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Well, I didn't get to speak to Jason Isaacs as much as I was hoping (though given that meeting him under these circumstances was beyond my wildest dreams until a couple of months ago, I am trying not to be too disappointed about that. :) I will say this, though: everything that is said about him being gracious to his fans is true.
I was all set to post when I got home last Saturday, but Tiscali chose to keep me off the net that night. And my net time has been swallowed by Sectus since. So here goes now...
I wasn't familiar with the text of The Dumb Waiter, and it's a treat for anyone who enjoys dialogue. My only experience with Pinter is of school plays for which both cast and audience were too young. After this experience I'm tempted to take another look.
I've since scoured the net looking for notes on the play, and to be honest a lot of what's written about it didn't really strike me while watching (though in fairness, I was more than usual concentrating on the actors rather than the theme). It was funny, though not as funny as one audience member thought: there's no dialogue for the first few minutes of the play, with the characterisation and tension conveyed totally through the actions (which, from Jason, amounts to a little coughing and newspaper rustling). The loud whooping from the sixth row rather spoiled this effect, much to the annoyance of most of the audience. I really hope that doesn't happen next time I see it.
Jason's first half-syllable elicited a thrill of recognition - and then the accent kicked in, even stranger to my ears than his Scottish in Sweet November. Seeing him play Ben was stranger to me than to many fans, I expect, because I've not seen him in lower-class-unsavoury mode before. It certainly wasn't like being 2 metres away from Lucius, Tavington, Hook or Sir Mark; not that I was expecting it to be... I don't know what I was expecting, really. I suppose my back-of-mind struggle to get my head round the concept of being there (and the bloody intrusive laughing) made it difficult to immerse myself in the performance. Hopefully next time I'll be able to relax into it more.
And he didn't look much like Jason, either (though, I have to say, neither does Lucius, now that I'm more used to the look of Jason's real hair). I'd seen enough comments about him having a goatee not to be fooled by the picture on the programme, but to my mind a goatee should be more...dapper. There's a good picture of both Jason and Lee Evans as they appear in the play in this (very complimentary) Telegraph review.
So, the play over, I decided not to chance the loo queue and headed straight for the stage door, along with the entire row behind me (who had already met the actors that afternoon, when one of them - obviously there for Lee Evans - had asked Jason what he did!). A group of what looked like professional autograph hunters - all anoraks and clipboards and DVD covers and film cells ready for signing - were already there, and by the time the actors emerged there were 25 of us in all.
(Maybe I'm doing the clipboard brigade an injustice and they really were ardent fans, though I won't be at all surprised if that stuff shows up on ebay. I even went and had a look, and to be fair none of it was there, though someone was trying to sell a programme and a *flyer* for the show - that weren't even signed! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw that.)
Unfortunately for us, Jason was meeting some friends for dinner, so while he was chatting and laughing over the film cells, he became more and more anxious to get away. I'd been hanging back a bit because, I suppose, that's what I tend to do generally, and also I didn't want to fling what I wanted to say into a scrum of strangers. Perhaps I should have, I don't know. And perhaps it might be easier to do so if I'm in a group of fandom friends next time. Or maybe I'll need to just write to him after all. :)
In the end I did plead for a photo, which I'm not particularly proud of - the last thing I'd want to do is inconvenience him, but that instinct was at war with the potential despair if I'd watched other fans (with less reason to be there than I, because don't we all think that? ;) speak to him and not manage to do so myself.
And in hindsight, what actually happened probably made more of an impression on me than a two-minute exchange about Lucius might have done. Because he was signing programmes and having his photo taken with people and saying he really had to go because his friends were waiting for him, and I was saying I'm sorry, and he said don't apologise. And I asked him if I could have a picture with him and I was trying just to hold the camera myself to be quick because I didn't want to delay him, and he said no, I should get someone else to do it so it would be a decent picture. (Though ironically it might well have been better if I'd taken it, as I'd have at least given the camera time to focus!) And that small act of generosity to a complete stranger really impresses me - it's easy to be friendly when there's all the time in the world, but for him to be kind when actually he really wanted to be elsewhere... that's inspiring.
I've been thinking, the last few days, about what it is that prompts such bizarre behaviour as going up to someone to whom I'm a complete stranger and asking for an autograph and a photo. I think, for me, it's that when someone touches my life I want to touch them back, to complete the circuit, to lessen the asymmetry of being deeply influenced by the actions of someone who doesn't know I exist. Perhaps there's some sort of superstitious notion that by making such a connection, however fleeting, I'll share in some way in whatever it is that I admire. And yes, I'm aware of how flakey that sounds, as if I wish to stake a claim on something to which I have no right. Hopefully being conscious of it is an effective antidote to losing touch with reality.
