Riotous Angels from America

On Tuesday night, our RADA gang went to the Malborough Arms (an Aussie pub in London) to celebrate Jonathan’s 21st and Morgan's (in her 30's!) birthdays. The above photos reveal the crazy Acting Shakespeare mob.
Then, after surviving the day’s classes on little sleep, and feeling a little shaky, we spent Wednesday night watching a showing of Troilus and Cressida by the 1st year RADA acting students on the 3-year course. They were extremely good and we all agreed it was a performance we would have paid money for. Even more wonderful, is that the director, Nona Shepphard is to direct my group (half of the whole class) in our final abridged production, that we will be rehearsing in the last two weeks of the course. Her direction was highly innovative and playful. Rumour has it, that Nona’s shows are always very good :-)

Thursday night Chukwudi invited me out to the Lyric theatre in Hammersmith to watch Angels in America, and to meet his mate, the brilliant actor Greg Hicks, who was playing Roy Cohn. The show was magnificent. I had forgotten how much I love this play. I am seeing so much great theatre here, I am running out of fresh adjectives in my vocabulary. But this one was extra good. And it was refreshing to see a contemporary show, not that I have had enough of Shakespeare- not even remotely!

Friday evening I had a dinner date with my RADA friend Athena, who lives just around the corner from me. Athena has cerebal palsy, and I had my first encounter with the inefficient London police as she asked me to call them when her wheelchair tyre exploded on our way to the bus stop. While we hoped they’d be able to assist by calling a wheelchair-friendly vehicle for us, my 999 call was met with “that’s not a police matter”…and no offer of alternative assistance. It seemed they just could not be bothered. Staff at the Tube station were friendly but not altogether helpful. By the time I got back to Athena, sans solution, she had managed to begin manoevering the mechanical wheelchair on the flat tyre. So we got on the bus and headed out our home way. Then our bus trip was made extraordinarily lengthy due to delays and detours as a result of the bomb scares. We eventually made it to her flat, but because the chair was now quite out of action, and dining out was no longer an option, I walked down the street to get takeaway. Athena sent me to a super funky Cuban restaurant, where they made concession to do take away for us, based on our tale of tyre woe. While I waited I happened to sit down next to an actor, who’d trained at RADA! So we had a brief chat – he’d just finished doing a show with the sister of a guy I work with at Christies. Even London is small. Back at the flat, the food was well worth the wait and we had a girls’ night gossiping about our RADA class and the production of Romeo and Juliet we are to begin rehearsing in two weeks!! Very, very exciting.

The German-Aussie weekend...

This weekend was a reunion/meeting of us Aussies and our German friends. The backstory: In 2004, when Lawrence was still heavily involved in the nerdy practice of playing network games (Warcraft, I think it’s called, all geeky swords and potions in imaginary cyber worlds where they give themselves names like Escador, and special powers, and mighty weapons and so on), he became cyber friends with another nerdy computer-game-playing guy called Alexander who lives in Germany. Alex’s good friend Barbara was about to head to Sydney to continue her studies in film and media, so he posted on the Warcraft (?) message board, asking if anyone knew anyone in Sydney that might be able to help her out. So brother Lawrence asked me, and I said ‘no worries’, then Barbara and I emailed each other, then a few weeks or months later she arrived on the door of mine and Jac’s cosy flat in Vaucluse. Barbara stayed with us for ten days. Barbara, being a strong and passionate woman with a sense of humour and appreciation for good food and wine and music…we all got along instantly. In those 10 days, she found a flat to move into in Newtown. She also found the potential flatmate attractive. Despite Jacobie and I insisting that if there is a vibe, you shouldn’t flat in the same house, she moved in with Len and the other flatmates. And 3 years later Len and Barbara are living together in Edinburgh.
The nerdy computer friend Alex is based in Germany still, has a girlfriend called Kitty, and neither he nor Lawrence play computer games as much as they used to. Barbara is in Edinburgh because Len’s job as an animator has landed him a gig working with the company that produced the fantastic “Triplets of Belville”, but she HATES Edinburgh.
Somehow, over the last couple of months, since I let Barbara know I’d be in the UK, we all arranged to have a weekend together in London. So Kitty and Alex flew over, and Barbara caught the train down from Scotland… One of the many highlights of the weekend’s adventures was the consistant entertainment of Barbara’s unceasing railing against the city of Edinburgh and it’s inhabitants. So impassioned and sincere and relentless, I think it would make a brilliant stand up comedy show for the fringe festival I’ll be visiting in August. She was so excited about this trip to London she’d been telling all her Edinburgh work colleagues and friends how she was going to stay with her actress friend in Kensington!! Well, Kennington is a lovely suburb but its not quite Kensington (I work at the salubrious Christies, South Kensington, next to Chelsea, if you get the picture). If only I WAS an actress who could afford to live in Kensington! So this is how the weekend of the Germans, the Scottish German, and the Aussies and the actress from Kennington went…

