I remember I got a lot of blank looks when I suggested it. But I must have seen through these. Or maybe powered through them? Nor must I have taken seriously the nay-saying emails from members: ‘it won’t work here’, ‘this is a village in Hertfordshire you know, not the bloody West End’ – etc.

Just as well. Because, in the end, our production was a triumph.

Poster by Mark Weaver

The play? Harold Pinter’s The Caretaker. Not everybody’s cup of tea. I know that now, much more clearly than when we embarked on the production back in April.

But I’d always loved this play, ever since a fellow student had loaned me a copy in 1973. I’d chuckled at the language and the absurdity of the characters, like I did late one night when I happened upon a new TV show called Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

This was exhilirating stuff – mould-breaking, off-the-wall. The student and I made vague plans to stage The Caretaker but they came to nothing, then 35 years of living went whooshing by until I found myself on the bar-stool of an English village pub, being asked by the Chairman of The Kimpton Players what I wanted to produce and direct for the Spring Production.

As you may imagine, eyebrows were raised when I put forward my choice. This was no standard am-dram offering. And some women were irritated (there were only 3 characters, all male). But I guess I brushed it all aside.

Assistant Producer Debbie and I got to work: planning, auditioning, rehearsing. We were determined that this production would go beyond people’s notions of ‘am-dram’ – into the realm of local theatre.

We knew our play ‘inside out and back to front’. We set our standards high and we made our talented actors work their arses off. We all went to the pub after rehearsals. We had a team dinner halfway through. We developed a deep understanding of our actors –how they preferred to work and what they needed to ‘become’ their characters. We became a tightly-knit, mutually supportive group.

Inevitably, with such a driven approach, there were difficult moments. But we worked through them. Nonetheless, I experienced several private moments of doubt (what am I doing, putting this show on, out here in the ‘sticks’? Etc.)

But, as is the hallmark of our long-establishe drama group, the crew assembled itself. Front of House, Staging, Lighting, Props, Publicity, Bar. My dream set came to wondrous life and suddenly, we were ready.

It was only after the show’s 4-night run was over that reality hit me.

Logically, this show shouldn’t have worked here. People either love Pinter or they don’t. They go to London if they want to see his plays. Most times people attend amateur productions just because there’s a play on, to support their local drama group, or because they want some light entertainment.

And yet we’d triumphed, turning a healthy profit and receiving these kinds of comments:

“A brave decision to put on such a play in Kimpton perhaps – but it paid off handsomely. Brilliant.”

“We were spellbound for 3 hours.”

“Really impressed.”

“…a production of real quality.”

“The best performance we’ve seen here.”

I don’t like to moralise, but my experience here illustrates a few things. Like how you should just see through the doom-mongers. If you stick with your vision, don’t compromise your expectations and support people in the right way, they will rise to your standards, and work hard to help you keep them high.

The other thing I’m grateful for is that the student back in 1974 didn’t show me any other plays. This one’s out of my system now; that’ll do me for quite a while, thanks.

Doug

I’m in the museum gift shop, waiting to pay twelve quid so we all can pop upstairs to look at some stuff in glass cases. The guy behind the counter is holding forth:

“Pop your name and address in here, so we can claim gift aid and keep this money out of the hands of the bleedin’ politicians, eh? Yeah, bleedin’ politicians. Bloody useless, the bloody lot of them.”

“Yes,” ‘chuckles’ the woman in front of me.

I bite my tongue, wait my turn and cough up.

Later, when we’re strolling around outside, having viewed all the stuff in the glass cases, I make up an eloquent response to that shop guy. This is what I’d wanted to say – and what I’ll probably tell people later that I did actually say. Something like:

“Bleedin’ politicians? Yes, they’re a vital component of the kind of democracy that millions have fought, bled and died for. The kind of democracy that millions of oppressed, starving, tortured and imprisoned alive today will never know…” Etc, etc.

Image by Visualist Images via Flickr

And then all this makes me think about the trite second-hand opinions and attitudes that the lazy-minded continue to trot out.

How easy to hear a pop-phrase and adopt the bigotry behind it without really thinking! It’s almost what we’re encouraged to do, isn’t it? Consume pre-baked ‘fast opinions’ before tossing the wrapper into the newspaper recycling.

More and more schools these days are encouraging kids to engage in ‘critical thinking’, (and NO mr and mrs Bigot – schools are NOT full of useless, over-recreated whining teachers), so how about we grown-ups give it a go too? Here’s how to do it:

1. Look at the evidence
2. Think about the evidence
3. Look at the conclusions and opinions that have been formed by others
4. Decide whether or not we agree
5. Form an opinion based on the evidence

It seems to me that too many people jump from step 1 to step 3 and stop there, thereby denying many of their brain cells the chance of some exercise.

So think, Mr shop man, think.

Politicians? No. They’re NOT all the same. They’re NOT all bad, and they SHOULDN’T all be lumped in together. Sometimes, when I watch Question Time on the Beeb, I go away thinking that one or two MPs aint half bad at all. In fact, some of them are actually trying to make a positive difference to people’s lives.

So let’s cut them some slack. And celebrate the fact that in our society we can actually express opinions without being shot or slung into prison.

Doug