Introducing...Veronica Mary Hare

'Back in May 2009 I joined Belt Up as an ensemble member for their production of The Tempest to be performed in Stratford-Upon-Avon that July. At the time I had little idea what sort of work Belt Up produced, having never seen any of their shows. As a first year at York University I was already involved in the University Drama Society and had recently signed myself into two shows heading to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe that summer. I had heard mixed things on the grapevine about Belt Up's work from fellow students, and if I'm honest had previously been somewhat put off finding out any more for myself.

However, about a month or so before they opened auditions for The Tempest I'd learned who each of the directors of the company were. I hadn't realised it, but I had met James in my first week of university when he had led an acting workshop for the freshers wanting to get involved with the Drama Society. He'd been very friendly and encouraging and I'd not thought twice about auditioning for the society afterward. Dom was the current chair of the Drama Society and I'd auditioned in my first term of university to be in a play he was directing (I was not aware that the play had any links with the infamous Belt Up at that point) and although I had been unsuccessful I saw him around quite a few times and we’d chatted occasionally. I have a distinct memory of being on a bus going back to campus after I'd finished a shift at work and I’d insisted on giving Dom and Marcus Emerton some chocolate I didn't want that I'd got at work... Toward the end of my second term I was rehearsing the musical I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change with the Drama Society when I met Jethro who was doing our lighting design. At the time he was going through some “emotional torment”, and I found his decision to go from veganism to all-out-carnivore in the space of 2 weeks rather amusing. However, he filled me in on more of the ins and outs of Belt Up, and that was when I learned their success stories (so far) and their intention to be innovative and challenge the way that theatre works. Finally I met Alexander who was coming in to help out the company of ILY,YP,NC in an improv workshop because for whatever mad reason we had decided to perform An Improvised Musical as promotion for the show later the following week. Alex ended up being in the Improvised Musical with us, and thus No Shoes Theatre began, but that is another story.... By this point I knew all of the co-directors of Belt Up, but still had absolutely no idea about what their work was really like. The interesting thing at this point was that they were just fellow students, not that dissimilar to anyone else I'd met, but what I did know was that they were doing something different, and that it was exciting.

When the boys opened up their auditions after the Easter break I became perhaps a little too willing to throw myself blindly into it and come to my own conclusions about the company's work. I was aware that the boys were in their last year at university, and that this may have been my only chance to work with them before they got into the big wide world. To be frank I wanted to take what others may have called ‘a risk’.

Over the following couple of months we had various workshops on the different skills and methods that Belt Up use. This was a wonderful chance to get to know all the cast and company members as well as the way they worked. All of this was in preparation for specific production rehearsals later. When it came to putting the Tempest together, we had little more than a week to actually block through the show - an intense period where concentration and trust were key. We were told what we needed to do, and it was up to us to get it right.

What I learnt early on with Belt Up is that a huge amount of their work relies on trust within the company. It is vital that you learn to work well and work quickly with other people and that in the end the only mistakes that can happen are your own. The company was of course interested in talent, but they looked for the individual's ability to work well within a group, and whether the person is confident enough in themselves to realise their own potential and be open to new experiences. Friendship was important in an often close environment, but you have to maintain your professionalism if ever personal problems arise. The nature of Belt Up's work often involves an ensemble, and allowing personal issues into the work can make it an unpleasant experience for the cast and more importantly the audience!

Over the year and a half since I first joined Belt Up, I have worked on a number of projects with them. At the Edinburgh Fringe 2009 I was involved in a number of Squat Nights as well as the "secret" show Persephone. Following the Fringe I was in The Trial and Tartuffe in the Take Over Festival at York Theatre Royal from September-October 2009, and in May 2010 was invited back for the final Tartuffe in York Theatre Royal's main house. In April I spent a week as a mournful, lonely girl desperately hoping to find her family all day every day while we worked on 'The Atlantis Project' as visiting artists at NSDF 2010.

For Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2010 I was invited to perform in The House Above season in three shows. This was by far to be the biggest project I couldn't have anticipated being involved in. The House Above saw 9 shows go through it (7 daily) as well as various bar nights featuring various events. The House was built from scratch by the ensemble, following a 3 week rehearsal period. Time was limited, and much of the work was rushed or squeezed in wherever possible. The fringe itself was incredibly tiring, and perhaps for the majority of the month my body worked on adrenaline alone. But it was the most incredible experience! Spending 2 months surrounded by people I would trust with my life (quite literally considering some stunts involved in certain shows) and some of my nearest and dearest friends made it simply wonderful.

