Alan Rickman

Of course, in my rush to write a profoundly dull blog yesterday night, I forgot to mention Tuesday night... The night we had dinner with Alan Rickman!

Nathan and I had gone to the Print Room to watch the remarkable Sara Kestelman, in Ignis, pulling yet another surprise out of her lexicon of theatrical surprises. I think most people think of Sara as a bit of a grande dame; a classical actress with a rich baritone voice who is most comfortable delivering iambic pentameter. We all know she's also done musicals, very successfully, but what most people don't realise is that she's a published poet, and that, before the acting work started tumbling towards her, she trained as, and only wanted to be, a contemporary dancer.

And there she was, in a beautiful production, delivering her own intriguing poems whilst three astonishing dancers twisted, writhed and undulated around her. What none of us expected was for Sara herself to suddenly start joining in with the choreography, not just in a token manner, but with absolute panache and beauty.

We'd seen that Mr Rickman was in the audience. Nathan spotted him by his voice alone. We'd been impressed by his graciousness. The audience was small, but he'd stayed, with his partner to see the after show talk, and not only that, made it very clear that he thought a post show discussion was a wonderful idea. Whether or not he was aware that he was leading by example, I've no idea, but I expect if he'd made a beeline for the door, many more would have followed.

Of course, it turned out afterwards that he was a friend of Sara's, and a "quick drink" turned into a meal, which he very kindly paid for. We were joined by Belinda Laing (I'm not altogether sure where she popped up from) and the evening became a fest of theatrical anecdotes. Rickman was witty and droll and I finally got to ask him about his 'cello playing in the film Truly, Madly, Deeply. Apparently he did the bowing arm, whilst a pro 'cellist stuck his arm through Rickman's jacket to do the fingering and composer Barrington Phelong pulled Rickman's shoulder up and down! It must have worked. When I first saw the film I wondered if he'd played the 'cello as a youngster. Now, of course, I'm going to have to watch it again to see if I can spot any of the trickery!

Rickman's partner is a wonderful lady called Rima. A long-term member of the Labour Party, she was a local councillor for something like twenty years. There's such an astounding bond between them. They seemed so loving and supportive and have apparently been a team since the year dot. Well, since 1977.

I've been in the Midlands all day at the funeral of my honorary Godmother, Janet. My parents met me from Nuneaton train station and we drove to Kidderminster together, stopping off at services on route for brunch.

Kidderminster is a rather tragic place. The town centre is in disarray. One of the streets we walked down was full of boarded-over shops including an old Woolworths which still had all its signs in the windows. I can only begin to imagine when that closed down. Probably five or so years ago.

The service itself was nice. It was a nice send off. That's about all you can say at a certain point isn't it? My godfather and namesake, David, held himself together. One of their children was stoic, almost casual, but confessed afterwards that he was in absolute denial. The other fell apart completely on entering the church.

We went to a crematorium in the middle of a windswept field, heard a bit of the Lark Ascending, and then the curtains circled the coffin like some curious magic trick. I spoke to David afterwards, and he invited me to go and see him; "it will all be the same; same house, same hospitality... Just without Janet." My heart broke.

We renewed our age-old promise to visit the First World War trenches together, and that, as they say, was that.

We drove back to Nuneaton through the length of Warwickshire, my mother's heart leaping for joy as we drove through the villages, heaths and forests which she'd known intimately as a young woman. The nostalgia-fest was aided by the setting sun; a giant orange glowing ball in the Western sky. We stared at it in awe, all thinking the same thing; "Janet will never see this sunset..."

I'm now on a train now, heading home, cramped in a corner right next to the loo. I am reminded of my last train journey back from the Midlands at the start of February. We'd been in Birmingham holding NYMT auditions  all day and Jeremy had treated us to seats in First Class to celebrate our last out-of-London auditions.

We were served tea and little snacks by a Mancunian lad called Josh, whom, we discovered was also a theatre director. He asked us all about Brass, and the NYMT. You could have blown me down with a feather when he turned up the following week to interview for the post of assistant director on our show... A post we offered and he accepted today. Isn't that a brilliant story? It just goes to show that it's always worth chatting to train guards, and bar staff, and shop keepers. My old friend Vera, a stalwart of the Royal Court Theatre used to say; "ignore the ushers here at your peril. They're the most interesting people in this building..."

I hope she was right. One of those ushers was me!

The most boring blog entry in the world!

