32. SHOW TO SHOW BEAMISH?

Ah those deadly theatrical terms! Now you may think that I’m making them up, and to the most part I am, but things like ‘Twirly’, ‘Double-Bubble’ can indeed be found in the dictionary of show. So can ‘Show to Show’. Now this term is quite self explanatory, it means that you are in the very lucky situation of finishing one show only to start (or to have already started) rehearsals for the next one. When the term is used it is followed by the jammy fecker’s name. For example;

‘Look at the go of ‘show to show’ Beamish.’

Who me? Oh you’re very kind. Well in fairness this summer it was true. I was on me way to Bath for the last week of rehearsals for Much Ado and once that had opened I was off back to London to rehearse Wind in the Willows. Now if that’s not show to show I don’t know what is! The great thing of course was that I was coming to the end of rehearsals and there wasn’t a sign of the Jitter. Thank Jesus! I wish this show to show would happen all the time, but sure wishes never come true.

Or do they?

Well there was still the first show to open before I even thought about any other shows. The entire cast of Much Ado had relocated themselves to Bath and we lashed into the last few rehearsals. Bath is a lovely place, but because all of the buildings have to be made of sandstone it has to be the yellowest city ever. I had played Bath before in Pirates but that was in Winter and the place seemed a bit dull. This time it was summer, and it was the business. How bad. The digs were grand, although they were a bit pink and I couldn’t stand up in the bedroom. But hey, I’ve stopped the moaning now haven’t I? The first day’s rehearsals went well, we were all in good form and I was relishing me new-found role as dance captain. Power going to me head maybe? Nah not a sign, but I was determined to do it as well as I possibly could. Here was a chance to show that I was more than a two song spear carrier. We finished a bit early and I met up with my man in Bath, Neil Ditt, for a scoop. The Ditt, as he is known, is a fine fellow actor and good buddy, we were about embark on our 3rd year in a row at Regent’s Park. He was up in Bath (where he was born and bred) working in his secret identity as an architect, and he was the bearer of very interesting news;

‘I saw Laura last weekend and she was telling me she’s just landed a job assisting Ed Hall on the big Christmas play at the National.’

Like I said very interesting. The Laura in question was the director of Wind in the Willows so that was a good in and an even better in was Ed Hall, sure didn’t he direct Calico last year. Ho ho ho, could it be the Royal National Theatre for Christmas for Beamish? Well there was two brilliant contacts. I was on the phone to the agent in an act. With her on the case I knew I’d be ok. Now that would be a lovely gig to have after Willows and while it wouldn’t be a show to show situation (it would start rehearsals later) it would still be very very cool indeed. Right, time to put that right at the back of me head and get on with the job in hand. Much Ado ... about lots of things. The dancing was going ok but not as well as I would have liked but I wasn’t too worried as the choreographer was coming up that week to do more work on it. Good stuff, and hopefully now he’d be around until we opened and I’d just be assisting. Oh yeah, like I’d be that lucky. That day, the Thursday of the last week of rehearsals, was nearly a full day devoted to just the dancing and while he was doing new steps with new people (five extras had arrived to join the show) I was going over stuff and earning me £28.50. I also thought it might be wise to learn the second dance. As I wasn’t in it I didn’t know it and in fairness it was now me job to know it. But sure its ok we’ll have a few days with the lord of the dance himself. Emmmm ........ no. At the end of the day’s rehearsals, which had gone well although there was still work to do, he turned to me, wished me good luck and said he’d see me at the party on press night. WHAAAAATTTT!?!?!?! Oh yes, he was leaving and wouldn’t be back until we had already done 5 previews, leaving the state of the dancing in the show squarely on my shoulders.

Oh shit.

£28.50 was suddenly not enough. Thank Christ I had learned the 2nd dance. Now the fear descended on me and I lashed into trying to make sure that everyone at least knew the steps before we got on stage on Monday and everything went to shit in the tech. Jesus boy, I was beginning to think I had bitten off more than I could chew. A sleepless night was had and I was lying in bed the next morning with one-two-three/wait-two-three/girls-boys-together going over and over in me head when the phone went. Hark, ‘tis the agent.

