Performing Arts First Year

Friday, 26 May 2017

'Our House' Show Day Two

Afternoon Show:

During the first show of the day, the main issue was props being taken on and off stage, this may have been due to the fact the the off-cast Joe and Sarah carry on a lot of the props, and it was a different main cast for this two shows. The cast change also effected some of the group dances due to Reecey also being double-casted, this meant that there was a slight change in the 'Baggy Trousers' choreography in the instrumental sections depending on which cast was on-cast. We also focused on the Good Joe/Bad Joe costume changes due to the double-cast.

Evening Show:

During the final two shows, I remembered the change in entrance for the scene where the house is on fire; I remembered to enter from the stair between the audience, this should have made the two stories seem separate and clear to understand due to me no longer walking through the opposite scene. We were every clear and loud regarding line delivery and lyrical approach throughout the entire performance.

'Our House' Show Day One

'Our House' Show Day One

Afternoon Show:
During the first show, we discovered any flaws in the prop organisation back stage, costume changes that are unnecessary, musical queues missed, etc. One of my most missed queues was my musical queues for my duet song 'All I Wanted' with Joe's Dad. The way I combat this issue was to continuously have the introduction played to me and I would start singing when I believe I was meant to enter. Once I got this correct, I would have the introduction played to me and then I would sing in the correct place to hammer the chord progression into my brain to insure that I would always come in on time from then on. As well as this, we also found out is the story was easy to follow and understand, whether the actors line deliver was loud and clear enough for the audience to hear and understand clearly. This also went for song delivery, if the chorus sections were loud and clear.

Evening Show:
During this show, we paid close attention to our downfalls in the previous show, making sure lines of dialogue and lyrics were loud and clear to better communicate the story and meaning to the audience. During both shows, I forgot about the adjustment made during the dress run regarding the house fire scene; I am supposed to enter the scene from the stairs between the audience, whereas, during both shows, I remembered the original blocking and entered the Good Joe scene through the Bad Joe scene which may have caused some confusion in regards to the audiences understanding of the overall story. The rest of the scene went smoothly however.

Monday, 22 May 2017

'Our House' Dress Runs

'Our House' Dress Runs

During each dress run, we focused on transitions between scenes along with costume changes and when they would be happening. When transitioning between scenes, we would have blue lighting to signify when the story is changing from Good Joe to Bad Joe, and vice versa. As well as this, we became aware of the noise level created by movement of props and vocal communication between cast members; we found the best way to combat this was would be to organise backstage and split the props into act one and act two so that backstage was a lot cleaner and easier to move prop on and off stage smoothly.

We focused on line delivery and physical approach to our characters according to their personalities and their emotions during the scene. We also work on song queues, entrances and exits so that each actor knew when they were purposed to sing as well as queues for the musicians. I finalised on some blocking for scene, an example of this is my death scene (when the house is on fire); we decided that I would run down the stairs in between the audience to make the story flow and make it clear that my character was dead in Bad Joes story and lived in Good Joes story.

We focused on costumes and lighting, also, during our dress runs. We wanted to portray our characters clearly through costumes but also create an exciting and joyful atmosphere throughout the entirety of the piece with a wide variety of vibrant colours. We decided to use lighting to portray the house fire with reds, oranges and white.

Friday, 5 May 2017

Draft Three

The Demons Within

Victoria Tullett

vickyt1998@hotmail.com

+44 7714 280876

West Sussex, BN14 0AQ

Scene 1

JULIA (Age: 24)

I suck in a breath, cold and harsh, feeling nothing; this is normal, while my head reels and spirals out of control. I’m cold, frozen. The coldness of the world has destroyed me. It drains the light from the soul, the warmth from the shell I carry. I feel numb, the nothingness takes control. Icy shards piercing the brink of my corrupt brain, paralysing the nerves; the emotions, the feelings, any feeling, cemented by the frost running through the empty case I know as myself. I feel the pain - pain that is so strong it penetrates through the ice cold to the fragile surface. It burns. What a contrast from my frozen corpse. Pain is a feeling, the only one I can experience. Pain is better than the numbness of reality. I can control Pain; I already have, and I carry its leash, Pain’s silver sharp leash that I wield in the face of my numbing. The blood that’s placed throughout my frozen vessel still flows, another element of the body the frost cannot control. I see it flow, trickling along my frigid flesh as I dominate you, Pain, a sharp sting crawling over me. I restrain the shriek biting the back of my throat; my features remain indifferent, despite being isolated from the world the mask still remains. The mask that makes people believe I am happy, the mask that makes them speak in tongues of joy, the mask that stops people raising concern because I am ‘the same old Julia!’ The ‘I’m Fine’ mask. They see ‘happy little old me’; besides, seeing is believing, right?

