This month our staff blog is to be written by Jamie Parker from The Revenger's Tragedy. You might recognise Jamie from The History Boys where he played the character of Scripps here at the NT, on Broadway and in the film. Now he will be playing Hippolito in The Revenger's Tragedy so will be tacking more than university entrance exams as he embarks upon what sounds like a very physically demanding and frankly sweaty rehearsal process.... over to you Jamie:

A week of previews gone. Press Night tonight...

There's been a lot to work on, but taken as a whole I think reactions to the show have been very positive  - if that's the right word for how people feel watching a guy being horribly murdered while group sex happens all around him...

Thinking about the first preview - the first time we performed the play for a paying audience - there was a certain atmosphere of calm backstage, which in itself was a little unusual.

It's not uncommon, at least in my experience, for seasoned professionals to be seen gibbering and giggling like novices just before a first show. In this case, there was a real feeling of everyone quietly getting on with what they knew they had to do. I'm fairly sure he wouldn't agree with me, but I wonder if this wasn't partly down to the influence of Rory Kinnear, who plays Vindice, the Revenger of the title, and who in various ways is, and continues to be, exceptional.

Indulge me a little actorly waxing lyrical here, which may get embarrassing, but Rory is a leading man who has led by example, rather than by grand gesture, or with any displays of leadership. A genuine collaborator, of fierce intellect, who is switched on to every nuance of this play, not just the bits he's in. But a member of an ensemble company, who defers to Melly's ringmastership, and who knows how to blend in and disappear when that's what's required of him. He's forever thinking and trying for the new and the accurate, only speaking when he has something to say, or laughing when he finds something funny - but able to laugh at anything, including himself. These qualities are very easy to admire, especially in this flighty industry, and whether Rory's natural modesty will allow him to admit it, I think there's a degree to which the company has ended up emulating his calm assertion and wit - it's produced a backstage atmosphere that's feels professionally creative. That's not as common as you might expect in a creative profession, so I feel it's important to acknowledge it when it's there.

Anyhow, for the last week we've been arriving to work at lunch, munching sandwiches during a notes session, then spending the afternoon working on specific bits of the show, before a performance in the evening.

Generally the major changes have been technical or musical - trying to iron out set-moving difficulties, tweaking transitions between scenes, changing the music and lighting to fit accordingly. Other things that needed looking at were the complicated mask and fights that happen right at the end of the show, figuring out how the movement can unfold safely as well as accurately with the music, seeing if those very quick costume changes can happen any quicker.

Melly's recurring note for the blood has been, "double it!" After every show, "more blood, double it again!" My favourite incident of the week was when the blood really did go mental, Rory and I got facefuls of the stuff, and ended up completely covered. A slight and wonderful accident that we're still trying to recreate. The only frustration on that front is that, just at the point in the show where you really want to go to town on the mayhem, it's just not feasible to do it safely - not eight times in one week, anyway - so we've called on the forces of Less Is More to make it work. Still hasn't quite got rid of the disappointment, but there's only so much you can do before you have to let things like that go.

It's all meant a lot of time in a large, dark room in the middle of the day - leaving everyone a little bit etiolated, like Winston Smith in 1984, so folk are tending to seek whatever daylight they can get, however grey and drizzly it might be.

I have a time to scribble a bunch of good luck cards for everyone, go to notes, grab some food - and by then it'll be the half hour call and Melly's notepad will have to give way to those of the critics. I honestly haven't got the slightest idea what they're going to make of it. I generally don't read reviews, only because I don't trust myself not to be conceited if they say something nice, or wounded when they start saying something not nice - but it still doesn't stop you from wanting the show to be well received and hopefully boost the ticket sales. It's always nicer to play to a full house, and like it or not the critics can help that happen - as long as they don't go the other way on us...


Jamie Parker blog entry #5

Half way through the technical rehearsal, and this much I am happy to say right now - it looks great. 