‘I’ve just had an availability check for you,’

Oh yes? What for? (Please be the Ed Hall show at the National)

‘It’s for Ed Hall’s production of...’

Yesssss!!!!

‘....The Winter’s Tale.’

Whoa!! Now that I didn’t expect. Ed had put on Shakespeare’s the Winter’s Tale earlier this year with his all-male Shakespeare ensemble called Propeller. These guys were the business, critically acclaimed, highly regarded and I had seen their production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the West End 2 years ago and it was stunning. This production had gotten unreal reviews as well. Its also impossible to even get an audition. When you do a Propeller show you are automatically offered a part in the next production and a lot of them stay, even if they don’t stay there’s still the people who have previously worked with them to consider and all the actors that Ed had worked with over the years. When I didn’t hear anything about the Winter’s Tale when it was first casting I really didn’t think anything of it. That said I’d still give me left Bollock to work with them. Now there was a possibility that I wouldn’t have to castrate meself. This had come completely out of nowhere. The agent went on;

‘They wanted to check you for the 2nd leg of their tour. I told them you were available. And you are....sort of.’

Whatchu talkin’ about ‘Sort of’?

‘They start rehearsals for two weeks on the 22nd of August.’

Ah fuck!!!! Its never fecking easy is it? Why I hear you ask? Well Willows runs until the 27th of August and it wasn’t like I had all day to rehearse before the show, because I had matinees every day, it was a daytime show! If there was only 2 weeks rehearsals there’s no way they would let me just do mornings for the first week. I could see it slip away already and all I had had was an availability check. Now there were a lot of factors to consider. What was the part? If it was to understudy I wouldn’t do it, I was sure of that. It was touring as well, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to be on the road again so soon after being away with Much Ado. I hopped on to the Watermill Newbury’s website (for that’s where the company is based) to see if they had the tour list up and indeed they did.

Oh sweet Jesus.

Apart from some English dates this tour was going to Madrid, Girona, San Francisco, Washington and, wait for it, New York and .... wait even longer for it ..... The Abbey in Dublin!!! I nearly wet meself with excitement. But I HAD to calm down, sure this was just an availibility check, it wasn’t even a date for an audition, it certainly wasn’t an offer. I was still as far away from making my Irish professional debut as I had been for the past 5 years! Well maybe I was a tiny bit closer. But only a tiny bit, and anyway I still had a certain little Shakespeare for Ed Hall’s daddy to concern meself with. Prioritise Beamish, you are after all the dance captain!

The run at the end of the week went well, although Sir Peter had said to me that he felt that the Watch shouldn’t be Irish as he was afraid of confusing the audience, so I had to wheel out me best cockney guv’nah. It was grand and I certainly wasn’t disappointed with the change, sure I was flattered enough in the first place. I was fighting to get time to go over the dances though. They needed rehearsals and it was on my head be it, I was grabbing minutes here and there to go over the steps with the cast whenever I could. The following week at the tech it fell around me a bit and I begged for more time. It didn’t happen. I got half an hour. Oh well, at least I knew the steps. Then the ugly spectre of facial hair loomed again. I went in to a fitting to find that my beard and moustache were a different colour to my hair and made me look like a Hobbit. Also I felt that all of the little comedy looks and expressions I had worked out in rehearsals were as dead as a dodo. This itchy heap of shit they glued to my face was killing me performance. I wasn’t the only one who felt like that let me tell you, but the response from Sir Peter was;

‘Well actors have been using false beards for hundreds of years.’

That’s a fair point to which there is no comeback, but I’m sure actors have been pissed off with false beards for hundreds of years too. Richard Stacey was delighted because he’d grown his own. Mine was cat and I betcha the fucker will fall off some night. Whatever about that the show was in good shape and I was starting to have a bit of fun with the part of the tailor that I was so pissed off with before. Camp it up? I nearly grew a moustache! But through all this there was still that thing in the back of me head about the Winter’s Tale. It had been a week since they called and there was still no news. I hate that, sitting by the fecking phone again. The first previews of Much Ado were going down very very well and we had the Sunday and the Monday off before we came back to do the press night so I headed back to London for the lash. The Monday evening I was on me way back to county Kilburn on the tube and when we came out of the tunnel me phone goes. Its a voice message.

