✦—✦—✦•
Two long weeks of music rehearsals were finished. As I entered the rehearsal hall, it was no longer full of sheet music stands or scripts strewn around the place. Instead, I saw that the hall was mostly empty; all furniture and chairs were pushed to the sides and corners. Meanwhile, the centre of the room had changed into something completely different. I sat waiting for everyone to show up, thinking about what happened yesterday. My very first interview involved a slip of the tongue where I spoke about the "I'm Lovin' It!" slogan from McDonald's. Since Ms Booth was unfamiliar with the phrase, I acted like it was a joke. That night I begged Nain, failed, and got Grandpa to take me to McDonald's. The phrase was nowhere to be seen anywhere on any product, though I enjoyed my fish fillet. So far the saying wasn't a thing and wouldn't be until the time had come. I suspected that one day I'd wake up in the dead of night, sweating from a nightmare about people digging up that interview and deciding I was a time traveller. Surely not… or would they? I knew I'd worry about it for ages though.
I was brought out of my daydreaming when the director clapped his hands.
"Everyone, brighten up, take a seat there," Steven said, gesturing for us to one side.
Once we were seated, he walked to the centre of the room, where a red tape had marked out a circle while yellows had been used to make outlines of furniture. Leslie walked over along with Michael England (pianist) and Mike Dixon (music director).
"First, we have an announcement. Music rehearsal is over!"
We cheered, with me probably being the loudest.
"For some of you, at least," Steven finished.
My face faltered.
"Leslie and I had a conversation, and the initial love triangle story from the film will be inserted back again. Newley's Where Are the Words has been rewritten to work as a duet for both Phillip and Bryan."
Leslie didn't seem too happy with that. On the other hand, general consensus from the cast seemed positive. It became painfully obvious to me that the musical was just going to end up as a carbon copy of the film.
"Great. So now we are moving off to blocking. Come up here, Matthew Muggs and Tommy Stubbins," Steven called out.
Because our character names were called, all of us went up.
"Okay, we'll go in turns," Steven said and gave us opportunities to rotate so we had different scene partners.
"If you look around, you'll see how the stage is set." Steve clapped a three-beat. "Our stagehands have taped the floor with the exact same measurements as the real stage at Apollo would be."
Stagehands did come in with wooden cubes and slid them into outlined areas; another placed a stair down dividing the stage into three equal sections.
"We'll have all the props that will actually be on stage. These are the stairs. Think of it as the stoops to the top stage." Steve then brought up a shopping trolley.
"This will do for now." He laughed, as did most of us.
"Okay, since we have child actors and NEW actors," Steven chuckled, Phillip looked anxious, "we'll explain the basics. You are all sitting and facing the stage; you are the audience or the house in this situation. We are on stage and facing you;" Steven pointed at Tommys and Matthews, "stage directions are from the actors' perspective. Centre!" Steven shouted, then walked across to the front of the large red circle.
"I am standing at the exact centre of the stage. My most important subject matters will be standing here most of the time. Think main characters, principal actors. Think of the stage being divided into three rows and columns. If I step back, I am upstage, and if I step forward to the audience, I am downstage. So those are the columns, but because I'm also on the centre row, I am downstage and centre! Downstage centre is where you want to be as an actor because it means your character is the most important person for that particular scene. Stage Left and Stage Right."
Steven said as he walked from one side of the now outlined stage to demonstrate it to us.
"Downstage Right is my personal favourite; care to guess, anyone?"
"Kiss scenes!" a few female ensemble members shouted and giggled.
"Ah, close, it's actually relationships." Steven then looked over to us, the little boys. "If you watch a lot of plays, you'll see that brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers, family and lovers are always together at that part of the stage. The opposite is true for the Downstage Left; fight scenes usually happen here. I know not the reason, but the audience expects it, subconsciously or not. Directors can use that to make the scene more confrontational; family arguments take place there. They can hug it out once they've made up—over here." Steve pointed straight below.
"Whenever you cross from one part to the other, you'll find a cross sign on your scripts. That's in the script without the lyrics; make sure you have one of those. For now, we'll use the scripted stage directions only as a guide because things change all the time. Directors see working dynamics between actors and can change it. So when I say you'll actually enter stage from Stage Left then cross to Stage Right, it'll be your responsibility to mark down the changes. I won't tell you twice!" Steven said seriously.
"Alright, let's try running our very first scene. Everyone, come on!"