Melly and Ti's design is simple, effective, grand, unnerving, lavish, adaptable, and fun to be inside. The costumes have suddenly tied everything together, and help you hear the play better because they make such clear statements about who the different characters are. This is not a literal world - everything's quite emblematic and contradictory, with Dolce and Gabbana in the same body sillhouette as swords and daggers, video projection in the same room as Caravaggio. It's normally a concept I'm a little wary of, as I've seen it tried clumsily too many times, but in this case I'm glad to say I'm a fan. It works - I can't say why, it just does.

And the rumours about the music were true, by the way - the DJs are going to release a single from the music they've sampled for the show. Personally I already want an album of all the stuff I've heard, not just theirs - and it's not even finished yet. There's some wonderful neo-renaissance stuff by Ade, with really ballsy strings going on, and the most fantastic counter tenor, called Jake, who seems quite happy to knock out top B flats at 10.30 in the morning. Then the thumping bass comes in and it all kicks off. My favourite parts of the show so far, though, are when the two sides just go for it at the same time, with improvisation happening on each side of the auditorium - freestyle sampling and mixing, vying with angry strings and Jake's high wailing over the top like something out of Dark Side of the Moon. When that's all thrown in with the sex and violence that's erupting on the stage, it all gets pretty juicy.

If the last few days have shown anything it's that, no matter how nervous and insecure people are about their own bits, they're full of genuine enthusiasm for everyone else's work.  Normally, yes, that's the  default position for conversation at this stage of production - conventional modesty going hand in hand with positive comments in reply, simply because negative ones would be unhelpful and somehow anti-social. But you can tell when someone's making a point of saying they like something, and unconcealed glee at other peoples' efforts has been passed around the company in bulk recently. It's a good vibe, and helps to keep the long technical rehearsal days cheery.

And it has been a couple of long technical days so far, with another still to finish, before the dress rehearsal tomorrow.  I think everyone was ready to get out of the rehearsal room and into the actual space, and it's brilliant finally being in here - although I spent much of the first day just trying to figure out how to get where the hell I needed to be. The National Theatre's a labyrinth - a year of playing in the Lyttleton in no way prepares you for finding your way around the Olivier - I got lost just trying to find my dressing room, let alone the stage. Embarrassing, but true.

I know it's stating the obvious, but the difference between playing to a large rehearsal room wall that's eight feet in front of your nose, and to the back row of a dress circle that's the best part of a hundred yards away, is big. Once you're actually in there, you can see what your voice and general story-telling equipment is up against. The Olivier stage is one of the most exhilarating places I've ever been privileged to stand - and also one of the most deceptive. I just can't figure out if the house is much bigger than it seems, or smaller. Jeannette Nelson is the voice coach at the National - she's been on hand throughout rehearsals, and invaluable in preparing, not only to go on stage again for the first time in eighteen months, but to go onto a stage which is known to be tricky acoustically.

Simple things make all the disorientating difference: seeing that you've been ignoring the sides of the audience because you didn't know they'd be there, whilst realizing that whenever you're side on to the audience the sound doesn't carry well to half the house. You have to adjust, and get used to the idea of finding  ways to keep the sound heading out front - constantly looking for an excuse to turn your face over your shoulder to reach that other portion of the auditorium you've been ignoring, even if it's only been a few seconds. And to do it all without either losing touch with the other actor you're supposed to be talking with, or looking like a vainglorious, Victorian thespian, astride the boards, both nipples front, shouting to the cheap seats at the back. It's tricky. Not as tricky as defusing a bomb on a runaway train, but requiring some skill nonetheless.

In short, it's clear to me now, if it wasn't before, that this is the most depraved story of which I've ever been party to the telling. Utter mayhem in moments. And while it's another conventional thing to say, it does feel apt - I hope it's as much fun to watch as it is to do. We'll find out tomorrow night...

Jamie Parker blog entry #4

Day 29 in the Revenger's household. The group task of putting on a play is nearing its conclusion...

The technical rehearsal is next week, and suddenly it doesn't seem that far away.