‘Jamie Beamish, it’s Ed Hall, how are you squire?’

I wet meself.

No not literally. In this fateful message he tells me that some of the actors in The Winter’s Tale had left and offers me a part in it, saying that its a nice plot and that I’d also have to sing and play the piano, so it would be a good showcase. I nearly wet meself again. I listened to the message over and over. There it was, no audition needed just a straight offer and a personal phonecall as well. Nice o....

But.

Aw fuck sake, of course there’s a but. Sure he wasn’t aware of me availability in the first week of rehearsals. If he knew I could only do mornings maybe he wouldn’t have offered me a part in the show. Another but was this thing he said about playing the piano. Now I’m not the best of piano players so that put the shits up me as well as everything else. So I’d just gotten this brilliant news and I couldn’t celebrate because it was still up in the air. I decided not to call him back as it was a bit late and I wasn’t sure what to say, but I did call the agent. Its never too late for her. We decide that she’d ring the producer of the tour the following day and I’d ring Ed Hall and we’d both explain the situation that I was still performing at the Park that first week. There was nothing else I could do, they would either be cool with that or say no.

The next day I went to Bath and tried to get in contact with Ed. No answer. Shite. The agent got through to the Watermill and the Producer there seemed to think there’d be no problem but the man from Del Monte still had to say yes. I was sure he’d be reasonable, he’s a top head, but if it was unworkable...well. I was at me wit’s end. I mean this wasn’t just any normal job I was waiting to hear about. This was one of the best companies in England, with one of the best directors who I was dying to work with again, and would bring me home. That was the big thing. You might call me a fool for saying that The Abbey meant more to me than New York, but it did. It would be a huge deal for me to play my national theatre. For five years I’d been trying to get work back home and here it was, just within me reach. But still far away. All this runs inducing stress was of course happening the day before the press night of Much Ado.

And then I finally got through to Ed. He explained all about the gig to me and then I explained my predicament.

‘I’m sure we can work around that.’

Nice one.

‘I’ll just have to discuss it with my producer and then I’ll get back to you.’

Grand I thought, sure the producer has already told my agent that there wouldn’t be a problem. Time to break out the champagne cider methinks. Well I’ll just wait till he calls back to make sure. Yeah wait, and wait, and wait. He never calls back. Now I’m not thinking the worst here because I would still get the news from the agent whether it be good or bad but its still excruciating having to wait. No wonder me nerves are shattered. I could feel it in me water that it was going to happen but you really can’t do anything till you get the definite yes.

The following day there was still no news on The Winter’s Tale, but I had other things on me mind that day. The press night of Much Ado was upon us. The buzz was good among the players, London had just won the olympic bid, and we, like olympians launched into the bard (well it wasn’t really an olympic feat for me as I didn’t have much to do but I wasn’t complaining any more). It went down like a bomb!! And the dances were pretty good too. Nice one. The session was hopping afterwards and we all ended up in ribbons in a hotel bar and we fell home as the birds were singing and the sun was coming up.

The following day there was still no news on The Winter’s Tale, but I had other things on me mind that day. I was woken up after about 3 hours sleep to a text message on me phone; -Hope ur ok have just been watching about the bombs in London on Sky News- Come again? Bombs? What the fuck? Then the phone starts hopping, people asking me am I ok, am I anywhere near the explosions, tell me you’re not in London. I switch on the news to see that the inevitable had happened. London had had a terrorist attack. Three bombs on the underground and one on a bus. Carnage. I watched in horror and disbelief and a a little bit of me was thankful that I was in Bath rather than London. I started texting back; -I’m fine, I’m nowhere near London, I’m doing a show in Bath. Thank God for the drama- A crap little joke, trying to make light of a very serious situation. I was also getting nervous about the fact that I was about to start rehearsals in London. How would it be? Would it be safe? Well feck me to be honest, there were people with a lot more troubles in their life all of a sudden. God help them.

The following day the call came.

‘They’ve officially offered you Winter’s Tale. They’ll work around your availibility.’