In moments, I was being told how to take a step, how to walk like a child—small movements I'd have to do in order to appear genuine. Steven would stop us if we were offbeat. Try matching your movements to an eight-beat; it felt unnatural to me. It angered me because just as I got that down, Steven abandoned the idea because it looked too unnatural with people moving like that.
"Shakespearean director." I heard David curse under his breath.
But at least the eight beats would be back when the dancing choreography started. Scene work took place as we stood on our marks, did actions like walking somewhere, miming working with a prop. I had a genuine trolley that I pushed for my scene and a football that I pretended to be an injured duck. When James stood up from where Matthew Muggs' understudy Mark was standing, Steven put an end to the entire thing.
"Freeze. Alright, here's a big sin in theatre."
"Ohhh…" some cast members said ominously, then laughed.
"Indeed, upstaging someone is usually very bad. We should explain for the benefit of the children," Steven chuckled.
He asked for and received one of the skipping ropes that the cast was using as a warm-up activity. Steven placed it across the two actors, stage left to stage center.
"You see how James is on this side of the rope? He is upstage of Carrol. That means Carrol has to look at James when they share a scene. From the audience's point of view, Carrol's looking away and at the boy. So the boy becomes the focus of the scene. This is terrible because a musical is the hard work of a team. TEAM!" Steven said loudly. "Always imagine the invisible rope between you and your scene partner and make sure you're square and on the same line."
Carrol was Mark's last name, I suspected he never got called Mark in his line of work. Mark was a common word on rehearsals, no one wanted to deal with the confusion.
"Of course, there are times that you will be upstaged on purpose. James and Carrol will be on stage while the Doctor sings multiple solos. But when the scene doesn't call for it, never upstage someone." Steve finished, tapping his notebook to start the scene work again.
It took a long time for Steve to take notes of the dynamics between each scene partners. But when scene partners were decided, we were blazing through the blocking process. I had so many crosses and too few stage exits. It also meant that I had to stand around a lot while Steven gave other actors their basic blocking. Matthew Muggs and Tommy Stubbins appeared on stage from the first scene of the play and was present on stage for about 80% of the show. The most fun parts for me were the very beginning of the play when I worked with Bryan and had a genuine and long dialogue between us. When the Doctor is introduced, my lines read per minute dropped to near zero.
Though there was one scene around the end where I was upstaging everyone, by design of the screenplay. My character's existence in the play was justified by saving the company from a certain death. From there, my scene involvements plummeted down to zero again. Still, I learned lessons that are very hard to teach without practical experience. Crossing from one area of the stage to another is extremely difficult. My character had to move around a lot because Tommy works as the audience's insert into the play. I am discovering things about the Doctor or the Pirate Island and through me, the audience learned those. So I had a lot of necessary movements. Have you ever thought of the when you should start moving? I didn't until I got cues for it; specific lines that my scene partners said or their actions would trigger my movement to the other area of the stage. Often the cue I got was from someone in the ensemble.
Actual crossing was next problem to tackle. For example, if there are movements on stage, the audience will look at the moving part. It is the human response, we were evolved to look for predators. So you want to move with other cast members if you don't want to draw all the attention to yourself. When there are a lot of ensemble members on stage and you all want to move at the same time, problems occured. Who should cross upstage side or downstage side? When the choreography came in, a misstep could have me running into someone. The pure embarrassment of that happening drove me to learn these practical elements better. It wasn't acting, it was simply the practical function of our movement.
Of course, with everything in theatre, there always seemed to be an exception. For example, my movement during the fight with the pirates; all action of mine worked to upstage other cast members. I would be the only movement on stage during my own scene.
I was getting quite into the blocking section of our rehearsals, but the dreaded sight was walking towards me and the other boys.
"Steven!" Maddie shouted over the top of everyone working hard.
"Maddie, ah." Steven tasted his teeth. "Is it time?"
"Yes," she said, voice even.
"Alright, boys, pack it up. The rest of you, we'll do the scenes without Tommy or the Doctor in it."
James came and had his arms over mine.
"This feels more fun! Moving around makes it so much less boring." James said.
"Yeah, but Mad-Eye is here," I grumbled.
"I heard you," Maddie shot back.
"Good." I sighed. "Let's go, Darien." I urged my fellow Tommy.
As we fell in step after Maddie, our very own chaperone, someone stepped in front of us.
"Hey, Darien," Phillip said, an easy smile on his face.
"Phillip!" Darien said, giving him a hug that only came up to his hips.
Phillip laughed brightly, returning the hug. "So, how about that drive in my Jaguar?"
