Last night I sat in a chilly village hall for three hours watching an amateur dramatics theatre production of 'Oklahoma'. It has been an ...experience.
The average age of the cast was (it appeared ) Saga holiday aged. The only accompaniment throughout the entire show was a piano. The opening lines to the very first song of the show, 'Oh What a Beautiful Morning' were sung in a completely different key to what was being played. This became a feature throughout the evening, this singing in a different key to the piano - and to the rest of the cast. American accents and 'yee-haws' ruled, that is, when the cast didn't slip into Estuary English accents (and I believe the West Country was represented as well). Lots of pacing, lots of catalogue posing (arms crossed, pointing, staring in to the distance...), lots of entering the hall en masse laughing and talking animatedly, lots of exiting the hall en masse doing more of the same. Plenty of 'Margot Leadbetters' who all wanted to be the star, clamouring to be noticed on stage and singing as loud as they could.
Before I'd even taken my seat I heard a clipped, authoritative voice to my right, looked down and saw a lovely, small (but scary) lady, well in her 80's with a walking stick. She barked at me :"Take me to my seat", grabbed hold of my arm, and off she went with me in tow, towards what I presumed was her chair. A few seconds later another voice...an apology from a man in his 50's saying: "I'm so sorry...Mother! That's not Mandy and that's not your seat!" To which mother replied:" She didn't say she wasn't! And she brought me here!" I left them to it. This lady was not in isolation; the majority of the audience were older members of the community and I was unceremoniously asked a few times to get out of the way and elbowed accordingly, unless I was on 'escort duty' (I didn't think I looked like an usher, but I think a few of them figured I looked benign and was sturdy enough to lean against). Taking into account I knew nobody there and had never visited this village before, this caused some amusement amongst my colleagues I was seeing the show with.
It was an ambitious production. Long as well...I thought they would have left out some scenes or songs but nope, they did the whole thing, including the 'dream sequence' (with choreography modified to fit a stage a little larger than a postage stamp). And after the last notes of 'Oklahoma' and 'Oh What A Beautiful Morning' (that song again...) had rung, and I thought it was finally time to go, they decided to do a medley of all the songs again. For our delectation.
There's something quite magical about amateur dramatics. I'm very lucky to be utterly spoilt by being able to see professional productions with experienced singers and actors, with talented set and stage designers, sumptuous costumes and brilliant orchestrations. All this on a regular basis (funds permitting. But it is one of my only vices...tickets and shows...and chocolate...and the odd glass of wine...moving on...). These guys don't have the money, or the backing or training, but they do it because it's their passion. They just love singing and performing. And they had so much enthusiasm; a few West End casts could have a thing or two to learn from the energy that this cast managed to generate on that stage, however clumsily. And for that reason alone they deserve a gold star and a standing ovation.
There's no doubt amdram is alive and well in some communities, but on the whole, it seems to be a diminishing concept. It tends to attract the older members of the community more frequently than the younger, yet watching that cast yesterday (the youngest were in their late 20's, the oldest in their 80's) it was an absolute delight to see people of all ages working as a team and doing something together that they really enjoyed.It should really be encouraged - mutual respect and co-operation across the age span. So what if the backdrops creaked and rattled, if the costumes didn't match and the acting skills were questionable - it was fun. They have more guts than me, as I'd never be able to get up on stage in front of my local community like these people do.
So despite my numb bum and need for a stiff drink afterwards, I left that hall with a new found respect for amateur dramatics. As much as I need to choose my show wisely if I get an opportunity to go again (Oklahoma has never been a favourite...) the time, effort and commitment shown to these productions deserve recognition. And strangely enough I am so very tempted to have a go...
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