Yawazzi Fish Tank

We’re in a darkened theatre. The audience is hushed and intent, the only light is the soft orange glow from Mathew’s headlamp. His character is determined, and so close to his final goal. He climbs upward and the stage lights build. His expression changes to wonder and triumph as he reaches the top, throws his arms wide and shouts out, “You can see forever!” And our audience can’t wait til the end of the play – they start cheering now.

2 years ago we scraped together borrowed money to take a show to the Grahamstown National Arts Festival Fringe. The play was about a boy and his grandfather; they lived at the bottom of a giant tree that had grown so large it had covered the whole world. It was about the boy’s journey to see the sky for the first time, just like his grandfather had when he was a boy.

I didn’t realise at the time how closely our own journey would mirror the boy’s.

We lost most of that borrowed investment, but we didn’t lose faith in the play. The people who saw it loved it passionately, loved it enough to give us good advice on how to improve it and take it further. It’s because of them that we’ve been able to keep performing it and making sure that every time we performed it, it was a better show.

It was the support of Yvette Hardie that got us here – the Ishyo Arts Centre in Kigali, Rwanda, guests at the first annual KINA Theatre Festival for Children. Kigali is an amazing city and we were treated so graciously and generously by our hosts Carole and Lilliane that we never wanted to leave.

Kigali is a city of contrasts – dense clusters of buildings and open spaces where plantains, cassava or tobacco is grown, tall villas sandwich humble clay brick houses between their ostentatious gates and 5 metre high print ads for MTN compete for space with hand painted murals advertising the local beers. The endless hills of the country hide the full extent of the city and every trip around town offers new views of the bustling suburbs of Kigali.

But the greatest contrast of all is between the bloody the history of the place and the people we met. Optimistic and independent, the Rwandese welcomed us and proudly showed off their city. Their hospitality and their easy trust was what truly won us over. This was the first time our company had toured to another country, our trepidation melted away and although only one of our party spoke French and the play is in English, we had no problem. Theatre is understood across borders and cultures. Even though the play is a family show, it is mostly about death and trying to find a connection to the past. In Kigali we were playing to an audience that knew all about that, who knew more about it than I will ever know. It was daunting, terrifying. But they got it.

On our journey we’ve experienced all the lows, been left uncertain. But we’ve had our highs. I will never forget the moment in that hall in Kigali when the audience cheered for the boy. That moment was 2 years in the making and it was worth every step of the journey.

You can see Under the Stars, Above the Tree in Cape Town from the 21st, to the 23rd of January, starting at 8:30 P.M at Tabula Rasa, which is located on 140 Upper Canterbury, cnr Glynn str. Gardens. Tickets cost R70 for adults, and R40 for students. Bookings can be made by calling 072 112 1566 or emailing bookings@yawazzi.com.

Here at Yawazzi, we start 2010 with doing a new old show. Under the Stars, Above the Tree first saw the stage in 2008, but the idea for it was cultivated while teaching drama to Grade 1s at Windsor high when Jon and I were doing honours. Two years in the making, a new cast, a mini international festival have all come down to the performances at Tabula Rasa from the 21st to the 23rd of Jan.

As a director, one should always stand and feel proud of what they have put on stage. I do believe that more often than not, each director knows of parts or sections, characters or scenes that they did not quite direct or should I say master. Rarely does a director get the chance to revisit the same play again and, imparted with more knowledge and experience, direct it one more time. This is the third version of the play and I think that from this vantage point, I can see forever.

Important thing to note is that, as a director, you only got here as a result of the past: the present show is a product of the previous versions, cast members, and ideas. Andrew Laubscher and Jon Keevy as performers were the alphas in all of this, because they lay the groundwork down so that Marty Kintu and Mathew Lewis could step on and climb the tree. Brydon Bolton’s music remains the key device in transporting the audience to this world of the giant tree. But more than anything it is the continuing attention to detail of Jon Keevy, as writer and live animator, that gives the play the enchanting storybook quality.

Ironically, one of the themes of the play echoes the fact that we must be aware of our past, and realize that only for a while we are just the latest instance of it. The text of the play, the journey of the boy, the production process mirror each other. In this respect. After us the line might carry on, but it wouldn’t have, unless we, now, had done it for us.

And with the start of a new year, it is a great time to feel so good about something you have achieved creatively. It feels like you got one under your belt and you can only get better from this. There is a lot to do in 2010, a lot of things to achieve, and quite a few trees to climb.