People have had haircuts, often making little difference besides tidying up a scruffy actor, but in some cases altering someone's features quite markedly and shunting whole corners of the story into tighter focus.

There are occasional pieces of costume creeping in, which again have different effects in the rehearsal room. Suit jackets alongside combats, joggers with patent leather heeled shoes... Pretty bizarre every now and then, when it catches your eye. The one item of non-sanctioned costume, which hasn't made it into a scene, was a present to me from Peter Hinton. It's a penis tie. I don't think I need to explain that one any more. And I'm certainly not suggesting that it may find its way into a lonely matinée sometime.

The furniture's developing as we go along - you know about the Sid James Death Chair. There's also the Ron Jeremy Warm-Up Chair, and a new arrival - the Wipe Clean Plinth My Ride.

The injuries seem to have calmed down generally, knock wood. I'm back to normal, and bendier than ever, although disappointingly I still can't pivot on my right wrist with any real weight, so my leaping
around in the final dancy bit has been curbed to something fairly basic, which is frustrating at the moment - although I suspect that a couple of weeks into the run I'll be grateful.

If there's one concern at the moment it's about the running time. We haven't  gone through the whole play in one sitting yet, but when we do we may find the scissors coming out afterwards. Every scene and line of this wonderful text is fascinating in itself, but taken as a whole the play is a big one. We'll find out how it all comes together soon enough...

Jamie Parker blog entry #3

At the risk of abusing my responsibility as an ambassador of the National Theatre - but on the understanding that I'll write a proper blog again soon - I have to, here and now, fulfill a promise to Pieter Lawman to publicly acknowledge a major achievement that was jointly reached in rehearsal room one today, during the course of what was a fairly hysterical end-of-week afternoon:

The first, witnessed, genuine round of Sid James Death Chair Ball - completed by Pieter, myself, and (OF ALL PEOPLE) Lizzie Winkler.

The rules are simple, and will be gladly explained by members of the company during any of the pre / post show discussions scheduled throughout the run of the show.

Jamie Parker blog entry #2 

Having sorted out the back problem that had put a stop to the cartwheels for almost a week, I happily jumped back on the bike and headed into work, determined to prove myself fit and ready for anything. I was so full of beans I could have held my own against the entire cast of Step Up 2, and was contemplating what circumstances would ever result in that challenge actually happening, when a 10-yr-old ran out in front of me in the middle of Tollington Park Road and jolted me back into real, break-slamming-on life. I sailed clear over the handlebars, felt my wrist crunch under me and then my bike crunch onto me. Happily, the 10-yr-old in question was nowhere to be seen by the time I looked up, so while the car horns blared in that classically unsympathetic, London way, I was at least spared the further indignity of being pointed at and laughed at by the ******* who's put paid to the contact dance, pretend killing, volleyball and yoga again until further notice. Still, the tea drinking and hackie sack aren't really affected, so there's something to be grateful for.

And while I continue to come apart at the seams, Revenger's Tragedy continues to come together. Every scene and sequence has now been put on its feet and addressed several times, and the through-line of the action is beginning to make itself known. Now it becomes easier to spot the moments when things are still a bit generalised and folk aren't entirely sure what it is they're trying to do, and try to do something about it.

This certainly is a big and meaty play. One of the difficult things about tackling something so multi-layered, thematically complex and paradoxical, is that for almost every exchange of lines between two characters, there are several options for how to play them. The challenge, at the moment, is simply to make a choice each time that will make sense as part of a unified whole. Or at least the unified whole that this particular production is aiming for.

There's also the tightrope of verse speaking to get used to - on the one hand making sure that every word is spoken clearly, and given the muscular weight and resonance needed to he heard in a theatre the size of the Olivier, and on the other hand the fact that 400yr-old plays are a lot simpler to follow and more likely to be enjoyed when they crack along at a fair pace and don't dwell to much on anything. As long as you don't gabble, 'cause then the audience can't follow and it just gets boring...

