This no ordinary campaign.....this is a Mark's and Spencer's campaign......

Sometimes when people aren't making enough money they panic and spend more money trying to get it right. Marketing is big business all about buzzwords like 'branding' 'consumer' and 'demographic.' 

Sometimes these campaigns totally work like the drum playing gorilla or R Whites Lemonade, which I still sing occasionally to myself whilst tip-toeing about, but other times the "consumer" is left wanting to throw things at the TV. A perfect example is when I saw Marks and Spencers boss, Steve Rowe, last night talking about 'Mrs M&S.'  If you weren't present for your school English lesson on personification then you may have been left wondering if Marks and Sparks were only selling to one individual now or if Steve Rowe was talking about his wife. But no, apparently Mrs M&S is every woman, the core 50 year old who is loyal to the store. Well, which offended part of womanhood do we discuss first? The 50 year old (that's Halle Berry and Helena Bonham Carter by the way) who quite likes to still wear trendy things? The women who buy clothes already from the store and now feel like they may be dowdy? The women on each side of this age bracket who may still want to shop there?

Mrs M&S started the day as the 50 year old British woman but by the time I caught it on the News at 10 Mr Rowe was saying it was inclusive of every woman from a mid thirties working mum to a woman in her 80s. I mean who sat round that table (for how long and for how much?) and was struck by a lightning bolt that brandishing all the women in the UK under the same name was a good idea? 

To coin a 90s phrase as a 'singleton' I feel rather alienated. Where can the Bridget Jones of 2016 go to buy her big knickers, I'm sure she went to Marks and Sparks like a her mum taught her to but now why would a single woman want to be reminded of her lack of Mrs in her name when buying a bra? Not me that's for sure, life's hard enough when you're alone without M&S making a dig at you. If we're going to be pedantic about titles that only leaves me with 'Miss' Selfridge and I know that the current crop tops in there do not suit me! Oooo if they were still making Sex and the City, there'd be an entire episode and column on this.

I go to M&S for two reason and I'm not yet 50. 1- because touring life as an actor is fuelled by M&S Fuller for Longer range and flapjack tubs and 2- because my Nannie and Mum used to shop there and like all human beings I learnt by example. It's the place of first bra fittings, dads waiting on plastic chairs in over-heated stores and being dragged around as a child so the grown ups can have a catch up. But you learn from watching and suddenly you're in there yourself getting some pants and oooo look at the shoes they're similar-ish to the ones in Office and a hell of a lot more comfortable and BAM! You're in your 30s and love M&S. 

Each time Mr Rowe said Mrs M&S to the BBC reporter last night he looked as convinced as we are about this concept. He was dead behind the eyes and if there's one thing that being an actress has taught me is that the eyes don't lie. I know that it's a bit 'damned if you do and damned if you don't' but my advice to Marks and Sparks (my Nannie's name for the store) is - don't. Do what you know, M&S - classic pieces, the old favourites and great picnic food; don't try to be every woman because I have news for you, we're all different (but we do all need pants that wash well and hide a multitude of sins) so don't forget about us. Maybe a mother/daughter campaign might be better? Generations of women going where their grans went..... you're welcome Mr Rowe for that Xmas ad idea......I'll only need 12.5% commission for that inspirational nugget!

Just Do It!

I’m so glad that many of you were inspired by my last blog. Your lovely response made me think it might be worth charting my productivity plan journey with you – so here’s how it’s been going and you’re all welcome along on the ride.

February in the productivity plan asked me to “Nail What Really Matters” I did that through having some quiet time and journaling – I decided upon having a family, smiling, giving and receiving love and being healthy.  March was titled “Do Something!” No ambiguity there then. It’s all very well having the intention but I should get off my bum and do something about it.  We are awash with clichés; ‘less talking more action’ or ‘actions speak louder than words.’ Being surrounded by people who talk and don’t act is soul destroying because you cling onto the hope that their talk brings. Which leads me back to my life lessons of 2015 and onto March – smiley daffodils and lighter evenings energise us all - so I got “doing!”

Trying a new gym routine and saying yes to social invitations were a start and they felt like small victories. But a turning point was at a funeral of an old family friend; she had left us far too soon from cancer and the church was packed with people that admired and loved her. As the service progressed it became clear that she led a full and busy life, always giving out love and energy to benefit others. It was not for recognition or plaudits but merely to be involved and this felt like a massive metaphorical whack around the face. I’d been looking inwards to try to work through things and been in a career that involved me thinking mainly about myself.  I was thinking about me so much that my head was in danger in of protruding from my a*%e!

