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History ensemble member Nick Asbury on rituals...
The Threshold Point
Well, a very Happy New Year to everyone!
 The ritual is over for another year. All the magic; the things we do the same every year; the wonder of presents, reindeers, colours and the hope of snow. The party, the drink and the Auld Lang Syne. I hope you had a lovely time. Something very special took place here too, and it is not unconnected. We were all standing in the tunnel behind the big double doors just before we started Richard II on the 28th December. We call it the 'Hell Mouth'. It's called this because when Michael first had the concept for the staging of these plays he took the view that the Henry VIs and Richard III were the 'last great medieval plays' and acted as a conduit through which Shakespeare began to form his/our view of modernity in theatre. You could say the doors represent those doors of perception opening in Shakespeare's mind. But they are definitely rooted in the medieval Mystery Plays and Morality Plays (and indeed Mommas Plays), which took place for a few hundred years before, where the entrance to the stage was usually conceived as the entrance for the characters in the play to or from Heaven or Hell. The Plays would have a Keeper, not only to guard the gates but to let people in who had learnt their salvation and who would comment and be alive in the action on stage. Thus we have The Keeper in our productions who lets in characters who may even come back again, having learnt some lessons, to influence what comes later in the story. Hence our reference to it as 'The Hell Mouth'. These plays themselves are rooted in the passage of time from our very first beginnings. They touch something as we watch.
It was our first show back after an unheard of four nights off over Christmas. Everyone was touched with a little bit of ye olde Xmas cheer and there was more guffawing and giggling and gaffes than usual behind those doors as we waited for Rob to do the mobile phone announcement out front. Others stand still, preparing. Others quietly warm up their mouths and voices. Others crack jokes. There we all are in the dark, we've been there a thousand times. Rob takes his place, noting that he missed his vocation as a stand-up, as we can hear the audience settle down in anticipation. Guffaw, wheeze, giggle, fart, noise, tut, giggle, cough. Then the doors open. And something truly mystical happens. We are as one. We move as one. We do the whole slow dance (or 'blob' as we call it) utterly in sync, harmony, whatever you want to call it. Something has happened to us which makes us totally together. The audience are sucked in and we are utterly absorbed. And then we're off. Bang, the whole show goes by. And even though we put a few minutes on the show, it's electric. This feeds into Henry IV Part I the next day where a lot of the audience had seen the show the previous evening and again into Part II. Henry V that night is electric. When we finish, the reception is extraordinary. We even brought the house lights back up but they refused to stop clapping and we went back on. It was very special. Our own ritual - like Christmas Day every night - was truly done.
What is it that makes this so mystical? Theatre, like Christmas, like New Year, like marriages, funerals, christenings, like Halloween, is a ritual. All Western Theatre comes originally from the essence of ritual when in our pagan villages we danced and sang to reaffirm and celebrate our existence and ward off any nasties and thoughts that may be out there. Scholars have come up with three central tenets, the hangers, if you like, upon which most human ritual was based and which carry on into our modern rituals today. These are Separation, Liminality and Aggregation.
Now, before you run screaming from your computer, I shall explain. The first, Separation, is when the protagonists of the ritual are separated from the rest of the group. For example, in our modern marriage ceremony, the bride and groom are traditionally separated from each other the night before their wedding, and also the families and friends all congregate - with both families separated - before the bride arrives. So too at the theatre. We, the actors, are separated from the audience half an hour before the performance/ritual starts. Any visitors are hoofed out the building. And audiences themselves get a bit twitchy if they see an actor they're about to view pottering by licking an ice cream ten minutes before they go on.
The second, Liminality, is the act of crossing. The threshold point. Something happens where the protagonist literally crosses over from one point to the next. They cross the limin - the fine texture between one thing and another. In marriages today this is represented by the bride stepping through the door and the congregation rising and her 'walking down the aisle' between the two families. The lifting of the veil. The kissing of the bride. It is deep within us. Again it is represented by the groom picking up his bride and carrying her over the threshold. He carries her from one state to another. In the theatre, the lights go down, the drum rolls, the curtains rise, the hairs on the back of any audiences neck rises with it. In our case the doors open and we step on stage. We are in that liminal point. A state rooted in the origins of ritual. Of our society itself.