Sound. Funny, it wasn’t a jump up in the air moment but just a relief that all the waiting was over, and a bit of a relief that I was going on tour again and getting away from London. Now that was a stupid line of thought but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one thinking it. Then it started sinking in. I had always said that before I was 30 I wanted to have done a show at the Abbey and a show in New York, I was nearly 29 and this one gig was fulfilling both those ambitions. Also it meant that there was another week of Double Bubble coming to me at the end of August and without stopping I had work until the 3rd of December. Straight from Much Ado to Willows and now straight from Willows to Winter’s Tale. Show to show Beamish?

Nah boy.

Show to show to show Beamish.

Oh jammy me.

31. SING (AND DANCE) FOR YOUR SUPPER

Well we actors are most happy when we’re in work aren’t we?

Not a hope.

Actors will always find something to bitch and moan about. Even if they have the lead part in a smash hit West End play and they’re on a million pound a week and they’re in the number one dressing room, which is more like a flat than a dressing room, and you’re a dead cert for at least an Olivier award and if you decide to extend your contract they’ll give you a percentage of the box office, yes even if all that is the case you would still hear said actor moaning about the fact that he doesn’t have SKY+ on the telly in his dressing room, or forever questioning why they ever invented matinees. I mean the poor fecker that’s doing dodgy TIE has something to moan about alright, people in good work really should be grateful. In other words I should have been grateful that I was in rehearsals for an extremely good job. I mean this was the Peter Hall Company at the Theatre Royal Bath (or have I already mentioned that?) so surely there would be nothing for me to moan about.

Well......

Now don’t get me wrong because rehearsals were going extremely well. This guy Hall knew how to do his Shakespeare but after the first week it did kind of hit me; we had 5 more weeks rehearsals! Now I’ve never rehearsed for more than 5 weeks altogether, 6 seemed like a marathon! We did the entire production of Wind in the Willows last year in 3 weeks. Now why the hell am I moaning about the fact that there’s a nice long rehearsal period, surely that would make things easier, I hear you ceist? Well it does indeed give you more time to get it right, but the first thing to realise is that when you are rehearsing you are on rehearsal wages. These are significantly lower than performance wages and in my case that was just over half of what I was going to be paid once the show is up and running. Its something I’ve never really understood. I always find rehearsals to be the time of the really hard work, so why should you get paid less for more work? Now don’t tell me that’s ‘Just Showbiz’ or I’ll give you a puck in the eye. Seemingly its to do with the fact that the producers aren’t making any money during rehearsals so they pay less. Whatever, we were still on barely sustainable wages for 6 weeks. Also the 6 weeks rehearsals were made all the harder by the fact that I had an extremely small role. Now I thought that would work to my advantage as it meant I wouldn’t be called all day everyday. I’d definitely have a few hours off each day to chill and do stuff and I may even have a day off here and there. Not a sign. Meself and Andrew Mack(lough)lin ended up being called in all the time only to have to wait for two hours before we got to do something. I’m not the fastest reader in the world but I got through 3 novels during rehearsals, which was a record for me. It was common sight to see meself and Andrew sat in chairs with our heads stuck in books that certainly weren’t the script. Then we would get the call to jump up and stand at the back. This is the problem with carrying a spear. They call you in to stand there and carry it. Andrew got through Ulysses for feck sake. Now this wasn’t down to Sir Peter I have to say as he left the scheduling of the day up to other people. It came to a head in the fifth week when I had been called at 9 am (we started at 9am every day. That’s not normal for rehearsals and not easy either. C’mon I didn’t become an actor to work 9 to 5!) to sing for half an hour and then wasn’t called again until 3pm. I mean what do I do for 5 and a half hours for Christ’s sake!?!? Why could I not just come in at 2.30pm do me bit and join everyone else at 3? At least I’d get a sleep in for the first time in weeks.

‘Well I’m not sure about that, I’d have to talk to Mick about it.’ the lord of the schedules replied.

The Mick in question was Mick Sands the composer, and a nicer more approachable man you’ll never meet. Approached he was and there was no problem at all. In I go at 2.30 the next day;

‘Jesus thanks for changing the time for us Mick. I needed the bit of a sleep in.’ Quoth I.

‘Not at all Jamie, I was delighted to have the extra bit of time myself this morning.’ Quoth the man of music. A fuss over nothing so.

