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!

Any Maverick ideas?

A mad moment in the pub?

I'm looking for hard evidence to support my assumption that Maverick's productions in pubs and community spaces will attract new audiences to theatre.

This assumption is actually borne out by our work at the Billesley Pub in Birmingham during the 1990's and at Birmingham Library Theatre during the early 2000's. We have evidence to show that Maverick attracted non-theatre goers through our programme of contemporary classics, ticket-pricing and a robust marketing strategy aimed squarely at the council estates surrounding our venue. Basic market research in the form of printed questionnaires left on seats in the pub showed our audience to be generally non-theatre goers who were younger, more female and less well-off when compared to national statistics for regular theatre attenders.

I want to return to that model and roll the concept out nationally. A touring circuit that will address my belief that there are substantial proportions of the population who do not feel theatre is for them. My experience, both personal and professional, is that if the proposition is right, a new, more inclusive audience can be developed. The benefits are huge, not just for the new attenders, but to whole communities, other theatres, professional practitioners and society in general.

Unlike the work of the legendary Joan Litttlewood with her Theatre Workshop at Stratford East, this will be a touring project. It is very ambitious.

And it is obviously going to cost money and will be an almighty struggle, so I need to build the best possible case to present to funding bodies and commercial organisations whose help will be crucial to realise the project.

So, have you any comments, ideas, references or research that might help me? Perhaps you were one of our new theatre attenders? Or are there reasons why you perhaps have a problem with going to the theatre? How important is 'the event'?

Any contributions, good, bad, long, short or indifferent will be very welcome and annonymous. Did you perhaps attend any Maverick shows in Birmingham or on tour?

I hope to make a case for the Arts Council to award a small grant to allow the research to move forward and I shall contact you for permission if I would like to  use your comments. Please email me at mavericktheatre.co.uk or comment below.

Thanks very much for your help.  Here we go again... maybe!

And if you are looking for information about the new HOLLYOAKS actress auditions, I'll put details here tomorrow. Ta.

No more noughties!

Me in reflective 'new decade in new city' London mood. Do I look like a Master?

So, a new decade. Time to take stock. It's been possibly the most significant year of my life professionally. I've moved full time to London. I decided that 50 is a good age to finally go to university and I am now apparently a Master of Arts. With Merit, don't y' know. (I KNEW that soddin' 11plus result was wrong!) And I've set up a new production company that is 1 year old on 2nd January.

So a big year and a bigger year ahead. My personal version of the global recession means business is hard.  And the theatre business is possibly harder.  I've tried to find finance from a number of sources, includuding one for over 50's starting a busieness. (After making me jump through hoops for nearly a month they then decided they wouldn't support a theatre production company. Thanks. Like I can afford that time when starting a new business.)

But my first 'commercial' production, HANCOCK'S FINEST HOUR, (www.hancocksfinesthour.com) already has its first few hundred tickets sold for the historic Theatre Royal at Bury St Edmonds in April 2010. Other dates are coming together. So I might be in my 50's, but it's fun to start again. I'm discovering new parts of my new home city (Can you ever not be surprised by London?) and although its a new fledging business I know the route I have to follow. I perhaps need a business partner but at least I know that. I have no guarantee of success but I know the direction.  Oh, and I have a nearly finished screenplay that has been attracting kind words from the likes of Warner Brothers.  2010.  Bring it on.

The Party's Over....

I've already Twittered that I can't believe that we had our last lecture tonight! It only feels like a month or so since I started Uni - an MA in Creative Producing - but of course it was last year. The work is not yet over. We have another presentation next week and our dissertation in September, but the formal bit is done and dusted. And although the time for 'real' work is upon me and I have to try and repay the thousands of pounds it's cost me in bank borrowings to do this course, I can't help but feel quite sad.

Have I changed? This was me 2 years ago...

http://www.artshub.co.uk/uk/news.asp?sId=163056&ref=admin#


Maybe not hugely? But I think I have.

As I've already mentioned I'm the first of my family to go to Uni, even though I think my siblings are far smarter and harder working than I, and I almost feel the experience should somehow last longer because of that. I've not had a full summer to learn the routes to cycle to lectures and get to know the real cheap student haunts or be wistful and longing or angry and student arrogant. I suppose its because its a Masters and only one year and unlike most of the others on my course I've not had three years previously taking a 'normal' degree. And maybe its age too; the fact that I'm going through these feelings in my 50's instead of my 20's. Although, as has been pointed out, I was having fun in other ways in my 20's!

And tonight we had a very apt lecture from producer Neil L. We've had some top talent talking to us on this course and Neil by his own confession, is and yet isn't, a major player. He's a real enigma; both supremely assured and simultaneously self-effacing. He managed to piss off some of the chorum at his first appearance with his strong and provocative opinions and assertions. But to be fair to him, our first time with Neil was also his first time with producers, instead of directors or actors. And we soon all warmed to him for his enthusiasm, passion and belief. And tonight, with his lecture entitled 'Surviving as a Producer', he became the first of our lecturers to get a spontaneous and genuinely warm round of applause.