Costume fittings have begun in earnest. Yesterday I was priveliged to be the guinea-pig for a skintight, red gimp mask that a small crowd of us get to wear at one point. There's all sorts of interesting tensions being created by having the very modern appear alongside the completely period. It's an idea that runs through all facets of the show - most excitingly, I think, in the music. There's one brilliant moment in the prologue where a formal, courtly Renaissance sound gives way to a raw, acid house baseline. I heard a rumour, in fact, though I don't know if it's true, that the DJs who Melly's drafted in to work on that side of the soundscape are actually going to release some of their music for this show into the club scene, and see what kind of reaction it gets...

But, going back to the gimp mask - there's an awful lot of weird sex underpinning this play. One of the challenges is going to be making sure the show meets the requirements for a 15 certificate rating, without tipping over into 18 or beyond. The funniest moment of the week may have to go to Adjoa Andoh and Billy Carter, who were forced to come to terms with the idea of their parents watching them engage in rough and wholesale corridor coitus for the pleasure of a couple of thousand strangers...

Jamie Parker blog entry #1 

So, here we are, in the middle of rehearsals for Revenger's Tragedy...

Getting asked to write about how it's all going, or what it's like in rehearsals, it's tempting to launch into a dissection of this brilliant, funny, profound and horrifically violent play. But I don't want to put any plot spoilers in here, or discuss the play to death before it's even up and running - so at this point let's just say that so far the days seem to consist mostly of a bizarre form of volleyball, yoga, cups of tea, something called contact dance, hackie sack, and long, interesting conversations - occasionally broken up by pretending to kill someone. Horribly.

It seems to be loosely true, in my limited experience, that certain challenges come up when they're supposed to - when it's what you've been missing, and what's needed. So, having spent the last five years doing table-and-a-briefcase type parts, where all the action of the drama takes place with everyone sitting in chairs, I now find myself snapped out of couch-potato-land and into a daily routine that pushes your levels of fitness and physical imagination. Which is pretty cool. I've never done this much exercise in my life, and I'm loving it.

There's a group of dancers in the company, who are patiently trying to turn the actors into convincing movers and shakers. I've only ended up needing physiotherapy once so far - but I'm not alone, so I don't feel like I'm doing too badly - and of course, all the running and jumping and tumbling is only going to take up a tiny amount of the final show; it's just that most of us haven't really done much of it before, so we need the practice.

The main focus, when not sweating like some kind of farm animal, is  on getting to grips with the incredibly powerful, lean and poetically violent language of this play. It's a while since I've been on stage, and longer since I did anything in verse, which this is - plus I've never performed in the Olivier Theatre before. So there's a whole other set of disciplines and techniques to re-learn and practice. Figuring out how to tell a story with your whole body and the full range of your voice, how to fill a large acoustic space with all the resources naturally available to you - instead of concentrating on just the head and face area, which is what can often happen when you're doing camera work.

As I write this it's pretty much exactly half way through the rehearsal process, and there's a kind of threshold that comes round about now, which will be familiar to anyone who's ever undertaken some kind of creative enterprise - whether that's acting in a play, writing a song, building a house, fixing a car - anything that takes prolonged effort and concentration, with a goal to craft something that other people can enjoy without seeing the work that went into it, and that you can enjoy yourself repeatedly because you know how hard it was to make it. It's the time when you think everything's wrong, nothing works, you don't like anything you've done, and you can't see how it's ever going to get any better. Once you've gone through it a few times, though, you try to accept that it's all just a part of getting there. This week's been hard like that. But (the director) Melly Still's unshakeable focus and gentle determination is an inescapeably positive force in the room, the laughs still come thick fast throughout the day, and you can feel the momentum gaining amongst the company now - it just makes you more keen to come in the next day and tackle it all over again.

This production has so much going for it, in terms of the group of people working on it, I don't want to curse the show by predicting anything or claiming anything ahead of time. All I'll say is that, more than most things I've been involved with, I can't wait to see how this one's going to turn out...