Then I went to have a costume fitting to find out that as well as playing Balthasar and Watchman I was now going to be a tailor in a scene where I run on and do nothing more than brush another character’s coat. This was where the wanky actor in me kicked in as I wasn’t hired to ‘play as cast’ and they had just assumed I’d do it. I wasn’t happy and made it known to the assistant director. It got back to Peter that there was a problem and he looked over at me as only he can and said;

‘Is there a problem?’

Whereupon I exploded and replied;

‘Nah, its grand.’

Beamish thou art a pussy.

Then there was the issue of facial hair. Jesus don’t start me on that. There seemed to be a consensus among the design team that we should have lots of facial hair, but said facial hair was not to be our own. Aw crap! That could only mean one thing. False beards and moustaches. There is nothing in the world of wonder that is theatre so bad as false facial hair. It itches, it restricts your face, the glue gives you a rash and at the worst possible time it will inevitably fall off. All of these things did indeed happen but more on that later. I had to wear a false moustache for 8 months on Pirates and I hated every minute it was on me lip. And I believe that inevitably it looks cat. But that’s just my opinion. The fact was we had to wear it. There was no way I could grow my own (which is what I’ve normally done since puberty) because I had to open in Willows the same week Much Ado was closing. I had to grin and bear it (and that was only if I was able to grin once I had glued the bastard to my lip!). The plan was for me to have big sideburns and a moustache for Balthasar and A full beard for the watchman. Aw shite. There was now a cloud of glue, mesh and hair hanging over rehearsals. Jesus. And how that issue would indeed play out.

Stop me now if I’m moaning.

Actually despite everything I’ve just written, I had a deadly time at rehearsals. The above is to show what a fucking stupid attitude I had in rehearsals, I kept going home after work saying I was sorry I accepted the show, the part was too small, blah blah blah. What I then began to realise was that I was having a very specific learning experience. I had to cop on and get on with the job no matter what it was and I also had to make this my own. If I kept up this crap attitude I would also be crap in the show because I was focusing on the negative rather than working hard to find the positive. In the first week of rehearsals I mentioned to Peter Hall that not only was I from Waterford but so was Andrew and Matthew Dunphy (who was to be in a Shaw play Peter was directing in the second part of the season). He remarked:

‘Well you must come from a very talented town.’

Too right we do boy. I couldn’t let that perception down by acting the prick. And things started to happen that made it all better (The facial hair issue was still shit though).

Now the reason I was hired to do this job was primarily because I could sing (well the debate goes on). The thing was that there was no music to sing in the first 3 weeks. Mick Sands was busy opening some productions for the RSC, so I was in rehearsals speaking the lines of the songs I had and generally feeling like the pleb who can’t sing. Every now and then I’d get innocent comments from the other actors asking me was I a singer? or stating that they can’t wait to hear the music. Neither could I buddy, neither could I. Innocent and all as these comments were they were like a boulder on me back because I was feeling the weight of their mounting expectation. And as the weeks without music went on, the pressure grew and grew. What if I got the music and it was too high for me and I opened me mouth and they all hated it? What if I was just crap full stop? It felt like I hadn’t sung for years. Then at the end of the 3rd week I was told I was in at 9am on the Monday and that I was starting working with Mick on the songs. Despite the shits kicking in I became suddenly focused. Right, this was one I was not going to fuck up. I spent a saintly weekend not touching a drop and was in bed at 10 on the sunday up at 6.30 on the Monday to be wide awake for the sing song that morning. I had the guitar with me seeing I was accompanying meself on one of the songs. Mick had the songs and jaysus they were good. He got me range spot on. They were very very different in style, one being a real singalong boisterous number (the famous ‘Hey Nonny Nonny’), the other being a reflective lament in almost plainchant style (I knows me music so hence the big words!). Good stuff. I could show off a bit of versatility so. And the pipes were in good order too so I was pleased. That night I celebrated by going to the press night of Twelfth Night at Regent’s Park and getting shitfaced enough that I wasn’t able to sing the following day, but that was ok the first day was over and that was the main hurdle, enough people had heard me finally sing to know that I could do what it said on the tin. A couple of days later (when the voice came back) we rehearsed the scene that the plainchant song was in and those that heard it were very complimentary about me singing and I finally felt I had something meaningful to bring to the table for this production. Maybe I got too cocky though. They were working out who would be holding candles in the scene and I was told I would have to hold one.

