BUT SOME THINGS DO STAY GOOD.
Entertainment.
Last Friday evening we joined an empathetic audience (mostly family members of the cast) to watch an enthusiastic gathering of drama group pupils at Medina College perform a young people's version of Les Miserables which was called Do You Hear The People Sing.
Grandson Ellis, twelve years old and showing early promise of a good bass-baritone voice, had asked whether he could have one of the few leftover tickets for the show. Cast members were allocated two tickets each (no charge - contributions welcomed at the end of the show) and his two had been reserved for his mother and for his grandmother. He was asked if he was sure the person the third ticket was for would use it and had apparently replied:
"Oh yes, he has all the music."
So I received an unexpected invitation which led to a most enjoyable evening back at school.
Mo and I arrived ahead of Roz, who is a LSA and knows the building well, so just finding the drama studio took the pair of us back to my very first blog post, which went as follows:
It's a bit like when the kids were at school and...you were invited to go one evening to meet the teacher. I always finished up feeling that our kids had to start next term with a few Brownie points if we had somehow found the classroom, found the teacher and, wonder of wonders, managed to arrive on time.
Afterwards it was more a case of hoping the teacher would be sympathetic towards our kids, considering the obvious disadvantage they had being raised by such parents.
In the event, we became 'such grandparents,' ambling around the nearby theatre complex before discovering that the drama studio was actually in the main school building.
Fortunately we had set out early, so did reach our destination in Brownie points time.
It was a small studio for a large cast playing to a capacity audience on a warm night.
But the young people gave their all - don't they always? - and, bless 'em, they brought it off.
By the time the show ended the stifling heat no longer mattered. The cast exited to cheers and clammy hands clapping squishy appreciation.
These young people had been given five days to learn, rehearse, and stage a tastefully modified version of a show packed with music known and loved all over the world. The teachers who set it up and gave their time and skill to make it work: Hannah Brear (who wrote it), Steph Shorrock, Rich Wiseman, and the 'orchestra' that was Beth Peckham on the hidden piano, had undertaken an almost impossible task. All the tutoring and rehearsal in the world cannot disguise the reality of breaking voices, and the majority of the young men in the cast were of that age.
It didn't matter.
The young women stoically accepted any sudden change of key introduced by their male partner in a duet. It was clearly par for the course.
So in the end a few cues may have been missed, a few lines may have been lost or inadvertently repeated, a few top notes may have cracked and Javert may not have jumped off a bridge. So what.
This was a school show, not a Cameron Mackintosh production. Given the confines in which it was staged (and 5 days!) it was a triumph. A very, very brave triumph.
As we were leaving, I spoke to teaching staff about the confines in which it was staged and remarked that it should have been shown in 'the school theatre.'
"Yes," I was told, "but we couldn't afford that." Couldn't afford?
How come?
Are we not talking school theatre here?
Well, no, the theatre is part of Medina Leisure Centre, not the school; if the school wants to put on a show it has to hire the theatre, just like anybody else. I was shocked.
Even in the constantly changing - wickedly underpaid - world of education (blame governments, councils, Ofsted et al), this seemed to me to be a giant step backwards.
Mo and I had been living over here for quite a while when the former Medina High School was built. It was a grand concept set in a pleasant area on the outskirts of Newport and with it came a theatre and swimming pools.
Our son and two daughters were pupils there, as was our granddaughter and, now, our grandson.
All three of our children appeared in shows at the theatre - good shows put together by Medina school drama teachers - and there was never, ever, talk of any payment by the school to put them on.
So how and when did all this payment for use (presumably to the council) start? When exactly did the 'school theatre' become what I can only surmise is now just another council (or, worse still, private) money tree?
I would write and ask, but I don't think knowing the answer would give me that much satisfaction.
Those kids did try hard though. We loved it.
Some things do stay good.
Thanks again to all involved.
Last Friday evening we joined an empathetic audience (mostly family members of the cast) to watch an enthusiastic gathering of drama group pupils at Medina College perform a young people's version of Les Miserables which was called Do You Hear The People Sing.
Grandson Ellis, twelve years old and showing early promise of a good bass-baritone voice, had asked whether he could have one of the few leftover tickets for the show. Cast members were allocated two tickets each (no charge - contributions welcomed at the end of the show) and his two had been reserved for his mother and for his grandmother. He was asked if he was sure the person the third ticket was for would use it and had apparently replied:
"Oh yes, he has all the music."
So I received an unexpected invitation which led to a most enjoyable evening back at school.
Mo and I arrived ahead of Roz, who is a LSA and knows the building well, so just finding the drama studio took the pair of us back to my very first blog post, which went as follows:
It's a bit like when the kids were at school and...you were invited to go one evening to meet the teacher. I always finished up feeling that our kids had to start next term with a few Brownie points if we had somehow found the classroom, found the teacher and, wonder of wonders, managed to arrive on time.
Afterwards it was more a case of hoping the teacher would be sympathetic towards our kids, considering the obvious disadvantage they had being raised by such parents.
In the event, we became 'such grandparents,' ambling around the nearby theatre complex before discovering that the drama studio was actually in the main school building.
Fortunately we had set out early, so did reach our destination in Brownie points time.
It was a small studio for a large cast playing to a capacity audience on a warm night.
But the young people gave their all - don't they always? - and, bless 'em, they brought it off.
By the time the show ended the stifling heat no longer mattered. The cast exited to cheers and clammy hands clapping squishy appreciation.
These young people had been given five days to learn, rehearse, and stage a tastefully modified version of a show packed with music known and loved all over the world. The teachers who set it up and gave their time and skill to make it work: Hannah Brear (who wrote it), Steph Shorrock, Rich Wiseman, and the 'orchestra' that was Beth Peckham on the hidden piano, had undertaken an almost impossible task. All the tutoring and rehearsal in the world cannot disguise the reality of breaking voices, and the majority of the young men in the cast were of that age.
It didn't matter.
The young women stoically accepted any sudden change of key introduced by their male partner in a duet. It was clearly par for the course.
So in the end a few cues may have been missed, a few lines may have been lost or inadvertently repeated, a few top notes may have cracked and Javert may not have jumped off a bridge. So what.
This was a school show, not a Cameron Mackintosh production. Given the confines in which it was staged (and 5 days!) it was a triumph. A very, very brave triumph.
As we were leaving, I spoke to teaching staff about the confines in which it was staged and remarked that it should have been shown in 'the school theatre.'
"Yes," I was told, "but we couldn't afford that." Couldn't afford?
How come?
Are we not talking school theatre here?
Well, no, the theatre is part of Medina Leisure Centre, not the school; if the school wants to put on a show it has to hire the theatre, just like anybody else. I was shocked.
Even in the constantly changing - wickedly underpaid - world of education (blame governments, councils, Ofsted et al), this seemed to me to be a giant step backwards.
Mo and I had been living over here for quite a while when the former Medina High School was built. It was a grand concept set in a pleasant area on the outskirts of Newport and with it came a theatre and swimming pools.
Our son and two daughters were pupils there, as was our granddaughter and, now, our grandson.
All three of our children appeared in shows at the theatre - good shows put together by Medina school drama teachers - and there was never, ever, talk of any payment by the school to put them on.
So how and when did all this payment for use (presumably to the council) start? When exactly did the 'school theatre' become what I can only surmise is now just another council (or, worse still, private) money tree?
I would write and ask, but I don't think knowing the answer would give me that much satisfaction.
Those kids did try hard though. We loved it.
Some things do stay good.
No comments:
Post a Comment