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UKULELE MEKULELE: Balancing Sole Authorship and Devised Approaches to Performance Making David Megarrity B.A. GRAD DIP ED Submitted for the requirements of the MASTER OF ARTS (RESEARCH) Faculty of Creative Industries, Queensland University of Technology 2005

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KEYWORDS Playwriting Group devising Collaboration Sole authorship Performance making ABSTRACT

The creation of the performance work UKULELE MEKULELE is used as a site to

uncover the interactions between the work of the sole author and group-devised

processes.

The increasing acceptance of the ‘openness’ in contemporary theatre practice has

strong implications for the role of the sole author, who traditionally has been the

provider of the ‘closed’ - known quantities that are subsequently ‘realised’ by a

production. How can the sole author best write for the seemingly contradictory

environment of the group-devised production?

Critical incidents from the performance are selected for study. These ‘moments that

work’ and their provenance are utilized as examples of the interaction of the various

forces at play in the performance making process.

The researcher’s intimate contact with the artwork entails a unique vantage point

from which to observe these forces at work. Their evocation and analysis will have

relevance for the creators of live art in collaborative contexts.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS PROLOGUE: SIX MOMENTS 1 INTRODUCTION 1.1 Methodology 1.2 The Research Site 1.3 Methods Of Data Collection 2 MAKING UKULELE MEKULELE 2.1 The Concept and The Collaborative Team 2.2 2000 > January 2002 The Writer’s Individual Process 2.3 January 2002 Studio Based Creative Development 2.4 Feb > Jan 2002 Redrafting: In-Between Creative Development And Rehearsal 2.5 May > June 2004 Rehearsal 3 THREE ‘MOMENTS THAT WORK’ AND AN ‘EFFECT’ 3.1 Case Swap 3.2 Entrance Of The Gorilla 3.3 The William Tell Overture 3.4 Change Of Allegiances 4 STARS: METAPHORIC ANALYSIS 4.1 Sun: Case Swap 4.2 Black Hole: Entrance Of The Gorilla 4.3 Sirius: William Tell 4.4 A Poetic Core – The Operational and Artistic Challenges Of Writing For The Devised Process EPILOGUE: A CONSTELLATION OF MOMENTS APPENDICES

1 JOURNAL EXTRACT: APR 4, 2001 2 INTERVIEW EXTRACT: SEAN MEE MAY 2002 3 UKULELE MEKULELE TREATMENT DEC 2001 – DRAFT 1 4 UKULELE MEKULELE DRAFT 8 2005 5 UKULELE MEKULELE DVD includes: whole show [2002 version + 2005 Ending] , promotional film and moments selected for study BIBLIOGRAPHY cited texts, references and documents created in creative development, rehearsal and production

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“The work contained in this thesis has not been previously submitted for a degree or diploma at any other higher education institution. To the best of my knowledge and belief, the thesis contains no material previously published or written by another person except where due reference is made.”

Signature: Date:

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PROLOGUE: SIX MOMENTS In deep black interstellar space, atomic dust begins to gather in one place.

A writer strikes the return key on the first line of a new play.

Matter fuses and ignites, its energy released in a giant explosion of heat and light.

A rehearsal room door opens and the team of artists walk in.

The explosion finds equilibrium, gravity constraining it into a sphere. A star.

The curtain opens, and a bright audience engulfs the performance.

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CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION

‘Since when’, he asked, ‘Are the first and last line of any poem Where the poem begins and ends?’ From The Fragment by Seamus Heaney

The notion of art as a phenomenon that provokes infinite, rather than definite

responses is popular in what are labelled post-modern forms: the idea that the same

artwork will be understood in multiple ways by multiple viewers can be at once

terrifying, annoying or glorious for the artist and the audience. But before any

performance is opened to an audience it has been the subject of a collaborative

process. A group of artists has accepted the challenge of devising, seeking out and

recreating patterns in such a way as they can be recognised by others.

Tensions are immediately created when artistic collaborators begin a search for the

definite in the rehearsal room, knowing that when the ‘curtain goes up’, that very

destination will become indefinite; the beginning of another journey for the audience.

My second major performance work for children, and the site of this research project,

UKULELE MEKULELE involved a ukulele, a double bass, and a gorilla. It was a

radical departure from my previous works. The production was a ‘difficult second

album’ for me as a writer. The first fully professional production I created for children,

Queensland Theatre Company’s BACKSEAT DRIVERS, had been the kind of

success I was keen to reproduce. However, as a writer, I was unclear about some of

the factors that had made the show work, and I wanted to use the creation of my next

show to reflect upon and deepen my understanding of the function as a writer within

a devised process.

At the beginning of this study, I was reconciling my growing skill for writing theatre

with a consciousness of the collaborative nature of the art form, and a predilection for

devised processes. I was also keen to acknowledge and quantify the contributions of

other artists in realising the work. UKULELE MEKULELE forms the centerpiece of

this study. Its conception, creation and performance are all integral to this research

project. BACKSEAT DRIVERS had emerged from a fruitful artistic collaboration with

a group of people, yet I am recorded as having been the sole author of the show.

While I remain confident of my position as its originator, others certainly contributed

to its creation. Material related to UKULELE MEKULELE bears my name: “by David

Megarrity”. I claimed sole authorship, while the contributions of my co-devisers are

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captured by the phrase ‘Devised with’. However, even at the outset of this study I felt

these simple credits failed to capture the true nature of the creative process that led

to the show.

The small team of artists I had gathered to work on the show wasn’t there purely to

follow a set of instructions I had created. They weren’t just there to interpret, or put

their own slant on my concept. I expected them to engage with the work and give of

themselves to it. I expected and required input from my co-artists during a

collaborative process of developing the work and transforming my written text into

performance. In short, I wished to employ both sole authorship and collaborative

processes in the creation of UKULELE MEKULELE. I wanted it to be written and

devised.

Traditional views of performance making often draw a distinction between group

devised theatre and sole authorial forms; asserting that theatrical productions are

either based on the singular vision of a writer; or a vision devised by a group.

Alison Oddey (1994:4) sees Devised Theatre as “…an alternative to the dominant

literary tradition.” The dominant literary tradition might be seen as ascribing

ownership of the play to the sole author - the playwright - and assign the rich input of

performer, designer and director to the area of ‘production’. She also observes that

“Groups who write collectively have often been accused of producing poorly crafted

plays that suffer from a lack of cohesive style and clear single vision” (1994:51).

Fuchs (in Boireau 1997: 184) actually places “authorial theatre” and “devised theatre”

in direct opposition. Oddey, in placing devised theatre as an alternative to sole

authorship, characterizes it further:

What makes devising special is the potential freedom to move in different directions through a collaborative work process that is fundamentally determined by group dynamics (1994:3)

What is a sole author actually dealing with when writing a ‘script’ as part of a devised

process? From the outset of this study my preoccupation with this problem was

clear: I wrote, but what was I writing? I knew I wanted to leave space for the dynamism that devising can lend to process, and I also knew that there were things I didn’t know, answers that I couldn’t come up with solely by myself. [JOURNAL Apr 4 2001]

Increased acceptance of the ‘openness’ in contemporary theatre practice, and in

particular, devised performance-making processes has strong implications for the

role of the sole author, who traditionally has been the provider of the ‘closed’: known

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quantities or qualities which are subsequently ‘realised’ by a production. By closely

examining the tensions between sole authorship and devised processes in this

creative process, I aim to explore how form and indeterminacy find balance in

collaborative performance making.

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1.1 METHODOLOGY

The principal methodology for this project is creative practice as research. The

researcher’s position as sole author/deviser/performer enables a unique kind of

access to a range of data sources.

Richards (1995) notes that

Since the performance event is characterized by collaboration and co-presence, performance research is interested less in standardizing methodology than in interrogating practice from a variety of positions. In particular, research by means of performance offers an opportunity to research ‘from the inside’ as well as ‘from the outside’”.

This project peers into the cosmos of a creative process, and the forces that operate

in an individual and group performance making process. The ordinarily private nature

of such an environment requires a subset of research methodologies designed to

capture detailed and intimate data, and as such, autoethnography is an appropriate

research strategy to complement Creative Practice as Research

Denzin (et al. 2000, p 744) define autoethnography broadly:

Usually the author of an evocative narrative writes in the first person, making herself the object of research and thus breaching the conventional separation of researcher and subjects (Jackson, 1989): the story often focuses on a single case and thus breaches the traditional concerns of research from generalisation across cases to generalisation within a case.

He quotes Gregory Bateson, who says,

…you are partly blown by the winds of reality and partly an artist creating a composite out of the inner and outer events"; and connects the practices of social science with the living of life. In short, the goal is to extend ethnography to “include the heart, the autobiographical, and the artistic text.

The creative process at the centre of this study was ‘close to my heart’, and a prime

professional focus of mine from 2000-2002. The methodologies shaping this study

aim to open the private process of creating a public performance.

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1.2 THE RESEARCH SITE The research site for this project is the collaboration of industry professionals

in the creation and performance of a new work: UKULELE MEKULELE.

It was a performance for primary school-aged children, designed as a comic

exploration of issues of bullying and mediation. The show was highly musical,

drawing ironically on the presentational styles of vaudeville and Theatre in Education

to expose its themes. Ostensibly this show was created during a four-week period

consisting of 1 week’s collaborative creative development, and 2 weeks rehearsal.

However, the hub of this creative practice as research is the relationship between the

author and the devised process, and so the site broadens, stretching back to the

author’s conception [2000] and development [2001] of the project prior to its

productions [2002/5].

One team of artists was responsible for the creation of this artwork. A sole

author/performer/deviser, working in collaboration with a director/deviser and two

performer/devisers. Despite the collaborative nature of the process identified by the

artists, each retained the prefixes that recall more traditional approaches; ‘director’,

‘performer’ and ‘sole author’. The tradition of the sole author is a celebrated one;

enshrined in dictionary definition – “one that originates or creates.” [Merriam Webster

online] Of course there are variations on this relationship between the script and the

production, largely dependent on the proximity, involvement and pulse rate of the

author themselves, but it is safe to say that the primacy of the author’s vision (as

represented by the script) is widely accepted in mainstream theatre practice.

Innovative practitioners such a Robert Lepage identify traditional approaches to

making performance, and deliberately seek to create their work in different ways:

Most of the time, a theatrical production is constructed in the following order: writing, rehearsal, performance and, sometimes, translation. I’ve noticed over time that in our creations, the process is, in a sense, reversed; the real writing happens at the end. (173:1999)

The excerpts of ‘final draft’ script from Ukulele Mekulele that appear in this thesis are

not the fossilised vision of a sole author: they are a record of a collaboratively

devised performance text. Because of this, many documents precede the final

‘script’: treatments, drafts, sheets of butchers paper and notes that had an important

role in the shifting territory between the mutually responsive processes of the sole

author and group-devised process.

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1.3 METHODS OF DATA COLLECTION During all phases of the creative process, data gathered included autoethnographic

journals, all documents prepared by the sole author, interviews with research

assistant Lenine Bourke, and observation of rehearsal and performance. Data

collection moved through three broad phases: the sole author’s process, the group

devising process and performance.

The sole author’s process

The principal instrument for data collection for the author/researcher was the autoethnographic journal, which was kept from the beginning of the study in 2001,

through to the completion of the performance season in 2002. It was augmented by

the tracking of eight successive drafts of the script, which traced development of the

project from a sole author’s vision to collaboratively devised dramatic action.

The devising process

The creative team’s understanding of the creative process was collected via two

interviews with each team member. The employment of the research assistant to

conduct the interviews allowed the team to speak freely about their experience to

someone outside the creative process. The first interview occurred during rehearsal,

the second during the performance season. This enabled a triangularity in the

selected ‘moments’ across time and within a team. The performance

The performances were observed by Lenine Bourke, research assistant, and notes

made with particular reference to the moments nominated by the creative team.

Performances were documented on digital video. The performance appears in

excerpt and entirety on the appended DVD.

These modes of data collection fed into the identification of critical incidents, or

‘moments that work’ in the performance of Ukulele Mekulele. These critical incidents

are key points in the emerging work which are deemed significant by the artistic

team, and confirmed by the audience’s reaction to the ‘finished’ work.

The derivation of these moments will be explored with a view to exploding the actions

and reactions between an author’s ‘script’ and a group devised process. The findings

in this exegesis are companions to the live artwork and the process of its creation.

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Analysis will be both empirical and metaphorical, the complex movements between

the sole author and his devising collaborators represented in a poetic comparison

with the birth and life of stars.

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CHAPTER 2 MAKING UKULELE MEKULELE 2.1 THE CONCEPT AND THE COLLABORATIVE TEAM Ukulele Mekulele emerged as a series of rough scripts, partially improvised

performances and concept documents, informed by a particular group of artists.

Initially there was no written locus for the project – no one ‘script’ which recorded the

writer’s vision and ruled the creative process. The collaborative team to whom I

entrusted the further development of the work were an integral part of the way it

evolved. In creative development, devising and rehearsal, I functioned as a ‘living

script’, alternating between, (or existing simultaneously in) the multiple modes of

writer/deviser/performer of the work as it continued to change.

This dynamism meant that there were unknowns; gaps in the reams of written

material I built up around the work as it developed. The ‘writing’ of the project wasn’t

solely sited in successive drafts of a script, but included briefings for meetings,

research, emails and ‘public’ documents such as grant applications and promotional

blurbs. All of these had gaps in their structure. Quite often, careful omission of these

unknowns was employed as a strategy to provide the illusion of permanence, solidity

to a performance that had yet to come to being. As production neared, I observed in

interview that…

Sometimes they’ve been deliberate gaps, sometimes they haven’t been filled because I didn’t know what to do, and sometimes we’ve discovered the gaps as we’ve gone, as we’ve explored. [DM1 L86-88]

It’s important to note that I consider my selection of collaborators an important, if tacit

aspect of the writing process. Each had a distinctive contribution to make to the

evolving work, and had his own views on the nature of devising. There were three

collaborators on this project.

