Forever and forever farewell
November 29, 2012
There comes a moment during a last performance where one finally realises its all over. But nothing ever really ends (I warn you now, there may be quite a few quotations in this last blog).
'Whereof what's past is prologue' - The Tempest (Act 2, Scene 1)
And in the case of a show this is more true than ever. Julius Caesar will live on. In other countries,with a different cast (possibly, probably) but still, in some imperceptible way, OUR Caesar.
Moscow was not as cold as we thought it would be, and colder in other ways we hadn't expected. But I am a boy from south west London and it is a long road from Tooting Bec to Moscow, so I'm not going to grumble about cool stares and moody shopkeepers.
We seem to know each other so well now. Or do we? The more I think about our merry band, the more I wonder how it reflects a little world, a little community. With arguments and moods and unexpected kindnesses. Hopes and dreams. Failures and disappointments. I wonder when anyone stops playing the roles they are cast:
Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful paegants than the scene
Wherein we play in. - As You Like It (Act 2, Scene 7)
I miss everyone already. Everyone. I can still hear their voices in my head: The sonorous tones of Joseph Mydell. The deep rumblings of Ewart James Walters. The northern vowels of Samantha Lawson.
But onwards and upwards. And outwards. As we all drift off into our real lives and give assurances to: 'do something soon in London' the more experienced of us know that we probably won't see these people very much again. Maybe in an audition (competition?) maybe after a show ('How nice to see you! You look well! Do you remember that time when...') and we drift away...
I have been looking back through these blogs (am I the only one?) And wondering what I could take away from this journey.
I became a Father. Still think that it's all a dream. All the tour seems a little dreamy. Like it was happening on a big screen somewhere and I was just watching.
Did I really meet John Barton? Really? Was Waterside my address in Stratford? A hop, skip and a jump away from the Ashcroft room. The ASHCROFT ROOM! Did I perform on that great stage? Meet my idol, Anthony Sher after press night? Fly to Moscow? Warm up in the hallowed Clapham rehearsal rooms? Doesn't seem real.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors
(As I foretold you) were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air - The Tempest (Act 4, Scene 1)
So it came to the moment when Cassius and Brutus say their goodbyes. The quotation from the title of this blog has always been a fave of mine:
Forever and forever farewlell, Cassius!
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
If not, why then this parting was well made.
Always makes me well up. But on the last night I stood in my accustomed place (bang in the middle of the two lead actors: I'm no fool) and thought how the lines are a perfect way to say goodbye to anyone.
Who knows what the future will bring? Maybe I will see you all one day on the sunny streets of Stratford as I open in Hamlet. Maybe I'll be working behind the counter of a fish and chip shop telling people how 'I was adored once too.'
Sorry. That's from Twelfth Night, and I really love it. It makes me crack a little inside. Which seems to happen to me more and more nowadays. Maybe it's little Theo. Maybe it's age and the loss of my hairline. I know not.
The Brunette and Theo are sleeping next door. I can hear them tossing and turning through the monitor. Life is strange. I don't know what life holds. I know I'm grateful for any moment of happiness that life cares to chuck my way. I'm grateful for every hug, kiss and applause that has been given me. To the costume angel who put up with me being an arse. And continues to do so. To the old friend who travels miles to see me and tell me they love me. Still.
And to Shakespeare. I'm black, and product of a working class single parent family brought up in what was a dingy part of South West London. And Shakespeare took the time to write to me. Personally. That was ever so nice of him.
Parting is such sweet sorrow - Romeo and Juliet Act 2, Scene 2
Keep safe. Stay warm.
Andrew French
by Andrew French
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