WHEN ACTORS HAD TO ACT

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 55, 12 July 1940, Page 18

WHEN ACTORS HAD TO ACT

"Naughty ’Nineties’’ Starts Some Memories

LTHOUGH he does not go back as far as the Naughty ‘Nineties, Bernard Beeby, who supervises dramatic productions for the NBS, does remember the Naughty ‘Twenties, and the naughtier "Teens of this century. An item set down for 2YA on Thursday of next week, entitled "The Naughty Nineties," was an excuse to start him talking about the days when actors asked each other how long they’d been "in the business," and scoffed "amateur!" if the answer was less than ten years. Long enough in the "business" to claim the professional title, Mr.

Beeby shares with others a small opinion of amateurs on the stage. Amateurs, for example, had never to keep up with a season playing "stock." They thought they had done well if they produced a play in six weeks (and still do), but in a season of stock productions a professional would learn next week’s part while he played this week’s, and keep it up-for three-act plays, mind you-for a year at a time. A Man of Parts Although he is an unusually " quick study," Mr. Beeby found that a year of playing leading parts, and playing 52 of them in the year, had him going over his part in the street, in the bath, out walking, and in bed, and he finished in

the end with a nervous breakdown. Once he played two plays a week for ten weeks, and not one of them had been familiar to him before. Less strenuous, but not very much less, would be his and others’ similar ex-

periences touring with such companies as Alan Wilkie’s. Their repertoire would be 30 to 35 plays, and any week the programme might be altered. In fact, said Mr. Beeby, this was usual, for the programme for the week following would be posted at the beginning of the week, and the players needs must refresh their memory as best they could in the short time allowed them. They would therefore have to carry in their heads parts for 30 odd plays, and each night concentrate properly on whatever was on hand.

Experience brought the ability to do this without strain-dnd actors soon found themselves able to play tricks and get away with it. "It is hard work, sometimes terribly hard,’ said Mr. Beeby, "but actors always like to remember the humour." Plenty of Fun Of fun there was plenty, whether accidental or intended. Often, he said, actors well set in their lines would deliberately set about disconcerting others on the (Continued on next page)

WHEN ACTORS HAD TO ACT (Continued from previous page) stage, "When you're on the stage it’s much the same as if you’re in Churchanything will set you off." Actors would make an exit, deliberately altering their findl line to make it as difficult as possible for the next to use it as a cue. Or if they had to shake hands before going, they would have an egg or a saveloy handy to leave with the other man. Once, Mr. Beeby remembered, he had to make a very quick change from evening dress into a mormiing suit. Imagine then his feeling when the suit which he was to wear next came walking on to the stage on the back of another actor. "How do you like my new suit?" said the other man. " Bit shoddy, isn’t it, but a good cut you know." And the owner of the suit had to play-up to this impromptu dialogue, keep the play running, and try and think at the same time what he would do for a change when his exit came. He Arrested Himself In the small companies with which actors served their apprenticeship most of the fun came out of the Scarcity of props and dresses-and cast. One company Mr. Beeby remembered could not run to the extra part of a policeman, and the only suitable person in the play for doubling happened to be a player who had to be arrested. He managed quite well, however, and arrested himself to the satisfaction of all audiences by standing beside *a door, giving his last line and then by reaching over with his hidden arm to grab ‘himself by the scruff of the neck and haul himself offstage.

Death on a Divan Shortage of scenery was always a problem. In " The Woman Thou Gavest Me" the heroine was supposed to die on a divan. Mr. Beeby was younger then, and had been having a hard time making love to a woman about 20 years his senior and able to give him a stone or two in weight besides. However, all went well until one night, when they were using a divan built up out of fruit cases and cushions, he had just said the final climatic line praying to God to accept the soul of the woman, who was dying on the divan, when, dead on cue, the fruit cases collapsed. The ‘stock piece of the old touring companies, "East Lynne," had a part for a small boy which always caused some difficulty. It was not possible for small boys to tour with the companies, so a compromise was usually reached by putting one of the adult male cast in bed and having a woman player under the bed for the dialogue. This worked very well, except that one night, to the great delight of the audience, the bed collapsed, the "small boy" shot out, and the presence of his " voice " was revealed, Not Enough Water With It Another hazard of the stage that was, and probably never will be again, was the liking of many of the actors for something with less than a little water in it. Even to the best regulated touring companies accidents happened. Westport was the scene of one minor tragedy for the Alan Wilkie company in 1920. Mr. Beeby was touring with them and had gone ahead with the rest of the cast to Westport while the mechanic and his assistant followed with the props, costumes and make-up in a big lorry, At that time there was no

bridge over the Buller River, but a ferry, The cast crossed safely, reached Westport in good time, and about 7.15 went to the theatre to dress. The house was packed, but there was no scenery, no wardrobe, and no make-up. At 7.30 the lorry had still not arrived. At 7.45 Alan Wilkie explained to the audience that they feared an accident had happened. At 8.30, cast and audience were out in the street looking up and down for the lorry, Still it did not come, so the company proceeded without it. The next day, they hired a horse and gig and went looking for the lorry. On the Westport side of the ferry was a pub, and 100 yards on the Westport side of the pub was the lorry, turned over in the ditch, with the mechanics sound asleep inside it. They Wanted Vaudeville Often they ran into strange places with unusual audiences. In the Maori settlement of Ruatoria they found when the play should have been beginning that the audience was busy clearing the floor of chairs and sitting on the boards. This was all right; some laxity could be allowed. But then the Maoris started singing and completely drowned out the performers. They were lectured and scolded, but persisted and finally got what they wanted-a vaudeville show. All the company were versatile, and quickly produced solos, duets, quartets, a tap dancer, and so on, until the Maoris in the end profusely thanked them for a splendid entertainment. Now, when Mr. Beeby’s work does not please his audience, they just switch him off; and Mr. Beeby tells his tales with such obvious relish that it might almost be thought he does not find that quite so much fun.