DOUBLE BASS MAN: played by Sam Vincent The role of DOUBLE BASS MAN was conceived as being completely non-verbal.

This was congruent with his role as the long suffering ‘sideman’ in terms of the

vaudevillian conventions of the show, and more importantly, thematically matched

the role of the silent victim in a cycle of bullying. Important features of the fictional

context emanated from the act of music making, rather than ‘acting’ per se.

Though I had written a part for a double bass player, there were musical possibilities

inherent in this choice that I couldn’t possibly have anticipated, not being a player of

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that instrument myself. Sam Vincent, coming from a musical, rather than theatrical

background, considered himself an inexperienced deviser, but nevertheless, had

clear opinions on the nature of such a process:

Sam Vincent [SV] : What is devising? Well, this is the first time I have devised anything, my impression of it is that… you get behind… exactly what we’re trying to say, and then go about the best way of saying it, using what the writer has done as a basis and then expanding on that, and seeing if we can say it in a, sometimes in a more clearer way, or a more efficient way or just going along with that and developing it. Devising’s kind of developing isn’t it? [SV1 L47-53]

The GORILLA played by Peter Cossar I had worked in a comedy group for seven years with my colleague and friend Peter

Cossar, who I invited to play the GORILLA. I was certain the synergy developed

between us during this time, and his fearless and physical improvisational ability

would be in the project’s favour. He also had the dedication and the sense of humour

required of someone who’s going to spend a lot of time in a gorilla suit. During the

rehearsal process he observed:

Peter Cossar [PC] : I think devising’s definitely been part of the process, I mean, that’s the beauty of this sort of work, is that you can’t help but bring your own personality to it [PC1 L64-66]

UKULELE MAN played by David Megarrity This character was a version of one that I had played since the late 1980s. Toothy

and spectacled, Tyrone Shoelaces is a misanthropic white-face clown, attracted to

positions of high status which are undermined by his choice of material; for example,

choosing to sing the praises of a ‘novelty’ instrument such as the ukulele, and still

expecting to be taken seriously. I had performed this character in many venues and

contexts over the years, and decided he might be a useful pivot for a more developed

dramatic work. Thus as an author I was creating material for myself to perform, and

as a deviser I was working with my collaborators on a concept that I had originated.

Director: Sean Mee In 1990, Sean Mee had been the director of my first professional engagement as an

actor. As a young artist I had found much in common with Sean’s approach to

performance making, not least his instinct for comic forms and devising. We had

linked up occasionally over the intervening years, but it was not until I approached

him to direct Backseat Drivers, my first professional work for children, that I felt I was

able to collaborate with him as an artist on more or less equal terms. That particular

project was instrumental in my emerging approach to combining sole authorship and

devised processes in the creation of a new work. Sean’s contribution as director to

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the devising process of Ukulele Mekulele was significant, and his thoughts on writing

for this kind of collaboration inform this study.

Sean Mee [SM] : The devising mode of this particular production as was with Backseat Drivers … is to maintain the integrity of [David’s] central concept… the devising mode is to find the way in which that central concept… can be best realized theatrically. [SM1 L19-22] …so my contribution in this process I guess, as a co-deviser, with the director’s title. Is to dramaturg the work, that’s to interrogate the work, create circumstances where you might analyse what’s actually happening, try to find a form that fits that moment, and then exploit that form, within what you’re trying to say, within the conceptual work, so it’s about bringing form, and structure, to the concept. That’s my job. [SM1 L100-105]

This small team of artists worked together sporadically from 1999-2005. (In Sean’s

case 2001-5) UKULELE MEKULELE’s life in performance spans from the first

prototype showing at Brisbane’s 2000 Out of The Box Festival of Early Childhood; to

its opening season as a full work at Out of the Box 2002; to final seasons of the full

show at the Sydney Opera House and Queensland Performing Arts Centre 2004/5.

2.2 2000 to JANUARY 2002 THE WRITER’S INDIVIDUAL PROCESS Ukulele Mekulele had its genesis in the mind of a sole author, and stayed bound to

the individual process well before it was thrown open to the group. As a writer,

working in isolation, I began to play with ideas, defining features of the show from a

chaotic realm of possibilities. Notes were made, collected and organised; music was

sourced and entertained. Gradually the conceptual shape of the show was

established in terms of character, form, broad narrative flow and ‘theme’. I felt at the

time a special kind of ‘script’ was required as I reflected on the nature of the short

treatment that was the genesis for Backseat Drivers:

It was a specific document, yet open to the input of others. It was not a script, yet certain elements of it were very prescriptive. It was composed of written scenarios, involving plot, theme, metaphor and character and yet it also integrated sound, music, set design and a filmic component. [JOURNAL Apr 4 2001]

I began to look for “certain elements” or specific moments in which the known

quantities of the concept might powerfully combine. I invented moments at this early

stage which appeared in the final performance season, but many which did not.

I came up with the idea of the show, thematically and in terms of form (intrinsically linked), then made a list of possible 'moments', or content areas, organised them into scenes. [JOURNAL Aug 13 2001]

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I began to add detail to this broad shape, visualizing how these scenarios might

appear on stage and recording them in a detailed, written form. This involved

‘writing’ in the classical sense: words formed into sentences and paragraphs; but also

involved coming up with a ‘table’ with…

..the scenes running down the vertical axis and various other things like character/thematics on the horizontal… I wrote once in a song, ‘to make a net, you sew the holes together gently’ – the great thing about this kind of writing is it allows you to see not only where your ideas are developed, but where they’re absent and need attention. [JOURNAL Dec 5 2001]

I referred to what I was writing as a ‘treatment’, rather than a script. A term more

commonly used in film, a treatment is a document that is “tightly crafted around a

strong structure. Characters [are] clearly drawn and developed…The theory is that

the first draft of a screenplay should emerge from the treatment without too much

angst.” (AFTRS 1989:115)

The very act of writing the treatment inspired and enabled cross referencing, and

demanded ever more detail as I progressed. Before long I had lost my way:

The net I’ve made is too thin. There is a column for what each character is doing, for instance, and it’s too early to be dealing with details like that, even though there are specific, minute ideas that come up from time to time. It’s almost like the ‘net’ is too small, and I’m trying to catch bigger ideas as I try to structure the show. [JOURNAL Dec 6 2001]

My ‘lostness’ extended to the rather mixed ‘net’ metaphor – but this late night journal

entry is notable for its attempt to sum up the writer’s paradox of creating delicate and

detailed mechanisms to capture moments that do not yet exist.

My need to plan each dramatic moment in detail, on reflection, seems to have

emanated from a number of sources. I was anxious that this play be as ‘successful’

as my last one. Despite my knowledge that I wished my ‘script’ to be an invitation to,

rather than instructions for a devising process, I couldn’t relinquish control. Having

wrought the shape of the play out of chaos, I was unsure of how to stop. I often over-

wrote; trying to write the unknown into submission by smothering it in detail.

I worked the play to a point where I felt it was ready for creative development, but my

reservations remained:

Having looked back again at the sketchy basis of Backseat Drivers, I’m concerned I’ve put too much detail into the treatment, and this may divert it from being an invitation to the other artists to participate. Right now, though, I’m happy that it

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expresses my vision for the show in a fairly intricate manner, and the strata of dramatic action and extended metaphor, and character journey slot in nicely together. If I’d remained entirely in conceptual mode, some of the more delicate dovetailing of these bits mightn’t have emerged. I’m clear on the look and shape of the piece in space and visual impact, so we have some pretty clear parameters within which to work. I’m looking forward to getting into the rehearsal room. I just have to locate my sense of humour again. [JOURNAL Jan 17 2002]

Research into the themes of the play shored up my determination to make this

presentation to the group appear solid, grounded. The research was edited into

concentrated form and provided as supporting documentation with the Extended

Treatment [Jan 17 2002] that would be the basis of the creative development:

I figured might get them thinking about children and music and bullying. It’s much more detailed a starting point than any other devised show I’ve done, and I hope that’s a good thing – there are still holes in it, particularly around the climax and denouement of the play – I know what I want to happen, but not really how to get there. [JOURNAL Jan 22, 2002]

2.3 JANUARY 2002 STUDIO BASED CREATIVE DEVELOPMENT Director, Sean Mee took the helm for a week’s creative development based on the

treatment I had prepared. Having worked with Sean previously, I was prepared to

spend the first day or two sitting around a table discussing the project before we hit

the floor.

Sam made it clear that this was the first creative development in this mode he had

experienced. It was true we talked a lot. It appeared unscheduled and free-flowing.

To some extent I observed Sean’s command of the discussion as a way of ‘talking

the show into existence’, and he himself described this approach as a repetitive

process of…

…rolling, …rolling over it, refining, it, interrogating it, and that’s a very useful thing, if the writer can cope with that process of letting the actors basically inform the work rather than taking a playwriting position on the work. [SM1 42-44]

This ‘rolling’ approach is difficult to capture: it implies momentum, rolling waves of

creative activity which can swing from solemn discussion to laughter in seconds.

Even at the end of the first day I could feel control drifting away from me as the group

assimilated and worked with the concept.

After our discussion of the underlying themes and roles of the characters in making them manifest, the script sat slightly uncomfortably, like a hat that needs to be shaped to the head. [JOURNAL Jan 25, 2002]

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Around day three, the process of devising changed mode and moved to the

rehearsal room floor, where Peter and Sam were able to contribute more actively.

Sean described the process as ‘architectural’ – in that we were looking for ‘entry’ and

‘exit’ points into units of dramatic action.

We get all excited, as we compartmentalize it further, separating the scene we did yesterday into two parts. All of this is fairly heavily based in my treatment, though we’re adding a lot of action and subtext. [RCD 31 Jan 2002]

We were breaking the potential play up into parts, and working out where sections

and moments began and ended; feeling for their edges.

2.4 FEB > JAN 2002 REDRAFTING: IN-BETWEEN CREATIVE DEVELOPMENT AND REHEARSAL The creative development came to a close. We had been able to create a work in

progress performance of about two thirds of the play, with the last third having been

developed in discussion. The play was selected and programmed by the Out of the

Box Festival that June.

The rehearsal period was going to be short, and I was certain there would be little

time for the kind of experimentation that had characterised the creative development.

As the first day of rehearsal drew closer, I felt my role was to gather the group vision

for the piece and combine and re-shape it with my own into a firm script, populated

with as many ‘knowns’ as possible. At the time I described this process as

…finely honing the language use to describe the project both in conceptual and practical ways, and trying to weave the two together, using specific choices in language to get the 'feel’ of it across. [JOURNAL Apr 4 2002]

Holes remained in the script, or proposals for moments which had yet to be tested.

There was going to be a lot of ‘Devising’ in our ‘Rehearsals’; yet I noted at the time

that I was …becoming more comfortable with these ‘gaps’ in the project (especially given the timeline) – I have to trust in the process… [JOURNAL Apr 4 2002]

2.5 MAY > JUNE 2004 REHEARSAL In the privacy of the rehearsal room, the search for ‘moments that work’ intensified,

as the performance season neared.

The expansive energies of creative development continued, as the collaborators

playfully expanded particular moments, sensing their possibilities. But there was also

a clear need for the team to quickly define each of these moments, to fix and arrange

them into the broader system of the play’s meaning

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There are two complementary forces at play here: the centrifugal, outgoing energies

of a collaborative team exploring the material; and the centripetal, inward pull of the

play concept as initially determined by the sole author, expressed by the director and

accepted by the team, driven by time.

The tension between these forces will guide the shaping of each moment into the

version that will be performed.

The script was instructive to a point; but, particularly in the final scenes of the play

which had not been physicalised in the creative development, it became more of a

‘rough guide’. During what would traditionally be termed ‘rehearsal’ - a period of

time in which predetermined dramatic action is refined in detail, the Ukulele Mekulele

team were still inventing moments. They were finding ways to make the play concept

work performatively. Sean, as director of the piece, steered the play in and out of the

unknowns, as the ‘gaps’ were explored, modified, and colonised.

In this kind of process, you’re kind of rolling the writing and the realisation into one process, as I say, a set of devising, of rolling improvisations, which then develop the work. As long as the conceptual work has been done on the piece, and it has to be more rigorous and more thought through than generally writers will do, and to me, that is what devising is, it’s the integrating of a process of realisation in terms of a script, and the realisation of the performance, and they happen at the same time. [SM1 L84-89]

Devising continued perilously close to ‘opening morning’. Redrafting and revision of

the written text continued, but the performance text became the focus, rather than ink

on paper.

The three increasingly assured principal performance seasons drew vehemently

joyful responses from their child audiences, and the show was received well by adult

stakeholders including parents and producers.

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CHAPTER 3 THREE ‘MOMENTS THAT WORK’ AND AN ‘EFFECT’ The study will now zoom in to a series of some extreme close-ups: glimpses into the

gestation of moments that were deemed to ‘work’ in performance, and the

contribution this particular combination of devised and authorial processes made to

their creation. They were defined and identified as significant by the artists for

reasons that will be explained below.

Each moment to be examined will have its own origins, evolution and mechanics: but

they share characteristics. In performance, they moved (or were expected to move)

an audience in some way, and were considered by the artistic team significant tuning

points in the narrative of the play. Often they combine a sight gag with a poetic

reference to the deeper undercurrents of the performance.

Some of these moments were also turning points for the artists within the creative

process, as well as its product; but the moment can only be fulfilled in performance

by the joyful, buzzing mass of an audience of children.

Audiences of children are more likely to expose their experience of the play in

external vocalisations or movement than adults who are trained in the conventions of

theatrical forms that prefer their audiences sitting silently still in the dark.