"Oh, Jaguar! What model is it?" James asked, face full of envy.
"Jaguar XK, it's a convertible," Phillip said.
"Wicked!" James said, reminding me of Ron Weasley. "Can we also get a ride?" James poked me in the ribs with his elbows.
"Sure, maybe next time though; the car's only got two seats," Phillip said sadly.
"Aren't there rear seats that can be accessed by folding the passenger seat?" I asked in confusion.
"Well," Phillip coughed, "I guess so, I've just bought it. Never tried it."
"Can we sit at the back?" James asked.
"Next time, I promise. I'm taking Darien back to his house; his mother will be waiting," Phillip insisted.
A movement caught my attention, and I saw Maddie's eyes had squinted dangerously at Phillip, and her arms were folded. Though from where he stood, he couldn't see her expression. I wondered if she was jealous about not getting a ride.
"Right, get to your grandma, Will. James, your mum's waiting," Maddie said, putting an end to the entire conversation.
—✦—
I found Nain in the pantry room. She liked to sit there and read her books where it was quiet. I had a sneaking suspicion she chose the most peaceful corner of the theatre and only reappeared once we were nearly finished with rehearsals — though I could never prove it.
"Ah, Wilf. Are you ready to go home?" Nain asked.
"Whoa, I almost forgot. I'll be ready when Granpa is." I smiled at my grandma.
After three weeks without seeing my parents, I'd started to miss them terribly. It made sense why they hadn't come, of course — but that didn't make it any easier. So far, my parents had been paying for all the private lessons I took at Hammond, the travel expenses, and — if the lease agreement was right — the rent here in London too. We were better off than most families. For instance, Blacon in Chester was one area my parents never allowed me to visit; they said it had the highest crime rates. We were only one neighborhood off from being in Blacon, but still not quiet that poor. Still, we weren't exactly well-off. I'd thrown our finances into disarray by wanting to play at being an actor. Now, three weeks into rehearsals, the cast had started receiving a steady salary. I needed to speak to my parents — to make sure they could dig themselves out of the financial hole they'd fallen into. All because of me.
Thinking about my dad having to break his back or Mum taking up a second job had me stressed. The first obstacle was my mother; she was someone I could hardly win an argument against. Having lived with my Nain for almost a month, I had a suspicion that the same was true for my Mum and her mother.
"Nain, are you on my side?" I asked.
"Depends, who are you going to smack up the side?" she asked with an Irish accent.
There was a lot to dig there; the English were a bit racist towards the Irish. A crime happened? Where was the nearest Irish lad? Want to portray a hooligan in a film? Put on an Irish accent. I guessed she had memories of the Troubles.
"I've been getting wages," I started when Nain cut me off instantly.
"Oh no, you won't get me to withdraw any money for you. That's your parents' job." She let me down gently.
"That's not what I mean. Mum's been paying over three hundred pounds a week for private lessons for me. I noticed a few letters…" I said, with a side-eye trained on my Nain.
"Go on," demanded my grandma.
"Eh—I don't think Mum and Da are doing great. Money-wise, I mean. I want to let them know that they can pay the rent from my salary, withdraw some for their own use. I'll keep getting paid for five more months, at the very least!" I tried to convince my Nain.
Her expression seemed to still, and she put on her thinking face.
"You've got a point, dear. But she has one too; your mum will want to make the payment. It's her duty as your mother," Nain said.
"It's also the duty of the son to take care of their mum. Filial duty," I said, my tone determined.
She slapped my arm gently. "Silly boy, what do you know about that? Filial duty, where do you even learn such words?"
"I'm serious, Nain. I want to act in more things; I'll need to do more auditions. That money will be used for that too. I don't want Mum to think this money has to be saved for me when I'm older," I said, staring out the window.
I turned to my Nain, staring her right in the eyes. "I'll make so much money that money won't mean a thing to me. But this money right now can be used to get me there."
Nain seemed to gulp in front of my sheer determination. But then she started to laugh, full throated and a bit shrill.
"Oh, you're such a silly boy indeed. Dwtty dwtty foolish boy. You have such great ambition," Gladys spoke with all the love and pity for an innocent kid with a dream bit too large. "Fine, I'll help."
My smile matched my Nain's. She didn't know what I knew. Money would have no meaning to me; that was the only thing I was sure about for my future. The only foolish thing was my dream to be a star featured in the biggest films. What would I do if my parents supported me all the way and I was among the thousands of actors who never made it?