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History ensemble member Nick Asbury on hangovers, tears and new jobs...
Letting go
We had a day off after Press Day. Necessary, not least because I couldn't feel my face due to the ill advised attempt to slake my thirst, after four shows in 24 hours, with free white wine at the Press Night Party. That, alongside a minor tête-à-tête with a Glaswegian in the bar over the road after the party, meant the shadow of my hangover had destroyed the shadow of my face that day.
 And then, Friday, we were back into technicals for Henry VI Part I. It's hanging off a ladder twenty feet up covered in blood time again! It took us from 10 in the morning till 10 at night to get that show into here; then we had a Dress Rehearsal on Saturday, and did the show that night. If you include 2000/1 when we first staged the Henry VIs, these are the seventh techs I've done for these shows - if you include all the understudy techs then it's ten. Another fact I'm weirdly proud of, for some reason. In the Dress Rehearsal, in the scene where Henry is crowned in Paris, and York challenges Somerset to a fight, we had an almost cast-wide corpse. Everyone present on stage just started giggling. It had started when Cordery mistimed picking up the gauntlet thrown down by York and ended bobbing up and down like a yo-yo trying to pick it up. A silly, small thing, but that is the manner of corpsing - it's the tiny out of the ordinary things that set you off. This time, Clive Wood, who's particularly good at not corpsing, just lost it. There were tears streaming down his face with suppressed laughter. Chuk, after emitting strange sounds, simply turned upstage and doubled over. Streatfeild used the letter from the Duke of Burgundy to cover his face. I was making noises again. I couldn't see because of the tears and what made it worse was that Cordery's voice had risen an octave as he fought back the gagging. It was as if all the effort and pent up emotions of putting all the first four plays on over the last few weeks were pouring out of us. It WAS a dress, so it wasn't too bad to do it and we, as a company, just laughed and laughed in the place which is most dear to us - on that stage. Lovely.
As have been the reviews, apparently. As I said about Press Night last week, it all seems rather strange to be 'opening' a show two years in. It shows what an ensemble can do, I suppose. Although I think our audiences over the last two years have seen that already. And gives everyone a chance to talk about where the RSC is. But who is everyone? Sigh
But, in truth, I'm much more interested in what a casting director or Director thinks of the shows. They're the ones who are going to give me a job. And it is to those people we are looking now. That icy hand of unemployment is not just fingering our collar, but grabbing it and pushing us towards the door like the bouncer did to me in the bar over the road on Press Night. The rollercoaster is back. It's been at its very zenith for the past nearly three years and I'm fearful there's another dip around the corner.
Although I'm sure it'll never be as bad as it was at it's lowest point. I remember doing 'DRACULA, or How's Your Blood, Count?' starring Leslie Grantham as Dracula, on tour in 1996. I was Acting ASM (I'm not sure you even get those anymore) and by the end of the show I was playing a transvestite vampire, wearing a PVC basque, fishnet tights and boots. As you can imagine, a show like that was immensely popular and they had sold, oooh, about seventeen tickets in a thousand-seat theatre in Southend. So, joy of joys, they threw open the theatre to all the local schools. You can imagine me dancing with delight, knowing what costume I was wearing. There I was standing in all that garb, growling or whatever idiotic thing I was supposed to be doing, hearing the whoops and hollers of about 500 crazed, nonplussed Southend schoolkids ringing about the theatre, when I was hit in the eye by a Chewitt. Some little tyke had got the bullseye. I stood there, bolt upright, hand clasped to my left eye, while the other swivelled frantically, trying to find the culprit in the darkness of the audience. "**** this," I said and walked off stage rather stiffly.
That, dear readers, was a low, low point. Although, of course, not even that compares to the long days of unemployment when you watch Neighbours (twice), and you have no money even just to pop to the corner shop.
Which is why I will always laugh when I'm onstage and working. Why this has been such a special project for me, and for us all, is that we have achieved that nirvana state of security and have been able to blossom and long may it last into our new work and lives after this job. I know that, without arrogance or cockiness, I can walk into any audition or job with my head held high and a belief in myself. The gossamer thread which keeps us from the dark days has got stronger with this job, and we'll be better in the big bad acting world outside because of it. But, Casting Directors, please note, I'm never wearing fishnets again.
 Respond to Nick's blog
Watch extracts from the Histories
 View scenes from Henry V and behind the scenes in rehearsals.
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Latest blog posts
- Listen. Time passes. Listen.
- I feel alive
- Things happen to you
- Sleeping on ladders
- Battle of Barnet
- Buckets of blood
- Hamming
- Three and a half weeks
- Letting go
- Unforgettable
- Lighting grids
- A new stage
- Gloriously
- The men in black
- Really listening
- Making history
- Happy birthday!
- Bleeeuurghhh!
- Dead weight
- Card sharks
- Tomorrow I scalded myself with tea
- You stink
- Turning to slush
- The threshold point
- Holidays!
- All change
- Strange things in the bath
- Back to school
- Corpsing
Other blog posts
About blogger Nick
Likes: Cricket and music. Fields and dark pubs with no music
Dislikes: Lager, crowded streets and light bars with music |