Danish theatremaker Ray Nusselein (Weigang:1991), sees the child audience’s

need to talk during a performance not as a distraction, but as a sign of trust.

Working in comedy is also likely to encourage such signals in the form of laughter.

This ostensibly simple mechanism is a signifier of a moment ‘working’, in that the

audience ‘tells you’ that it does. As Peter observes: Lenine [research assistant]: and how do you know that these ones are working? PC: I think by the reaction. People’s reactions, you know, if that moment works with the double bass, you hear [sharp intake of breath] like that, and it’s a great sound to hear [PC2 L32-35]

These moments are subjective, judged by the production - interpretations of an

audience’s interpretations - but also monitored by internal workings of the artists as

they create with a knowledge of comic timing. This process begins in the

devising/rehearsals, when the artists are their own audience, but is most keenly felt

in performance:

20

There’s sort of an invisible, or intangible timing, you know when you’ve got it, when you’re on top of it and you also know when you don’t – but it’s really hard to plan, because it’s really a partnership between the audience and the production at those moments, sometimes when the timing’s really ‘bang on’ you just go – “yeah, that really works”… sometimes it’s a bit off, the moment still works, but not quite as strongly. Um, so that’s an internal, instinctual monitoring sort of thing, and because they’re comic moments, they laugh as well, too. [DM2 L52-62]

But even the actor’s instinctual need for audience response – evidence of

communality in the experience of the play - is heightened in these moments by other

factors, such as perceptions of how each moment creates narrative momentum:

LB: Do you want to say anything more about why you think those three moments work? PC: No, I just think theatrically they work, they drive the story forward. [PC1 L181-183]

These moments, even before they were exposed to the audience, also possess

layered qualities that give them depth and power as conduits of understanding: the

evidence of laughter signifying a more important process:

LB: How do you know they work? D: Well I suppose in my mind, my principal intention for this show, is that it communicates something to an audience, about the particular themes that we’ve chosen, but in a way that works poetically, rather than didactically, so, there’s no way of knowing what the audience will take away with them to a certain extent…but principally it seems to be waves of laughter. [DM1 L166-171]

Interviewed after the performance season, Sean understood the function of these

moments in terms of the audience’s understanding of the show – which is of

particular interest when working with young audiences who are sometimes perceived

to be ‘easily led’. Traditional pantomimic conventions of ‘audience participation’ tend

to work at a superficial level that wouldn’t be tolerated in adult theatre forms. It’s

relatively easy to elicit a group response from a child audience to a closed question,

and call it ‘involvement’ or ‘participation’. (e.g. Q: Where is he? A: He’s behind you!)

In contrast, at these moments in UKULELE MEKULELE, Sean felt the audience…

…were able to understand clearly what was going on, engage with those ideas, and engage with the abstracts, at least the emotional, the reasoning, the acting that was actually contained within it without being manipulated, I think that’s why those moments work. [SM 2 L65-68]

These moments ‘worked’, either for the author as he created individually or for the

creative team as devising progressed, or for the audience: sometimes these

21

moments worked for all three. They worked because they were simply funny and yet

singularly captured complex meanings.

Complex forces in their creation found balance in their ‘final’ form and function, which

was essentially poetic. Research uncovered a dozen or so of these moments that

work; consensus narrowed it to six, and three are analysed in this study. Each of the

following ‘moments that work’ emerged from the fusion of sole authorship and group

devised processes. In seeking their provenance I aim to examine how these different

energies combine to create the bright points of light which allow both collaborators

and audience to navigate towards dramatic meaning.

22

3.1 CASE SWAP

The idea of a double bass emerging from a ukulele case and vice versa was one of

the first images of the play I created. [UKULELE MEKULELE 1 Jun 29 2000]

I actually had no idea how this might come about, and experimented with various

permutations of the idea in order to plan for its realisation onstage. These included

shadow play and use of rostra and trapdoors. By the time of creative development, in

January 2002, the idea was embedded in the Treatment without any firm ideas of

how it might be realised. The design of this particular moment, was in effect, a problem posed to the

production – “This is a moment that I think will work… how do you think we can make

it possible?”

Within a few days the problem had been solved: its solution deceptively simple.

In proposing a solution as to how to fit a double bass into a ukulele case, Sean leapt

from his chair and performed the solution for us;

…manipulating furniture and a blackboard to demonstrate… [RCD Jan 25] …having the double bass already hidden onstage, and having the actor ‘play

through’ its removal from the case, with the emergence of the instrument from the

case hidden from the audience’s view. Sean's solution was instantly persuasive. It

was simple, cheap, and effective.

It was later scaffolded by the set design I proposed and drew [there was no formal

stage designer assigned to the production] and by its strategic placement in the

narrative: the arrival and departure of the DOUBLE BASS MAN.

DOUBLE BASS MAN reenters, carrying a ukulele case. He taps the microphone. It’s clear he’s a nervous type, and is unaccustomed to being the centre of attention. He takes the case to side of stage, behind a curtain. From it he pulls a huge double bass. (1:2002 UKULELE MEKELELE 6) GORILLA establishes what’s missing then hurriedly exits and struggles back with a double bass case. She opens it, and with great ceremony UKULELE MAN pulls a ukulele from its depths.

(5:2002 UKULELE MEKELELE 6)

23

This entrance and exit, of the highest relevance to the themes and relationships of

the performance, were heightened by the Case Swap. In performance, these

moments never failed to draw a response from the children. Indeed, during the

performance seasons, audience reaction to the first of these gags became a fairly

reliable litmus test for their ‘responsiveness’ in the ensuing performance.

The seeming impossibility of the huge double bass emerging from the tiny uke case

and the absurdity of the ukulele being pulled from the imposing double bass case,

were two ‘reveals’ that were ostensibly just sight gags. Their ‘payoffs’, however,

extended past the reprise of the joke in the last act of the play. These images

functioned subtly as signifiers of character and the fictional context of ‘the show’ that

resonated at a deeper, thematic level.

This moment was first proposed by the sole author: its parameters were simple and

strong, but this idea was a physical problem that needed to be ‘realised’ by the group

of devisers. On reflection, as the play grew, this moment gathered significance in

terms of the poetry of the performance: symbolically it exerted a strong gravitational

pull.

However, it needed the fusion of elements present in the devising team to make it

work: the sole author’s initial proposal; the director’s stage craft, the devising team’s

acceptance and enthusiasm, the skill of the performers, and finally the audience’s

recognition and humour.

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3.2 ENTRANCE OF THE GORILLA

The character of the GORILLA and, naturally, its reveal, was also part of the initial

play concept. Oddly, I awoke one morning having dreamt the character, and on

further consideration found it functioned well as an intermediary between the two

other characters. Its role gained much more significance as the play developed.

As I advocated for the work, both to my collaborators and others, the GORILLA’s

incongruity contributed to the humour of the triumvirate “the ukulele the double

bass… and the gorilla” which was used to ‘sell’ the show to potentially interested

parties such as funding bodies, theatre companies and festivals. It enabled the play

to be summed up briefly and humorously: a vital tool in bringing it to production.

The nature and very existence of the character was often questioned during the

creation of the show. By the director, who wanted the author to consider cutting the

character in order to cut costs, and by the actor who played the gorilla, who,

reasonably, wanted to work with his face exposed, rather than hidden by a cheap

gorilla mask. I argued strongly to retain the integrity of the character, maintaining the

vital role it played as part of the trio, and the ambiguity of its visual appearance.

I felt the character’s ambiguity was in fact its strongest quality. Was it a gorilla? A girl

gorilla or a cross-dressing gorilla? A guy in a gorilla suit? A girl in a gorilla suit?

The character gathered other dimensions as the idea was worked further by the

devising team: its role as the ‘bystander’ in a cycle of bullying involving a ‘bully’ and

‘victim’ within the fictional context was important. But just as important was the role the character played as an intermediary between

the production and the audience: the ‘besider’. This notion was developed by Sean

Mee and others while he worked with the Early Childhood Drama Project in the

1970s on three relationships of performers to child audiences.

During the third musical phrase, a GORILLA sticks its head out of curtain behind him, wondering what the noise is. When the music stops, the head disappears. This happens three times, unseen by the DOUBLE BASS MAN. GORILLA enters USR. She wears a tiara and carries a handbag. DOUBLE BASS MAN sees her, and the melancholy music peters out. (1:2002 UKULELE MEKELELE 6)

25

Firstly, the ‘in-fronter’, who takes a teacher-type role, and holds more knowledge of

the show than the children, knows where it will head. In Ukulele Mekulele, this was

UKULELE MAN.

Secondly, the ‘behinder’, who finds out what’s happening after the audience; and is

consequently of a lower status than the children watching the show; in the case of

Ukulele Mekulele, this was the DOUBLE BASS MAN, and finally the ‘besider’, who

experiences the show in the same moment as the children, and is of equal status

with them. In Ukulele Mekulele, this was the GORILLA. The incongruous character of

the GORILLA, conceived by the author as an ambiguous presence, became

indispensable to the play concept as it was developed further.

The creative team was fairly unified in the thought that the entrance of the gorilla was

going to be a moment that would ‘work’ for the audience. In creative development,

this discovery was recorded as:

We play with the opening sequence... Sam plays the most beautiful, saddest piece –and Pete appears as the GORILLA, head around the imaginary curtain. – Sean and I both laugh, and we know the show is going to work. [Record of Creative Development Jan 29 2002]

So much doubt had surrounded the character, that four months later when the show

was in rehearsal, we were still contesting whether Peter would actually wear gorilla

suit or not. However, once a suit was found, Peter’s first entrance in the slightly

pathetic, second hand costume was greeted with laughter, relief and the director’s

cry:

“Well, that’s that decision made,” said Sean. [JOURNAL, Jun 4 2002] Consequently, because the discovery of this moment was instrumental in the

process, it was predicted that it would be an important turning point in the product.

But performance revealed these speculations had been inaccurate– it was when the

Gorilla started to dance that the audience indicated the idea was ‘working’ for them -

by laughing.

This moment, and the Case Swap, were both ‘reveals’ in two senses. Firstly, they

involved the sudden appearance of something unexpected. Secondly, as the play

‘revealed’ itself (in its first ten minutes or so) the audience absorbed each new

feature, and adjusted their understandings accordingly.

26

The moment of the GORILLA’s entrance, highly anticipated by the devisers, was just

another odd thing in a series of odd things happening, and as such had little

significance in itself. The GORILLA entered, a slightly dark presence, and

confiscated the bow from the DOUBLE BASS MAN, who then began to play a tune.

This tune makes the GORILLA wiggle her bottom, and begin a kooky dance. It is at

this moment that the audience responded physically, laughing, mimicking and

identifying with the character.

The humour of incongruity can’t operate until congruence can be established. The

impact of ‘the reveal’ is lessened if it’s not clear what’s being revealed in terms of

dramatic meaning. It is only after conventions have been established that they can be

broken, and anomalies/incongruities can be identified and measured.

The Entrance of the Gorilla, strictly speaking, wasn't the most important event for the

audience. It was when the character’s function as a free radical within the dramatic

narrative became clear that this moment truly ‘worked’.

So the element of surprise in the Entrance of the Gorilla that the author and devisers

hoped would ‘work’ for the audience, actually happened slightly after they had

anticipated. This indicated, importantly, differences between the artist’s grasp of the

show as it was being devised, and the audience’s understanding of it in performance.

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3.3 THE WILLIAM TELL OVERTURE

Very early on in this process I identified the need for some sort of climactic musical

moment between the ukulele and double bass. [Ukulele Mekulele Script Feb 28,

2000: JOURNAL 22 Nov 01] As the show took shape metaphorically, this moment

gathered significance as the point where the conflict between the bully and his victim

would finally erupt.

The idea went through several permutations at the writing stage, based around the

idea that the combination of the instruments in a classical genre could be unexpected

and beautiful – the harmony created not just musical but interpersonal.

I was certain, however, that this moment would be (in contrast to the rest of the

show’s music) from the canon of popular classical music – the kind of tune that you

wouldn’t expect to be played on a ukulele and double bass.

As creative development approached, the two musicians gathered to explore new

musical options for the piece. Musical devising/rehearsals between Sam and me

experimented with Mozart, Bach and Beethoven, with the proviso that the piece be

well known. A bank of possible tunes was developed, with Rossini’s ‘William Tell

Overture’ being suggested, but not seriously worked up as a playable ‘number’.

The idea which finally became the William Tell Overture took shape between the

23rd and 31st of January as its dramatic properties and role in the narrative were

worked over by the group.

As the moment was arranged and rehearsed musically, it was clear that the piece

was going to appear virtuosic: and that the physical challenge of playing the William

Tell Overture on the double bass seemed to be far greater than on the ukulele. In

fact, the reverse was actually true, largely due to the relative musical skills of Sam

and myself.

DOUBLE BASS MAN is almost at the end of his tether. UKULELE MAN plays an aggressive little note at him. DOUBLE BASS MAN replies. He looks up at his bow, still suspended USC. GORILLA goes to fetch it, but UKULELE MAN stops her in her tracks with a glare. They launch into a frantic instrumental battle. The William Tell Overture. (19:2002 UKULELE MEKELELE 6)

28

The search for and devising of a classical piece of music that would make this

moment ‘work’ was long and collaborative, but the resultant ‘virtuosity’ of the song

was a strong payoff, with the audience cheering at certain junctures in what became

known by the creative team as a ‘set piece’. The strength of this collaboratively

devised moment had strong implications for the remainder of the dramatic narrative

that weren’t fully grasped at the time. Hindsight reveals this moment fulfilled a

proposed turning point not just in the fictional narrative, but in the process of the

work’s development. The ‘set piece’ we created was fun, and gave us a lot of

confidence in the forming play. It assured us that we had something impressive ‘in

store’ for our potential audiences.