The third state, Aggregation, is the posh academic word for a bloody great party. Again, if you take marriage today, it wouldn't seem right without a big wingding after it. So too with our ancestors. And in the theatre, so the audience clap as one to recognise what has just happened. There is the hum of what the audience have just witnessed. And in our case, it is the brief walk to the Duck and then the few drinks inside to celebrate. The audience are there. So are we. And the show is there too somehow.
This for me is as much a ritual as dancing around the fire or whatever it was our ancestors did back then. We stood in the Hell Mouth and we crossed the limin. The doors open and something happens to us. That mystical ancient process by which we can perform.
And as we stand now at the threshold of one year into another I can really feel those doors opening. As I write, we are just about to start a walking line run of Henry VI Part I. A play I first rehearsed in 2000 when I was 29. And we last performed 11 months ago. We as an ensemble are standing on the threshold of something truly great. No other group of actors has ever staged these eight History Plays in their entirety in such a concentrated period of time. We are very lucky. And we are making history whilst portraying History. And it is in that playing, in that ritual, in that repetition, that affirmation, that Chrismas-like appeal to our senses every night, that we and hopefully our audiences find our Magic. Happy New Year!
 Respond to Nick's blog
Responses to Nick's blog
"We saw the performances on 29 December, and they were enthralling perfomances - definitely added to our family list of great theatre experiences. We thought Henry V with its exciting battle scenes was a great finish to our history play series, well worth a standing ovation (though you probably didn't spot us standing up in the back row!)"
Rosy
"Hi Nick, I have just found your blog whilst at work and a mighty fine thing it is too. Lots of reading there for me to enjoy on wintry lunchtimes in the heart of darkest Derbyshire - and no sandwich kiosk open til March!
"I was looking at the website after spending a truly wonderful weekend living the lives of Richard II through to Henry V and as a bonus meeting a few of you in the Mucky Duck on Saturday night and even buying a couple of you a drink - Few; too bloody few I might add - as every last one of that astonishing ensemble deserved a drink on us at least.
"Anyway, I digress! I wanted to say what a magnificent and life enhancing experience the Histories have been - I think my sister and I will be feeding off it for a long time to come and are busy trying to fit in another stab (forgive the pun) at the Henry VI trilogy before all finishes and trying to persuade our menfolk that they might enjoy it too!
"Please pass on a huge and heartfelt thankyou to everyone involved for a magical culmination to all that has gone before."
Jane
"Being a member of the particular audience you mention, I'd just like to say the applause was genuine - me, my parents and my brother had a seriously fun time. And thank you all for the Histories cycle in general - as probably the only teenager in Britain with the (admittedly rather nerdy) ambition to see every Shakespeare play before I'm 20, it's been a godsend. I rather naively thought the ones I had to collect (Henry VI set, Henry V and Richard II which I'm booked in at the Roundhouse for in April) would be the boring ones, but I stand corrected! I still get all those Lords, Earls and Bishops confused but the excitement and consistent high quality acting, directing and designing meant I enjoyed them a million times more than I thought I would. Also we saw the Henry IV pair at the National Theatre a couple of years ago, and I thought yours was tons better - Mr Streatfeild totally beat Matthew MacFadyen who we saw then.
"By September I'll only have Henry VIII and Two Noble Kinsmen to go and I turn 17 this summer, so I'm hopeful I'll manage to bag the full set of plays by my deadline!
"Thanks again for a fantastic experience - please pass on my congratulations to anyone you think might want to hear them.
"Looking forward to the Richards,"
Christian
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About blogger Nick
Likes: Cricket and music. Fields and dark pubs with no music
Dislikes: Lager, crowded streets and light bars with music |