So here’s what I did in March –

I started planning a charity event to fundraise for the hospice where our friend spent her last few days and Cancer Research UK. Sadly, we have lost so many people to cancer this year – and it’s only April. So I thought we could have fun and raise as much money as possible for these causes.

It is a Grease 2 Singalong in the Guildford Fringe Festival – this festival is organised by a dear friend of mine who is constantly ‘do-ing’ and achieving and it is full of great events. Grease 2 is, in my opinion, an awesome movie that always brings me joy and there is a real cult following. I am hoping to entice some of those cult followers along to Guildford on July 31^st with a costume contest, raffle, drinking and of course singing at the top of our voices. I am in full organisational mode (I even rang Paramount studios in LA!) and it’s going to be great. I hope that I can spread some joy and raise some serious cash to help Phyllis TuckwellHospice and Cancer Research UK.

If you fancy joining me, please book a ticket here and get planning your costume! You can also follow the event on Twitter @Sing_Grease2 all proceeds will go towards the charities.

I hope that you are having a productive and happy time – please let me know what you’re up to and as we head into April, with all her showers, let’s see where our action can take us!

Role Models - the dinner party game

I’m attempting a year of positivity after a slightly below par 2015. Don’t worry this isn’t one of those new year resolution blogs which I’ll be giving up by mid February, (bleurgh!) A dear friend told me that rather than resolutions I should have goals. And not just general twaddle like ‘lose weight’, ‘run more’ but make them specific and be held accountable by someone so you have to explain how you’re doing or face the naughty step if you haven’t! I liked this idea of being productive and having a plan.

So when I read an article by Magdalena Bak-Maier mapping out a productivity plan it only strengthened my resolve. For January, she advised to find supportive role models – well I’ve been mulling this over, my afore-mentioned mate is definitely one, but I also started ruminating about dream role models. Kind of like the ‘dinner party guest game’ but with an inspirational twist!

o   Imelda Staunton in a rehearsal room

What performer hasn’t marvelled at this lady’s talent since her commanding performance in Gypsy? I admire her for her talent, her enduring marriage to the equally cool Carson and for her ability to just be magnetic in every performance she gives whether on stage or screen. But my main reason for having her as a dream role model is because she’s short; she would give me confidence as a small actress. I was once told by a director that it was a shame I was so short because I’d never play a lead. Now, the real reason may have more to do with my lack of star quality talent but the fact that I took it to heart must have had something to do with my lack of belief in my ability to succeed. I used it as an excuse when explaining away lost auditions but even to myself before I went in. Now all the positive thinking books in the world will tell you that your beliefs can shape who you are and what happens to you. So Imelda and I would hang out in a rehearsal room, chatting through scripts being small and fabulous!

o   Charlotte Reed walking in the country

I discovered Charlotte Reed via Facebook; she started drawing images to help her get through depression and as they helped her she began to realise that they could help others. She has a stall at Portobello Market and has released a book called May The Thoughts BeWith You. Her quirky drawings are full of energy and positivity. Their message is succinct and straight to the point; they achieve the same reaction as a long-winded article. They are colourful and a couple now adorn my bedroom wall. You don’t need to have suffered from a similar illness to reap the benefits from her work. Having a walk outside with this dream role model would get me out of a dull mood and make me see the brighter side of life.

o   My Grandad in armchairs with a cup of tea and biscuits

This man is a real role model and very much alive and kicking so I’m cheating the brief rather. But he’s special so I don’t care. My Pop has taught me hundreds of things including how to play snap and that there’s no such thing as a kipper but as an adult I’ve begun to see the real lessons - Family comes first, they will always be there to support and catch you. A close family is the ultimate safety net; a person’s eyes tell you the truth; a relationship is based on compatibility and the secret to a 60 year marriage is each person thinking they’re getting the best end of the deal.  I wear my heart on my sleeve far too much, I’d tell the postman about my latest drama, but his reserve shows me that there is a dignity to keeping something back. But his ultimate lesson is the power of the mind; you can do and survive anything if you put your mind to it, it is a powerful tool. And that is why my Pop is one of my ultimate role models.

o   Antony Sher sipping a GnT by the River Avon

Another actor – but this man’s passion for his craft is why he made the list. His published diaries are full of his creativity when preparing for a role; he uses art, research and truly submerges himself. I envy this ability to live and breathe acting plus his obvious talent. The way he writes about his life with his partner, Gregory Doran, in their second home near the RSC makes me want to sit with them by the river sipping gin. I imagine we’d have gossipy chats peppered with Shakespearean debates and maybe, just maybe, some of his passion would rub off on me.