Since working with Belt Up I’ve worked with some brilliant people. I’ve made friends that I hope to keep for a lifetime. I’ve had my view on theatre challenged and influenced in ways I’m not sure I could put into words. I’ve been pushed to my limits and laughed until I’ve cried. I’ve been tired, I’ve been encouraged, I’ve been confused, I’ve been helped, I’ve wanted to go home, and I’ve not wanted to be anywhere else in the world. I’ve had so much to be thankful for.

Now, my next project with Belt Up is as an ensemble member for The Beggar’s Opera and quite frankly I cannot wait!'

Introducing...Chris White

The other day Joe wrote a blog introducing himself as the assistant director for Beggar's Opera.

We realised that there are loads of people who work with us to make Belt Up what it is, and thought you might like to meet some of them.

So you’ve had Joe…here’s Chris White…

‘I think it is safe to say, being a part of Belt Up has been one of the best experiences of my life. I remember getting the phone call from Dom to say I'd been successful with my audition, and despite having glandular fever and being emotionally drained from "another" production, I turned into a five year old boy down the phone. Dom will testify I was very excited, I then remember seeing Jethro straight after in a restaurant with Serena, and tried to maintain a coolness, I failed, I was bloody chuffed to bits!

My first show was Lorca is Dead in the Theatre Royal, the first day will always stick out in my mind...An excruciatingly early train from Suffolk in the morning, arrive in York in the rain. But it was all OK because I was going to be working for a professional theatre company, all very exciting... EXCEPT! Nobody had bloody turned up! Some stupid volcano had kept everyone abroad, just my luck! Nevertheless, even though half the cast was missing, it was still brilliant fun "rehearsing". I don't think I've ever laughed as much as that first rehearsal.

Edinburgh, that was unreal. Whenever I talk to anyone involved in theatre about what we did in Edinburgh, they look at me as if I just told them I killed their cat. "Nine shows? Nine shows? You performed in three shows a day?!" Well three shows one day, two the other...and flyering, and sometimes we'd work on the bar... "What!?" On paper it's hard work, but my god, it was just 24 hour fun everyday. Sure it gets tiring but once your on stage

in a Belt Up show you forget that pretty quickly.

My mental health was slightly tinkered with in Edinburgh after playing easily over a dozen characters, plus my freak Royal Mile creation Giraffe, the northern child who was painted as a dalmatian. I do worry I may have personality issues, especially after performing in Odyssey, the Greek tragedy that offended more Scotsman readers than I care to mention. It was dark it was disturbing, it was the show that I wouldn't let my Mum and Dad see. It did show me another side of people, seeing both eight year olds and OAP's alike take great glee in declaring "I've got balls!" then absolutely battering Dan Wood with a selection of ball pool balls. Odyssey also broadened my sexual horizons, but that's for another blog...

Whether it was Jethro drinking what he thought was apple juice, Marcus making a cameo as Oedipus, Joe continually getting his bloody slides the wrong way round or whenever Dali did anything... it was always impossible not to corpse, and if that isn't the sign of a group of really close friends having a lot of fun on stage I don't know what is. I have made some of my best friends during the last year, and have easily had the most fun ever in my life ever. The scary thing is, I don't know if I'll ever be part of something this amazing again...bugger.’

Chris was part of the ensemble in The House Above playing Magritte in Lorca is Dead, Eteocles in Antigone and Male Puppeteer in Odyssey, he also played Puck in our A Midsummer Nights Dream in York in June.

'My Belt Up Journey Thus Far' by Joe Hufton

In March Belt Up begins 'The Beggar's Opera' at the York Theatre Royal, a project that promises to not only to produce a different kind of work but also challenge the way that Belt Up works. Not only do we have to get to grips with working in a much larger space than usual, the main house at the York Theatre Royal, but also working with perhaps the largest cast to date. As such the production team for The Beggar's Opera is much bigger than usual for a Belt Up show, and this is where I come in. I am Assistant Director during The Beggar's Opera and will be keeping you updated with blogs, videos and tweets throughout what promises to be an interesting rehearsal period. I thought I might use my first blog to tell you a little about myself and my Belt Up 'journey' thus far.

My Belt Up story is perhaps one of the oldest of any of the current members of the extended Belt Up family, I have been involved now for nearly three years. Like most of us I first got involved when I was at York University. I had done lots of acting before going away to study English at University but for whatever reason it would be Easter of my first year before I finally made the decision to audition for something. I had no idea what to expect when I went to auditions for the Drama Society that term, I had no idea how they worked and no idea what shows the society was doing, so I picked the first door I came to, it was 'A Clockwork Orange' by Anthony Burgess. It seems funny to me now how uninformed this decision was, a quick look in the campus magazine or on the Drama Society website would have told me that 'A Clockwork Orange' was the latest show by 'Belt Up Theatre' and that it was in the studio of the York Theatre Royal, and that this 'Belt Up Theatre' had just been selected for NSDF '08 with 'Metamorphosis'. However I was blissfully unaware of what I was getting myself into!

