We caught up with the actor who began his theatre career in 1983, has worked also with puppetry, mime, film and television.
On channelling 14 characters..
Not all of the 14 characters in the show are equally fleshed out. Some of them are bit parts, there to advance the story or to enhance the dynamic of a scene but not really given a full 3D 15 minutes of fame. The byline for the show is “for every great tragic hero, there is an equally great tragic bit part” so in this case I guess it becomes for every great tragic bit part there are at least a couple of other bit parts required. Having said that there are about five or six characters that get a clearer, independent rendering. Working in this style, all I’ve got to play with are my body and voice so that’s where I start. Each character gets a particular physical keynote and energy or attitude that introduces and defines them – then we expand from there. The physicality of the characters gives me something to anchor them on and a way to introduce them to an audience that is at the same time subtle and immediate. It doesn’t take a lot and often the trick is to do less rather than more to illustrate a character. Too much and the subtle nuance that “is” someone gets lost in the noise. Once you have the physical keynote, it’s important to keep expanding from there and keep the characters inner truth present – it’s easy to rely on the physical alone and that’s only ever a part of the mix. Stopping there results in 2D portraits and tricks rather than recognizable and identifiable characters who can carry a story.
The (for want of a better word) process I follow is very improvisational and evolutionary in nature. Characters form in their own time and they often surprise me by where they’ll go. One of the joys of having a show that has been performed over so many years and to so many different audiences is that it grows a multitude of layers and limbs of its own. Each audience adds another layer to it in some way and over time it shifts and morphs around its central core. This is as true for the individual characters as it is for the play as a whole
On mashing up various theatrical styles
It’s GREAT – but I would say that wouldn’t I? I’ve always been a bit of a hybrid and theatre has been no different – in the early stages of my career I found myself with an interesting dilemma. I’d worked across a wide range of styles including classical theatre, physical theatre, musical theatre, comedy, drama, puppeteering and mime. The dilemma was that I really enjoyed strong elements of each and every one of those styles, however I was only ever allowed to play in one of them at a time. This meant I was semi permanently in a state of frustration to a greater or lesser degree wishing I could inject some musicality into this classical piece, or some found object puppets into this physical theatre piece etc etc. A large part of the push to form my company Eclectic Pelican was to escape the existing recipes of what should go with what and allow myself to make use of whatever I felt would serve the particular story I was trying to tell. It’s a freedom that I really enjoy and it lends a certain unpredictability and freshness to the performances. The downside is that it makes it quite hard to describe the work – it doesn’t fit too neatly into any specific box, but I’ll live with that.
On extreme reactions to his performances
No one has ever thrown underwear at me to the best of my knowledge! However given the variety of audiences who’ve come and seen the show there have been some interesting reactions along the way. The one that makes me both glad and a little sad at the same time is the one where I’m told some people are surprised to hear Shakespeare presented in a way that they can understand and enjoy – I’m glad I could manage that and simultaneously sad that it doesn’t happen more often.
One of my favorite stories relates to a bit in the show where the dead king of Denmark appears as a ghost using some very simple but nifty hand held lighting effects. I was touring in far north of Australia and playing to a largely indigenous Aboriginal audience on this occasion and it turned out that the shows ghost bore a striking resemblance to a particularly scary spirit character from the local tribes dreamtime stories. This caused a significant ruckus in the back rows – on the plus side it did mean I kept their attention.
The piece is deliberately minimalist in style – there’s nothing on stage with me except for a painted tapestry at the back and a small black trunk. One of the reactions I love the most is the one where people tell me how much they “saw” of the world of the play. I firmly believe that an audience can paint a scene in their brains much more effectively than I could ever do in real life and my task is just to unlock their inner painters. When that works (and it’s a delicate balance to strike) people come away having experienced these glorious vistas and epic scenes – often much more epic and glorious than I’d even expected or intended.
