Showing posts with label Conrad Newport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Conrad Newport. Show all posts

05 October 2015

Approaching Janet Frame

This week on drama* on the waterfront, we hear from Harriet Prebble, who plays the role of iconic New Zealand author Janet Frame in Gifted.

Harriet Prebble
The initial hurdle of approaching the role of Janet Frame as an actor was tackling the juxtaposition between mythology and reality. Gifted is told entirely from the point of view of Frank Sargeson, who also serves as the play’s narrator.  Through his eyes we see snapshots of memory: Janet at her highest, her lowest, her most magical, her most inaccessible, her most human, all filtered through Frank’s cycling emotions of curiosity, confusion, jealousy, fear, and admiration.

We are, by necessity, somewhat removed from Janet’s intellectual and emotional inner world, as she wanders in and out of Frank’s recollections.  Finding the internal truth and conviction of the character that underlies the external mysticism is just the sort of challenge I got into acting for.
Harriet Prebble as Janet Frame in the Circa season of Gifted.
There’s a wonderful scene in the play where Frank accuses Janet of “eavesdropping”. Growing up in a writing household, I learnt very quickly that writers border on omniscience: they see all; they hear all. Any anecdote, any colourful character, any turn of phrase is ripe for the plucking.  I love this exploration of the watchfulness of writers, and Janet in particular. Even if they’re shy (or, in fact, especially so) or socially removed and even if they appear to be disinterested or distracted, they’re still taking everything in – wordless exchanges, silly jokes, and even silences – whether as material for their next novel or just pure intrinsic fascination with people and the language they use.

Language is a focal point of the play, and it’s great to be able to take the audience through the fun of words. Wordplay, puns, etymology, patterns, poetry, innuendo – it’s a real chance to delight in something that we so often default to using purely as a tool. I’ve always had a fascination with language (I studied foreign languages at the University of Canterbury and went on to complete a publishing diploma in Wellington) and this play absolutely revels in it at all levels, from lofty literary allusions to Dead Souls right down to the humble fart joke.

This is my first time tip-toeing the boards of Circa, and I’m very proud to present this beautiful tale of our literary history to the audiences of Wellington, the cultural capital of New Zealand.

Gifted opens at Circa Theatre on 10 October, and runs until 31 October.
BOOK NOW:  04 801 7992 or www.circa.co.nz


 

24 March 2014

Rita and Douglas – from the beginning

Rita and Douglas playwright Dave Armstrong takes drama on the waterfront back to the beginning of this new work about two of New Zealand's greatest cultural icons.


Armstrong Creative’s production of Rita and Douglas will have its first-ever Wellington performance on April 2, yet the play had its beginnings here over 70 years ago in 1941. That’s when a recently divorced painter called Rita Angus (known back then as Rita Cook, and as Rita McKenzie) met a young composer seven years her junior called Douglas ‘Gordon’ Lilburn at the French Maid Coffee Shop in Lambton Quay. They struck up a relationship, and a romance, and I won’t tell you any more as I will spoil the play! But it’s a fascinating tale that combines drama, tragedy, triumph and lots of beautiful art and music as well.  

Cut to 1980 and a young classical music student and trumpet player at Victoria University called Dave Armstrong found out from musicologist and composer Martin Lodge that there was a piece by Douglas Lilburn, Quartet for Brass Instruments, that had never been performed.

Martin’s investigations revealed that the piece, written in the early 1960s, had just one outing with some professional musicians who had told Lilburn his piece was ‘unplayable’. Martin got a copy from Lilburn and I took a look – with the exception of one tempo marking, it was totally playable. So three other students and I met Douglas Lilburn and performed the piece for the first time ever. It was a triumph and went on to be performed and recorded by far better musicians than I.

A couple of years later I was selected as a trumpet player in the 1983 National Youth Orchestra. We played Aotearoa Overture by Douglas Lilburn and the soloist in the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto was Michael Houstoun. But to be honest I was more interested in a young violinist I met called Caroline Hill – later Caroline Armstrong who is now my wife and the producer of Rita and Douglas.

We both loved the music of Lilburn and both loved theatre. Within a few years we would have both left the world of classical music and be working in professional theatre.