And, actually, I think the main effect of meeting him was to cement my sense of him as a person, apart from the roles he plays. His acting is what will make me want to see his work, and it's his interpretation of Lucius that leads to my wanting to speak with him, but it's his humanity, his humour, his groundedness even in that crazy business he's in, that makes me admire him. A talented, successul person who has their priorities right is an inspiration in any profession.
In the end, I was sitting on the train home last week, trying to get my head around the fact that the unimaginably distant had become real. That's a world I like. :)
So, here's our first view of Jason at the stage door - evidence of why he can travel on the tube incognito! I was rather amused by the person wanting him to sign The Patriot DVD cover. Unfortunately I didn't see whether he managed to obliterate Mel Gibson's face. (Honestly, that artwork is a major reason why I haven't bought the soundtrack to that film. Maybe I should just get it anyhow and photoshop my own cover.)
And here's Lee Evans, also looking somewhat different to his stage persona, and being jokingly incredulous about colleagues who carry around pre-signed photos to hand out:
The signed programme:
And, erm, oh what the heck - that blurred photo of me looking gormless and Jason looking not-gormless:
Finally, if any other virgin stalkers reading this are planning to go along, it might be useful to know:
*The play only lasts 55 minutes and has no interval. (A woman I spoke to before the play was not aware of this.)
*The bars open 30 mins (I think) before the performance, and you can take your drink into the auditorium if it's in a plastic glass. (How cool is that?)
*Jason is mostly on the left hand side of the stage as the audience see it (i.e. nearer the high numbered seats) and Lee is mostly on the right. However, they spend a fair bit of time looking across the stage, so try to get a seat near the centre if you want to see the most of both. Lower-numbered seats might be better for seeing more of Jason's expressions (unless the newspaper gets in the way?). That said, I was in a high numbered seat and didn't feel I missed much (any seat close enough to see the colour of the actors' eyes is good enough for me! ;), though I'm glad that I'll be a bit to the other side of the centre next time I go.
*If you want them to sign something glossy (like the programme or a photo or pretty much anything other than an autograph book), take a marker or metallic pen rather than an ordinary biro or gel pen. (I didn't, but those that did thankfully shared generously.)
*And if you want them to sign something thinner than a programme, don't forget to take something (a clipboard, book or whatever) to lean on!
I was all set to post when I got home last Saturday, but Tiscali chose to keep me off the net that night. And my net time has been swallowed by Sectus since. So here goes now...
I wasn't familiar with the text of The Dumb Waiter, and it's a treat for anyone who enjoys dialogue. My only experience with Pinter is of school plays for which both cast and audience were too young. After this experience I'm tempted to take another look.
I've since scoured the net looking for notes on the play, and to be honest a lot of what's written about it didn't really strike me while watching (though in fairness, I was more than usual concentrating on the actors rather than the theme). It was funny, though not as funny as one audience member thought: there's no dialogue for the first few minutes of the play, with the characterisation and tension conveyed totally through the actions (which, from Jason, amounts to a little coughing and newspaper rustling). The loud whooping from the sixth row rather spoiled this effect, much to the annoyance of most of the audience. I really hope that doesn't happen next time I see it.
Jason's first half-syllable elicited a thrill of recognition - and then the accent kicked in, even stranger to my ears than his Scottish in Sweet November. Seeing him play Ben was stranger to me than to many fans, I expect, because I've not seen him in lower-class-unsavoury mode before. It certainly wasn't like being 2 metres away from Lucius, Tavington, Hook or Sir Mark; not that I was expecting it to be... I don't know what I was expecting, really. I suppose my back-of-mind struggle to get my head round the concept of being there (and the bloody intrusive laughing) made it difficult to immerse myself in the performance. Hopefully next time I'll be able to relax into it more.
And he didn't look much like Jason, either (though, I have to say, neither does Lucius, now that I'm more used to the look of Jason's real hair). I'd seen enough comments about him having a goatee not to be fooled by the picture on the programme, but to my mind a goatee should be more...dapper. There's a good picture of both Jason and Lee Evans as they appear in the play in this (very complimentary) Telegraph review.
So, the play over, I decided not to chance the loo queue and headed straight for the stage door, along with the entire row behind me (who had already met the actors that afternoon, when one of them - obviously there for Lee Evans - had asked Jason what he did!). A group of what looked like professional autograph hunters - all anoraks and clipboards and DVD covers and film cells ready for signing - were already there, and by the time the actors emerged there were 25 of us in all.