So that’s my current four, I’m sure I’ll think of plenty more just like we do with the dinner party game! I have found this quite nice to think about. It’s obviously working as this is the first time I’ve felt moved to write in a few weeks, plus the sun was out today so positive 2016 is going alright!

Who is inspiring to you? Do let me know, if only so I can go “Oh Yeah me too!!” 

A Christmas Carol at The Rose Theatre, Kingston

I didn’t feel jolly or remotely ready for Christmas. I am bruised after months of heartache and festivities are making me feel bitter and alone. Rather like Scrooge.

But I had very nicely been invited along to the press night of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol at The Rose Theatre, Kingston and so I dragged my gloomy self up the A3 to see if I could be ‘out-Scrooged.’

Firstly, may I say what a fantastic theatre The Rose is; shame on me for living in Twickenham for years and never having visited it before.  It has a cosy, yet cool, vibe – all mis-matched furniture, warehouse architecture and quirky cafe. Think more Royal Court than local repertory theatre. It is warm and welcoming (especially with the red carpet VIP treatment tonight) with people piling into the grand auditorium. The stage is vast, rather like that of The Olivier, with a 'groundlings' section where families settled in on red cushions.

The programme told me that A Christmas Carol hasn’t been out of print for 172 years and after countless adaptations (woo hoo for The Muppet one) we’d be forgiven for thinking ‘oh not this again.’ But this production at The Rose is breathtaking and packed with sentiment.

I was thrilled to see my Thenardier from my last Les Mis contract and West End darling, Martin Ball, playing Scrooge. There’s a reason why this man works so much – he’s brilliant. His exquisite vocal technique effortlessly tackles Dickens’ prose with the right amount of weight and humour.  With such buzzing ensemble scenes you could easily forget that Scrooge is watching, but Ball is living every moment and his subtle reactions are heartbreaking.

He is supported by the very professional Rose Youth Theatre (I saw the Red Team, marvellous, with a young Ebenezer who was the spit of Robert Pattinson!) and a cast of actor-musicians, including Tomm Coles who I saw this summer as Sowerberry in that brilliant Watermill production of Oliver! As I’ve blogged in the past, it really is the year of the actor-muso and rightly so – they bring such an authentic quality to a production and I marvel at their talent. They help to create a beautiful soundscape, although at times it was slightly too amplified for my sensitive ears, a technical issue not theirs. 

The scenes feel panoramic with clever projections that create a murky and bleak Dickensian London. I enjoyed the nod to Bentalls, all the details are there in this great design. The ghostly appearances were made particularly effective through projection; Marley’s entrance was truly terrifying and the ghost of Christmas present (an incredible creation reminiscent of Bjork, all angles and innocence) was spectacular.

I don’t want to give too much away and spoil the surprises. All I will say is that the end of Act 1 moved me to tears, as did Scrooge’s arrival to his past where I could have danced with Christmas delight (despite holding my breath and watching through tears!)

There’s a reason why this story is retold every year and it is simply because it’s perfect. It has all the lessons you need for a happy life; Christmas is for family, for love, life is an act of will and The Rose does this story justice with an energetic and moving production. Director, Ciaran McConville writes beautifully in his forward,

“Scrooge’s story illustrates that it’s never too late to change the world, nor our place in it...........this is the season for wise hearts and second chances.”

That is certainly my Christmas wish to have a wise heart and a second chance. And I’m sure that we could all do with a dose of A Christmas Carol to escape the world of David Cameron decisions and news reports for two hours.

So whether your heart is broken, bruised, delicate or confused this Christmas, I urge to warm it with this production of A Christmas Carol. Let that be my Christmas present to you all!

Bums on seats for Mr Foote's Other Leg

Visiting the Theatre Royal Haymarket last week was a very proud moment for me. I was meeting my dear friend Laura Toots** who is making her play debut there in Mr Foote’s Other Leg. You may remember dear Toots as my accomplice in Henna Night years ago, a play we co-produced with dreams of broadening our careers beyond musical theatre. WELL, SHE DID IT! Her play debut wasn’t a regional tour or fringe event, no dear Toots doesn’t mess around with starting small, it is at the bloomin’ poshest theatre in London’s celebrated West End! Proud doesn’t even come close, she’s so brilliant.