We’re sitting on the sofa, working, with the television on in the background. There’s a programme on about brain surgery, which is fairly distressing. Every time I look up, there’s something ghastly going on. One man has about ten screws drilled into his head and is having an operation on his brain whilst he’s conscious. Absolutely dreadful. I’ve never seen so many stitches on the side of a face before. It’s also incredibly moving. A lad with a fearful tremor has just cried for joy, because, after an operation, he was able to drink from a glass for the first time. Sometimes we forget quite how such small things can be so profoundly meaningful.

The emails went out last night with the results of the NYMT auditions. I could tell because twitter immediately went crazy with most of the cast of Brass messaging to thank me for casting them, which I thought was rather sweet.

I have done little for the rest of the day other than sitting at the kitchen table writing. I haven’t read a newspaper, or seen what’s going on in the outside world for days. I’m so busy I can’t even answer the phone to friends when they ring. It’s incredibly frustrating, but needs must. If I stop now, I’ll never get everything done.  Gosh, this is a dull blog entry isn't it? Apologies!

Love is everything

It’s been another insane day, which started at shit o’clock, and by all accounts is still going. We were up at Alexandra Palace in the early afternoon, having our photos taken for Channel 4. It was all a little embarrassing. Photo shoots can be painful at the best of time and I felt incredibly self-conscious, particularly when the shoot went outdoors, and members of the public stopped and started watching. It was nice to be out in the sunshine, however. Up there, at the very top of London, spring is definitely on its way. Little daffodils were poking up through the grass and some of the trees were sprouting early blossom. This time last year I’m pretty sure we were still under hundreds of feet of snow.

We had another epic production meeting tonight which lasted until 9pm. I think there were about ten of us sitting around a table, eating biscuits, drinking cups of tea and talking through the project in minuscule detail. There’s so much to do, and everything is taking an absolute age to slot into place from a logistics perspective. When you’re dealing with big names, you’re also dealing with considerable egos, and, quite understandably, people wanting to know what’s in it for them. So we look at the demands and requests in relation to what we perceive as integral to our film. It’s a rather fragile balancing which can be incredibly stressful. I start sessions in the recording studio on Monday and obviously everything needs to be orchestrated long in advance. Cue panic, because, with three days to go, I still have no idea what two of the songs are actually even going to be. It’s times like this I wish I were a little more laid back. But I can only do my best I suppose.  

Still, it comes to something, doesn’t it, when you’re still writing music at midnight!? Nathan is in the next door room still writing lyrics. I read the Channel 4 press release today which described this as my most ambitious project to date. They’re really not wrong!

Love conquers all

I broke my day up today with a trip into Central London to mert Nathan for lunch and have my hair cut. We have to do a series of publicity shots tomorrow for Channel 4, up at Alexandra Palace, which surely means, very shortly, I'll be able to write in detail about what we're actually doing! I feel rather like I've been lying in this blog since January; avoiding the mention of certain key events and speaking obliquely about others. I am, however, slowly getting less anxious and more excited about what we're doing. It is, without doubt, the most enormous thing which will possibly ever happen to either of us.

Nathan was in a secret location in Central London this morning, filming one of the special guests who'll be appearing in our film. He phoned me earlier on, sounding a little breathless, saying everything had gone incredibly well.

I walked through North Soho to get to Old Compton Street, and en route, passed a man who was sitting on a step, making a butty from a bag of chips and a stottie. The delicious aroma of vinegar almost smacked me in the face! What is it about the smell of vinegar which is both repulsive and remarkable? Maybe there's an enzyme in it which is triggered when it starts breaking down or preserving food which isn't triggered when, for example, you spill it on the carpet, or your favourite jumper, which is this vinegar addict's favourite trick!

I sat in Soho writing all afternoon. I love how cosmopolitan it gets in that part of town. I doubt there were more than two people of the same nationality in the cafe with me. That said, there was a rather amusing incident triggered by two European lads attempting to communicate in rather broken English. It was a simple enough transaction. One wanted to know if a chair was free so that his friend could join them. The other didn't have a clue what he was trying to say, and there was much gesturing and embarrassed laughter. When they'd finally established that the chair was indeed free, the first lad called over to his mate; "libero, libero..." cue an astonishing amount of laughter as both lads realised they were Italian!

Very good news arrived from the Arts Council today. They have decided to fund Brass. It's a humble amount, but the NYMT are thrilled. It might mean a few nicer costumes, or one or two extra bursaries for the kids, which is just marvellous.

I have made a vow to Sara K that I will do everything humanly possible to make sure the cast of Brass have the summer of their lives. I think back to the time when I was their age, and we were performing Big Book for Girls on the Edinburgh Fringe with the National Student Theatre Company. It was perhaps the most exciting, optimistic, carefree period of my life, and I want the young people in our show to have the same experience.