Friday night, I briefly encountered and was introduced to Lawrence’s network-games friend, Alex, and his girlfriend Kitty (her real name Simone, but we all call her Kitty), as I walked to the tube station. I met Barbara at King’s Cross around 11pm, arriving from Edinburgh. We headed as fast as possible to catch a rare and special midnight performance of Othello at the Globe, where Jacobie met with us. The first half of the play was admittedly slow, especially as we had standing tickets. And it was after midnight! And Iago’s voice sounded painfully sore (maybe they need to do better warm-up’s before Globe shows), so Jac and Barbara decided to sit the second half out in the foyer gossiping, while I stood with my RADA mates (almost half the group was there!) to watch the stunning tragedy unfold. It was excellent. And it didn’t rain on us! But when it finished at 3.30am we were seriously ready for bed. My bedroom hosted Kitty and Alex for the weekend, so Barbara, Jac and I camped out in the lounge room.
Saturday morning, Jac had to leave early to go to work, but Barbara and I slept in as much as possible. After a more proper meeting and reunion of all, we headed to the scrumptious Borough Markets, joined by Barbara’s other Aussie friend Skye, who works as a Nanny/carer in London, while her animator boyfriend works in Edinburgh with Len. We sampled many goodies, and gathered some with us to brunch by the Thames River. With wine, breads and cheeses, we had a very satisfying picnic despite the overcast and sporadically drizzly weather, and enjoyed a sight-seeing wander to walk it off, over the Tower bridge to the Tower of London…
After an afternoon siesta, we set out for a curry at Brick Lane, the Indian Quarter of London. Going out for a curry is an event that Kitty and Alex had never before experienced. There were 9 of us in total – Lawrence, Felicity, myself, Barbara, Skye, Alex and Kitty, flatmate Troy, and Lawrence’s mate Darren from work. We were lured into the Brick Lane Brasserie by the persuasive Indian salesperson on the street that offered us 2 free bottles of wine, and beers for the boys if we chose to dine in his restaurant. Felicity and Barbara also negotiated free poppadums for us all. It was delicious, and after a long and laughter-filled feasting, we moved on to a groovy bar around the corner, called The Big Chill, where we indulged in some raspberry caprahinas (how on earth do you spell that? But you know what I mean). We danced a bit. And drank some more. And arrived back home in the wee hours of the morn.
Sunday was a more touristy day- a mission with a mild hangover! We ventured through Green Park to Buckingham Palace, where we observed the guards strutting up and down in their large impractical-looking fluffy black hats, swinging their guns around like cheer-leaders swing pom-poms. Sort-of. And I thought my job at Christies was dull! Well, at least they weren’t wearing heels. Dodging scalpers of Aerosmith concert tickets, we headed to Oxford street, where Kitty and Alex wanted to Shop, starting at TopShop, where Kate Moss’ fashion line is apparently stocked, or some other significant fact. The more hungover (and impoverished) of us found a café for a cup of tea while they scoured the famous shopping district.
Sadly, Barbara had to leave in the afternoon, back to her beloved (!) home in Edinburgh. The rest of us, while we had planned an Aussie BBQ in the backyard, were forced indoors by the miserable rainy weather (for something new) for a big yummy meal, followed by strudel (for the German element). Altogether an extremely enjoyable weekend, and friends we are sure to keep and see again. Perhaps Germany next year?!!