Crucial to the creation of this moment was the identification by the author of a ‘gap’

and some qualities which might inform its ‘filling’: “Let’s try something like this, for

this purpose.” The complex and collaborative relationships between artists, form,

content and time in the devising process created a music/drama set piece that filled

the ‘gap’ perfectly. Impressively. The resonances of this moment rang through the

rest of the play.

Sometimes unknowns are identified and acknowledged by the author. Their

dimensions are fairly clear, but not how they will be filled. Devising can be at its most

powerful in the realisation of such moments.

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3.4 AN EFFECT: CHANGE OF ALLEGIANCES

I suppose through the show I’m hoping that the allegiance of the audience will change from support of the ukulele man and his thesis to a realisation that perhaps he’s not doing the right thing, so in a certain way, I’m actually subverting the audience’s response to comedy, which is laughter, by using their laughter, to gain their allegiance, and kind of trick them into becoming bullies themselves, something like that. That’s always been one of the aims of the show, which is a bit weird comically, because what you’re actually aiming for is to, um, LB: to stop them laughing at you? D: yeah, to stop them laughing kind of thing. [DM1 L182 – 191]

The ‘Change of Allegiances’ wasn’t a particular ‘moment’, as such – more of a

cumulative effect. Precisely where it ‘worked’ was determined at various points by

various audiences, at varying intensities – but it was always determined. Its

emergence as a feature of the creative process (and of the performance) was, on

reflection, a way for the team to refer to the dramatic meaning of the play. Its

evolution was gradual, and not fully realised until the final performance seasons of

2004/5.

Early clues to the notion of gaining allegiance within the fictional context of the play,

involved bribery and other tactics for UKULELE MAN to ‘get his way’. [Ukulele

Mekulele Extended Treatment December 7, 2001] However, I had also been privately entertaining the idea of spreading the politics of

allegiance outside the fictional context, to invite the participation of the child audience

in the teasing of DOUBLE BASS MAN, and so make them complicit in the cycle of

bullying the play dealt with thematically.

Tradition has built expectations of some moment of compulsory ‘audience

participation’ in performances for children, and in previous works I had avoided using

this convention. My awareness of it, however, was heightened in this, my first non

‘fourth wall’ show

…they expect to be directly involved in the theatrical event past being spectators.. that's OK, and I expect the show will acknowledge this need (or is it a convention?), particularly with younger kids... is there a way I can (ethically) twist these participatory expectations to make the show work? To involve the audience directly in the "teasing" for instance... and how to control and structurally predict a response.. to facilitate the meaningful involvement of the audience... am I playing a trick on the audience, inviting them to participate for my purposes rather than theirs? [JOURNAL Aug 28 2001]

By the time of creative development, these ideas still hadn’t been shared with the

team, but they began to emerge as the group worked on the play. Discussions turned

30

to allegiance again and again early in the process. Allegiance amongst the

characters in the fictional context, and allegiance between the characters and the

audience in the real.

The evolving vaudevillian conventions of the show allowed the performers to ask the

audience for applause, and the GORILLA, as the ‘besider’; or representative of the

audience onstage, could mediate this response. This idea of playing with audience

response at its most rudimentary level, floated around for a while; but as there was

no audience, could not be tested.

By May 2002, each section of Draft 4 was adorned with lengthy, old-fashioned titles

by the author, which enshrined certain elements of dramatic action or thematics,

including the notion of allegiance:

Section 7 - Where The Ukulele Man And The Double Bass Man Engage In A Musical Standoff, Resulting In His Departure And The Formation Of A New Alliance. [17: Ukulele Mekulele Draft 4 May 2002]

In performance a number of ‘moments’ contributed to the ‘change of allegiances’, not

only between the characters, but between the audience and the characters, as they

shifted their alliance from the highest status character to the lowest.

Each performance varied in the points at which the audience vocalised this particular

aspect of their play experience, and simultaneous two camera video documentation

of one particular show indicated different sections of the audience reacted differently

to the same moment. At times, though, the reaction was very passionate, akin to a

sporting event.

The Change of Allegiances was the accumulated effect of several moments that, in

the end, each particular audience designated. It was an emergent, instinctual kind of

‘flavour’ for both the artists and their audience. At no stage did we want the

production to refer to its own dramatic meaning during the performance – to ‘cue’ the

child audience directly into the themes of the work in a didactic manner. In a similar

way, while the show was being constructed, the team openly discussed the

metaphoric function of all elements of the show in terms of bullying, I think there was

a tacit concern that the dramatic meaning wouldn’t be understood - that the children

wouldn’t ‘get it’.

31

The fact that the raw, freshly devised production of 2002 was focused on making

each pre-determined ‘moment’ work meant that the creative team’s capacity to

observe unanticipated results was impaired: yet it was this same dynamic which

allowed the effect to occur…

…in a sense these ‘moments that work’ is a bit of a misnomer because I guess I’m hoping the whole play is a moment in time that works, particularly in terms of the text/subtext thing, but the more we do it, we’ve done five shows now, the better it seems. We’re better at doing it, and also, we’re starting to notice… whether it’s actually happening for the audience or not: so the focus is starting to move off us a little bit, and onto the audience . [DM2 L83-90]

The partnership with the audience, presenting them with what was in some ways an

‘unfinished’ performance text, invited the audience to become part of it, rather than

instructing them to:

LB: the next question is why do you think that those moments worked? SM: well for that reason, I think the reason was that they were not overtly emotionally manipulative, that they tend to come from circumstance and situation, rather than as I say, applying the emotional screws on the situation. We didn’t make the double bass player into a victim, he was just someone who had a problem, which had a solution, it just needed him to get angry enough to work it out and do something about it, and then, for him to seek the allegiance of the other people, including the audience, in order to make it happen, and but once the problem had been solved he could return to daily life, so I guess that’s one of the reasons why the play works at an educational level, that it doesn’t emotionally force the audience to side with the protagonist. That makes it successful for me. [SM2 L27-38]

Changing the audience’s allegiance became part of the show’s concept, but it was

impossible to predict at precisely which ‘moment’ this would occur, as it was finally

down to the audience to join the dots. Each of these ‘dots’ was a ‘moment’ in the

sense of the moments analysed above, but exact turning points in the audience’s

allegiance remained difficult to plot with much certainty. Even after three performance

seasons over three years this effect remained indeterminate, and open to

interpretation. We were not only asking the audiences to swap their allegiance from

one character to another, but also seeking their allegiance in the collaborative

creation of dramatic meaning.

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CHAPTER 4 STARS: METAPHORIC ANALYSIS Each of the ‘moments‘ discussed above is the result of the actions of two principal

forces - the expansive energy of the devised process [indeterminacy], and the

containing energy of the sole author [form]. As I have worked though this project it

seems appropriate to make connections between these forces and those that drive

the birth and life of stars.

Stars begin as a coalescence of gases and dust to which gravity begins to attract

more and more matter. It takes shape. Eventually this core heats up and nuclear

fusion occurs, causing it to radiate electromagnetic radiation, which we perceive as,

(among other things) heat and light.

A star isn’t a sealed container, but gravity forces it to act like one.

(http://imagine.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/science/know_l1/dwarfs.html) A balance is struck

between the expansive energy of fusion and the containing energy of gravity. This

balance gives stars their spherical shape, and allows them to continue to exist, albeit

in a state of continual transformation. Variations such as the core materials, the

temperature and age of the star result in different colours and sizes, but all stars are,

in essence, the result of the same kinds of interactions.

In Diagram 1[below] the core of a star [A] is the site of the initial chemical reaction,

which creates explosive internal gas pressure, light and heat [B] and also the focal

point for the gravitational forces that give it shape [C].

The power of [C] is dependent upon the initial reaction between [A] and [B]

These reactions take place in the environment of deep space [D]. The exact

properties of [D] are complex, but can be considered a given. It is the balance

between these forces that determine the nature of the star.

“A star could expand out of control or collapse on itself if the forces of gravity and

internal gas pressure are not balanced at each point in the star. “

http://www.stardate.org/resources/stars/bash.html

Through the interaction of these forces, the light and heat of the star are given the

shape that allow it to be perceived; and the stability that allows it to become the hub

of other systems.

33

Diagram 2 [below] replaces the key elements of Diagram 1 with features of the

relationship between the sole author and group devised process in the creation of a

new moment in a new work.

The author’s core invitation [A], fused with the group devised process [B] produces

explosive forces which push the moment outwards.

[C] represents the inward pull of the initial invitation [A].

The power of [C] is dependent upon the initial reaction between [A] and [B]

It is the interaction between [A/B] and the gravitational pull of [C] which lends finite

size and shape to the moment, forcing it into a sustainable, perceptible shape.

The balance of these forces in the given environment of [D] results in a moment

around which other systems can potentially assemble.

These reactions aren’t discernible from outside, and like the light of a star,

all the audience need perceive is a bright spot.

A

B

C

A= core B = explosive, internal gas pressure C= gravity D= deep space

Diagram 1

D

D

D

D

D

D

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The fusion of artistic collaboration releases masses of energy – but its outward push

can be diffuse and chaotic. The sole author’s job is to provide [A]: the core, which in

reaction to the group devised process [B] creates [C] : the central gravitational pull

which concentrates this energy and gives it bright shape. This harnessing is dictated

by qualities inherent in the core as presented by the sole author, and the subsequent

reaction, with the collaborative process of devising.

This balance between form and indeterminacy is fundamentally a matter of

establishing borders, or ‘edges’ – initially between the known and unknown, and

finally, between the shown and the unshown. The sole author, and his co-devisers, in

accepting the challenge of writing for the devised process, must be prepared to

propose – without prescribing - where these ‘edges’ might lie; in the knowledge that

they are likely to change. Both parties explore points and arcs of potential in the

knowledge that equilibrium cannot exist until the moment has breathed – it expands

and contracts as the devising process explores how it might be realised, and

contracts as it is established how it should.

Each of the moments that ‘worked’ in UKULELE MEKULELE selected for the study

emerged as a result of this kind of dynamic. Like stars, similar forces, combined with

time and other factors, create objects as diverse as black holes, binary stars and

supernovae. Like differing kinds of celestial objects, their provenance and history

effects the way they are finally perceived.

A

B

C

A= sole author’s proposal B = group devising C= outer limits of author’s proposal – gravity D= environment incl. time, resources etc.

Diagram 2

D

D

D

D

D

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4.1 SUN: CASE SWAP The Case Swap began as a partially known quantity. A clear proposal for an

impossible event put forward by the author. It required the devising team to combine

the predetermined elements and set it alight.

If the author had been completely prescriptive about how the moment should be

realised in terms of stage machinery or physical action, its final appearance would

have been completely different, and certainly less impressive.

The Case Swap had a solid core, presented by the author, which anticipated a bright,

clear final appearance. Its luminosity only became apparent when he ceased to

eclipse the moment with his solitary struggle with how to ‘make it possible’.

Its circumference was proposed, but inert until devising completed its shape - the

writer was clear about what needed to be done, the devising process provided the

answer to how it should be done, and the collaboratively shaped moment went on to

attract more energy and shine light on other parts of the play.

4.2 BLACK HOLE: ENTRANCE OF THE GORILLA The observation of the behaviours of distant, sometimes invisible objects is a

fundamental activity in astronomy. Celestial bodies that cannot be seen visually can

be sensed, and endowed with qualities according to its effects on other, visible

objects and systems. Even black holes, hypothetical celestial objects with a

gravitational field so strong that light cannot escape from them, have edges;

boundaries. These are referred to as the event horizon.

Similar ‘edges’ were defined for the character of the GORILLA, focused on the

moment of its arrival onstage. However, many of its characteristics were implicit,

obscure, or completely unanticipated.

The indeterminate nature of the GORILLA exerted a gravitational force, drawing

matter to a dark core. Firstly as an entity in itself, attracting elements which

complicated its character and meaning, and subsequently as part of the ‘system’ of

the play: as the meaning and function of the GORILLA became clearer, so did its

effects on the other characters and story.

36

Its function, however, remained only partially understood, evidenced by the

inaccurate speculation of the group at precisely which moment it would ‘work’.

The character of the GORILLA was presented as part of the initial play concept, but it

was largely undefined. Its place in the play, though, seemed inexorable, and further

exploration during the devising process revealed the event horizon, or ‘edges’ of this

moment – as matter gravitated towards it, its shape became clearer.

However, it was the audience that showed the sole author and devisers the exact

position of the Gorilla’s ‘moment’; the team developed a strong sense of the nature of

the object, but miscalculated its coordinates.

4.3 SIRIUS: THE WILLIAM TELL OVERTURE Crucial to the creation of this moment was the identification by the author of a gap

and some qualities which might inform its filling. Devised processes can be at their

most powerful in the realisation of such moments.

The William Tell Overture was similar in some ways to the formation of the Case

Swap, though its initial core was more ‘open’: its final shape not determined by the

author. There was a mass of potential energy created here, a point at which

conceptual and practical matter, created by the team converged, fused and

expanded. The effect of this reaction became powerfully localised into a single ‘set

piece’ of musico-dramatic action. It fused an incomplete set of parameters emanating

from the sole author with the exploration and serendipity only possible in group

devised processes.

This point, further focussed by the systems that surrounded it, exploded into action

and found its optimum luminosity and size. Like Sirius observed from Earth, it was

observed as one of the brightest points in the show. It was given shape not only by

the balance of a writerly understanding of its dramatic function, but the musico-

dramatic energy discovered by the devising team.

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4.4 A POETIC CORE – THE OPERATIONAL AND ARTISTIC CHALLENGES OF WRITING FOR THE DEVISED PROCESS As we have seen, traditionally speaking, a sole author has a vision for a

performance, and writes towards it. Group devising traditionally describes a process

where a team develops and realizes such a vision collaboratively. Why combine two

such apparently differing traditions of performance making?