So I found myself in the coolest show the society produced that summer and the coolest thing at the Edinburgh Fringe that August. I managed to land some brilliant roles in 'The Red Room' that year and made some great friends over what was perhaps one of the most hectic months ever! There was a definate excitement about that first Edinburgh, we didn't really know what we we were doing but we knew that what we were doing was different and that it mattered. Looking back it makes me laugh thinking of the effort and stress that it took to get 'The Red Room' on its feet that summer, especially if you compare it to the size and scale of the projects we now take on. The House Above for example had four spaces each more elaborate and bigger than The Red Room and took half the time to build!

Needless to say I am still here three years later and am now living with James, Dominic, Alex and Jethro and enjoying working for them and with them. Over the last few years I have; played a lecherous old fox, run through the streets of Edinburgh in the pouring rain performing a 20 minute fight sequence, nearly capsized a boat dressed as a public school boy, sacrificed myself to save my clown daughter, lived for a week as a delusional Victorian Explorer, thrown plastic balls at blindfolded members of the public whilst dressed as Luis Bunuel, got completely naked for a 'Surrealist Experiment,' spent 3 weeks underneath a railway bridge in London and climbed Arthur's Seat at night, with a large group of people whilst under the influence no fewer than 3 times. And thats only the start of it.

And now for the next part of my Belt Up Journey, being part of the Creative Team for Beggar's Opera. I am sure that like any Belt Up project there will be many more stories to come, and I will enjoy keeping you up to date over the next few months.

Thoughts on The Boy James

I arrived at my girlfriend’s house the other night and she was sat watching Finding Neverland, one of my all time favourite films. For me it has something truly magical about it, something fanciful which is all too often impossible to capture, but it somehow wonderfully substantial in the film. I’ve no idea how or why, but I find it captivating and heartbreaking.

A friend who was watching too ended up in floods of tears by the end and apologised, almost as if it had taken her by surprise. I remember a few years ago, myself and the rest of the boys went back to my parent’s house for some beer and curry and afterwards watched Finding Neverland. By the end of the film we were all sat nursing our beers in quiet and unexpected tears.

I can’t really remember when or why I wrote The Boy James, but everything to do with Peter Pan seems to be important to me and I’m not really sure why. It’s one of things which seems to resonate with me, not as a play or a story but just as a notion.

A while ago we were doing an interview with someone about our work and what our political views were. I had never really thought about that before, well not explicitly. I think people can only write about what they know, about what they love or have experienced. I could never write something that is beyond my own experience or imagination. I know that seems like an obvious thing to say, but looking back I think this is, perhaps, why Peter Pan feels so important to me.

I’m very lucky and have a wonderful family who I am still very close to. Indeed my older sister works at the Theatre Royal where we are resident. And with my wonderful family I had a wonderful childhood. My sister and I would spend hours lost in play and magical worlds. She would make things up and I would simply believe her because there was no reason not to. This lead to some wonderful times and some heartbreaking ones. There are many photos of me dressed up as whatever she wanted me to be in her stories or plays. I remember that there was a fairy-land that she was allowed to go to but I wasn’t, despite the fact I was dying to. She had a fairy and so did I, mine was called Zack.

The memories I have of my childhood are very fond ones and very happy ones.

In Finding Neverland there is a line which I had forgotten about until recently. Barrie is describing to Sylvia how, when he was a child, he dressed up as his recently deceased brother to try and make his mother happy. He says that that was the first time his mother truly ever looked at him ‘and that was the end of the boy James.’

It’s strange that I had forgotten this line in the film for a few reasons, the most obvious being because it must be where the title of the play comes from. But more than that, it pinpoints the entire feeling behind the play – the whole notion in half a line. If only my writing was that succinct!

Of course, as we all know, Peter Pan is about growing up and not growing up, about the fear of moving out of childhood and in to adulthood. In Finding Neverland, that transformation occurs instantly, without struggle: ‘and that was the end of the boy James.’

