“It’s the laaaasst Sweeney,” I sang to the tune of The Last Midnight (from Into The Woods) as I entered the dressing room on Saturday night. Richard, already getting into his costume, chuckled. But I wasn’t feeling particularly cheerful, since it was the last time I would be doing the show. Richard said that he had once done a three-month tour of the States in a production of The Merry Widow and that the experience had made him wonder how performers in West End shows can sometimes stay in a cast for years at a time without getting stale. I’m not sure about years or months, but I would definitely have loved to do Sweeney many more times.Maz Greenbank came in to bring us a paper bag of bonbons (a la Mrs Lovett) and she was closely followed by Katie – as usual in search of tape to stick her microphone on. The usual banter between her and James followed, but it was good-natured and friendly.Many of the cast remarked during the evening that they were really going to miss Sweeney. I got the impression that some of them had found the show difficult to like at first, but that it had grown on them (this is so often the case with Sondheim). Everyone I spoke to was sad that this was the final show for us.The evening’s performance proceeded, and we gave it our all. The cheering and clapping at the last curtain call told its own story. Afterwards, in the theatre foyer, I bumped into some friends, Terry, Valerie and Jo, whom I hadn’t seen for several years. I certainly didn’t expect to see them at the show. The feeling was clearly mutual. “We could hardly believe our eyes when we realised it was you on stage!” said Terry. “Well, I’m very new to this Thespian stuff,” I replied. “But I’m a Sweeney obsessive, so I’ve been enjoying it very much.” I went on to explain the story of how I got involved, and we spent a further pleasant ten minutes or so chatting about old times and exchanging news about the family.I wandered into the bar and found Jim Snell talking to Mike Steele, and Matt (our pianist). Jim was in a very happy mood and re-iterated how much he had enjoyed directing Sweeney Todd. “It’s been great working with a relatively small cast,” he said. “Normally I have a chorus of fifty or sixty to work with on big production numbers, and I’ve really enjoyed creating a true ensemble piece this time.” It was one of the strengths of the production remarked upon in Matti Aijala’s review – the fact that the chorus were not an amorphous lump of singing, dancing bodies but that they were all individual characters with their own lives and stories. And it was a pleasure being introduced to Jim’s partner and sharing our mutual enthusiasm for New York and especially for Walt Disney World in Florida. How nice it was to discover another grown-up man with the same passion for all things Disney! I also chatted for a while with Matt, the pianist, and commended him on his playing. I know from personal experience that Sondheim is not the easiest of music to play and that Sweeney, especially, is a very challenging task for any keyboard player. “I’ve enjoyed playing it,” said Matt. “And I’d love to do it all over again!”The after-show party was in Lucy’s large and beautiful home on the edge of Hitchin. I arrived about ten to midnight and things were in full swing. The food was Italian themed, in honour of Pirelli, and was delicious. I settled myself in the conservatory along with Richard Cowling, Mike Payne and sundry cast members. The conversation turned to the most controversial part of the production – the masked ball and the rape scene. I had deliberately not described this in previous blogs because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for anyone going to see the show. The rape itself is portrayed in a very graphic manner, with the Judge throwing himself fully naked onto his victim. Jim had said that the scene would be carefully lit, but in the event, there was absolutely no doubt as to what was happening. And those in the front row were literally centimetres away from the Judge’s bare bum at one stage! This depiction definitely caused some divided opinion amongst the cast. “There should have been a warning about the nude scene,” said one. “I had to tell my husband to distract the children at that point!” said another.There were stories of the audition process as well. Mike Payne said that he couldn’t see any potential Sweeneys after the first audition, but that Richard had proved to be the right choice. “I don’t mind Richard hearing this,” he said. “Because he knew I thought that way from the beginning.”Richard chuckled. “I was as surprised as anybody to get the part,” he revealed. “When the text came through I was about to rehearse my band at church, and I really thought it was a wind-up.”And what about me, dear reader? Well, I can say that my journey from stage-virgin to Thespianhood hasn’t always been the easiest, but I can add that I have completely enjoyed the experience. I’m flattered that many people have asked me if I will be doing the next show, Fiddler On The Roof. Well, as it happens, although it’s not Sondheim, Fiddler is one of my favourite shows so I will definitely be along to the information evening later this month. Everyone at Hitchin has been enormously encouraging and supportive, and they’ve been extremely tolerant of having the rehearsal process revealed to the world in this series of blogs, and I’d like to thank everyone at Hitchin Thespians for that. We’ve been getting an average of just under a thousand hits a week worldwide, so plenty of people will have read about our adventures. And now I sign off for the last time. I do hope that people have enjoyed reading about what it’s like to be in a production of Sweeney.
Rest now, my friends…..
It's Sunday morning after the magnificent last night of Sweeney, and the after-show party. This is just to let regular readers know that I'm out most of today and so a full report on Saturday's shenanigans will appear tomorrow - sorry to break the usual pattern of reports appearing the following day!
Signing off till tomorrow......
As I was entering the theatre this evening, Sue, who was on Front-of-House duty, stopped me. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying reading the blog,” she said.“Thanks, “ I responded. “I’ve enjoyed writing it.”“Can I just point out one inaccuracy?”“Of course.”“You mentioned the other day that there were only eight seats left unsold, but that was only for the second week. There were more unsold tickets than that the first week.”“OK – I’ll make a correction.” It’s kind of what I meant to write, but it was obviously not clear. So think of this as a correction. However, it still remains that we have sold well for a show which many feel is difficult to sell.The mens dressing room was beginning to fill up. It’s always a bit cold in there to start with, but soon warms up as people arrive. Charles came through the door looking somewhat flustered.“I know I’ve forgotten something,” he said. “Ah – that’s it. My costume. Or at least that black waistcoat thing I have to wear. It’s at home.”“I think Jim might just possibly notice if you go on in that bright white shirt, Charles,” said James.“Do you have time to get home and back again in time for the beginning of the show?” asked Ian.“Just about. I’d better go – don’t start without me.”“Are you going by busssss?” quipped John, referring to last night’s joke, but Charles had already left.In the Green Room, preparations were being made for the Red Nose Day Charity Competition for the cast. This involved bringing in a photograph of oneself as a child. The object was that you paid a pound and then had to identify the people from their childhood photographs. Mine was in black-and-white, taken in my childhood back garden in Cambridge. I was wearing short trousers and a stripy T shirt and carrying a teddy bear, and had a rather stern look on my face. I was about six years old. I paid my pound and perused the other photographs. I realised that I was hopeless at this, and decided to postpone my entry till a bit later on, when I had more time to concentrate. I never did get around to it, but at least they had my pound for Comic Relief.Charles managed to return in time for curtain up, with his costume. Tonight’s show felt very good indeed – it was another of those performances which “clicked”, and of course we had a wonderful audience – a completely full house. My wife Marion, who had been at the first performance, was in the audience again, together with my eldest daughter Elizabeth who had flown in specially from France to see it. Marion said later, after the show: “It was so much better than the opening night – everyone was so together and it just flowed and carried the audience along with it! It was great.”It seems to me that each show gets shorter, but I’m sure that’s just an illusion. Especially as we are performing a very complete version of the show. When we got home, Elizabeth said she was impressed that we’d kept in the tooth-pulling, the Judge’s “Mea Culpa” song and the Beggar Woman’s lullaby – all items which are quite often omitted from productions.“Yes, we’re basically performing everything which Sondheim wrote,” I agreed. “The only cuts are the pretend ones with the razors on stage!”