‘Will you be ok to hold the candle if you’re singing?’ quoth Sir Peter.

‘Oh yes, sure we learned that at drama school.’ cheekily quoth I.

The assembled cast members and composer got a good laugh off it but I’ll never forget the look Peter gave me. To this day I don’t know whether it was a good or a bad one. But not to worry Beamish the singer had arrived. Then I got bolloxed again on the Friday night at another Park press night and had to sing ‘Hey Nonny Nonny’ the following morning in a run of act one. I wasn’t at me best but one of the actors complimented my singing of it to which I replied;

‘If you think that’s good, wait until you hear me without the hangover.’

He thought I was being humble. He’d learn.

And then rehearsals were buzzing by, I was starting to enjoy them. This is where you learn your craft, in the room watching others. Whether it was observing the direction of Mr. Hall himself or the skill of our two leads (Janie Dee and Aden Gillett), or the command of the language by the veteran Philip Voss, or the sheer comic brilliance of Sam Kelly, this is the education you never get for 10 grand a term in a drama school ladies and gents. I was singing well, learning me shakespeare but what of that other skill that would make me the triple threat that you need to be in this hungry business. What of the auld dancing?

Wait’ll I tell ya!

I’m doing Shakespeare right? Straight theatre? Classical theatre? Oh yes, but Shakespeare is littered with song and dance so you don’t get away with anything. I think choreographers must dread doing Shakespeare. I mean unless they’re presented with a separate cast of dancers, they walk into a room of actors of wildly varying ages, none of whom are happy to be dancing. Of course the funny thing is that most of these actors have done Shakespeare before and so must have danced in another production. Indeed they did and they hated it just as much then. Dancing is for the twirlys in musical theatre after all! Well twirly thy name is Beamish. After all have I not hoofed my way through various musicals in my time, and was I not at one point a line dancing instructor (the cat’s out of the bag now)? Well anyway I wouldn’t call meself a brilliant dancer. I know brilliant dancers and these guys and dolls are phenomenal, absolutely unreal. I can ‘move well’. Well enough for Shakespeare let me tell ya. So the day the choreographer came in to teach the two dances that were in the show it didn’t bother me at all, indeed I was only in the first dance because I had to play the drums in the second dance. Nice one, saved by the drums, b-dum tish!! Handy dancing followed, the kind of period dance which is more to do with style than any fancy moves. I was picking it up pretty quickly alright, but then I wasn’t the only one, I mean Janie Dee who was playing Beatrice is a diva of a dancer, really brilliant. But as the days progressed I found myself being called on by the other actors to go over the steps with them any time we had a break. The thing that being in musicals had given me was the super power to remember the steps the next day. Muscle memory. I may not have had fancy moves but I had a good memory. I was going to say like Stephen Hawking but that’s going way too far. So they jokingly started referring to me as the dance captain and I kept telling them to cop on. Then one day just before the end of the London rehearsals the assistant director came over to me and asked me;

‘Jamie, have you ever done dance captain on a show before?’

‘Yes.’ I lied.

‘Well we were wondering if you would be dance captain on this show for us?’

‘Ah yeah no hassle’ I replied as if it wasn’t a shock, ‘but you do realise that by equity law there would a dance captaincy fee to be paid.’

I’m no fool. I’m a union man and I know me rights and I was right to say that. She said that was fine and from the following week I was handsomely rewarded the princely sum of an extra 28 bob 50 to do what I was already doing for free. How bad. Actually I nearly bit off more than I could chew but that’s a story for next time. The 5 weeks rehearsals in London had finished, the show was in good shape, I was singing well and I had gotten over the disease of being full of shit and not appreciating what I had (the part of the tailor was coming along nicely thank you very much), and the maddest thing had happened, some mental fella had put me in charge of the dancing for the show. Jesus!! I got some load of jeers from the dancers I knew.

The pressure was on, we had one week’s rehearsals to go.

So off to Bath we went.

And not to wash ourselves.