In the case of UKULELE MEKULELE, my role as the instigator of the project, and

direct involvement as writer/deviser/performer meant that I was consistently present

and active in steering the project’s vision. Thus the sole author was always going to

be in the devising room. Furthermore, the aim of the project was to actively seek the

creative input of the group in the shaping of the work.

Why would a writer wish to work so hard to actively subvert their own authority?

If I’m honest, I would say one of my personal motivations to write is connected with a

need to create small, meaningful worlds over which I have complete control. Why

then, should I invite random elements into such a system? The cause for, and value

of combining these processes was motivated by various reasons, both professional

and personal. In truth, these domains exist as one. Some reasons are connected

with my emergence as a writer. I am certain my personal proclivity towards seeking

and acknowledging the creative assistance of others had its place as a phase in the

development of my career as an artist. I needed help, and found joy in working with

this team of devisers. There are also moral reasons. Instances where I had failed to

be acknowledged as a collaborator made me determined not to do this to others.

Most importantly, though, is my belief that the combination of a sole authorial vision

with the power of group-devising is a sure way to enrich the artwork itself. At its best,

this combination can enable the discovery and realization of moments that surpass

the expectations of either party. My experience in professional theatre has made me

certain this practice is actually rather widespread, but unacknowledged. UKULELE

MEKULELE, in part, is proof that a well-managed process that balances these two

approaches to performance making will ensure that the sum of the final performance

will be greater than its parts.

OPERATIONAL CHALLENGES: WHAT IS WRITTEN My presence in the room as a deviser/performer ensured an advocate for the play

concept was always there. A walking script. However, it’s important to note that I did

38

not act as a ‘facilitator’. Sean Mee steered the process as a Director, referring to the

play concept when necessary, sometimes in its written form but mostly to myself as

its live representative.

Initiating and responding to the group devising process has particular operational

challenges for the sole author, and the kind of documents he creates. The ‘moments

that worked’ in the performance of Ukulele Mekulele were the result of complex

movements between the known and the unknown. Whether these movements

emanated principally from the sole author or the group devised process, (or as I have

observed, a powerful combination of the two) they need to occur; and be recorded in

a particular place.

If the sole author is to claim ultimate responsibility for the work, this would reside in

the published script. However in this kind of process a ‘script’ could actually be any

number of things. Peter Wilson problematises the nomenclature of such documents:

The working script (which playwright Janis Balodis has also called a playwright's 'selling document') is usually taken to mean the version of the text which the actors, stage managers and directors use in rehearsal in order to embody the vision of the playwright and - more particularly - of the production in progress. It will bear the marks of its particular production on its every page. This working script… will usually end up more closely resembling the final version of what we would call the 'performance text' than the playwright's original (or even the published) document. (1989:115)

Wilson’s description of the ‘script’ is drawn from the artform of puppet theatre, where

the exploration of design, in particular, is highly likely to have an effect on the

realisation of the writer’s original vision.

However, the notion of the ‘script’ for UKULELE MEKULELE, in terms of the vision

for the work being expressed in text, needs to extend back in time to the initial written

exchanges that brought the work into existence. These documents included emails

and briefings whose purpose was to describe something that did not yet exist, by way

of identifying potential opportunities for it to be created.

Certainly then, a briefing document from the sole author in the form of an email to an

artistic director, containing a simple one line description of a potential artwork

(“a ukulele, a double bass and a gorilla”) is as important as a full draft of a script.

At no stage in this process was a traditional script a ‘selling document’ as Wilson

describes it. The show was attractive to producers because of its unique concept,

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strength of the team, and of the show’s reputation as a performance in a niche

market.

Therefore the principal function of the expanded documents provided by the writer for

the devised process is not the source of the performance, but the tools for making it.

These tools take several forms, of which I identify the following six:

Pitch documents: Brief, snappy descriptions of the show in concept, form, content

(and in the case of children’s theatre, pedagogy) These documents assist

collaborators and stakeholders to understand the potential the work holds. Its spirit.

Treatment: sets out the play concept; a structured bundle of ideas determining

elements such as character/music/design/key plot points and thematics, and more

importantly, implicitly containing the symbolic language of the piece.

Extended Treatments: Built in response to further research, discussion or creative development, the

extended treatment holds all the information that a treatment does, but with closer

attention being paid to the potential flow of dramatic action. For instance, a treatment

may anticipate the title and general feel of a scene, but an extended treatment will

broadly propose the sequence of events within it, enabling the whole story arc to be

plotted with more accuracy.

The working script: The documents described above are typed by, printed out for,

and read by individuals on the standard A4 paper. If the collaborators are all standing

in a rehearsal room, eyes on their script in hand, it means that precious attention is

given to words on paper when it is the live moment that should be the focus. The

working script needs to ‘live’ in the rehearsal room. It needs to be of a large size that

facilitates group interaction. The ‘butcher’s paper and big pens’ is a well established

convention in the rehearsal room, but the reasons for its ubiquity are rarely

explained. When written on this large scale, all collaborators have access to the

working script, as readers and writers, enabling the group’s findings to be broadcast,

rather than conserved and hidden in 12 point Arial. The rough and ready nature of

this form of writing also facilitates rapid change, permits ‘holding forms’ to be briefly

noted, enables alterations to be tracked, and has the advantage of literally being ‘on

the floor’ where the work is being collaboratively developed.

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Setlists: similar to the songlists taped to the stage at the foot of a rock musician, just

a list of the key events in every scene. These are an aid to memory, but also a site

where the provisional names for units of dramatic action, often tossed about verbally

by a team of devisers, is first written. It’s a disposable map that gives a deviser a

sense of not only where they should be, but also where they’re going.

The final drafts: As the work nears completion, the sole author drafts documents whose purpose is to

accurately capture the performance text in such a way as it could be reproduced by

an uninitiated third party. This is the closest the writer comes to creating a traditional

‘script’ within the devised process. It certainly proved useful in redrafting and

remounting the show after a two-year break. The final draft needs to express the

contents of all the above documents in a manner which accurately illustrates the play

concept as expressed in dramatic action, but doesn’t crowd it with detail. It needs to

possess all the production details that would be relevant to a potential producer, and

importantly, correctly attribute ownership of the intellectual property of the work. The

final draft script must be both a written repository for the live performance event as it

occurred, and inspiration for those who might wish to produce it in the future.

The author’s shaping of the above documents enabled the formation, capture and

refinement of collaboratively devised dramatic action. A description of these findings

in performance was then preserved in the final draft.

In the case of UKULELE MEKULELE, each of these kinds of documents at some

time contained proposals for the ‘moments that work’ examined in this study.

Importantly, each was presented in the knowledge that it was not final. That it was

likely to grow and change, perhaps in ways unanticipated by the sole author, and as

such, contained unknowns. Moments that genuinely needed to be discovered.

If the ultimate purpose of creating a performance is to involve an audience, for them

to become part of the artwork, then surely the work of the sole author is to inspire his

collaborators to do the same in a devising process. The most useful kind of writing

for the devised process is clean, economical, and uncrowded with detail.

It is compelling. Poetic.

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ARTISTIC CHALLENGES: HOW IS IT WRITTEN PRESENTING A POETIC CORE Each of the moments selected for study possessed similar characteristics: a kind of

narrative momentum, a symbolic weight, an ‘unfinished-ness’ and the expectation

that it would move an audience. The core concepts prepared and presented by the

sole author, already layered in this way, are further imbued with these qualities as the

group devises around them. Both parties are required to recognise and then realise

the moment in performance. However, the moment cannot truly ‘work’ until it is

ignited by the participation of an audience.

The aim of the performance maker, then, is to compel the audience to action, to

invite them to become part of the work. Robert Lepage (1999:138) invokes the image

of the theatre maker as teacher, making a deliberate distinction between the teacher

who recites facts, and those who inspire learning. He points out that

We generally consider education as providing answers to questions that haven’t been asked. The teacher gives out unsolicited information to the student, information such as the population of Canada is 27 million or Mt Everest is 8, 846 metres above sea level. A good teacher is one who succeeds in arousing the student’s curiosity so he can actually want to know the population of Canada or the altitude of Mt Everest. The teacher creates a desire to understand. In the same way, most interesting kinds of theatre triggers a series of questions in the audience, rather than simply providing answers.

The writer for live performance, and specifically the devised process, surely has

agreed to open the work to both his collaborators, and the audience. The word

‘script’, as we have seen, has a range of implications, including that traditional notion

of the ‘blueprint’ for a performance: a precise plan. I am certain that a more effective

way to begin a process such as this is to unselfconsciously discard the image of the

sole author producing a script of this nature. It’s not so much about writing specific

dramatic action for others to interpret; but presenting the play concept in such a way

that others feel inspired to devise it.

What mode of writing can the sole author engage in to best engender such a

response?

Familiar components such as character, setting, design and plot are part of the

package – of course the sole author must be able to provide his collaborators with

some of the qualities of the world they are to create together. However, these

elements flow from the symbolic foundations of the artwork. Symbolism is the

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currency of the sole author who writes for performance, and was certainly at the core

of each of the ‘moments that worked’ in UKULELE MEKULELE.

Each moment had its logical function in the specifics of ukuleles, double basses and

gorillas, and was also a more universal connection to the sole author’s intended

dramatic meaning of the play. This kind of symbolic writing is fundamentally poetic.

Proposed moments were also ‘unfinished’ – the precise manner in which they should

be played out was not prescribed. This was either by design; to create a ‘desire to

understand’, or by accident.

The poet Archibald MacLeish observes that “a poem should be equal to/not true” (in

Heaney 1998:454), and Seamus Heaney himself, in the poem Fragment (2001), has

a character utter the line…

‘Since when’, he asked, ‘Are the first and last line of any poem Where the poem begins and ends?’

These meditations on the nature of poetry are significant for the writer of a

performance. They imply a trust, both in the sole author’s own process, and in the

collaboration that will realise it for an audience.

So perhaps the potential energy at the centre of each of these moments that worked’

was essentially poetic. Each of these cores contained a kind of compressed poetic

energy which was released by the devising process. The documents prepared by the

sole author writing in this context need to hinge on concise, succinct statements,

which become cores of the larger symbolic world of the play. This potential,

however, can only be realised if there are points of entry into it.

But if a play is patently dependent on the energy of artistic collaboration to bring it to

life, what kind of ownership can the sole author legitimately claim over the finished

product? This problem (which in part inspired this study) is addressed from within the

process by the director, Sean Mee:

If I feel that I have to got the idea to concept stage or something, then the ownership is more shared, yes, but David came to me with a pretty solidly developed concept, no script, but a very solidly developed concept with a whole stack of kind of ‘ways in’ to the work… [SM1 L126-129]

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So the concept is what is written (rather than a script) which implies a different kind of

authorship: embracing, shaping and providing ‘ways in‘ to the ‘gaps’ which tended to

characterise the ‘moments that worked’ in UKULELE MEKULELE, each of which had

a poetic core, but required a reaction with group devising processes to make them

work.

A lot of what David does is… what I call conceptual writing, which I think is no less important, as a writer, and David comes up and says ‘am I still the writer on this play? And I say ‘well, yeah, I think you are, still the writer,’ but it’s conceptual. It’s very similar to say, a visual artist who may do a major installation of work, which requires other people to actually construct it for him, and requires them to actually apply their own creativity to the exercise, like Christo, the wrapping of the cliffs and the buildings, and all that kind of stuff, he’s a conceptual artist, and he’s no less a visual artist for that, because he doesn’t actually… LB: …do it? SM: do it. [SM1 L44-55]

This means the author must be prepared to gather, layer and shape ephemeral

material - gases and dust – and endow it with the gravitational pull that will allow it to

become the core of something else; something better. This kind of author is one who,

according to Umberto Eco (1989 :19), proposes “a number of possibilities which had

already been rationally organised, oriented, and endowed with specifications for

proper development.”

If the ultimate purpose of a performance is to inspire an audience, to create as

Lepage states “a desire to understand”, then surely the work of the sole author is to

compel his collaborators to do the same in a devising process.

If, as Dick Higgins points out (in Friedman 1998:113) the artist becomes the creator

of a matrix, rather than a completed work; then the role of the receiver becomes that

of a participant or collaborator. Dictionary definitions of ‘matrix’ include “Womb; place

in which thing is developed…Mass of rock enclosing gems” [OED]. A matrix is fertile

– rich with potential. It’s not a mould, but a place in which something perhaps quite

unanticipated might be born or discovered. This matrix, or ‘range of possibilities

endowed with specifications for proper development’ is unlikely to take the form of

the literary ‘script’. The authorship involved in creating objects that will become the

core of something else is a balancing act, with a peculiar aim that Eno describes of

making “things that can become better in other peoples’ minds than they were in

yours” (1996:165).

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The sole author’s writing for the devised process requires structure, but it needs to be

malleable, or porous to allow for change. If it is crowded with detail, rigid with

instruction, then the reaction between the sole author’s core and the group devised

process will be small and weak. If there is not enough shape or potential energy in

the core, it will also remain inert.

Instructions or Invitations? Here lies the challenge for a sole author writing for the devised process: balancing

that which has a tangible, visible form with the unfixed, unknown, unpredictable realm

of the indeterminate: a defining feature of devised processes. How can an author

know when a document such as a treatment (which is essentially incomplete) is

ready to be the core of a creative process?

Peter Bonadella notes that Umberto Eco invoked this kind of paradox in the working

title of one of his most important books: it was "Form And Indeterminacy In

Contemporary Poetics." (1997:23) He finally went for a snappier title: ‘The Open

Work’, (1989) which outlined guiding principles in navigating between these two

poles.

The sole author writing for the devised process must utilise rich, poetic economy in

describing potentialities. These core concepts must be robust enough to withstand

expansions and contractions as they are shaped by collaborative attempts to balance

form and indeterminacy and yet be flexible enough to be transformed by these very

same forces. The sole author must be rigorous in his or her compositions, yet

confident in the knowledge they are fragmentary, but not incoherent: they are

significant beginnings.