AND it’s a fantastic play. Well, it stars Simon Russell Beale and anything that man touches can’t fail to be fantastic. It is based on a real man, Samuel Foote, a one-legged transvestite and comedy actor. The play is saturated with fast-paced wit and bawdy fun but with some genuinely touching moments.  Foote was a fascinating man and I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of him before so thank you to the writer (and actor in the cast) Ian Kelly for bringing him to our attention in such a successful way. I’m not sure the tourists sat next to me with their two children under the age of 12 agreed as the first scene commenced with some ‘fucks’ and ‘cocks in jars!’ but trust me it’s great.

I was surprised to see the upper balcony closed on a Saturday night and saddened by the interval when I was realised what a gem of a play London’s theatre audiences were missing out on. I’m sure they were all jammed into some budget-busting musical but more fool them for not seeing this before boarding their planes home.

If you are an aspiring actor, drama student or just a simple theatre lover then why oh why aren’t you knocking down the doors of The Haymarket to see Simon Russell Beale live onstage? He is one of the country’s most gifted actors, (arguably the finest) with such natural delivery and impeccable technique to make throw away comments reach the back of the dress circle. Dressed in full 18^th frockage, he manages to make you well up with empathy and then p*ss your pants a moment later.

Writer Ian Kelly calls his play ‘a love letter to theatre’ – full of the characters that will forever appear in the life of such beautiful buildings. You cannot help but laugh knowingly as the stage manageress laments her life washing actors’ socks and backstage dressing-room chat behind the scenes. But this play is not just peppered with in-jokes for actory folk; it celebrates the will to perform and write plays that deserve to seen, the role that theatre plays in society and that unnameable quality that defines a performer.

In short, get yourself a ticket. It will be a great Christmas pressie, a way to spend time with a loved one and the show is so wonderful that you will thank me for it! Trust me, I’m an actor.

**Toots is not her real, or even Spotlight, name but an endearing nickname inspired by a superb Trombone impression in her repertoire!

A Little bit of Honesty

I have been having some singing lessons. They are long overdue and my first step towards getting Daniella and her mojo back together.

I have written in the past about how important it is to keep honing your skills when you are a performer; singing lessons, dance class and theatre trips. In my silly world, I haven’t lived up to my own advice. I’d let my passion and drive dwindle so no wonder I’ve been a rudderless, miserable shadow of myself.

Well, I’ve had a good telling off/rude awakening whatever cliché you want to use here and I’m on the path to finding my own Act 2.

When you’ve been teaching for a while yourself, it’s really strange to be the student again. It’s like starting from scratch, realising that old habits were wrong and perhaps that’s why I hit a wall professionally. But how liberating to start again and learn new ways to do the thing that I love best. 

Yes, it’s hard but I have a great teacher and it feels invigorating to have a goal. Only today I saw an article in The Stage about actors needing to constantly re-train and re-hone theirskills. Becoming stagnant is the danger, not only as an actor but in life to. My wise old Dad says life is about always working towards a goal, if he was on that Jeremy Vine Radio 2 segment “What makes us human,” I suspect that this would be Dad’s definition. It seems a good one to live by.

Who knows if it will lead to auditions and being a working actress again, but I do know it is a step towards being the best that I can be again.

Why am I telling you all this? Is this over-sharing with the inter-web world? Well, yes, it is very personal to me but I feel like it might be relevant. A lovely tweeter contacted me this week saying that she enjoyed the honesty of my blogs – so what’s the point of only writing about the good stuff? That doesn’t always help and is the blog equivalent of all of those “nom nom my gorgeous meal, look at me and my perfect relationship and baby scan picture” facebook folk. Life is a yin and yang of good and bad and if this little bit of honesty can help someone, then great. There may be actors out there who are losing their confidence like I did, people who are unsure what to do and it may help to know that we all feel a bit crap from time to time. Just don’t let it go too far, don’t lose your mojo entirely – trust me, it’s scary. So go and try to do something positive, something small. Just re-address the balance of creativity in your life in whatever form that may take for you. What’s that phrase? Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves? Little steps folks, little steps!

I wish you all a happy day.

Brush Up Your Shakespeare - audiences and their theatre etiquette

“I spent most of my summer down at the beach,” said Sandy in Grease, but as for me? I went to the theatre.