Self-portrait Wanaka (unfinished) Oil on canvas, 480 X 420mm, Te Papa, on loan from Rita Angus Estate
Along the way to becoming a playwright I’d also spent quite a bit of time as a freelance writer for museums, and one of my jobs had been to write labels for exhibitions at Te Papa. Most of their New Zealand art exhibitions contained at least one painting by Rita Angus, so I became increasingly interested in her work.
In 2006, I was attending a play in Wellington when I ran into Gaylene Preston (whom I later worked with on Hope and Wire – the yet-to-be-screened TV drama series set amidst the Christchurch earthquakes). Gaylene had just completed a documentary about Rita Angus and drew my attention to the large number of letters that had recently been left to the Turnbull Library by Douglas Lilburn, when he died in 2001. They included many (like 188 A4 pages!) from Rita to Douglas (actually she called him ‘Gordon’ as he was once known).

Luckily, I had worked at Te Papa with the wonderful Jill Trevelyan, and she pointed me in the direction of copies of the letters and various permissions that were needed. Jill was also a great help as a biographical consultant. Her wonderful book on Rita Angus is, in my opinion, one of the best non-fiction books written in New Zealand, and heartily recommended.

Cutting down nearly two hundred pages of letters to a manageable 30-page script took a lot of time and effort. Thankfully my long-time collaborator, director Conrad Newport, had some great advice about how to do it thematically rather than as a super-straight chronology.

Michael Houstoun was my first port of call as a pianist and luckily he said yes straight away. But if selecting just a few letters from the many that Rita wrote to Douglas was a herculean task, so was deciding which music to play. Lilburn wrote over four hours of solo piano music, much of it unpublished. Michael and I also had to make sure that the pieces in Rita and Douglas were not too long, as the play is a sort of ‘conversation’ where Jennifer speaks from Rita’s letters and Michael plays a short ‘reply’ from Douglas on the piano.

Michael helped uncover lots of secret treats of Lilburn’s and I’m delighted that Michael’s album, entitled simply Lilburn and which draws on much of the music of Rita and Douglas, has been so successful. Last year it won best classical album at the New Zealand Music Awards. 

Finding an actress to play Rita Angus was also a massive challenge, given that Rita’s letters start when she is in her twenties, and finish just before her death at the age of 61. Make-up and costume can only do so much!

Douglas Lilburn, 1945, watercolour, 444 x 336 mm, Te Papa, on loan from Rita Angus Estate
Luckily, Conrad and I realised that the core of their relationship occurred when Rita was between about 35 and 45 so we limited the play to that period. Jennifer Ward-Lealand was the perfect actress to play Rita – she had the considerable technical skills and emotional range to play her, and Jennifer also looked quite like Rita. One of my favourite moments of the show is where Jennifer is dressed just like a famous self-portrait of Rita’s, and then the painting appears on the large canvas screen which features in Rita and Douglas.
With a fantastic actress, pianist, and director on board, creating a script, which I did with the assistance of Conrad and Jennifer, and getting music for the show in collaboration with Michael, was a delight. When we travelled to Michael’s place to hear the music he had selected, he would ask us after each piece if we would like to hear it again, just to be sure. Even though we quickly made up our minds, Caroline usually asked to hear it again just so she could enjoy Michael’s playing for longer.

But once we had script and music together, we were far from the end. Rita and Douglas has over 100 images of Rita’s paintings. First we had to clear copyright from the institutions which owned the paintings, as well as the artist’s estate, then we had to arrange the images to go with the script and music of the play. It was a massive task with video editor Danny Mulholland, Robert Larsen, Conrad Newport and Paul O’Brien being some of the main hands that came to the pump to assist.

But eventually we made it. Rita and Douglas was a labour of love, started off by two theatre people who used to be music people. Caroline and I never expected the show to be popular as well as critically acclaimed. We just said to each other, ‘we want to see it because we love the story and the music, and hopefully other people will as well.’


I really hope you like Rita and Douglas, it’s got so much to say about New Zealand, and you’ll marvel at not only the beauty of Rita’s paintings and Lilburn’s music, and the incredible performances of Jennifer and Michael, and the consummate direction of Conrad Newport, but all the dedication, foresight and talent of Rita Angus and Douglas Lilburn, surely two of our nation’s greatest artists.
- Dave Armstrong

Rita and Douglas opens in Circa One on 2 April and runs until 12 April. To book for this short season, call the Circa Box Office on 801-7992 or visit www.circa.co.nz

22 November 2010

"It really is worth a watch": Me and Robert McKee

After taking the director’s helm of the nationwide hit comedy sensation Le Sud, Conrad Newport returned to Circa to direct the new Greg McGee play, Me and Robert McKee. He tells drama on the waterfront all about McGee’s newest play, which is “very witty as well as delivering a punch to the gut.”

