Last night was the end of Richard III with Lords. Since I realise that I’m famously negative about this year’s productions in general, I’m not going to go into all the problems that beset this show- you don’t have that kind of time. (Because, seriously, we’d be here for a week.) Suffice to say that, after Eyrbyggja Saga I really didn’t think it could get worse, but of course, it did, by far. And, as usual, my misery was shared by the Tribe, all of whom had some involvement in the show.
Our opening night had what our director called ‘teething pains’, which might be appropriate if we had a two month run, but for a four-performance run, it felt a little like taking a show to Broadway before you’ve finished out of town tryouts. Friday night was better, in spite of the fact that I’d spent the whole day running around, trying to sort out our lighting crisis. Yesterday was beastly: we had to cancel the matinee, due to rain, and while we did the evening show, the weather wasn’t stellar. In spite of this, we managed to get almost sixty people in the seats, and we did, overall, break even. (Just. No real profit, and we’re still down by £400 thanks to the spring, but at least it’s not catastrophic.) However, last night’s show was by far our best.
I’m leaving out all the things that sucked and were fucked. Every day had its own little, special hell. James had been saying for about a month that he was planning to audition for a different (real) company in town, because he just couldn’t deal with any more of the bollox. I couldn’t blame him in the slightest, and if it weren’t for the professional necessity of sticking around, I’d leave as well. Yesterday was the coup de grace, though: I came within a moment of telling Rachel to pull my name off the ballot for next year (I’m running for her job as president), telling certain parties to go fuck themselves, and I swore to god I wasn’t going to do this again as long as I lived. I spent Friday night trying to keep James from taking a sword to the director’s head (I’m not entirely exaggerating- I really expected there to be bloodshed by the end of the weekend) and he spent yesterday afternoon reminding me that there are other companies, other shows, and, despite what I tend to think, we don’t actually owe Lords a damn thing. It was not a happy afternoon. (And before you say it, yes, I know there is bullshit in any company. Nature of the beast. I can deal with bollox if it ends in a really great product- I cannot cope with it when the result still sucks, thereby negating the effort and hair-ripping.)
Luckily for me, fury is integral to my character in this show, and I was able to channel a lot of my anger into a snarling, venomous, malicious Margaret of Anjou. Last night was easily my best performance (I’m told it gave people chills, but my sources may be biased). I’m not going to say the show was flawless- it never could have been, because the majority of our problems were created by poor directorial choices- but it was at the peak of what it could be. I never bonded with this cast in the way I did with last year’s people, but there are good people in Lords this year, and it’s a shame some of them won’t be around to work with next year. (And I should add that, as much as the production end of this upset me, I had an absolute ball as an actress. This is one of the best parts I’ve ever had, and it was so much fun. I will miss being Margaret.)
Being done felt so strange. I expected it to be queer, because the end of a show is always a bit sad, and your last performance with any company is emotional. I almost came unstuck when both the cast and the production team gave me flowers as a thank you for my work this summer- I always feel strangely guilty when people give me thanks, like somehow I haven’t done enough to deserve it, or because I haven’t always done my work with a cheerful countenance. But in spite of all this, it wasn’t the queer feeling I’d expected.
No, this was the odd feeling of someone who recognises a deep-seated truth. And that truth is that, however angry I get, however much Lords can make me see scarlet, I can’t walk away. Not out of some professional devotion, not out of a sense of responsibility, but because, somewhere underneath it all, I really love this. I asked James if he had the same strange, disconcerted feeling upon the closing of the show, and his answer was, “Yah... we’re going to do this again, aren’t we?” And that’s it exactly. Even knowing what this year has been like, we’re going to do it again.
Theatre has always been my addiction, the habit I can’t kick. I’ve tried. I’ve given up. And I’m not sure what it is about Lords, why I can’t let it go. I will audition for the other show, because you have to keep your options open, and my dissertation will no doubt take care of a good deal of my need for theatre (the entire run of mystery plays- all fifty four of them- in four years, is quite a lot, assuming they’ll let me do it), but I’m keeping my hat in the ring for the Lords chair, and I will do something with the autumn show, regardless of what happens with the other production. Because there’s something special about Lords- it’s maddening, it’s infuriating, and it’s got me by the throat. I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s addiction, and I’m not sure how you ever tell the difference. But yes.... we’re going to do it all over again.
