“It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue…”
Ironically enough, at the end of this wonderful adventure, I’m finding it tricky to know how to begin. Jet-lag has taken me out at the knees these last few days, and has resulted in a brain fog the likes of which I haven’t known in a good while, so you’ll forgive me if my reliably compelling prose isn’t quite as sparky as usual. Disclaimer: if my sarcasm hasn’t bled through these last few entries, let that prior line be proof that it’s very much alive and well.
Yes, we’re home. I’m writing this from my favourite Soho coffee shop, and as I’m typing I’m suddenly reminded that the last time I was here was to pick up a coffee before our first script readthrough, the very first day this whole adventure kicked off. We’re still not quite finished, however; Sunday sees our homecoming show at the Cockpit Theatre, and next week our final college residency at Notre Dame’s London campus, including the first time an AFTLS performance has been held at the London campus. A handful more classes and performances before, to coarsely paraphrase, what was once prologue becomes past. We’re in a bit of a limbo state at present – not quite finished but not quite in the thick of it – and I’m sure my sleep deprivation is contributing to that feeling of unsteadiness. I can blame a percentage of that on jet lag and my total lack of sleep on the plane home, however if I’m being entirely truthful I think our final week mentality of “we can rest when we’re home/dead” (delete as appropriate) may have been something of a contributing factor.
For all we’ve only visited four stops this tour, they’ve all felt incredibly distinctive and individual, and Austin was no different. We stepped off the plane and into the blast of a warmer climate as you may imagine someone who’s walked for days in a desert might step into the sweet relief of an oasis. We were positively giddy – so much so that a two-hour kerfuffle at the rental car desk couldn’t quite dampen our spirits, though I can assure you they gave it their best go. When we finally decamped at our hotel we decided that the best course of action was to hit the ground running; our hotel was dangerously close to the Texas Chilli Parlour, so naturally that was an easy
choice for dinner, and afterwards we wandered the city centre until we stumbled into an underground jazz bar. I managed to see live music every night we were in the city – not that it’s a particularly hard thing to do in the self-proclaimed live-music capital of the world – and sitting in a basement jazz club watching aspiring musicians rotate their line-up to equally astonishing effect whilst chatting with good friends over cocktails is pretty close to heaven for me.
I exercised a little restraint, however, as my first class the next morning was an early kick-off and I didn’t entirely trust myself not to get lost in the enormity of the UT Austin campus. To give you an idea of scale, Shenandoah had around 4,000 students enrolled – Austin has a little over 50,000. It’s mind-boggling when you lay it out, but I managed to find my way to the creative writing class I was taking over that morning and lead the workshop I’d planned – half on public speaking skills to hopefully help them share their own work with confidence and ease, and half on character development to give them an idea on how one may approach building a believable, fully developed human being from the inside out. The engagement, creativity, and lack of ego these students exhibit across the board is something I’m in awe of; everywhere we’ve visited, I’ve prefaced workshops by saying that the only outcome I want to guarantee is that they have fun, and that for all we may throw some strange or unusual exercise at them the last thing that we want is for them to feel uncomfortable. They’ve then proceeded to dive head-first into improv games, genre experiments, human statue exercises, without hesitation or complaint. It’s incredibly heartening to see the way students will take creative prompts and run with them, seeming almost unaware that they’re being creative in the first place, and I’m truly going to miss leading the workshop element of the job.
With an early class finished and no show that evening, the rest of the day was my own. Sam was determined to show me east Austin and I was determined to let him, so we met up after class and wandered to the city’s most eclectic neighbourhood – coffee shops, vintage stores, trendy food trucks and craft breweries, one notable spot thrift store in somebody’s house wherein we did have a slight moment of panic that we were unknowingly breaking in and rifling through somebody’s wardrobe wardrobe. I was introduced to the simple delight of Mexican Coke on a very hot day and was once again floored by how insane it was to me that I was being paid to be here. Jo headed out to join us, all of us still not entirely processing the fact that after weeks in thermals and knitwear we were suddenly in t-shirts, and after taking in the sunset on the roof of our hotel we made the pilgrimage to Cuantos Tacos, Michelin-starred food truck and, as a foodie, a big cross off my Texas to-do list. The plan for the evening was to see the Longhorns take on Louisiana State at the Mardi Gras basketball game, and if ever there was living proof of everything being bigger in Texas it was this. Pyrotechnics to introduce student athletes, the entire crowd springing to its feet every ten seconds, the mini-blimp floating around the stadium at halftime dropping barbe-coupons. Jo and I spent half the game looking at each other quizzically at each new spectacle, and the other half screaming for the Longhorns as loud as our show-conscious throats would allow us to. Sam had decided on an evening to himself taking in a little more of the city’s music scene, so naturally Jo and I decided to crash his solitude and head out to the Continental Club after the game to meet him – it’s at this point I’ll refer you back to the “sleep when we’re home” mantra for this week. The three of us were deposited back at the hotel by driverless car (another Austin novelty – I’m not so sure I enjoyed this one as much as the others we’d encountered) further past midnight than may’ve been sensible, but having had as full an Austin day as I imagine one could possibly experience, barring a rodeo of some kind.