This apparent contradiction characterises the coalescence of sole authorial and

devised forms, and must be represented in the writer’s various drafts of the play

concept. Eco (1989:15) states that “perhaps we are in a position to state that for

these works of art an incomplete knowledge of the system is in fact an essential

feature in its formulation.”

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The author presents his work to his co-artists, in the knowledge that it is incomplete.

The collaboration of the author and co-artists will result in a show. If it is impossible to

instruct a co-artist (or an audience member) as to how a moment should work (Do

this), then the task of the sole author is to invite them to wonder how or why it could

(Try this). Eco proposes that such an invitation

…offers the performer the opportunity for an oriented insertion into something which always remains the world intended by the author. In other words, the author offers the interpreter, the performer, the addressee a work to be completed. He does not know the exact fashion in which his work will be concluded, but he is aware that once completed the work in question will still be his own. (1989:19 )

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EPILOGUE: A CONSTELLATION OF MOMENTS

The entire sky (half of which is above the horizon at any moment) is divided into 88 constellations. The constellations and their borders have nothing to do with science. The stars in a particular constellation are not necessarily related to one another, nor are they even near each other in space. Constellations cover much too broad an area of space to be imaged by the Hubble Space Telescope (HST), and there really is no reason for HST to photograph constellation patterns even if it could be done. http://hubblesite.org/reference_desk/faq/answer.php.id=26&cat=st

A play is a series of bright moments, emanating from the reaction between the sole

author, and the devising process. These moments are aligned into patterns of

dramatic meaning by a sole author, his collaborators, and finally the audience.

If the final result of the creative process is to be a performance, and the work is to be

exposed to hundreds of eyes, ears and minds, each of whom are likely to understand

it differently, then surely a seemingly paradoxical activity such as chasing and

attempting to shape the unknown isn’t such a leap: Canadian theatremaker Robert

Lepage sums up this relationship between the artwork and the audience well:

[the audience’s] reading of our work is beyond our control. And this is something that

stimulates me enormously: the work no longer belongs to me – others suggest how it

should be transformed. (1999:159)

While the moments analysed in this study were a select few of a myriad possible

events in the live performance, they were identified as brilliant lights in a constellation

of moments assembled for the audience’s interpretation. Rather than being a fixed,

scientific entity, a constellation is an agreed shape, a meaningful construction

anchored at key points.

Far from being pinholes in a black blanket above us, the stars that make up these

patterns may be millions of light years apart. They are born and grow differently,

have an individual chemistry and are surrounded by different, perhaps invisible

systems. Yet they appear in the sky as bright dots from which we divine patterns of

meaning; simple or complex. We may call them the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt or the

Southern Cross but they are shapes, created in our imagination, that can span

galaxies.

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APPENDICES

1 JOURNAL EXTRACT: APR 4, 2001 2 INTERVIEW EXTRACT: SEAN MEE MAY 2002 3 UKULELE MEKULELE TREATMENT DEC 2001 – DRAFT 1 4 UKULELE MEKULELE DRAFT 8 2005 5 UKULELE MEKULELE DVD includes: whole show [2002 version + 2005 Ending] , promotional film and moments selected for study

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APPENDIX 1 JOURNAL EXTRACT APRIL 4 2001 How to start? I’ve been at this for ten years or so. Making things and showing them to people. I make the things with other people. Starting out as an actor/musician, I was given a false introduction to the arts, firstly by getting job straight out of Uni, then finding that the job I was doing demanded deep involvement in the creation of new works, new works that valued my ideas. Now, ten years later I’m about to tour one of my own devised works overseas. How did I get to this point? Well, there are a lot of answers to that question, but a key point of exploration for me at this point is how did I make some of the plays that have got me where I am? The most engaged I have felt in theatre making is when I have been collaborating with other people, be they young people or professionals in the devising of new works. At an early point in my career I began to understand that jobs I had no personal creative investment in had no ‘pay off’ for me as an artist. More often than not, there was a payoff, but it was financial and fleeting. The most rewarding experiences I have had have been independently dreaming up ideas, then working with others as co-artists to make them a reality, mostly for free, Last year I wrote and performed a work for the state Theatre Company called backseat drivers. It was a show for kids. Working with young people has a freedom and energy that I have found mainstream adult Theatre lacks both in process and product. I feel I have fallen out of love with the form, that I can no longer suspend my metaxic disbelief in a form that seems to have fun, entertainment transcendence, simplicity and integrity way down on its list of priorities. In children’s theatre I am free to create whatever I wish, in the knowledge that my product is grounded in a strong process, which I turn is lit by the binary star of (grounded in?) My personal aesthetic instinct and a deep interest in what an audience of children will engage with. The process of creating backseat drivers was inspirational to me. In four days creative development with director Sean Mee (who gave me that first gig all those years ago) and others, I co-created a performance piece I am very proud of, and that other people seemed to like too. The inspiration for the show grew form a seed I’d had in my head, and gestated further through a process of creative visualisation, research, and the practicalities of preparing an application, then the creative development itself. I knew I wanted to get it right. I was thorough in my preparation in a way that I never had been before. I wrote, but what was I writing? I knew I wanted to leave space for the dynamism that devising can lend to process, and I also knew that there were things I didn’t know, answers that I couldn’t come up with solely by myself. I was aware that in the past my vision was not clearly expressed to those with whom I would devise, not least because the vision itself was unclear or non-existent. I prepared a document which expressed clearly my intentions for the project. It contained the results of my research, both directly in terms of the particular content and form of the show , and indirectly, the work that I had done over the last ten or so years.

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It was a specific document, yet open to the input of others. It was not a script, yet certain elements of it were very prescriptive. It was composed of written scenarios, involving plot, theme, metaphor and character and yet it also integrated sound, music, set design and a filmic component. The creative development went incredibly well. It was all consuming for me as an artist. Never before had I felt such determination, discipline and definition. I was also scared shitless, because I still wasn’t sure it was going to work. Sean, Lorrain Dalu and myself, devised, in four days, a forty minute performance integrating structured improvisation, object puppetry, music and video. I will describe the show in more detail later, but for now I’m keen to explain the ambit of my study. I’m unclear about how it fits into the strictures and forms of accepted research practice, but this does not make it any less serious or professional as a research project. Something about the project works. I’m not stupid enough to think it was just my writing that contributed to its success. A particular set of circumstances, the talents of Sean and Lorrain, and a number of other factors were integral, But what was the starting point? Surely it was no coincidence that this was the project in which I took myself most seriously as a theatre writer. It also seems to be the one that audiences have understood and enjoyed the most. What was it I wrote that made it work? What was the nature of my preparation? How were ideas prepared, presented and processed from application forms to the devising floor? I am soon to devise another work. It’s another kid’s show about bigness and smallness. It involves A ukulele and a double bass and a gorilla. It’s a completely different kind of show from Backseat Drivers, but I know I want to apply the same rigor to the preparation of the initial document. What will I call this document? What constitutes it? This mode of work doesn’t fit into widely accepted templates. I know this. A major theatre company supported the development of BSD, and sometimes the project felt like a very weirdly shaped peg in a round hole. What is it about me that makes me work in this way? what is it about the people I work with that makes the work so good? Why do the people I work with want to work in this way – wouldn’t it be easier if they were just handed a script? – or maybe they’re just like me and seek a creative investment in the creation of a new work. At a point in my life where, even in a small way, this creative investment is starting to 'pay off’ for me in terms of employment, recognition and not least artistic challenges, enjoyment and satisfaction, isn’t it fair to ask – how do I do what I do?

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APPENDIX 2 Interview with Sean Mee [SM1] Transcript of Interview with Sean Mee [SM1] June 12 2002LB: Ok, this is the first interview with Sean about the ukulele mekulele project ah, 1

Sean could you give us a brief personal history in kinda 25 words or less? 2

SM: (laughs) 25 words. Professional history was that I began work in 1976 at la Boite 3

as part of the early childhood drama project, which was a theatre in education 4

company for infant children um, I stayed there for 5 years, um then I was part of the, 5

through the early eighties I was a member of the TN! Theatre company’s acting 6

ensemble, till about 1985 then I went overseas for a short while, then I came back 7

and I was freelancing as a teacher/director and actor 1990 I took up a position as 8

associate lecturer in acting and directing at QUT academy of the arts and stayed 9

there for eight years, then I been freelancing for two years and for the last eighteen 10

months I have been artistic director of la Boite theatre. There you go. 11

LB: what role do you play within the creative process of this show? 12

SM: um, with dav.. This is the second show I’ve done with David, um, and i’m the 13

commissioning agent of the work which is an important role, er, the first one I wasn’t 14

the commissioning agent, QTC was the commissioning agent. That’s the first role. 15

(laughs) the second role is as a co-deviser, and er, third role is director. 16

Um, so, I guess those three roles, there’ a complex interaction between those three 17

roles. 18

Um, the devising mode of this particular production as was with backseat drivers, 19

was that David’s central concept is to maintain the integrity of that central concept, 20

the devising mode is to find the way in which that central concept, or concepts can be 21

best realized theatrically. And that’s done through a process of discussion and 22

improvisation, and then rehearsal, and then, so, I guess that’s my job. 23

LB: And what roles do the other artists play within the creative process? 24

SM: well David’s kind of got this arduous task of being the writer and also a 25

performer, which are kind of two separate things they’re even more distinct than 26

writer/director, so David has to wear two hats. Pete’s just there as a deviser/actor, 27

um, stage management, artistic director… ah, designers and all that kind of stuff all 28

have their role to play in terms of realising David’s overall concept. Um, so that’s kind 29

of the job. And, it’s really the improvisational mode that what I call an informed.. I 30

tend to use what’s called a rolling informed improvisation technique. That means we 31

tend to talk about it a lot, then we roll… we do an improvisation and then we’ll roll 32

back and we’ll roll over the top of that improvisation and build and develop and build 33

and develop until we’re happy that it lasts the right amount of time, and that it says 34

51

what we want it to say, and it has an inherent entertainment value, an engagement 35

value with the audience, and then we’re kind of happy with that, but it is a constantly, 36

as I say, a set of rolling improvisations and rewind, do it again, rewind, do it again, 37

rewind, do it again, 38

LB: it’s a good word 39

SM: um, and that process never really stops, you just keep on, 40

LB: rolling 41

SM: rolling, rolling over it, refining, it, interrogating it, and that’s a very useful thing, 42

if the writer can cope with that process of letting the actors basically inform the work 43

rather than taking a playwriting position on the work. A lot of what David does is 44

conceptual writing, what I call conceptual writing, which I think is no less important, 45

as a writer, and David comes up and says ‘am I still the writer on this play? And I say 46

‘well, yeah, I think you are, still the writer,’ but it’s conceptual. It’s very similar to say, 47

a visual artist who may do a major installation of work, which requires other people to 48

actually construct it for him, and requires them to actually apply their own creativity 49

to the exercise, like Christo, the wrapping of the cliffs and the buildings, and all that 50

kind of stuff, he’s a conceptual artist, and he’s no less a visual artist for that, 51

because he doesn’t actually… 52

LB: do it 53

SM: do it, 54

LB: yeah 55

SM: other people do it. but then, it’s kind of like a director, in those kind of terms 56

LB: ok, um… we won’t do that bit because you’re not a performer in it, the next bit is 57

that while David came up worth the initial concept for ukulele mekulele, do you agree 58

that devising has been part of the process of coming up with the work? 59

SM: oh yeah, it’s actually fundamental to the actual process. Yeah. It’s just a way of 60

doing that I particularly enjoy because it’s very collaborative and er, it’s you got 4 61

minds working on something rather than just one. I’ve never been the interpretive 62

director – ‘here’s a work, now interpret it’ – i’m not very good at that part of the world, 63

I’ll always tend to want to put my own spin on things, so, um, this mode of working is 64

very comfortable to me, um it’s what we used to do way back in the early childhood 65

drama project, so, er, in a constant devising mode.. in that particular process.. 66

(Passer by interrupts) 67

G’day, how are ya? 68

Oh, we’re doing ukulele mekulele upstairs… Good 69

52

SM: um, so, yeah, I actually find it more difficult to work in the more traditional, 70

conventional, interpretive modes, or indeed working with traditional, conventional 71

playwrights, I have difficulty working with them, I don’t like the negotiation that goes 72

on, so, I much prefer to be the benevolent dictator (laughs) 73

LB: that probably goes into the next little bit, which says, what is devising in your 74

opinion, and maybe you’ve kind of articulated that a little bit, in what you said before, 75

about your way of devising, but what is devising, and how is it different to other 76

production methods? 77

SM: well., I guess devising is about realisation. And it’s about the step back from, if 78

you take the playwriting process, for example, in the conventional mode, the 79

playwright gets the idea, then they develop a concept, then they write a script based 80

upon that concept. And sometimes that’s a fully disclosed concept, , and sometimes 81

they’ve just got a starting point and they see where they go with it, and then 82

someone comes along and interprets it, or realises the work. 83

In this kind of process, you’re kind of rolling the um writing and the realisation into 84

kind of one process, as I say, a set of devising, of rolling improvisations, which then 85

develop the work. As long as the conceptual work has been done on the piece, and it 86

has to be more rigorous and more thought through than generally writers will do, and 87

to me, that what devising is, it’s the integrating of a process of realisation in terms of 88

a script, and the realisation of the performance, and they happen at the same time. 89

LB: and, do you feel you have contributed to the development of the performance? 90