DOTW: What is the general story of Me and Robert McKee?

CN: This is a story of two mates who have known each other since childhood. One is a successful banker – or Equity Entrepreneur as he calls himself – the other is a writer who survives as a teacher of a Writing Course at some un-named tertiary institution. Neither is enjoying a happy marriage to their un-seen wives. When an opportunity arrives to create a film script and attract some serious money they both readily agree – for very different reasons.

Christopher Brougham in Me and Robert McKee. Photo by Stephen A'Court.
DOTW: What was it about this play that made you want to direct it?

CN: It’s a beautifully realised script that satisfyingly explores the characters of a couple of New Zealand males. Both are identifiable to theatre goers as we’ve all met people like Mac and Billy and this script really gets to the guts of what makes them both tick. Surprisingly, that doesn’t always happen in contemporary NZ theatre writing. Greg really does know how to get under the skin of the male psyche. It’s very witty as well as delivering a punch to the gut.

The fact that it toys with our concepts of reality intrigued me as well. That things aren’t always what they seem is a major theme in the script and Greg has a lot of fun with this – he keeps us guessing. There are also enough twists in the plot to keep the story interesting so that we genuinely care about what happens to both of these men.

DOTW: Greg McGee is renowned for his first play, Foreskin’s Lament, an iconic New Zealand work; how does Me and Robert McGee compare/differ?

CN: When that play exploded onto our stage 30 years ago it was a major event. It was a very important statement about us as NZ’ers through male eyes. It had never been said so potently and provocatively before. Me And Robert McKee has the benefit of 30 years writing experience and Greg leaves no turn unstoned as he relishes mocking the very craft he has made a living at.  It is in many ways a subtler piece than Foreskin’s Lament though Greg hasn’t lost any of his anger or his insightful commentary on the NZ male.

Paul McLaughlin in Me and Robert McKee. Photo by Stephen A'Court.
DOTW: What can you tell us about the cast?

CN: I had never worked with either Chris or Paul before, though of course I had seen and enjoyed their work on stage and film. I had an instinct (an important Director’s tool) that they would be good for this play and I wasn’t wrong. These two deliver such incredibly strong performances and everybody has been commenting how much they enjoyed them both in their roles. It really is worth a watch.

DOTW: Were there any particular challenges in directing this play?

CN: Because it’s never been done before, every new play comes with a built-in degree of difficulty. Even before you start working on how to do things, you have to spend a lot of rehearsal time trying to figure out what the author is getting at – especially in a dense, multi layered piece as this one. Luckily we had the chance to have Greg in the rehearsal room and ask questions of him which proved invaluable. He talked - we listened, and vice versa, so there was some important re-writing going on. It’s a real privilege for this to occur.

DOTW: Finally, what should audiences know about Me and Robert McKee?

CN: It all sounds very serious and worthy on paper but it is actually a very funny play. The opening night audience – and others subsequently – was roaring with laughter at all the witty lines and the clever references so if you want to experience an intelligent new New Zealand play by one of its best writers then take a punt and have a go.

Photo by Stephen A'Court.
Me and Robert McKee is on in Circa Two until December 4. Book your tickets by calling the Circa Box Office at 801-7992 or going online at www.circa.co.nz.

01 November 2010

Me and Robert McKee: Playing with the Realities of the Real and the Written

Me and Robert McKee playwright Greg McGee on rugby, writing and his latest play ...

BRIEF BIO
Born in 1950 in the South Island town of Oamaru, Greg grew up in a working-class family who never went to theatre. At Otago University he studied law. He was regarded as one of the top rugby players of his generation, twice trialling for the All Blacks. Tall and rangy, Greg has a genuine modesty.

Me and Robert McKee
AN INTERVIEW OF SORTS

DOTW: McGee interviews always seem to start with rugby so why should we be different? Your career was kicked off (pun intended) by Foreskin’s Lament, a play about rugby, New Zealand culture and generational conflict and that captured the zeitgeist of the time (1981 and the Springbok Tour).  Central to the play is the conflict between ‘intellectuals’ and rugby supporters.

GG: Those were the days. There was a period when anyone with pretensions to an intellect wouldn’t admit to having anything to do with rugby. When I reviewed Chris Laidlaw’s book Somebody Stole My Game for Metro magazine, I talked a little bit about how the attitudes to rugby in the general populace have changed. Rugby is now part of the entertainment matrix and rugby players are now celebrities, whereas in the old days you couldn’t actually be an intellectual and have an interest in rugby. It was very hard to do that and rugby was hated by a lot of the middle-class liberals.

