Methodical - you_are_a_god_to_me

Methodical

Ooh, but I've been having fun today.

My favourite part of doing a play is not, as one might expect, the actual getting up onstage and doing it in front of an audience. The best bit by far is the preparation. The rehearsals where you tease out the nuances of your character. Making up your working script by photocopying it and pasting it into the pages of a notebook. And the research - oh! the research.

Being by nature the sort of person who made her university notes in three different coloured pens (i.e. organised to the point of obsession), I just love doing research. Looking for articles and pictures and sticking them neatly into the back of my script makes me happier than someone covered in Pritt Stick and bits of paper has any right to be.

So, as the play is something of a slice of life drama, I've been on Getty Images today finding pictures of my character's "family". And I thought I'd share them with you, because I'm so pleased with my discoveries.

First up, here is my daddy giving me a cuddle:

Isn't that just lovely? It makes me feel all weepy just looking at it.

Here's me helping my mum hang out the laundry in the back yard:

Me with the girls from the factory, aged 16 (I'm in the middle of the second row, with the white collar):

Being the anal type, I've given all these girls names. Go on, ask me the name of any one of them, and I'll be able to tell you. I am taking this too far, I think...

Next photo. Me marrying Frank Harrison in1966:

Frank in our front room, holding Jayne (next door's little girl) on his knee, 1969. Three years before his death.

That last photo makes me feel rather strange. I think I've rather fallen in love with it. Or rather, with the man in the photo. My Frank.

It's odd how a character starts to bleed into your real life. I'm finding it harder and harder to drop my character's Liverpool accent. I've gone all maternal - I've taken to carrying around boxes of SunMaid raisins just in case one of the cast need a snack. I've even started cleaning. It's all most unnerving (not least for Trilby, who is beginning to wonder where his girlfriend has gone, and whether the Scouse housewife that's replaced her is going to stop nagging him anytime soon).

God, I'm enjoying myself.

30.3.06 15:39

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To date 11 Comment(s) TrackBack-URL

(30.3.06 15:46)
Blimey, Yaags. That's dedication to the cause, that is. You have lovely hair in the factory photo, by the way. Erm - I mean...

(30.3.06 15:48)
It's just such fun, Floaty. You know the score.

(30.3.06 15:49)
I haven't actually done a play where I've had a chance to do research in aaaages. I so need to get out of childrens' theatre...

(30.3.06 15:53)
I know the feeling. Probably why I'm going a bit OTT with this. The last time I got to do any serious research was for Twelfth Night last summer - and then I bored the cast to tears with my findings on the finer subtleties of shaking hands in Edwardian England...

(30.3.06 16:00)
Hehehe - yes, I got similarly hung up on Elizabethan bows when directing Maria Stuarda the year before last.

(30.3.06 16:15)
"But the little details are important," bleats YAAGers as they cart her off to the funny farm.

Snag / Website (31.3.06 08:57)
Ah, so that's where you've been. You loon.

(31.3.06 09:15)
Did you miss me?

And yes, a loon is what I am. I showed the actor playing my son a picture of his "dad" last night, with the words "Look, you look just like him." I think he figured I'd lost my mind.

(31.3.06 11:49)
I actually really fancy your husband. How did he die?

(31.3.06 13:15)
Oooh - that looks fab. Is it one of those gritty 50's kitchen-sink dramas then?

(31.3.06 15:02)
Daisy - he is rather dish, isn't he? The play never actually tells me how he snuffs it, so I get to decide. Any thoughts?
Poggeroonie - the play is actually set in the 70s & 80s, but I wanted to get an idea of my character's history...