I am now, somehow, twenty-two. Somehow twenty-two years have passed and I haven’t really noticed. Without really thinking about it I have gone through nursery, primary school, secondary school, sixth form, university, learning to drive, being allowed to drink, moving out, getting a job, earning a living. I’m years away from the fairytale lands that I used to play with my sister when I was four or five, but I haven’t noticed the change. For me there has been no defining moment for the end of the boy Alexander. Indeed I couldn’t say whether the boy Alexander isn’t the same person who is now twenty-two because I don’t think I feel much different. But at some point I said goodbye to dressing up as part of my sisters games, of playing Power Rangers, of making cardboard boxes in to machines with my dad, of building secret dens under my bed; but I couldn’t tell you when that happened.

I find Peter Pan fascinating because I love fairytales, the simple belief in the beautiful. And I think this might be the same as my retrospective thoughts on childhood, that ability to accept and believe that things are beautiful and fascinating purely because, to you, they are. I think this is something I never want to lose or let go.

What happens in The Boy James is the equivalent of that line from Finding Neverland and is something that has never happened to me and I hope never will; I have no desire to draw a line under my childhood, having to do so would be heartbreaking. I am not willing to bid farewell to my childhood self, as if he is a different boy to the twenty two year old sat writing this, because I don’t think it is.

Peter Pan poses the question of growing up, but this is a notion we have imposed upon ourselves. Of course we cannot play around in cardboard boxes all day every day forever, but who says we have to throw them out?

Alexander Wright - Co-Artistic Director and author of 'The Boy James'

'The Boy James' at Southwark Playhouse London, Jan 2011

The Business of Show Business

Whilst some argue that a business approach to theatre can detract from the artistic outcome, without it the industry could not survive. Without it the great work that is produced would be a hopeless pipe-dream. The implications of finance and business affect every aspect of a theatrical production, and as our company moves further into a professional environment this becomes increasingly important. As students we ignored this; we regarded the term ‘commercial’ as a negative one. It’s far more romantic to see oneself as a struggling artist, working for nothing, making theatre because you have something to say, something that has to be said at any cost. The reality is something different. When you rely on the commercial success of your project to fund your next meal suddenly everything becomes different.

Over the last year, I have heard a number of people argue the case that ‘no-one is making any money here’. This statement is made referring to a theatrical enterprise, a theatre or company that holds the potential to be something great, something financially viable, something that in the right hands could become a sustainable commercial venture. But this statement, ‘no one is making any money’, is made and it is spoken with a sense of pride. The tone of voice offers the sense that the individual feels they are truly an artist; that the lack of income for their project somehow represents a sense of honesty and morality that cannot be found in the commercial theatre. Perhaps even the idea that commercial theatre is something to be frowned upon, that the practical business logistics that keep the industry running are somehow a negative force. It seems as if some have forgotten the aspect of business in show-business. I feel small companies should be making money, or at least covering their costs. It is rare that the justification for losing money on a project is viable. Occasionally someone will talk of a project that can never be financially viable, where the nature of the project, where its artistic principles are so strong that it cannot fit into a commercially compatible format. These projects will no doubt rely on subsidy, on support from funding; they are unable to exist commercially. In my opinion, this is totally acceptable but rare. From where I sit, too often work is produced that exists through funding, from the support of an external body that, if successful, could exist without it. If the project has the potential to be viable, it should be. The idea that without the support of external bodies, projects cannot exist is applied too widely across the industry. If the show has the capacity to exist but does not succeed through a lack of commercial success, then the project has failed. As companies should we expect for someone else to be subsidising our trade? To play devil’s advocate, should the tax payers be paying for something that they don’t want to see?

Having produced dozens of shows for Belt Up Theatre, a company that relies on a sense of intimacy between the audience and the show, people often question how we can achieve this artistically without sacrificing the financial side. The answer is, with great difficulty. However, all these difficulties aside, we have succeeded in avoiding the dilution of our artistic principles with business practicality. The difficulties we have faced over the last year and a half have challenged the very existence of the company. Now, just into our second year as a professional company, we face the most difficult challenge of all and it has nothing to do with sustaining artistic morals, but facing what all commercial entities must face.

This run in London has confronted us with the reality of the risk that we take in producing commercial theatre. And the risk, unfortunately, is a financial one. When a production relies entirely on sales, the capital raised for the project hangs by a thread and, at the end of the day, it is the public that makes the call. If the show is a success, the money is returned safely, if not, then you are left facing the deficit. The reality of the financial risk you take when producing a show is distant and unrealistic at best, the figures exist in a spreadsheet fiction where the implications of loss cannot be factored. To consider the outcome of such a loss isn’t constructive and, at worst, is potentially destructive. When this risk exists only in figures placed in a spreadsheet in formulas that treat it no differently to any mathematical equation it is something intangible, something that bears no resemblance to reality. And the reality only forms when the figures on the spreadsheet no longer represent a hypothetical profit or loss but represent a genuine, actual loss.

