Apparently, nobody loves a fairy when she's forty. Equally apparently, this now appears to be a generally held belief, despite the fact that there is no significant scientific evidence to support the conclusion. Indeed the initial conclusion was reached and then imperviously engraved by something as insubstantive as a music hall staple of the 30s written by Arthur Le Clerq and sung lustily by Tessie O'Shea. Fairies since of advanced age have suffered for it.
As indeed am I. For such am I.
I am in rehearsals for the year-end pantomime. I have never done a pantomime before but I have to say that I am thoroughly enjoying the experience. In this production, Cinderella, I play no fewer than three female roles, among them the fairy godmother, in which capacity I sing that song. I am instructed to mince, to fawn, to exhibit my feminine side and to leave at the stage door any vestige of self-respect I may still have. The last is no problem: I have none.
A more experienced practitioner in such matters tells me that the way to play such roles is to do so with confidence and not worry about how big a fool you are making of yourself as you skip gaily around the stage in a tutu bemoaning the fact that your wand has suddenly developed a droop. He is right of course. But my riposte, offered as a true method actor, was "But what is the essence of the character here. What is the inner-self? What of me do I bring to this character?" His answer was:
"You play three female characters, right?"
"Yes."
"Don't even go there."
Nevertheless, playing three female characters, particularly the fairy, is making a subtle change in me. Whether it is drawing out my feminine side I don't know. But last night, through circumstances way beyond her control, my wife was stranded in town. As a consequence, I spent a night alone: alone, restless and missing her.
Oh shit!
I think I'll go out and kick a rugby ball.
----------------
Now playing: Fairy_2
via FoxyTunes
No comments:
Post a Comment