DOTW: It was war.

GG: You know everyone was out on the streets protesting against Apartheid and so on, but there was also a huge anti-rugby sentiment there because rugby was perceived to be rural at a time when the rural marginals were perceived to be holding the urban seats to ransom through the first-past-the-post electoral system. It was rural, red-neck, misogynist and kind of Muldoonist, because the Rugby Union seemed to be in cahoots with Muldoon in refusing to be bound by the Gleneagles Agreement so I think the urban liberals associated rugby with all those really kind of prehistoric attitudes.

DOTW: You were a long-haired rugby player when a lot of your peers still wore ties and blazers.

GG: There was also an intergenerational thing going on. By the mid-seventies it was all afros and beads and everything changed so quickly. But for the few years before that, the fight between young and old was at its most terrible. The Tour was a touch-stone for that conflict as well.

DOTW: When and why did you start writing?


GG: At primary school, actually. I started filling exercise books. I’m not sure why.

DOTW: In the play Me and Robert McKee, the character Billy says writers are paid to tell lies.

GG:  I started early. I remember telling a tall tale or two at morning talk. I once told the class that my father used to let me back the van out of the garage in the morning, and it must have sounded plausible. My mother got a call from the teacher asking what was going on.

DOTW: Was school a positive experience?

GG: Yes, but it can’t have been all positive. As a five-year old, I ran away from Casa Nova School in Oamaru. The headmaster saw me escaping out the gate and sent the whole of Standard Four after me. We lived a kilometre away from school and it must have been a sight – this big group of kids tearing down the highway chasing me all the way home.

DOTW: The art and craft of writing is a strong thread through Me and Robert McKee.  It features Billy, a writer who teaches a writing course, and his best friend Mac, a banker and would-be producer. Mac offers Billy a screenplay to write. However the offer is not all it seems. What was the play’s genesis?

GG: I saw the bourgeoning popularity of writing courses and thought, how can I put a stop to that waste? How can I persuade more people to take up something useful, like merchant banking? Seriously, the impetus for particular stories comes from a myriad of elements, but in this case I saw – or heard - these two characters very clearly, and they seemed to have a lot to say to one another!

DOTW: Billy talks about the terror of the blank page. He makes writing sound difficult.

GG: Writing isn’t difficult. Everyone does it. Writing something worth a damn is extraordinarily difficult. As Billy says in the play – “Anyone can write…Writing is the great free market of artistic expression. There’s no prohibitive overheads, you just need pen and paper. There’s no professional organisation you have to join before you’re allowed to do it, no exams to pass, no subs to pay, no fees, no licence. It’s open slather. Entirely self-regulatory. You can do whatever you please. Like banking.”

DOTW: Billy talks about the importance of listening for a writer. What do you mean?

GG: When Billy talks about the importance of listening, he’s not talking about having an ear for dialogue, though you do need that as well. Excuse me for quoting my own play again, but Billy says it better than I could: “You won't write anything worth a damn unless you learn to listen. Unless you learn to open the channels. And pray that in that moment of quiescence, that moment of acute calm, Someone will speak to you. A character. And tell you things that you never knew you knew. A story. Everything - everything - depends on the authenticity of that voice. Character is destiny: destiny is story.”

DOTW: Who is Robert McKee?

GG: This is what Wikipedia says about the man who is probably the ultimate screenplay guru:

Robert McKee, born 1941, is a creative writing instructor who is widely known for his popular "Story Seminar", which he developed when he was a professor at the University of Southern California. McKee is the author of a "screenwriters' bible" called Story: Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting. Many of Hollywood’s active screenwriters claim him as an inspiration. Rather than simply handling "mechanical" aspects of fiction technique such as plot or  dialogue taken individually, McKee examines the narrative structure of a work and what makes the story compelling or not.

DOTW: How do you feel about the play?

GG: I really like this play on the page, the way it combines humour and emotion and plays with the realities of the real and the written. And I think it’s very theatrical, without being physical theatre, but the leap from the page to the stage is the big test and, as always, it’s both exciting and terrifying. I’m very grateful to have Conrad Newport at the helm and Chris and Paul bringing it to life.

Me and Robert McKee opens in Circa Two on November 6. For tickets, call the Circa Box Office at 801-7992 or go online at www.circa.co.nz.