As I hurtle towards forty, I'm beginning to realise what an epic year this is turning out to be. Perhaps a mini break-through is finally on the cards. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Off now to see Sara Kestelman in a dance drama at the Print Room in Notting Hill. An evening off would you believe?! Whatever next?!

Exhausting

It's 9pm, and we've just finished a six hour production meeting with people from Channel Four. I couldn't believe it when I saw the time. There was, admittedly, something quite nice about everyone being together in the office until late, but I've now reached brain-saturation point. I'm trying to orchestrate a song that Nathan has written for the film. I really can't find the right feel for it and am on my umpteenth variant. To give an indication of quite how far off the mark I've been, I played it back, and discovered I'd made it a full minute slower than Nathan had envisaged!

I guess some people are more natural arrangers of music than others.

I think I may have to go through the night to get this arrangement done and dusted, which is a fairly awful thought... but needs must, and I'll be grateful in the long run that I took time to do things properly.

They were lovely in the meeting today; hugely respectful about the work I'd done on the music so far. But even the merest, seemingly innocuous lyric change tends to have a catastrophic knock-on effect. I spent a full half an hour changing just two bars earlier! Sadly that's the intricate nature of what I've been writing. It's difficult to un-stitch and re-stitch things.

Anyway, I've been horrible to Nathan all night. Stress always makes us lash out at the ones we love most of all doesn't it?

I had osteopathy this morning. It seems like a long time ago and I'm not sure it's doing a great deal of good, neither am I sure I could expect to get much better whilst things are so manic.

Brass is cast!

What I forgot I mention yesterday is quite what a treat it's been to hear songs from Brass sung for the first time. I am touched, in fact a little grateful that people have spend so much time inside my songs, learning them, interpreting them. Eliza's big number seems to have struck a particular chord. Nathan says it's the show's big hit, the one they'll be auditioning with at drama schools in five years' time.

I held my breath when I heard it for the first time...

Hilary said something which was very lovely to hear, namely that she quite forgot throughout the day yesterday that we were listening to songs from anything other than a well-established West End show. Isn't that lovely?

It's now 11pm, and Brass is fully cast! It took us four hours after the recalls finished, and there was an astonishing amount of somewhat bitter tussling going on with the other two productions over who wanted to cast who.  We were informed at one point that one of the girls we were potentially interested in, a girl from Leeds, wasn't interested in doing a show in Leeds and was only interested in performing in The Hired Man in London! Our director, Sara Kestelman was horrified; "what? She's turned down the opportunity to create a role in a new musical!? Why on earth did she bother to come to the recall!" Some little divas start acting up rather young these days. Oh well. Her loss! We have the most stunning, stunning cast and I am absolutely thrilled.

I actually can't believe it's done. I'm scared, excited, relieved, happy, scared, relieved, excited, exhausted, scared, scared...

Anyway. I can barely keep my eyes open. Time for bed!

Recalls

As we walked around Sainsbury's this evening, we kept stumbling upon a little old Chinese lady, who was walking around, singing softly to herself in a beautiful soprano voice. It was so lovely to hear. She was probably 80 years old, and moving incredibly slowly, but she was out and about, choosing something nice for her supper, and plainly really happy about the fact. I get a little teary when I see a happy-looking person, particularly if they seem happy even though the odds are plainly stacked up against them... You can multiply my reaction by ten if I'm tired. When I'm tired, I'm completely unable to control any of my emotions!

We did our first day of recalls for Brass today. Utterly exhausting. Utterly exhilarating. Uncle Bill came to give me her support, and Nathan was also there. All in all, I felt we were a wonderfully well-oiled machine. By the end of each session I felt we'd got a very good sense of the capabilities of the kids who were there and hope that none of them felt over-looked. At one point, we split into four groups, working with twelve recallees, each one of us focussing on acting, singing or dancing. By the end we had a true sense of all the kids and their abilities across the full range of performance disciplines.

And some of them were truly outstanding. Genuinely. Based on today, I've no idea who is going to get the role of Eliza. There are at least two outstanding candidates. Hilary summed it up rather succinctly when she said, "it depends if you want the role to be played by a goddess or a woman..." We all knew exactly what she meant. One of the girls was statuesque and slightly other-worldly, the other was deliciously down-to-earth. Both were extraordinary singers. One edged it on the dance. The other edged it on the acting. Grr! Heaven knows what will happen if two more excellent Elizas throw their hats into the ring tomorrow!

What I WILL say is that I would feel proud to have any number of those kids in Brass. And I'm not just saying that.