Amdram: More Ham than Dram

For many years I have been involved in amateur dramatics and theatre in its broadest sense. Whether it is teaching school kids through role play or trying to bring characters to life by introducing them to familiar stories in practical drama lessons. I have always enjoyed writing short sketches for church services to illustrate a message and taken an active part in many local am-dram productions both as actor and occasionally as director. In recent years I have enjoyed writing sketches and a couple of full length plays: hoping one day, perhaps, to see something of mine performed to a paying audience. Consequently I am able to recall several humorous incidents over the years that I feel deserve another airing

I recall one leading lady, of considerable stature, both as an actor and woman, who once asked me to help her identify someone in the Panto chorus; whose name she had recognised in the programme listing but couldn’t put a face to. I tried to describe the lady in question but I wasn’t concentrating very well and started by saying, “Oh she is the tall one who stands at the back.  I knew there were a couple of taller ladies so I went on, “Not the thin one but the broad-shouldered one, rather large up top.” It was then I faltered and added, “A little like you.” Realising what I said I tried to wiggle out of it by continuing, “She has a very dominating presence on the stage …with so many slimmer ladies around her in the rest of the chorus.”

  In the early days I used to find it easier to learn words. In fact I used to know most of the scripts pretty much off by heart: which can be dangerous if you then start delivering other people’s lines aswell as your own. Then I discovered that in comedy, and pantomime in particular, if other people, especially children, don’t remember their lines (or worse skip to a line that would omit an important section of the plot ) I was usually able to step in. I could often improvise a few lines in order to get us back on track without many of the audience noticing anything going awry.  
A few years back I was playing Abanazar in Aladdin. The girl who played the title role was not only a good singer but from the first full rehearsal it was clear she had learnt not only most of her words but other bits of the script off by heart aswell. On the Saturday evening, the last performance, her parents were in the audience and quite unexpectedly she started saying my line, “I am your Uncle Abanazar and have I surprise for you.” She stopped abruptly realising her mistake and I luckily I managed to jump in with, “ I have many talents as a ventriloquist as you see but that is not the only surprise I have for you tonight.”

In recent years I must admit I have been reluctant to take on large parts as my ability to learn lines seems to have diminished with age. I recall in ‘Outside Edge’ I played the oily, young solicitor who was the proud owner of an MG but didn’t like his girlfriend meddling with “his switches.” As I recall things had gone pretty smoothly each night as far as my scenes were concerned until the ‘accursed Friday’ evening when my character and Miriam (leading lady) were supposed to be having a protracted discussion about releasing my girlfriend from the cricket pavilion toilet into which she had accidentally locked herself. Suddenly Miriam (leading lady in the play, yes Sally you know it was you) said “Right oh then, I’ll leave you to sort it all out” and went off stage. None of these were words that appeared in the script and I was left alone for several seconds before I too decided i must escape with a similarly improvised line, “Very well,  if you won't help I better go and see if someone else can give me a hand.” I left by the opposite door to the surprise of the prompt and my fellow actors, who were suddenly pitched into the next scene half a page earlier than they expected.

In the last few years, in an attempt to disguise my failing memory, I have favoured playing what may best be described as character parts or what my fellow thespians prefer to call weirdoes and perverts. In ‘Ghost Train’ I was the sneering and sycophantic doctor of Psychiatry who floated in and out with glaring eyes like Cpl. Frazer from Dad’s Army whilst pawing most of the women on stage in a leering manner-that bit wasn’t in the script but it seemed to enhance the nature of my character.  I’m hoping to revive that style of performance should we ever do ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’ it should suit loony, Brother Jonathan’s character equally well. 

   At other times I have played an amorous jogger (Two and Two Together) an accident- prone policeman (Murdered to Death), a nutty inventor (Murder by Love) and a wheelchair-bound, psychiatric patient with a soda siphon who thinks he’s a Pirate (It Runs in the Family).

Periodically we have taken a foray into the world of Pantomime. Apart from the part of Abanazar in Aladdin I have played an ugly sister in Cinderella (twice) and the Big Bad Wolf in Red Riding Hood.    I really suffered for my art as the wolf having been nearly knocked out on the first night when they attempted to cram a galvanised bucket over my head rather than the plastic one we’d used in rehearsals.

 Also I tripped over a brick when trying to circumnavigate the village hall between scenes. I nevertheless had my revenge when at the Saturday matinee, as I made my first entrance with a snarl from the wings, at least five children were seen to leap back from the front row into the arms of their doting parents; leaving no doubt damp patches on their vacated seats. Now that’s what I call a result!

Yet again the Friday night curse struck when I found myself at a loss for a line whilst lying abed dressed as Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. I couldn’t hear the prompt so I picked up the ear trumpet and complained that she needed to speak up a bit because I hadn’t the foggiest idea what my next line was supposed to be. 
props can enhance a performance but beware they can also trip you up. As the wolf I remember taking on a dimembered arm which i had been 'snacking on' in act one before realising I was now disguised as a lolly-pop man trying to entice kiddies away from the dame. I was supposed to be speaking all my lines in rhyme but all I could manage was, "And here's one I ate earlier."