Looking back on the lectures and lecturers we've had over this (fleeting and all too brief!) course, we've been spoiled with some of the very top names in the theatre industry. It's been an eye opener in many ways and if nothing else has made me realise the work I like doing - maybe I can call it a career now - the career I have chosen (or did it choose me?) is as tough as it was at the Billesley Pub in Birmingham.

The business of theatre producing, particularly commercial theatre, is tough and brutal and like most professionals in any tough business you have to be careful. But I've also realised from our lecturers that because this business IS so brutal and tough, there's a perceptible camaraderie amongst those that last the course. We've had lectures from some very hard nosed operators, but its obvious that they are full of admiration for us wanting to be in the game - even at student level. Once we graduate, these Uni philanthropes will treat us like any other competitor. And yet I can't help but feel that if any of us were REALLY in trouble, rather than laugh and spit on us, they may actually rally round and help if they can. In fact I know this for a fact. It sounds weird. And maybe it is unique to theatre.

And I know once I graduate, I shall always think very fondly of the professionals I have met through the course. And never forget Neils final lecture and the final, spontaneous round of applause from we producers to be. Or, indeed, that the first course of this type at Birkbeck appropriately ended with a spontaneous outburst of audience appreciation...

Captain, my captain.

One of my cohort on my MA - do you see how easily I slip into the language of academia now, eh? - the hugely qualified Nick (all the males on the Creative Producing MA are called Nick. A masterstroke of organisation by the Course Director, Andrew), worked out that we probably only have about 8 academic weeks left at Uni. Which is amazing really, because we only started a few weeks ago. It is actually 6 months now, but that's my point. It only feels like a few weeks. But then a strange thing is starting to happen. Because it's a course for theatre producers, our final project, obviously, needs to be a production. Now I've been brimming over with productions for about 40 years, although many of them were played out with my Action Man and in my head. I only started making them professional theatre projects in 1992. So the thought of a production project feels quite natural. And really, the problems I am facing with the final production for my MA are no different to the problems I had BEFORE uni. It could be argued the problems are greater, because not only have I been doing the academic work necessary for the MA, I've also been keeping Maverick Theatre going, with Debs help. We launched a new youth theatre this year, for crying out loud. And I need to find £25k to get Maverick on its feet - the second half of the £50k I knew we'd need two years ago. Things are getting critically tight this month. And a friend said to me yesterday, what's changed? You came to Uni knowing how to produce. Have you learned any new core skills. And I suppose in one sense the answer is no. But one thing I have learned is the sheer bloody glory of education. Being in a place where one is forced to think critically and assess one's place in the world. Looking at ones contemporaries and being able to make decisions based on instinct supported by fact. (And learning to write one instead of you. One's Mother would be very proud.)
So although I couldn't put a finger on a specific new fact I've learned from the M.A. I feel different about everything and there are numerous skills that have been honed and developed by the course and the tutors. I will, I think, be in a much better place when I graduate, pass or not, than when I started.
Life changing then. That'll do, eh?

Not only developing my Producer skills, I also know where to buy the best value Salt Beef sandwich in the West End. I'm a lucky boy, being at Birkbeck.

Bill's Big House

My education into the big wide world of London theater continues apace. I'm still mindful of the fact that when William Shakespeare was my age, he was actually returning to the Midlands at the end of his career. But then Bill never had the M40 or a Renault Megane, did he.

The first two months have been, in our esteemed tutors own words, something of a 'boot-camp'. Head of the course Andrew is a rare breed - an easy academic with a soft Scottish lilt who has, unlike many academics, been there and done at least most of it. He has all the T-shirts (almost literally!) and has done everything and been everywhere. We - the students - are amazed the R.S.C and the National Theatre have escaped Andrew's gentle touch. It can only be a matter of time, if Andrew decides he fancies it.

The other chief boot camp jackbooter is Julius - arguably one of the top six people in British Theatre. He's an interesting mix, is Jules, and I like him very much. He comes in for lectures once a week after he finishes his day job which at the moment is TEN No 1 theatre tours! After lectures one Thursday night he offers fellow producer-in-training Samantha and I a lift home - we're in the same direction - and he pops in to his office to pick up his phone charger. What an office! But if you're Bill Kenwright I suppose it's all tax deductible.



In stark contrast, here's my office...



A desk in our 1 bedroom flat. Although, apart from the phone, it's newer than Bill's office.

IKEA Wimbledon, we salute you.

Playing with the Big Boys

New experiences continue unabated, not least of which is the fact I've been able - had no choice really - to get over the claustrophobia I developed some years ago on the London Underground. And I also find I'm really quite enjoying this University lark. Don't get me wrong, the pay is rubbish. Well non existent. Actually of course you have to pay fees. (I can't BELIEVE there's virtually no financial help for an MA. Age discrimination I think. Or maybe academic discrimination. Most Masters have done a 'normal' degree. Not me mate. I think I'm a special case. Well, special. Maybe just a 'case'. Whatever. Get back to it...!)

