Life at British Drama League

THEATRE:Life was fun at the British Drama League. Compared to all the travelling and compulsory attendance of various appointments, meetings and whatnot, it was much easier here. Of course one had to attend all the lectures one has paid for in advance.

I am not sure how much was paid since my fees were paid by the UNESCO. As I said earlier it was a two-month rapid course at the B.D.L. - from 20 April to 25 June.

There was another month or so at Stratford-on-Avon in Shakespeare country where we could see almost all the plays of that year's Shakespeare Festival and also participate in various sight seeing tours, attend lectures by Shakespeare experts and view special exhibitions dedicated to the memory of the Bard.

Before I move on to the mesmerizing Shakespeare country, let me dwell on our activities at the B.D.L. Lectures started at 8 a.m. and went on till 4.30 p.m. with an hour's break for lunch.

We started with History of the Theatre with emphasis on the British Theatre. I joined midway with that lecture by the look-alike of Ingrid Bergmann - a very beautiful woman indeed. (Unfortunately I cannot recall her name now) Of course each morning started with a few exercises conducted by Miss Molly Kenny.

It was called the 'Movement Class'. Some of the older and lazier students cut that class or they arrived late, but Miss Kenny showed no annoyance. She only smiled tolerantly.

My Indian friend, William Rajpal - a tall man with a bit of a paunch, Dramatic Director in the New Delhi School of Drama, fortyish - regularly avoided the Movement Class.

"We have enough movement in Delhi!" He would say. "We have a very rigorous course there. Henry, you should come there one of these days." He would tell me often.

I must relate a rather funny episode with William before I forget. One of our participants, the lady from California, Mrs. Minerva Marquiz once invited a few of us for a little party at her flat in some corner of London.

She was a nice woman, well past her youth and rather chubby too. She had a rather winning smile, which simply failed to disappear once it was displayed - especially in any impromptu acting assignment. Apparently she had won an award in some local amateur drama competition with that smile and the poor thing was retaining it ever since.

Minerva was the subject of much titters and concealed fun among the younger girls in the course. They would tease her by inviting her on the stage for some of their acting exercises and the poor thing would be overjoyed at such attention and would step on the stage turning that smile on.

She was hoping to be an actress someday somewhere and had come to London to join the BDL course not alone but with three growing children.

Party

William and I came to know all this about her only after we attended her little party at her flat. In fact the two of us were the only guests at her party. The other invitees had found some excuse or another to avoid the event. The two of us were at least sympathetic towards the courageous lady and avoided making her a scapegoat for laughter.

So she was very happy to see us. She introduced the two of us to her children who were about five, seven and nine. They were a friendly lot and we played some kid games with them. Minerva never spoke of a husband and neither did we ask.

We were not told what the party was about. We guessed it was her birthday and carried with us a couple of bottles of wine as a gift. Along with a few eatables (what we would call 'bites') she poured us a couple of copious glasses of wine. And she chatted.

That was when we came to know about her local stage triumph and her ambitions etc. Somehow she reminded me of Blanche in Streetcar Named Desire, although she was not 'deranged" as Blanche was.

But there was a kind of helpless sadness in her very trust and faith in herself. I was just beginning to empathize with her story and making mental notes for a possible character in a future play, when my Indian friend William suddenly got up and said "I say Henry let's go. It's getting late !"

Actually it was not that late and even Minerva was surprised at his sudden desire for a quick exit. She just looked up with those Liz Taylor imitation eyes and switched on her smile and got up to bid us goodbye.

As soon as we got out of the house I asked William what the big hurry was. "I say Henry that blessed wine got into my head and I thought I should leave before making a fool of myself ..." and he strode on to the tube station. I still don't know what he meant by saying he could have 'made a fool of himself!'

Minerva was just one woman in the class who would have made 'material' for the stage or the cinema. There were others too. Out of the rest of them I would like to pick on just one more - a very young and pretty little thing. Let's call her Tess.

She knew she was pretty and had no qualms of making others see it in her every gesture, every nod of her blonde head and every movement. She was quite tiny in size but made up for it in her verve and self assurance. She was not the kind of thing that men ogled over.

She was the kind of thing that men would turn to take a second look and feel happy that there are young creatures like her in this ugly world, to look at.... When Tess asked a question from one of the lecturers, she gave him the feeling that she already had the answer in her pretty little head. When she replied one she gave the impression 'why bother me....!'

Night club

The class got along very well with Tess. Even the older and less showy girls tolerated her as an elder would, a bundle of a scamp of a little sister ! And then she fell in love. She fell in love with a young black boy in the class who worked in a night club. He was quite a handsome chap too.