SM: of this particular project? Oh yeah. It’s one of the requirements, for me, if I didn’t 91

feel I was contributing, I would be going…mmm 92

LB: what am I doing? 93

SM: what am I doing. Um, yeah, that’s certainly the case, but David’s a very 94

collaborative person. And he’s, and it’s just another kind of a way of theatre making 95

which doesn’t draw a conventional, as I say, conventional boundary between, as I 96

say, realisation in terms of production, and realisation in terms of the conceptual 97

development. ‘cause everything, a text is conceptual, everything that happens in a 98

text is conceptual, it’s the realisation of those and you kind of roll those together, and 99

that’s how it kind of works, so my contribution in this process I guess, as a co-100

deviser, with the director’s title. Is to is to dramaturg the work, that’s to interrogate 101

the work, create circumstances where you might analyse what’s actually happening, 102

try to find a form that fits that moment, and then exploit that form, within what you’re 103

trying to say, within the conceptual work, so it’s about bringing form, and structure, to 104

the concept. That’ my job. The actor’s is to find how to do it. my job is to find the form 105

53

and the structure in which they can play in. once we find that form and structure, then 106

we will exploit it at a performance level, but, my job is to find the form and the 107

structure. 108

LB: this is an interesting one, who do you think has creative control of the work?, 109

why, and could you place a percentile figure on it? 110

SM: (laughs) well, in the end, the intellectual property of the work belongs to David. 111

Totally. Because conceptually, it’s his work. I’m trying to actually maintain the 112

integrity of that idea. But that’s exactly what you do in any work, you, as long as you 113

maintain the integrity of the work, then, i’m not the writer. If I suddenly stepped over, 114

and said, ok, I think I want to change fundamentally the concept, now i’m actually 115

crossing the line, I reckon,. It’s a fine line, that one, it’s a bit like euthanasia, 116

(laughs) are w just in the sense of making their death painless, are we actually killing 117

the person, well, yeah, that's a grey area, but, so David maintains the intellectual 118

property of the work. 100% um, so, to that extent, it’s 100% his. Er, whilst that’s 119

been said, David has a moral obligation to acknowledge the process of theatre 120

making that was conducted. So. That’s what I think. 121

LB: this is a bit off the track but i’m just going to ask anyway, do you think that you 122

place 100% on him because the concept was so developed by the time you got to it 123

in comparison to a small seedling idea? 124

Or does it not matter how small or big the concept is 125

SM: yes, it does, it matters a lot. If I feel that I have to got the idea to concept stage 126

or something, then the ownership is more shared, yes, but David came to me with a 127

pretty solidly developed concept, no script, but a very solidly developed concept with 128

a whole stack of kind of ‘ways in’ to the work, um, and they’d already done some 129

creative development on the work, they’d already put it in front of kids, they’d tried 130

out a whole range of different ideas, and brought them into concept. 131

LB: ok 132

SM: so really it was up to me to realise that concept well, that’s not all but, that’s 133

the difference, 134

LB: ok, so the next bit, what are your top three moments that work in the 135

performance, and the little note here is they can work generally or artistically, and 136

they can be apart from any specific interest that you may have, though personal 137

enjoyment or feelings aren’t to be discounted. 138

SM: it’s hard to say, really, I love the duel, the William tell overture duel, and I think 139

I love it because it’s a set piece, and I love set pieces. I love original set pieces 140

where, and it sometimes happens in shows where you… you always try to find it, is 141

where there’s this virtuosity, and I love watching virtuosity onstage, and I think 142

54

everybody loves watching virtuosity onstage, so, when, you either see it in a comic 143

invention or in a musical invention and in that particular piece the two things are kind 144

of together., there’s a comic and a musical virtuosity in the work, which, to me, is 145

what live performance is all about. You don’t go along to see mediocre performers 146

performing mediocre work, although we do a lot, but you actually want to see 147

virtuosic performance and skill, and that piece to me, at this point in time is the 148

strongest, is the most developed idea we have in the play, and I think the audience 149

is just going to love it. there’s that moment. And that’s just me personally, it’s actually 150

that’s me being sort of outside the show, it’s just I like it when we actually can devise 151

something that has a level of virtuosic skill on display that will thrill and impress the 152

audience, and give them their money’s worth, and, if it’s nicely integrated with the 153

work as well, that’s a bonus, (laughs) so we’re not standing up and saying ‘oh, by 154

the way I play the guitar beautifully as ‘well…’… now back to the show.. so, it 155

actually fits in, so that’s a level of the performance structure at work where there is 156

some keen awareness and craft being applied as well, so, it’s just getting that craft 157

right, a craft job, ‘cause at my stage of my career, i’m really fascinated by you know, 158

levels of virtuosity, Not only in the performance but also in the craft, in the creation of 159

the work, the nature of theatre being virtuosic, I think it’s something we actually crave 160

for that, you know, it’s the stuff you actually see, why do people respond to things 161

like Zen Zen Zo and those sort of things these days is because there is this craving 162

for virtuosity, whether that be ideas or in terms of the physical nature of the work, or 163

the commitment that the actors are applying to the work, or, the just raw timing, skill, 164

makes it work and as a director I always look for that, as I director I look at that, 165

because that’s what the audience have come along to see, not that these kids will 166

have come along necessarily to see that, but they will experience that, that very thing 167

that people love about theatre, and don’t get form movies, except where pearl 168

harbour gets strafed, and my god, sheeeit, that must be thousand of extras, or 169

migod, how did they get that blood to spray on that wall so realistically? 170

LB: so, kind of the add on bit to that is that , I mean you’ve kind of explained quite 171

clearly why these moments work, the last one is, how will you know that that 172

moments’ worked? 173

SM: oh, I know already (laughs) because that’s a craft issue, you build it with a 174

premeditation and a confidence in that craft of what you’re actually making - I know 175

that that’s going to ‘go off’, alright, um, I would be incredibly disappointed if it didn’t, 176

although I have been disappointed, things that I think I’ve built beautifully, people 177

have gone, and gone ‘what?’ like, the first 20 minutes of Paper House, ‘cause I 178

loved the first 20 minutes of paper house, I thought it was some of the best work I 179

55

ever did, but people didn’t get it. um, but um, yeah, I know, you know. It’ll be 180

satisfying when people come up, as they already have and said, gee, that William 181

tell overture moment was fantastic, just fantastic 182

LB: have any of them been children? 183

SM: no, no, they’ve been adults. The children will only experience this play, they 184

won’t be able to, as kids never are, are unable to contextualise at the age that they 185

are, they just experience it, and that’s great. There’ no difference between that, and 186

teenagers going to a rock concert, they experience the rock concert, they don’t sit 187

there and say ‘gee, this is doing me good’, or ‘gee that’s a really interesting piece… 188

in the context of my life… er, you know, this piece kind of really responds to that’ 189

they don’t do that. We used to say something in the ECDP, which was that whilst kids 190

are watching the show, they’ve not learnt anything, even though we’re supposed to 191

be an educational theatre company, we don’t learn anything during the show, it’s the 192

contextualisation that happens afterwards, as adults you tend to do that personally or 193

with your friends 194

In a school context, or in an educational context with teachers in structured 195

exercises that actually contextualise the work, but I think what they'll get, what the 196

kids will get out of that will be the playfulness of it, the musicianship of it ‘oh, wow!’ I 197

fail to see any child kind who has not been impressed when someone plays a guitar 198

or a trumpet and plays it well, or a violin, a child will be., eyes widen, and hearing it 199

for the first time, and seeing someone actually playing it, they kinda go ‘wow’ and 200

that’s a pretty special thing, those things can be life changing for children, where you 201

actually see someone playing the violin for the first time, up close ‘woahh, is that 202

how it… I’ve heard that sound, but that’s how it’s made, and there’s someone 203

making it, and they’re making it beautifully, and that’s pretty special. Especially for 4-204

6 year olds, because the world becomes a possible place then, it’s a, most of the 205

world is a very impossible place for a 4 year old, but the more they see people 206

making things, building things, seeing how it’s done, you know, banging on 207

instruments, making loud noises, and all that kind of stuff, and then seeing someone 208

going (makes gentle ‘air drum’ noises’, they kind of go, it’s possible. I can do that, I 209

can learn to do that, it’s something that you learn , and that’s a very important 210

acknowledgement for children, is that most of the things that they see in the world 211

are things that they can learn to do. 212

LB: the end line is, thanks, are there any other thoughts 213

SM: no , no, no, it’s going very well, I mean we’re, it’ll be kind of interesting, this will 214

be a, it’s same with backseat drivers, we’re actually trying to do something really 215

new, which is actually conventional theatre modes for 4-6 year olds, which often 216

56

aren’t explored in the age group because it’s felt that they’re incapable of 217

understanding it, whereas I think that’s crap. I think they’ve got enough of the forms, 218

and if the thing is carefully constructed and they understand the process, and, I was 219

just saying to Dave, we’re often introducing, again , it’s that live thing, we’re 220

introducing a whole set of very ancient skills about clowning and vaudeville, and 221

music and silliness, and slapstick and these sort of things, which they see in cartoons 222

and movies, and that kind of stuff, but they’re seeing it live for the first time, and 223

they’re seeing how, ‘cause whenever you go along and see a thing live, you’re not 224

only seeing the play, you’re seeing how the play is being made as well, and for kids, 225

it’s really important that we do that often and we show them how we’re making it, 226

and that it can be made, and you know, you can make this stuff. It’s do-able, it’s 227

learnable it’s that sort of stuff, that for me is the great thrill of theatre, as opposed to 228

film or television or anything, ‘cause you don’t see the mechanism of film or television 229

, but in theatre is absolutely apparent, and that’s why I think doing a play like this is 230

extremely valuable to, because it think there is a bit of a culture of ‘theatre denial’ 231

Like, of saying ‘don’t do it like a piece of theatre because the kids won’t understand 232

it’, and based on the assumption that they haven’t’ got the forms or the conventions 233

in place in order to be able to read it, and you kind of go , well, actually, if you take it 234

slowly and do it carefully, you can make it happen for them, and once they’ve heard? 235

it, they can see that it's readable, it’s do-able, it’s learnable, it’s ‘oh, I can see how 236

they’re making it’ and that’s sometimes subconscious , you’ll find that, what we used 237

to find was we’d come in, do a show, 238

Keep it nice and open and then they’d practice it, not so much the play, like a play 239

about a bushranger, they’d suddenly start playing bushrangers, they’d actually start 240

playing the game of acting, and telling stories through acting, they’d be enrolling 241

themselves, ‘ill be the this and you be the that, and you say this and I’ll say that, and 242

I say that, ok?’ and off they’d go, and they’d be making up their own stories , and 243

they were actually playing being acting or theatre, rather than the content, the 244

content’s kind of irrelevant, they’re more interested how you’re doing it, costumes 245

and lights, what the point of costumes and make up, and how you can tell stories , 246

puppets are useful in that kind of mode, because it’s about active theatremaking, 247

there you go.248

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APPENDIX 3 UKULELE MEKULELE TREATMENT FRIDAY, DECEMBER 07, 2001 – DRAFT 1 SCENE TITLE ACTION

1. PRESHOW Stage vacant. Single mic (old fashioned)SR red curtain, 3 chairs. Middle one has fishing rod sticking out of it. on a hook, from the rod, swings a banana.

2. SETTING UP DOUBLE BASS MAN and UKULELE MAN enter. Each sit, opens, reads paper, hiding head. UKULELE MAN looks for GORILLA and swings banana invitingly. UKULELE MAN moves mic to SR, out of view of DOUBLE BASS MAN . he returns to his paper. DOUBLE BASS MAN looks over paper, discovers mic has been moved and corrects. UKULELE MAN repeats action. GORILLA arrives, finally. She too sits and reads a paper. After a time, The other two’s papers drop and they see the gorilla. She shakes UKULELE MAN’s hand. He points to his watch. GORILLA shrugs. As she turns to hug DOUBLE BASS MAN, UKULELE MAN detaches and hides banana. GORILLA claps hands. Time to start. The other two exit. GORILLA turns to get banana, but it’s gone. Damn.

3. PREPARING TO PERFORM

The gorilla takes a triangle from her bag, hangs it off the fishing rod, and gives it a ting. She moves about the stage,, checking all is in readiness, noting the position of the mic with a shake of the head. She establishes a relationship with the audience here, teaching them a range of signals to elicit and cease applause. The disembodied hands of the others could appear from behind the curtain to assist.

4. TUNING UP (INTRODUCING THE INSTRUMENTS)

The instruments pop out of either side of the curtain. If it is possible for a ukulele to emerge from a double bass case and vice-versa, now would be the time. The two musicians walk to their spots. DOUBLE BASS MAN notices his mic has been stolen. UKULELE MAN gloats. They tune up, (my dog has fleas) (does the gorilla have a pitch pipe?) the sounds of the instruments filling the space. They explore Tighten or loosen the strings on the strummed instruments to show how pitch can vary according to how tight the string is….place and move the fingers up and down on the frets of the ukulele to show that he longer the vibrating string , the lower the pitch. And compare the thickness of the strings on these harmony instruments to illustrate the principle that the thicker the string, the lower the pitch. (from research) The activity of tuning up is tinged with unease and a competitive edge, UKULELE MAN dominating, DOUBLE BASS MAN put upon.

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They have a fight with the strings, the gorilla interrupts and settles them down, and perhaps they segue into some Bach, which is made discordant by their competition. – Duelling banjos?

5. THERE’S A RAINBOW ROUND MY SHOULDER

The gorilla establishes a range of signals that the audience understands, eliciting and controlling applause and audience response. The show ‘starts’, ‘rainbow’ being the opening number. There are simple actions the audience can learn here, and they are taught them by the gorilla and UKULELE MAN. Two options: learn before song starts, or learn in the middle over instrumental vamp.