DEPRESSION

You are the tamer of Pain, but what good are you doing. Pain only relieves the numbing for as long as its leash is being wielded. Then what? You are the useless girl you have always been, and nothing will ever change that. I made you see the truth; making your vessel heavy, sending your brain to wonder and tearing life from your frail limbs. Clutching the brain and stammering every pleasant thought, every feeling; raking your mind for imperfections that linger back there, allowing it to cling to the edges and settle where they are visible. I am the reason for your pain, agonising pain surging under the skin. Then everything froze, the river of pain flowing below becoming static, numbing the vessel it once gushed through. And I pity you. I pity the ones that survive. This is my design.

Scene 2

LUCY (Age: 14)

I’ve been told that mirrors lie to the person in front of it, but why would something so treasured and pure lie to the innocent. No, a mirror never lies. The voices in my head never lie. The results of my actions never lie, yet the scars they leave are permanent. The feather-like lines along my knuckles, the drastic drop in my health and mental wellbeing, but the results are proving that these permanent scars are worth their while. I don’t believe that the scars are permanent, but my doctor insists, he has even given me a food chart and a weekly meal diary. He thinks that I am starving myself, pushing all my food away. But the reality is that I do eat, I binge eat everything I can, but it doesn’t stay there for long. My friends always say that they will come to the toilet with me, so they can go on and on about how Jake was staring at them during maths or whatever, and they always question me when I refuse. They are all naturally skinny, they won’t understand. No-one understands. I’ve got used to it now, the clenching of my stomach, trying desperately to cling on to whatever it can so that my body won’t starve another day; the strain in my fingers being forced lower, and my forearms bracing the toilet seat while my knees shatter on the stain-covered floor of the girls toilets. My eyes never lie to me; besides, seeing is believing, right?

BOLIMIA
I am here to help you. I will prove you with the body you’ve always wanted. Just watch as your vessel shrinks, waist slimming, and it is all worth it, I promise. You do believe me, right? Everything I do is for you, it is all for your sack. Why would I do all this just for me. I don’t gain from this. All those other girls, with their perfect figure, why can’t we have that? Why must we fight for what other are given. Compare your dreams to reality; is what you have really what you want? Look at her, the real you, staring you down in exasperation due to what you have become. Don’t force yourself to ‘love yourself for who you are’, become the person you want to be, within any means necessary. I created the scars, feathering lines through the brain and penetrating the skull causing it to shatter against the constant strikes hammering from the inside. Scars expanding whilst your structure perishes. Your only comfort being the piss-stained surface beneath your shattering knees, so alone. But you have me, and I’m all you will ever need. This is my design.

Scene 3

DIANE (Age: 19)

Fingers tingling, body numbing, breath quickening. Heart racing, skipping beats, count them, one, two, three, four, five … Racing too fast, can’t keep up. Lungs collapsing under the weight. Lips quivering, tears threatening to spill; stomach churning, choking, Fear is lodged there. I can never escape Fear, he always finds me. He greets me as a friend, kind compassionate; then the obsession starts, the yearning to control, manipulate, corrupt. Limbs tingling sharply due to the squeezing. My bones crushing under his weight, forcing me to collapse to my knees and surrender for his mercy. Strips the oxygen from my lungs; caresses my throat with his monstrous hands, crushes it and discards me like shit. I never wanted Fear to rule me, but he has become the reason behind my many scars, demolishing my future and caging me away from the rest of humanity. He has pinned me in place and has denied me impediment. The person they see is not me, it never was; they see what I covet them to see. I am a sufferer. Yet I regain composure, and return to the mask of indifference. The mask that hides the pain, the concerns, the Fear. I am no different to the way I was yesterday, or they should think. I am the same person I used to be; besides, seeing is believing, right?

ANXIETY
I hide away in the crevices of your brain. Gnawing away at your sense of security, molding it to shades of cowardice that clings to the walls of your spiralling mind. Squeezing the fear, pain reinforces the angst crawling through you. I am IN you; I am CREATING you. Sanity is rejected for a bleak coverage of agony, panic, self-destruction. I control your every thought, I am your thoughts; agony is what binds you to my existence. Without your existing agony I would not be here. I create your stimuli, your point of panic. Sucking the oxygen from the depth of your lungs as you choke out tears in retaliation. You embody living hell. You embody Fear. I am what defines you, what do you think about that? Why so teary-eyed, deary, what thought have I provoked this time. Oh look, a crowd of people, people you don’t know, a HUGE crowd of strangers heading right this way. Ooh, and what’s this? Are they talking to … random people? Oh dear. See that guy there? In the stripy shirt? He is heading right … this … way. Don’t worry darling, a strong lap from me should clear that clouded little head of yours. This is my design.