On Bengaluru
It’s not my first time in India or Bangalore though it is the first time I’ve ventured here theatrically. I’ve been in love with India ever since I first travelled here in the mid 90s, while attempting to trace the footsteps of my Italian grandfather (he was a prisoner of the British army in India for seven years during world war 2 – but that’s another story). I’m always struck by the vibrancy of India and by the multilayered, multifaceted tapestry that is day to day life here. Every time I come I learn a little more about how much I don’t know and want to come back and learn a little more again. I’ve been lucky enough to come to Bangalore several times over the last few years but I confess I was very ignorant of the Indian theatrical scene. I was both surprised and delighted to find beautiful theatres like Ranga Shankara and Jagriti along with what appears to be a fairly vibrant theatre community. Those two theatres in particular are very much of the scale and style that I love – intimate spaces where an audience can get close enough to see the actors sweat and to hear them think. I’m very much looking forward to seeing how the particular chaos chemistry that drives eclectic pelican shows will gel with an Indian audience. I’m optimistic, a little terrified and hugely excited.
On being challenged and rewarded by his work
Working solo is the thing most people appear to expect to be challenging – I get asked a lot whether or not it’s “lonely.” To be honest I suspect it’s the opposite of lonely. The thing about performing solo is that you don’t have other cast members to bounce off, so you have to engage with, and bounce off, the audience at a much deeper level. The audience becomes the other half of the cast (no, nobody gets dragged onto the stage, at least not most nights) and I get to meet a whole new group of friends at every show. That’s pretty rewarding.
There are also points in the show where things stop and hover weightless for a moment – some of them are sad, some sweet, some vulnerable and achy. In those moments, when I get the balance right with the particular audience who’s with me on that night, I get to float in the amazingly powerful but fragile glow of all watching, When it works that is pure magic – I don’t think I can express it much better than that. It’s amazing.
The first time he realised he wanted to be an actor
I remember the first time a theatre teacher mentioned to me, quite casually and off hand, that I could be an actor if I wanted to be. It was a very off the cuff statement but it floored me. Till that point I’d enjoyed acting but never really considered it as a career – it just wasn’t something that real people did. Actors to me at that stage weren’t actually real people – I’m not sure where I thought the came from but they certainly weren’t normal folk like me. They were something slightly magical and special – something I most certainly did not consider myself to be. It’s interesting to reflect on but I realise that I’ve always tried to reduce the distance between performers and audience. I suspect that this is partially to try and spread that idea that actors and/or artists in general, whilst amazing and capable of magical stuff, are not that special. They can only do the magic if you let them stir your imagination – at the end of the day it’s you doing all the work.
On the importance of physical training
I tend to believe that physical training is a vital component of an actors training but it’s important to stress that it’s not just for when you’re doing something that’s described as ‘physical theatre’. The basic craft of an actor is to turn their body, voice and energy into an expressive instrument. As we grow up we tend to find all sorts of ways to shut down most if not all of our expressive capacity and much of an actors job is to try and erode those blocks that age and maturity have put in place. Many of these blocks manifest as physically and body training helps ease them away. If your body is strong and flexible it can answer the calls that come from whatever message or story is begging you to tell it – it can respond to stimulus quickly and honestly without having to impose or “act” too hard. It’s also a great way to get out of your head which is where most of the blocks go to live once they’ve moved in. A free and flexible body enhances and encourages a free and flexible imagination. All that and it’s good for your blood pressure too.
On favourite theatre and film performers
I’m not really one for favorites as there are so many excellent people out there making great work. If pushed I’ve always been a big fan of Steven Berkoff and companies like Complicite in Britain. Australian actor Geoffrey Rush is also a bit of a star and more locally I’m a huge fan of Amitabh Bachchan. Each for different reasons which I’d rather not analyse too deeply lest I spoil the magic.
Finally a performer who never touches a stage – I’m a huge fan of Australian cartoonist Michael Leunig who writes/draws beautifully simple, childlike cartoons that express so much humanity with so little ink.
On the meaning of theatre
I guess I try to think of it more broadly than just the theatre (the hybridist in me coming out again). I believe that artists are the trustees of a cultures dream’s and psyche. Our job is to care for and share those dreams, to give them flesh and bones in ways that other humans can recognize, identify with and expand further within themselves. I’d say that if you can separate the personal from the universal you’re probably doing something wrong.
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