Wednesday was a biggie, as I was meeting yet another mythical figure in the AFTLS canon – I had my class as part of the Shakespeare at Winedale outreach programme, run by the one and only Clayton Stromberger. Way back in rehearsals Al beguiled us with tales of the beauty of Winedale, a UT programme-come-summer-camp which serves to cultivate young performers with an interest in classical text, with Clayton being one of the leaders. He was currently working on scenes from As You Like It with kids from several nearby elementary schools, to be performed in the lobby of the theatre we were performing at before our final performance that Saturday – he’d tasked me with working on some group scenes with them and we had an absolute ball looking at the scene between Audrey, Touchstone, Martext, and Jaques. When the students weren’t performing as the characters, I tasked them with doing what we do so often in the show and populating the scene as human set pieces, building the Forest and Audrey’s goats. The kids are intelligent, receptive, curious, respectful, and totally blew me out of the water with their talent and aptitude for Shakespeare, qualities I’m sure Clayton has honed and encouraged in his time with them. I went into our final tech that afternoon with a new wealth of energy from the enthusiasm and joy we’d found in an elementary school cafeteria that afternoon, as well as with excitement to head to a local line-dance bar that Clayton had recommended for us that evening.
Our final few days went by in something of a blur, all of us so eager to maximise every aspect of our remaining time in the States. I went full Texas tourist and queued for Franklin’s barbecue – Sam joined me just as I reached the front of the line, and thank goodness he did or else I fear I may never have eaten again for the rest of the week. We went two-stepping at the Broken Spoke, Benjy spinning me round a dance floor like nobody’s business and me having the time of my life pretending I knew what I was doing. We went swimming at Barton Springs, me desperately trying (and eventually succeeding!) to get Jo to dive into the beautiful cool waters looking over the Austin skyline. Somewhere in all of this we even managed to squeeze in a few shows, our final performance being particularly special as we got to see the ‘curtain raiser’ – the showing of scenes by Clayton’s elementary school students before they come and see us in the play that
evening. The kids were spectacular – for all I’d only worked with them for one workshop, I could have burst with pride seeing them doing scenes from our play, and what a gift it was to hear it anew and belonging to an entirely new cast. We’ve come to almost take this story for granted; we’ve been with it since our readthrough at the tail end of November, a long time to stay the same words. For all we go into each show mining for the newness, it was endlessly refreshing to hear the students make it their own and have it chime afresh – or, even in some cases, see them interpret the lines in very similar ways! As if they hadn’t spoiled us enough, they also made for an exceptional final crowd – as Jo, Benjy and I were in the midst of the banishment scene I realised that the student who had worked on it and performed it in the curtain-raiser earlier were mouthing the lines along with us, like Shakespearean karaoke. They were fully in our corner and having a blast, and it was an incredibly special one to end on. High on adrenaline and the bittersweetness of closing out the US shows, we spent our final evening in a honky tonk joint on the outskirts of town, fittingly named Sam’s Town Point. Clayton asked the band to play Dancing In The Moonlight, and that’s exactly what we did until the very small hours of the morning, until we all ventured out to find pizza and a cab home at a time I don’t know I could admit to. Thank goodness for an early evening flight the next day.
And now here you find me – home, after five weeks of wayward adventuring, and not quite sure how to finish this thing. It’s a great feeling to know we still have shows to come – I’m a nervous wreck for our London show, but mainly because I’m lucky enough to have such wonderful friends in my corner who are all coming along to see this thing I haven’t been able to shut up about for the last few months. I can’t wait to show them what we made in that room in Brixton.
One thing I would like to end on – I came across this blog when I was first auditioning for AFTLS and wanted to know a little more about what I was potentially getting myself in for. At the risk of being presumptuous, there is a chance that somebody reading this is doing the exact same thing, and I was thinking about what message I would like to give somebody who may be considering taking on this bonkers, brilliant job, and I landed on this – grab it with both hands. This company is a remarkably special one to be a part of, and I’m honoured to count myself amongst such intelligent, adventurous, and, most importantly, kind people. It’s the sort of job I could never conceive of doing the I first began my career and one that I am so grateful I got to be a part of; for how much it’s challenged me, for what it’s afforded me, and for everything it’s taught me. It can be daunting, and it will be, but the control and freedom it affords you across all of its many facets is worth every moment of feeling afraid of it, which shall hopefully be few and far between. I wish you luck, and hope you can have just as much of an adventure as we did.
To the entire AFTLS network – thank you for letting me be a part of your brilliant ranks, and for your words of wisdom and encouragement when we were figuring out whatever this show was going to be. To each and every one of our many friends in the US – thank you for welcoming us with open arms and a wealth of kindness. To you, dear reader, thank you for following our adventures, and I hope you’ve found a little bit of joy in these ramblings.
Al, Benjy, Sam, and Jo – thank you for being my co-mates and brothers in exile. I won’t ever forget this.
“…when I make curtsey, bid me farewell.”
– Grace x