This morning, I had my sonnet showing at RADA. I had been given sonnet 87 to perform:

Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing.
And like enough thou know’st thy estimate;
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing:
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thy self thou gav’st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

Full of feminine endings signifying a lack of resolution. Though I was largely given positive feedback, I still feel rather unresolved on the issue of sonnets. Treading that fine line between monologue and reflective poetry; not getting in the way of Shakespeare’s thoughts by indulging in character choices or making it one’s own, yet still connecting to the emotions and personalizing the delivery so it remains engaging… Tough. But boy do I love them. To spend the morning listening to almost thirty of Shakespeare’s sonnets performed was quite enjoyable

Cheek By Jowl's Cymbeline @ The Barbican

Last night at the Barbican Centre, I went with some RADA friends to see Cheek by Jowl’s magnificent production of Cymbeline, an old favourite of mine. There was a little tweaking of the text and some modern interpretation and design but it all worked. I absolutely loved it. I want to see as much of this company’s work as I can. No. I want to BE IN as much of this company’s work as a can. Incredibly innovative and engaging. I find this approach to Shakespeare so accessible that if younger generations continue to be exposed to such productions, the power of Shakespeare will only further increase and expand! And dominate the world – ha ha!!!!! The photo is of Myself, Aaron, Jonathon and Luis, all American boys, at a local bar down the street from RADA.

Merchant of Venice at the Globe

I saw The Merchant of Venice at The Globe last night with Chukwudi, my charming RSC friend. The show was very good, but I always find the racism of this play quite uncomfortable, especially as it is supposedly a comedy. Some of the actors had very gruff voices which was troubling in the open-air acoustics. At first I wasn’t overly connected with the protagonists as they seemed quite modern-pretentious and unlikable; Bassanio was in Sydney-esque style suit and snorting cocaine, and Portia was very flippant and bitchy in her assessment of her hopeless suiters. But once the romance of the story kicked in, I began to really enjoy it. The Shylock was fabulous. I particularly liked the actress' interpretation for Portia’s soliloquy as Bassanio approaches the caskets to choose – this is the piece I am working on for my monologue class.
Chuk had persuaded me to pay extra so we could have a seat for the show’s duration, and I was very thankful as it rained mostly lightly but sometimes had a small short pour throughout. All accompanied by ominous thunder sound-effects which would have been better suited to The Tempest. The standing riff-raff shuffled about and fished out raincoats from their bags, and looked longingly up into the stalls where we sat. I felt a bit guilty, so tried to imagine myself as an Elizabethan who may not have even noticed the poor being rained down upon. Down-trodden and down-sodden. I have not yet stood for a show at the Globe yet, and this sight was not encouraging.

Contemporary (pout-rageously priced) Art at Christie's

The Post-War and Contemporary Sale at Christie’s. I worked many hours this weekend, including a saturday night function, and a sunday day event. Lots of very important people there (apparently). I thought Mr Ford was the car dealer, but in fact he is the man who re-invented Gucci fashion. Hm. I saw Nigella Lawson – the domestic goddess! As delicious looking in person as she is on screen. And her new husband Mr Saatchi – I was feeling inclined to confront him about the 4 month delay in my pay for the Saatchi Export Gold ad I was in, but realised he probably has no idea what his company gets up to in NZ in Australia. Fancy nibbles, cocktails and an ice-cream bar! And a DJ too. Artworks included Some Roy Lichtenstein and Yoshitomo Nara, Lucian Freud, Damien Hirst, Francis Bacon, David Hockney, Peter Blake, Frank Auerbach, Yves Klein, and Andy Warhol (Marylin Monroe, Brigitte Bardot, Chairman Mao, John Lennon, Campbell’s soup etc) and prices at the top end were 5-7 million pounds. !!!!!!!!!!! I was a trifle concerned about the adults with drinks on Saturday night and the small spoilt children with ice-cream on Sunday, in close proximity to these works, but all survived intact. Except for the bright grey-white carpet, especially laid for the event, which is to be discarded following the sale. A tragic waste of money and carpet, though the number of hors-d-oerves stains will have decreased it’s value already. Mad world.