It occurs to me that one of the big gripes I had about my beloved Birmingham is that there were no networks. There are maybe four theatre producers in Brum that I can think of. And the chances of us ever getting together socially were virtually impossible. And we all have different agendas and methods of working. Plus most of the original 'Mavericks' have moved on, mainly to London. My main, regular chums in Birmingham have long since been bored by my theatre talk and it is not doing them a disservice when I say most of them have absolutely no ideas about the standard or concept of theatrical production anyway, so nights down the pub tended to fairly uninspiring for me and probably very boring for them.

So its only just occurred to me that three days a week I am not only listened to when I talk about theatre production, but listen to lectures about it and hang out with people who are equally if not more into it than I am. Bliss! I have a new bunch of chums who rave about theatre in different disciplines and I am regularly meeting/talking to theatre obsessives, mainly West End, but not exclusively. It can't last. This is almost fun. Imagine. Me, at my age, admitting that. They won't believe it down me local in Brum...

Sunday, 25 February 2007

Two amazing things happened yesterday. For the first time since about 1994, I didn’t switch the computer on all day! Not even to check e-mails. Although there are lots of benefits to working from home, leaving work is very difficult. Especially as I’m trying to get Maverick going again and rapidly running out of dosh! The temptation is always to go back to the computer and do a bit more. But today I didn’t. Instead I went with John, my spiritual father in law, and saw Moseley rugby club get beaten by Leeds Tykes. Now, I’m not much of a rugger bugger, but Moseley are now on the common by my old council estate and I love the idea of a traditional ‘old wealthy’ game being played in a council estate.

Then, another unique experience. I went and saw Ken Dodd at Dudley. A mate of mine, Brian, kindly booked a bunch of tickets so I thought I’d give it a go. A living legend is Doddy and some of his surrealism feels very contemporary for an old chap. But nobody warned us – although I’d heard the rumours – about the ‘longevity’ not just of his reputation, but of the show itself. Curtain up was 7.30pm. The interval finally came, much to the relief of a hot, thirsty and numb bummed audience nearly three hours later at 10.20pm!

As we fled to the door for some fresh air the doorman remarked,

“Keep your tickets if you want to come back. Although a lot of people didn’t last night.’

I wasn’t altogether surprised. The chairs were not that comfortable and I’d actually thought about not returning myself.

“What time did he finish last night?” I enquired.

The doorman shuffled a bit and looked vaguely embarrassed.

“Well…about… well… it was about one o’clock”

1AM! I was pleased to have seen the living legend and he truly is a great man and a fine comic, but it was time for the pub.

We alighted at the nearest hostelry which was ancient and attractive on the outside, but young, loud and louche on the inside.

As we dodged the occasional flying snooker cue and struggled to be heard above the bass beats and more frequent foul mouthed, mainly female obscenities, Steve, a writer mate of mine, summed up the whole Ken Dodd Laughter Show -or at least the first half - which included a musical interlude by a portly attractive young musician backed by Kens band, a keyboardist and rather bored drummer who bore an uncanny resemblance to John Prescott.

“It was like waking up at Butlins”, said Steve, “in 1955.”

Weekly going ons!

I’ve joined an exclusive club this week. ‘Which Club’, I hear you ask. ‘Groucho’s? Soho House? Blacks?’

Better than all the above. Birmingham Snooker Club. Being in the media means membership cost me £2.50. For a whole year. 2 pints and a bag of crisps for a fiver. And, of course, you can play snooker or pool if you want to. Which I won’t. And why is this club better than all the above? Simple. 1 – it’s in Birmingham, which is where I am and – 2- THE BAR NEVER CLOSES. No, really. It’s open 24/7. It’s not that I’m a boozer, but most people in theatre don’t finish work till 10.30pm and in spite of the so called 24 hour drinking, most pubs still shut at 11pm. Imagine you leave the office or your shop or factory at 5.30pm and say to a mate “fancy a pint?” and then all the pubs shut at 6pm. Not very convenient.

Also this week, me ol’ mate John Slater knocked up a touring brochure for me play Henry V – Lion of England which looks like will now tour the UK in the Autumn. And I found a brilliant printer in Erdington who’s going to print em up!

Still haven’t finished the business plan for the Brave New Maverick. It’s like swimming through treacle! Better be off now. I’ve a MySpace site to check out! So web.2, loves!

P.S. The club is not really called the Birmingham snooker club. I thought I should protect its identity!

In the Beginning...

... there was ME. This is my pic. Looking old and, yes, with a glass of red wine. And some 30 years after I came along, there was an idea for a theatre company. T'was 1992 and I'd been doing all sorts. Me and a mate Rob Vomit - the only actor I knew - did a one man version of Henry V wot I wrote. Called Henry V - Lion of England, we performed at the mac in Brum for 1 night. Another mate, Robb Williams, wrote an atmospheric soundtrack. Cost me fifty quid to hire the venue and I asked me family and mates along. Also present were Jasper Carrott's then managers and they took us to the Edinburgh Fringe which inspired me to start a company in Birmingham that would be true to the spirit of the fringe and be truly accessible. So we started Maverick at the Billesley Pub in South Birmingham on the edge of a council estate where, coincidentally, I was born. It was hard, artistically and financially and our last production was in 2003. Now, in 2007, we're kicking off again. Why? Mmm. Good question. NEXT TIME. Why I hate Michael Palin.