We did not (at least I did not) find out that they were in love until they started being moody and offensive to each other. They growled at each other and argued with each other during the recesses. I felt very sorry for pretty little Tess. And I felt angry with that buffoon of a black boy.

What right had he to take the stars away from the eyes of such a darling as Tess? She could not have been more than sixteen, eighteen at the most. She was the kind of kid sister I would have liked to have to pet and annoy and watch the stars in her eyes.

I hated to see Tess coming to class with puffed up eyes and tell tale lines in her smooth face. If I had any authority and if I had the youth in me I would have smashed that bounder's face in! Our course was soon over and we went our ways.

I wonder what happened to Tess. I can still picture the bundle of beauty, joy and verve she was!

We had some very good teachers at British Drama League. I have some of their names.

There was Mr. Walter Lucas for Adjudication, Mr. Douglas B. Andrews and Mr. Richard Carey for Production, Mrs. Catherine Lambert for Voice Production, Miss Eve Shapiro for Production Exercises, Miss Molley Kenny for Movement and several others for History of theatre, Elizabethan Theatre, Stage Management and Lighting etc. I am unhappy that I have lost or misplaced some of my note books and I cannot give a full list of the names.

In the process of the course I learnt many things including what, perhaps, should not be done by a teacher of Drama. We had one particular man, very suave and very British, who somehow looked very much like Humphrey Bogart and he made no secret of imitating Bogey at every possible turn.

His first lecture was fascinating where he used a lot of Bogey mannerisms etc to make the lecture more interesting. He was a forceful speaker too, and gave the impression that he was very knowledgeable in his subject. He kept us spell bound and there was a lot of talk later about his capabilities.

His second lecture was okay but not so fascinating. By the time he came to the third and fourth lecture the class found that he was repeating himself, that he had exhausted all his 'expertise' and that he was becoming quite boring! Even his oft repeated 'Bogart tactics' failed to impress and some were even yawning.

Talents

From that man (I will not name him) I learnt a lot of things about how not to teach! To begin with one should never display the full range of one's talents at the very first class (or opportunity) itself.

It is far better to impress a crowd of young potentials slowly and surely rather than sledgehammer them with all your knowledge, your tricks and your personality on the very first day itself.

To direct a play (or anything else for that matter) one has to know the Director's craft. One does not have to rub it in the faces of the trusting potentials all at once. One has to win the confidence of one's group slowly and surely and one must keep that confidence.

Cheap imitations, cheap jokes, and their like will not last long. Once a Director loses the trust, the confidence and the respect of his men and women, he or she will find it very difficult to win it back.

As the weeks went by and I gained more experience I too felt like having a go at the ABD (Associate of the British Drama League) examination. There were hectic preparations and I liked it. I did a scene from Tennessee William's 'The Glass Menageries' for the examination.

One had to produce a production plan, sketches of the sets and costumes, a lighting plan, and many other things to the Adjudicators. We were not allowed to use our own students for the scene.

(I did) Scene 7 from the play where Tom invites his friend Jim to his home - a would be suitor for his sister Laura - only to find out that Jim is already engaged to another girl. The Glass Menagerie still remains one of my favourite plays.

This was a scene where there was pathos, poignancy (between Jim and Laura and conflict (between Tom and his mother Amanda) and I liked directing it very much.

We had some students brought down from the famous RADA (Royal Academy of Dramatic Art) in London to be used as our actors and actresses. We were given half an hour to brief them on the scene and they had to be put on stage.

These men and women from RADA knew practically every popular play by heart and 'briefing' them on 'The Glass Menagerie' was not much of a problem.

Thought of the week

By the time this column appears on July 26 it would be already past two years sine I lost my beloved Manel - on July 24, 2004. And the country lost an irreplaceable artist of the stage and screen.

A good woman who shared the sorrows and joys - mainly sorrows - of many other women. Occasionally I see her in some repeat of a past teledrama (like Senehevantayo) and I cannot believe that she is no more.

I often wonder where she is. Would she be reborn already or would she be still in a 'Gandabba' state? Or would she be in Heaven continuing her good Samaritan work there too? With a woman like Manel, it is quite possible.

They say that there is plenty of unrest and unhappiness (jealousies, petty squabbles etc) in the Heavenly realms too.

When she was semi conscious at a high point of her illness she went on talking about some people who would not listen to her. "They don't act the way I tell them. Look at them!" She went on saying.

When she had regained consciousness I asked her who those creatures were and she gave me a hard look and told me "You wouldn't know... They had wings....!"

Apparently she was trying to direct some 'Angels' or some such entities in some sort of 'non Heavenly' skit.... Bless you my Dearest One.

[email protected]

..................................

<< Artscope Main Page