The pity is that the future of the show is unknown. It stands somewhere between commercial children’s theatre and critically appreciated fantasy for adults, and thus gets lost on the theatre programme. But all those who have seen it, have sat in its magic and we can only hope that we will get the opportunity to showcase it to kids aged 7 to 77 more in 2010 and beyond. It is more than ready.

Under the Stars, Above the Tree – teaser

Yesterday, I went to bed at around 7 PM, with a huge headache and body feeling weak all over.
Though i kept waking up from time to time, I only really got out of bed at 7 AM to get ready for school.

And no, this was not a result of some massive huge wonderful drunk party (so if you were fishing for some gossip, you won’t get any).
I think it was more of a result of not getting enough sleep for the past three nights due to various work things.

This week had two huge tasks, a proposal had to be sent in by Wednesday, and on Thursday I had a lecture on director as researcher to give at UCT. The truth is that I underestimated both these tasks.

The proposal came together (if i can use that word) over the last two nights, but it also really started on those same two nights. I had been dreading the work, I knew it had to be done, but I also went with the thought that it was never going to get accepted. I guess if you go in with a negative view like that, you are not going to get much done. I was struggling to articulate why this play needed to be done. In my head it all made sense, but on paper it was such a challenge to write down. With the help of Jon, it got polished and mailed, though I still think our chances for its acceptance are slim.

The following day, I was standing in front of 50 students trying to convince them that a director as a researcher is really like a tourist in a world he is trying to discover. Once again, it was all in my head, and I found that my mouth was struggling to articulate its ideas. I was losing their attention, people were yawning, they were talking amongst each other and I felt like I became a bit of a boring tour guide in a grand city such as Paris or New York. Thankfully I had music in the background to help me out and at least create a good atmosphere.

I felt quite inadequate about both these projects and it got me to thinking that I need a lot more preperation. Indeed that teaching and writing proposals are arts in themselves. With a proposal, you are supposed to attract the attention out of a thousand other applicants, and get those people in the panel really excited about the show. You need to seduce them from a distance, with your words, but also with other materials. You need put that extra effort in to stand out, to get them on your side. The same thing with teaching, if you put effort in it, you can make every lecture interesting and captivating. And I had potential with this one, I could have gotten the students more involved, got them to dig around the files I had handed out, got them talking, asking interesting questions…and so on…

I could have made both those things into something a lot more special, something less ordinary.

But maybe this is a good lesson to remind oneself of: never underestimate the amount of work you need to do. You cannot rest on some kind of laurel, thinking that because you have done it before, you should easily be able to do it again. You must always go back and question yourself, and be a bit over prepared, and make it an art piece…whether it is a proposal or a lesson.

Is it ok to not like a show that you see?

And if that is okay, (and if that is in fact my right as an audience…) then is it okay for me to say that i do not like it?
to say that i hated it?

In the Cape Town theatre culture, there seems to be this notion that if you do not like a show, you talk about it in whispered, hushed tones (because the director/cast member/ designer/lighting technician/stage manager/usher… might be within earshot and you would need to work with these people in the future). This is if you talk about it at all. Sometimes you just say “Thank you” and head over to the free food, or even better, dash for the food and stuff yourself so when they ask you what you thought, you are way too busy trying to remove the chicken kebab stick that is sticking out your throat (ask them to help you or at least call an ambulance, call for a doctor, etc…)

On the few occasions where people have said or written strong criticism of a show, they have encountered a “How dare you criticize?” attitude or “What is wrong you?” or “What did you do?” or “How dare you?” from almost everyone else in the industry. Are we so precious about what we do and so united that an attack on one of us, is an attack on us all? Is there really an us?

Or are we all just scared and trying to apply the “you come see my show, i see yours” theory to our opinions?
The theory is of course the one where one feels obliged to go and see a show of someone who has come to see your show. Now in this case, do we feel that if it suddenly becomes allowed or even accepted (God forbid) to criticize a show, then the next time you work on something, the person from the show that you just watched will feel empowered or even obliged to give you a critique? Are we all just saying how great everything is because we guarantee the same will be said about our show? Is it fair to apply human decency to your opinions of other people’s work?

