Scratch That Itch at The Sherman - 20/06/14

Last night I attended (and performed at) Scratch That Itch at The Sherman Theatre, Cardiff.

I was just about to turn Scratch That Itch into an acronym to save myself some valuable typing-time, but I've decided against writing a blog regularly features the acronym STI, as I fear it might lead to a really itchy and bitterly disappointed readership…

So anyway...

Scratch That Itch is an awesomely wild-eyed, open platform, scratch night created, curated and hosted by Brent Morgan (@dextartuk) with support from National Theatre Wales Team (@NTWtweets #NTWTeam), and Sherman Cymru (@ShermanCymru), in Cardiff.

Last night acts from all over the world offered up a host of works in progress, from solo performers to writers, poets to acting troupes, MC's to story tellers and more, and it was amazing to see so many people willing to share their underprepared work with an audience.

Walking in you spot this small and unassuming stage and then the bar area buzzing with people and food laid out feast-like all accompanied by some happy-tunes pumping through the stereo. The atmosphere is warm as the audience gathers, glasses clink and conversations about all things live start going on.

Brent

On a table near the bar is a jar of pens and a collection of hand made books with each artists name on; it's the feedback hub. Brent explains that the audience aren't getting to view the work for free, in return they should offer feedback to the people presenting work, either via these tiny books, or a conversation.

Brent is awesome with his audience and his acts, he doesn't patronise, he doesn't pretend and he doesn't claim to know much of anything, he just guides us through the night until everything has been said, done and spoken about.

      

An old lady dies in a caravan.  

Hi-Tech Refuge-Umbrella.

Spoken word from Zimbabwe.

I went on last and performed a snippet from a larger idea for a project I have been working on called TigerFace.

Since I was young and wanting to be involved in theatre I was "trained" primarily, as an actor so my presence on stage would be typically defined by the words in the script.

When I went to university I began to study, learn and love the processes of devising theatre, this lead me into new performance realms where I could play with the physical and verbal, where words still existed but where they could be loose and almost instantly changeable.

TigerFace is an experiment in form really, and when I started it was entirely different to what it is now. Since it's first showing at The Forge at Chapter Arts (you can read my year old blog entry on the Tin Shed Theatre Co blog page HERE) it has really grown and become something that is about risks we can take in a live environment, it's about the audience and the immediacy of what of whats happening and how that can change almost instantly.

TigerFace

To be honest TigerFace has become a bit like meditation. Trailing these underrehearsed, half formed ideas in front of a live audience, accepting that most of the time I'm not fully aware what will happen, allowing the power of it to shift between me and the audience. It's a tiny pocket of chaos that brims and builds and sometimes crashes.

A short video of an early TigerFace outing...

Having Scratched this character/idea three times now, last nights sharing allowed me to explore more ideas and receive some really helpful feed back.

For any artists, theatre makers, writers, poets, wordsworths, dancers and any other live performance doers who have a seed of something, I'd highly recommend you getting in touch with Brent and asking for a slot before they all fill up.

Viva La Scratch

Mucho

Justin

To Rik

When I was 21 years old I went to the Edinburgh Fringe for the first time.

It was 2008 and I'd just graduated from University. Me and 5 friends were taking our show Office 212 to the festival for a ten day run.

We thought the show was really funny, but we worried that everyone else would think it was shit.

Every day we eagerly awaited our first review to be published. We'd heard that a review in Edinburgh would be make or break for a show like ours. Everyday we'd check the notice board at our venue, half wanting to see it pinned on there like hot rag, half wanting to discover nobody had reviewed us and by default had not a bad word to say.

But, surely enough, five or so days into our run we checked the board and there it was, our first review, not just of Edinburgh, but ever.

It was from The Scotsman written by a guy called Malcolm Scott. Wincing at the sight of our show name in print we nominated Dan to read it aloud.

It was good. Really good for a first review. Three stars. Not bad. We were pleased with it. I personally however, was over the f**king moon. The article had quoted me as being 'Rik Mayall-esque'…

I was ecstatic. It was awesome.

And that's the first memory that flew into my head today when I heard that Rik Mayall had died.

I am more than gutted, I'm absolutely heartbroken. When I was a kid my staple televisual diet was Bottom. I watched it all the time. One Christmas my gran bought me Hooligans Island on VHS and I watched it until the tape ran blank. I loved Ade, but I adored Rik. He filled the screen with this raw, bombastic, powerful, sweat fuelled energy that was way funnier than anything I had ever seen. He could make me ache with laughter through a single glance or gesture, a split second flare of his nostrils or curl of his lip whilst anarchically feigning laughter and recovering from a cricket bat to the nadgers with a "A HAR HAR HAR!" and I would be close to passing out.

Then as I grew older he stayed with me, Bottom never got old no matter how many times I watched it, no matter what age I was, and then when I started college I met a fellow Rik Mayall fan. We would spend hours repeating lines, performing moments and taking it in turns to re-enact our favourite Richie scenes whilst alternating as Eddie.

I went on to discover Rik's earlier work; The Dangerous Brothers, The Young-Ones, Dirty Rich and Catflap and The New Statesman. Once I'd literally sucked the sock dry on all those things I turned to hunting for Rik in collaborations, cameos and bit parts, finding him in The Comic Strip, Bad News and Black Adder. I re-watched Drop Dead Fred, went out and bought Guest House Paradiso on DVD, I was obsessed. In 2003 I went to see Rik and Ade live on their Weapons Grade Y-Fronts Tour and it will always be my regret that I didn't take my undies off and throw them on stage. A few years later, when I was 19 and at University, it was my birthday and my flat mates bought me Rik's autobiography Bigger Than Hitler, Better Than Christ signed by Rik Mayall.

As soon as I tore off the wrapping and saw the big hard back book with Rik's face on the front I knew it was more than just the book, I opened it there it was, Rik's signature. I started to cry then, and I've cried today, a lot.

It feels so strange to cry over the death of someone you've never met, and I never thought I would, it's sticky and bizarre and odd, but I can't help it. I am totally gutted, my hero is dead. I tried to put it into words how I felt upon hearing the news, I tried to Tweet it or do something to try and vent how I was feeling, but I couldn't as it felt barely anywhere near to how I was feeling.

It's only upon reflection that I can attempt to surmise just how important he was to me, but even then I probably won't come close to a stab at an accurate description, but hopefully just by sharing it all in this blog, even if no one reads it, it'll help me figure out how to morn the death of someone I've never met, someone who never knew me but changed me in so many ways.

He's what made me want to be funny, he inspired me to perform, he moulded my sense of humour, he influenced my writing and he changed the way I use my face. I can honestly say if it wasn't for Rik Mayall I would not be who I am.

Rik Mayall's legacy to comedy is unequivocal and unparalleled. Modern comedians and comedy writers have him to thank for so much, from approaches to concepts to punch lines. He was a pioneer in Alternative British Comedy, and his influence will always exist and continue to inspire Performers and Comedians for decades.

He's the funniest person I've ever had the pleasure to experience, and I will never forget him.

Thanks for everything Rik.

Justin

rik mayall on the set of greg davies’ “man down.” 2013. photo credit: rich hardcastle @richhphoto