I have ticked some theatrical greats off my ‘people that I love and want to see live’ bucket list. Antony Sher, Harriet Walter and Imelda Staunton have all stunned me, moved me to tears and demonstrated the utter brilliance of their craft.  It’s an incredible feeling to witness the power of human communication looking so effortless and yet being aware of the toil and skill involved. Money well spent, I say, and for a fraction of the cost for a ticket to Elf at The Dominion!

But something else struck me whilst I soaked up some summer culture – audiences have changed.

There doesn’t seem to be that same reverence or hushed respect from behind the fourth wall. The proscenium arch seems to have been mistaken for a TV screen with the audiences in their own living room. I’m going to sound like an old crone “it wasn’t like this in my day” but I have a lot of respect for old crones and ‘my day’ was only a few years ago so here comes the rant!

v  When the lights go down – Sssshhhh! “Who’s that then?” “What she say?” are things you may hear whispered in an auditorium, even my Grandpa decided to exclaim loudly that “they wouldn’t have had kettles like that!” during a performance of a World War 1 play but when it comes to general chit chat .....Ssssssshhh. This summer I was surrounded by theatre-goers discussing texts on their phones (there’s a whole other section for that gripe) discussing their snacks and just having general chats whilst the play was going on. In my book it is a travesty to chat while Imelda Staunton is singing the balls off of ‘Rose’s Turn’ – if your focus is not entirely on her then you shouldn’t be allowed in a theatre, any theatre - ever.

Imelda - there are no words 

v  It’s not a panto – Pantomime is brilliant; a fantastic way to introduce children to the theatre, they can shout, scream and dance as much as they like. I even love the drunken hen do dancing in the aisles that a Mamma Mia megamix creates, but it has a place. The people next to me at a performance of ‘Oliver’ at The Watermill, after shouting up to their friends in the balcony, decided to help the characters with their lines. I’m pretty sure that this uber-talented cast (nearly all playing 3 or more instruments live) had rehearsed enough to know the script and even though it’s a very famous story, I do not need to hear you warble “Moooooooore” before Bumble does and I certainly don’t need you to remind him that the law is “AN ASS!!” Well done for seeing the film but if you want to be in the play – get an agent and audition! (ps. You should add Cameron Blakely onto your own bucket lists – he was Fagin in this production and is a truly enigmatic and magnetic actor.)

 

Cameron Blakely is awesome. In everything!

v  Phones – We can see you! You face is illuminated by a blue glare and it pisses actors off. Benedict was onto you this summer with his eloquent stage door plea.  You are not in Avatar – stop giving yourself a blue face, the world won’t stop if you turn off your phone for a bit. There might even be something more stimulating happening on the stage.....

v  An ice-cream in the interval – that’s all!

I love the very English tradition of eating a local, over-priced ice cream with a tiny shovel whilst staunchly minding our seats from potential chancers. A treat in-between acts whilst the actors have a fag /wig change so we can chill out and read their biogs in the programme. But since when is it ok to have a meal.....during the show? It’s been this way in the cinema for a while now; smelly nachos and phallic fake meat in a bun to stink out the room. My late Nannie had to endure the munching of popcorn and wafts of nachos whilst watching me in a stadium in Europe. I have even heard an audience member open ‘the noisiest bag of crisps available to man’ as we sat on the barricades watching Eponine die in Les Mis - the lack of awareness was comical. But I resent sitting next to a rustling picnic of homemade sandwiches and fizzing bottles of pop whilst watching a play.

Should I blame Simon Cowell and Andrew Lloyd Webber? Have they brought the TV watching audience into theatres via reality casting? Do we blame social media for forcing us to tweet our opinions before the finale? Or is our fault for no longer wearing an evening gown for a night in the West End and instead trailing in with our shopping bags and collapsing into our £70 seat like it’s an armchair?

But wait, old crone. Shouldn’t I move with the times? The Donmar’s 2014 play, Privacy, asked audiences to actually use their phones as part of the production. Selfies were used to prove a point about our digital footprints – we are in the digital age after all why shouldn’t art tackle it? We are asked to tweet our reactions to help with the marketing of a show, heck, most productions don’t even use the proscenium arch anymore. We explore promenade theatre, we go to site-specific productions where we may be in a shop, a field or a restaurant; we are taking exciting theatrical risks.

Bravo!

And shouldn’t I just be pleased that people are leaving their lounges and going to the theatre? Anybody and everybody should keep attending and gaining from all the marvellous things that a live performance offers. I don’t want us to go back to an elitist age where people think that the theatre’s too posh for them but maybe we do need to brush up on our theatre etiquette, if only to show our respect to the actors beyond the footlights who are slogging their guts out.