For a company that relies entirely on the financial and commercial success of every single project, the reality of actual loss holds potentially devastating consequences. The position of the producer within this enterprise is to closely observe and monitor the finance of such a project. The reality of the deficit that can grow is one that can appear long before the run closes. As daily sales reports demand higher rates of sales in the oncoming performances, the spreadsheet’s required capacity percentages begin to soar steadily. First through the feasible, then into the unrealistic and eventually the impossible. The public, the taxpayers, have spoken. Finally the theoretical is made real and for a young company, and its young producer, this loss is difficult both financially and emotionally. It makes you question the cost of what you’re doing. It brings the true risk into perspective. And it makes you think, ‘wouldn’t it be great to be subsidised.’

Jethro Compton - Co-Artisitc Director and Producer

Belt Up in The Stage

Earlier this week Dominic and Jethro were featured in the Dear John advice column in The Stage.

Asked for advice on how to adapt an epic story onto the small stage:


DOMINIC J ALLEN
You can't underestimate an audience's ability to suspend their disbelief. It's the theatre-makers most useful tool in reducing the scale of a play; you can have a multi-million pound set and a cast of hundreds but if you don't have a compelling drama that encompasses those epic themes, then you haven't got a play anyway. Once you've satisfied the play's basic requirements, anything extra is probably superfluous. Even when you can't do that there are still ways around it.

In Lorca is Dead, for instance, there are many plays within plays and because the audience are willing to suspend their disbelief, you can get around the vast number of characters through meta-theatricality and getting the audience to play parts. One could argue it undermines the themes and storyline; in fact I would say that it merely changes the way the audience connect with them. Once an audience becomes involved that directly with a storyline, they may miss the occasional subtle bit of plot but they will then have a vested interest in the outcomes for the characters on stage.

Establishing 'the rules' early on in the play helps in getting the audience to come along on the journey. In Lorca is Dead, anybody can play Lorca – but he needed to be clearly identified. A complete costume change was out of the question, so we boiled it down to a simple red scarf. The scarf is set up as a symbol for Lorca as soon as he gets mentioned, and that's all that's required. If the principles are established early on, the audience's collective imagination will do the rest of the work as you go along.

Ultimately, reducing the scale of a show but keeping its power comes down to making logical choices. The simplest solution is often the best. When you can't do something the way you'd like, find a way you can and make it work to the same effect. In Lorca is Dead we wanted Lorca to be everyone's main connection to the play without casting someone as Lorca; the most logical, simplest solution was to get everyone to play him. The result is that when he finally dies, the tragedy hits home especially hard for the audience members who are sitting saying to their friend: “That's me up there...”

JETHRO COMPTON

Epic stories are something that link all of our shows; we’re a company with storytelling right at our heart. I’d always loved the imagery of the Hunchback swinging from the towers of Notre Dame. Obviously that’s something that’s not going to transfer to a small stage very easily. For me ‘Quasimodo’ is more about the story surrounding the four characters, and it’s simple enough.

Rather than tackling the politics and Parisian architecture that are so important in Hugo’s novel, I’ve concentrated on the characters right at the centre of it. I’ve told only a small part of the story, the part that I found most interesting. To try and present every inch of the novel onstage or even just to try and cover all the themes would be disastrous. The themes that ‘Quasimodo’ takes from the novel are ones that relate and transfer most easily to a modern audience. The show is what’s left once the epic story of the novel has been and stripped back to its core. ‘Quasimodo’ presents the themes of ‘Notre Dame de Paris’, it presents its essence and hopefully captures the power of Hugo’s story. It’s the story of a boy in love with a girl, and the girl doesn’t love him back. I think that’s something everyone can relate to.

So if you’re working from a source text, something epic, I guess it’s important to find something at its heart that is more practical, more accessible and use that as your starting point. Don’t get weighed down by the size of the whole thing, just start with something small and manageable, the epic story will always be there in essence.

Critic's Comments so Far

We're hitting the half way mark on our time in London this month.

A few positive comments from the critics so far:

LORCA IS DEAD

Nominated for OFFIES Off West End Award for Best New Play

‘beautifully constructed’ The Guardian

‘fast paced and engrossing’ **** whatsonstage.com

‘real poetry and true emotion’ British Theatre Guide

QUASIMODO

Time Out London Critic’s Choice

‘A clever, claustrophobic hour of psychological horror’ **** Time Out London

‘an intense reworking of Victor Hugo's story’ British Theatre Guide

ATRIUM

Time Out London Critic’s Choice