reason most plays above a pub have only a small cast. The biggest play I have written has four people in it!  And then you want to run if for as long as possible to give yourself a chance of making back the money. And keep ticket prices as high as possible.  

I pondered on this over a pint, sitting in the Wheatsheaf after one of our weekly pub crawls.  Actors Suzi and Kate were doing great work. But the fact is that the even the National Theatre only do Under Milk Wood occasionally, because it has a MASSIVE cast. By pint two I was feeling a bit depressed. We'd never make it work unless we charged hundreds of pounds a ticket. Then by pint three I had the answer. We'd all do it for nothing!  And read the play as it was written, without any fancy sets or movement.  Just read it as Dylan intended.  Build it and they will come! So I booked the dates, got the licence and hunted around for a script.

So far we have 25 tickets sold, no actors or director and less than a month to go. I've been in touch with some fairly well known artists, mind. But we have less than a month to go. The casting call goes out tomorrow. It should have been today, but the casting company got back to me and said "How much are you paying?  Nothing? Well.... okay...!" 

Watch this space. More later in the week. When there will be less than less than a month to go!