No that anyone has to be rude about it… I can go through all the shows that I have watched and thrown into the bin and tell you exactly why I did that…and I don’t think i would be too rude about any of them. But being decent should not be synonymous with liking the show. In fact, it should be the opposite, if i am a nice person I should be able to tell you that I did not like your show and here is why…

I think i could accept that…people coming up to me and telling me what they did not like in what I did…and i think I would like to hear it, and discuss with them, tell them what i tried to do, and they could tell me why they think i failed, or why it was a bad idea…we might even get some kind of discussion…this discussion could give me ideas for future work, we might value each other’s opinions, we might even decide to work together…it could make us better artists, it could make us better people…

but no, we will say it was great, and we will say thank you…some people do think that everything they see is great (and yes to a certain extent almost every show has something great within it) but really not everything is magic…we have to see the bin in order to see the magic… the number of times i have seen bin-worthy material has made me excited about life when I see the magic…and made me feel like i am doing what i was born to do…

but there has to come a time when all us theatre practitioners can say what we feel and lose the preciousness of our work…we are not each other’s crutch…
we should be each other’s spark.

Over the course of the last weekend in Cape Town, we took time to remember Yvonne Banning. The two memorial services, one at The Little Theatre and one at the Methodist Church Hall in Observatory, became a sharing of collective memories of this wonderful woman who had managed to leave her mark on so many people. Such a mark, that all of us who knew her, will keep with us for the rest of our lives.

I first worked with Yvonne when I became an accidental actor in Geoffrey Hyland’s Hamlet of 2004 at UCT. She was helping out with voice, and very soon she had to deal with Bosnian-Canadian who was trying to appear completely natural speaking Shakespeare (while playing Polonius) on the Cape Town stage. She must have liked me from the start, because
I was going to write about how i first got to know her, and how supportive she always was, and how she always encouraged me… i would take you through the details of our encounters, but it doesn’t feel quite right.

You see, over these last two days i had a chance to hear so many incredible testaments to the woman and the effect she had on people…all of them who were her students. there is nothing more that i can say about her that will change this. She was a teacher, the model of a teacher, one who got through to you, one who made you think and feel that you could do whatever it was that you had thought of. She was also one who could unite people over an idea, or a project, bring out their creative best and then revel in the fruits of their labour.

But i will always remember her for one simple word…”Smile.” It is what she said to me a lot during my first few years at UCT, when I was so concerned about doing things right and by the book. She was persistent in trying to get this melancholy Bosnian to smile. She was one of the few people who did manage to do just that, and with that simple word.

I will miss you Yvonne, but I am a better teacher, theatre person, and human being in general for having known you.

Hvala.

At this year’s National Arts Festival, I went to see a production entitled Ma Ravan (a review from a Cape Town performance here, done by Theatre Talipot from the Reunion Islands. It was a stunning performance. I did not find it a play, with a clear storyline or dialogue, but more an incredible stirring collection of physical and aural images. The combination of these two, together with the raw performances of the four actors/musicians/dancers, took you on an emotional journey that did not need comprehension. It was uncomplicated and powerful and almost trance-like. The moment in which one of the performers started playing the instrument (resembling a kora) tore plucked away at something inside me. It was the one of my two top shows at the Festival, and one of the best I have seen in my lifetime.

Coming back to Cape Town, I read that the company had moved on to Johannesburg to perform their show. In this press release, they also listed their previous productions, one of which caught my eye. It was called The Water Carriers (read a review here, and it had been performed around the world in the late 90s. I then remembered that I had seen this production as teenager living in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia in 1998 (I think). It had been performed at the Alliance Francaise, and the audience were all seated on the floor in this little hall (which I think had been the dining hall). It was my first time watching a play in that particular style – minimal props, use of live sound, strong physical performances, storytelling…and it was magic.

Looking back at it, I think it was the first time that I realized how magical the theatre space could be. Up until then I had watched plays rooted in realism and comedy shows, but this was the first time I had seen magic created on stage, where my imagination got activated and took me outside of my own world. And it did this without relying on text. It was quite an experience for a 16 year old. At that time, I am not even sure that drama was a strong interest or desire. I would like to think that in watching this work, my desire to work in theatre began.

The experience of Ma Ravan had scratched at that old memory of their first show that I saw. Honestly, I can’t say that I had thought much about The Water Carriers in the last few years, I had forgotten it. However, a link was made, a memory retrieved, and it made me realize why I am in this theatre world. In both cases, after watching their shows, one more than 10 years apart from the other, my reaction was the same. It also left me with the same desire: to create work that is as powerful as theirs.

Thank you Theatre Talipot.

Well, the blog is finally up. Now Jon and I can spew out all our theatrical ideas and thoughts to the world quite directly.
We just hope we have something constructive and worthy of saying.