(Maybe I'm doing the clipboard brigade an injustice and they really were ardent fans, though I won't be at all surprised if that stuff shows up on ebay. I even went and had a look, and to be fair none of it was there, though someone was trying to sell a programme and a *flyer* for the show - that weren't even signed! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw that.)
Unfortunately for us, Jason was meeting some friends for dinner, so while he was chatting and laughing over the film cells, he became more and more anxious to get away. I'd been hanging back a bit because, I suppose, that's what I tend to do generally, and also I didn't want to fling what I wanted to say into a scrum of strangers. Perhaps I should have, I don't know. And perhaps it might be easier to do so if I'm in a group of fandom friends next time. Or maybe I'll need to just write to him after all. :)
In the end I did plead for a photo, which I'm not particularly proud of - the last thing I'd want to do is inconvenience him, but that instinct was at war with the potential despair if I'd watched other fans (with less reason to be there than I, because don't we all think that? ;) speak to him and not manage to do so myself.
And in hindsight, what actually happened probably made more of an impression on me than a two-minute exchange about Lucius might have done. Because he was signing programmes and having his photo taken with people and saying he really had to go because his friends were waiting for him, and I was saying I'm sorry, and he said don't apologise. And I asked him if I could have a picture with him and I was trying just to hold the camera myself to be quick because I didn't want to delay him, and he said no, I should get someone else to do it so it would be a decent picture. (Though ironically it might well have been better if I'd taken it, as I'd have at least given the camera time to focus!) And that small act of generosity to a complete stranger really impresses me - it's easy to be friendly when there's all the time in the world, but for him to be kind when actually he really wanted to be elsewhere... that's inspiring.
I've been thinking, the last few days, about what it is that prompts such bizarre behaviour as going up to someone to whom I'm a complete stranger and asking for an autograph and a photo. I think, for me, it's that when someone touches my life I want to touch them back, to complete the circuit, to lessen the asymmetry of being deeply influenced by the actions of someone who doesn't know I exist. Perhaps there's some sort of superstitious notion that by making such a connection, however fleeting, I'll share in some way in whatever it is that I admire. And yes, I'm aware of how flakey that sounds, as if I wish to stake a claim on something to which I have no right. Hopefully being conscious of it is an effective antidote to losing touch with reality.
And, actually, I think the main effect of meeting him was to cement my sense of him as a person, apart from the roles he plays. His acting is what will make me want to see his work, and it's his interpretation of Lucius that leads to my wanting to speak with him, but it's his humanity, his humour, his groundedness even in that crazy business he's in, that makes me admire him. A talented, successul person who has their priorities right is an inspiration in any profession.
In the end, I was sitting on the train home last week, trying to get my head around the fact that the unimaginably distant had become real. That's a world I like. :)
So, here's our first view of Jason at the stage door - evidence of why he can travel on the tube incognito! I was rather amused by the person wanting him to sign The Patriot DVD cover. Unfortunately I didn't see whether he managed to obliterate Mel Gibson's face. (Honestly, that artwork is a major reason why I haven't bought the soundtrack to that film. Maybe I should just get it anyhow and photoshop my own cover.)
And here's Lee Evans, also looking somewhat different to his stage persona, and being jokingly incredulous about colleagues who carry around pre-signed photos to hand out:
The signed programme:
And, erm, oh what the heck - that blurred photo of me looking gormless and Jason looking not-gormless:
Finally, if any other virgin stalkers reading this are planning to go along, it might be useful to know:
*The play only lasts 55 minutes and has no interval. (A woman I spoke to before the play was not aware of this.)
*The bars open 30 mins (I think) before the performance, and you can take your drink into the auditorium if it's in a plastic glass. (How cool is that?)
*Jason is mostly on the left hand side of the stage as the audience see it (i.e. nearer the high numbered seats) and Lee is mostly on the right. However, they spend a fair bit of time looking across the stage, so try to get a seat near the centre if you want to see the most of both. Lower-numbered seats might be better for seeing more of Jason's expressions (unless the newspaper gets in the way?). That said, I was in a high numbered seat and didn't feel I missed much (any seat close enough to see the colour of the actors' eyes is good enough for me! ;), though I'm glad that I'll be a bit to the other side of the centre next time I go.
*If you want them to sign something glossy (like the programme or a photo or pretty much anything other than an autograph book), take a marker or metallic pen rather than an ordinary biro or gel pen. (I didn't, but those that did thankfully shared generously.)
*And if you want them to sign something thinner than a programme, don't forget to take something (a clipboard, book or whatever) to lean on!