6. THE WONDER OF THE UKULELE

UKULELE MAN communicates the ‘real reason’ for the show; it’s an educational, almost evangelical presentation extolling the origins and virtues of the ukulele, the king of instruments. The two-person, one gorilla team has been travelling about, spreading the word via this show. (subtext: and the cracks are beginning to show in the team – this may well be the last show they do unless UKULELE MAN stops bullying the others) UKULELE MAN launches into a talk about his personal history with the ukulele. DOUBLE BASS MAN and GORILLA go to sit down, having heard it all before. UKULELE MAN scolds and stops them. They dutifully return to stations. UKULELE MAN’s mother gave him his instrument when he was small. Now he is big. He was also given a comb and paper.

7. MY UKULELE UKULELE MAN plays a little personal story in the modified lyrics of George Formby’s ‘my ukulele’. He further modifies the lyrics to tease DOUBLE BASS MAN about his choice of instrument, and its size and clumsiness. There is a comb and paper solo in the middle of the song, assisted by the gorilla, who holds the ukulele while it is played. The song concludes with DOUBLE BASS MAN playing an excerpt from Eine Kleine Nachtmisik. UKULELE MAN hands his instrument again to the gorilla. He walks over and physically stops DOUBLE BASS MAN from showing off. Silence falls. GORILLA, disapproving of this behaviour, reluctantly hands the uke back, takes the comb, sits on her chair and starts to do her hair.

8. COMPETITION AND COMPARISON

Perhaps under the guise of ‘tuning up again, both musicians again explore the qualities of their instruments. NB tone/rhythm/melody/harmony/dynamics/tone colour. These explorations have a competitive edge, and an aggressive subtext. Perhaps the plinkings and plunkings coalesce to become a classical tune such as air on a G-string. UKULELE MAN could also physically stop DOUBLE BASS MAN from playing here.

9. MAKIN’ WICKEY WACKEY DOWN IN WAIKIKI

UKULELE MAN narrates – more history. Uke came to Hawaii vi Portugal. Its name means jumping flea. Double bass doesn’t mean anything in Hawaiian. The other two get bored and start to muck around.

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UKULELE MAN scolds. They sulk. UKULELE MAN introduces fast, silly song whose themes are centred around idyllic visions of life in Hawaii. GORILLA has promised to dance during this song, but now refuses until payment is offered. ( the banana) UKULELE MAN promises to cough up after. The song happens. It’s good. The gorilla dances. Song ends. Gorilla demands payment. UKULELE MAN presents a rather small banana, not the large one he pilfered before. GORILLA is getting pissed off.

10. GORILLA SNOOZE. (NOW AT LAST I KNOW)

When the gorilla gets grumpy, she usually needs a snooze. This entails a lullaby; (Now at last I know) which UKULELE MAN plays almost solo, the double bass being deemed to loud a noise. GORILLA falls asleep. DOUBLE BASS MAN concludes the song with a beautiful Arco (bowed) solo. UKULELE MAN sneaks across and silences him once again. GORILLA sees this and wakes.

11. IN THE POO.

UKULELE MAN, in returning to his spot, finds a poo in the middle of the floor. Its owner/producer is unknown. Accusations are thrown and Blame is laid and it is eventually cleaned up, its origins remaining a mystery, but the tension between the three is at breaking point.

12. TIPTOE THROUGH THE TULIPS

UKULELE MAN goes on to outline the achievements of several famous ukulele players. The gorilla shows pictures of them with simian heads transplanted onto their shoulders. UKULELE MAN does not see this, and begins to muse about what the biggest/smallest thing in the world might be, perhaps fielding questions from the audience. DOUBLE BASS MAN offers a suggestion, that the biggest thing in the world might be the world itself. UKULELE MAN pop-poos this, and suggests that perhaps the smallest thing in the world might be DOUBLE BASS MAN’s brain. UKULELE MAN introduces a song sung by tiny Tim, who was actually quite a big fellow. There is a mouth popping solo in the middle of the song. Again, UKULELE MAN hands his instrument to the gorilla to hold while he executes it. Except this time the GORILLA refuses to give it back. She de-tunes it, and sits down, picking up her paper. DOUBLE BASS MAN also leaves, and strikes a similar pose, holding the newspaper upside down. GORILLA corrects him.

13. ON STRIKE. UKULELE MAN tries to keep the show going on his own. He attempts a piece that needed the double bass, and it doesn’t sound any good, particularly as the uke is out of tune. He needs a note from GORILLA, and support from DOUBLE BASS MAN, but they’re both ignoring him. He cuts a pretty sad figure, all his power taken from him and the tables turned.

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Perhaps he could try to play the double bass and discover how hard it is. He tries to bribe GORILLA with the banana he’s withheld for so long. DOUBLE BASS MAN gets out an orange, and woos GORILLA with that. They return to their papers. The upshot is he’s no good on his own, and he must do something to make amends.

14. THAT’S ME WITHOUT YOU

UKULELE MAN starts a song called that’s me without you, it’s about how things go together. He comes to a realisation that smaller isn’t better, that ukuleles aren’t the best, and that he is not the boss. Three heads are better than one, even if one of them is a gorilla’s. There is an apology, and a reconciliation. Somehow the three of them end up working together again, and each has a solo.

15. RAINBOW 2 – THE END.

There is a reprise of the opening song, with movements from the audience. Perhaps it is augmented by a box step. Musically, it is possible for this song to speed up and climax insanely. DOUBLE BASS MAN may finally get to say something. The GORILLA gets a big banana. Bows and exit.

Issues and questions: • Microphone: is it operative or a prop – moreover, are we working acoustically or amplified,

and is this part of the narrative/metaphor? Thus far, it’s been written that the single microphone is a prop only.

• At what point does the show ‘start’? • Will kids just learn motions? To what extent do they become involved in the action? (And

for what purpose?) I’d like this show to be less fourth wall than BSD. • There needs to be another draft examining the flow and build of the bigness/smallness

axis, and tracking the development/deterioration of the relationship between the three of them.

• GORILLA has power over audience. Does UKULELE MAN try to usurp this power

unsuccessfully? • The bad behaviours in this play should exist on their own. There is no need for them to be

narrated or labelled (apart form metaphorically) as long as the action which contextualises them indicated that it’s outcomes are not desirable.

• GORILLA’s triangle case: her triangle may punctuate sections of the play and possible

serve as a boxing ring style bell which halts action. (Interrupts arguments/stops conflicts? • Character needs to be bossy • DOUBLE BASS MAN to be valued, part of team, to play a solo. • GORILLA for everyone to get along. To get a big banana.

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APPENDIX 4

U K U L E L E M E K U L E L E b y D a v i d M e g a r r i t y

DRAFT 8 2005

Devised with Sean Mee, Peter Cossar and Sam Vincent

First produced by La Boite Theatre/QPAC for the 2002 Out of The Box Festival Performed Sydney Opera House 2004

Queensland Performing Arts Centre 2005

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INTRODUCTION Ukulele Mekulele is a 40 minute comedy performance for children and those who care for them. It is grounded in themes of bullying, but is non-didactic. It’s highly musical and largely non-verbal. The production aims to attract, then change the allegiance of the audience. The subtext of the performance is frequently more relevant than the ostensible content of the ‘show’.

CHARACTERS UKULELE MAN a tall, mean fellow. The only verbal character. Plays the

ukulele, and believes it to be the ‘King of Instruments’ DOUBLE BASS MAN a smaller, sadder fellow. Plays the double bass, and

loves it. GORILLA a hyper-intelligent gorilla with a handbag and tiara.

Enjoys dancing and playing with squeaky toys. Ostensibly the Stage Manager of the show.

UKULELE MAN’S MOTHER a talking portrait. Animated by the actor playing the GORILLA.

COSTUME AND SETTING The feel is pre WWII. The human characters wear suits and hats. The GORILLA wears the classic gorilla suit and mask They perform in a small space backed by red curtains. These curtains curl around to form wings big enough to hide a double bass case. There is a single microphone stand centre stage, topped with an old-fashioned microphone. It is connected, via a lead to a small, ragged speaker box.

MUSIC The bulk of the music in the show is performed live. Some scenes are soundtracked. The music emanates from the small speaker box. PRERECORDED SOUNDTRACK [in order of appearance] 12th Street Rag (Bowman) Johnny Marvin with William Carola Victor #20386 1927 Ukulele Benny (Nawahi) The Georgia Jumpers featuring Benny Nawahi Columbia #14620 (1931) Hawaiian War Chant (Noble/Leliohaku) from the album Favourite Selections by Johnny Ukulele,

Capitol #ST-1425 (1960) My Mom (Donaldson) Roy Smeck and his Hawaiian Serenaders The Empress Recording

Company RAJ CD 891 PERFORMED LIVE [in order of appearance] Apres en Reve [Melodies OP7] (Gabriel Urban Faure) There’s a Rainbow ‘Round My Shoulder (Jolson/Rose/Dreyer) Tiptoe Through the Tulips With Me (Dubin/Burke) Makin’ Wickey Wackey Down in Waikiki (Hoffman/Lane) My Ukulele (Cottrell/arr Formby) William Tell Overture (Rossini) My Way (Revaux/François, Translated By Paul Anka

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SECTION 1 IN WHICH THE CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR ENTRANCES AND PREPARE FOR THE SHOW SOUNDTRACK: 12TH STREET RAG (BOWMAN) DOUBLE BASS MAN enters eating a sandwich. He realises there is an audience and exits. DOUBLE BASS MAN reenters, carrying a ukulele case. He taps the microphone. It’s clear he’s a nervous type, and is unaccustomed to being the centre of attention. He takes the case to side of stage, behind a curtain. There is a squeaking, wrenching noise. He pulls a huge double bass from the tiny case. He plays with the instrument, glissing and plucking high and low. Warming up, he plucks along with the soundtrack. Realising he’s forgotten something, he gets his bow, which also appears from the ukulele case. He begins to play a beautifully passionate piece of solo bass music. LIVE MUSIC: APRES EN REVE (GABRIEL URBAN FAURE) Hesitantly he plays three phrases, looking up in between, ensuring he is alone. During the third musical phrase, a GORILLA comes around the corner of the set, USR. GORILLA enters USR. She wears a tiara and carries a handbag. DOUBLE BASS MAN sees her, and the melancholy music peters out. GORILLA leaves, satisfied the music’s stopped. But the DOUBLE BASS MAN plays again, briefly. GORILLA turns. This happens again, until GORILLA moves to the DOUBLE BASS MAN, and demands his bow. The GORILLA hangs it on the curtain USC, then goes to leave. DOUBLE BASS MAN starts to play an up tempo pizzicato bassline. GORILLA stops still. Then, absorbing the music, starts to jig. GORILLA then dances to the remainder of the tune. Enthusiasm overtakes delicacy as the music takes her over. The song ends, and GORILLA leads applause. DOUBLE BASS MAN seems a bit mystified by the appreciation, and does not take a bow; so GORILLA facilitates his bow, engaging the audience in clapping and quiet – a bit like a hairy “applause” sign. Music plays. SOUNDTRACK: UKULELE BENNY (NAWAHI) ...and they both startle and panic as an amplified voice crackles: UM: [V/O] Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to [insert name of theatre here].

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the star of my show, MEEE!

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The upstage curtains part in a french draw, revealing UKULELE MAN, soaking up the applause. He bounds onstage like a game show host.

UM: Hello everybody!…Anyone here from [insert city name] ?… Look at all those beautiful smiling faces! Ah, what a great audience!...

UKULELE MAN dashes about the stage, greeting the audience. [ad lib] DOUBLE BASS MAN leaps up and scurries to his position. He picks up his bass, and is directed a few inches back by UKULELE MAN, who is now near the mic, preparing to open the show. All stops. UM: Welcome to the show!… Is there something missing here? UKULELE MAN snaps his fingers, demanding his instrument. It’s not there. The show is not going smoothly. GORILLA establishes what’s missing then hurriedly exits and struggles back with a double bass case. She opens it, and with great ceremony UKULELE MAN pulls a ukulele from its depths. He presents it to the audience. The GORILLA struggles off with the case, and returns to her station. UKULELE MAN checks to see if his instrument is tuned. It’s not. Not good. Strings twanged and tuning pegs twisted. DOUBLE BASS MAN does the same. UKULELE MAN turns to him and demands silence. He plays his four open strings and he sings a mnemonic, checking his tuning in deep concentration. UM: My dog has fleas. My dog has fleas. My dog has fleas. Every time he does it, GORILLA stops what she’s doing and scratches her fur. UKULELE MAN snaps his fingers. GORILLA produces a pitch pipe and blows a tone. UKULELE MAN repeats “My Dog Has Fleas” process, and notices the effect it has on the GORILLA. He tries it again, and watches her scratch. He shakes his head and completes his tuning. UM: SSSShhhh!!!! My dog has fleas. My dog has fleas. My dog has fleas. GORILLA goes to DOUBLE BASS MAN to see if he’s in tune. He is. No trouble. Meanwhile, UKULELE MAN shifts mic from CS to DSL in front of him where it ‘should’ be. The show still hasn’t started yet. Just as he tests it, GORILLA returns the mic to CS. This happens again. The third time the GORILLA tries to move it, UKULELE MAN anchors it in place with his foot. GORILLA now understands new position of mic. She returns to her spot USC. UKULELE MAN begins to test the mic and announce the beginning of the show. GORILLA discovers mic lead on the floor. She unplugs it and plugs it again, interfering with UKULELE MAN’s introduction. Each time UKULELE MAN tests it, it works, each time he tries to make his announcement, it doesn’t.

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UM: Testing… Welcom…. Testing 1…Welcom…. Testing 1, 2... Welcom…. UKULELE MAN follows lead back to GORILLA, and sees what’s going on. He plays and sings “My dog has fleas”, forcing GORILLA to drop the leads and scratch. My dog has fleas UKULELE MAN returns to position and plays the intro. The show is about to start. He stands DSL in front of the mic, DOUBLE BASS MAN on the opposite side of the stage, and GORILLA USC, who dances interpretively, inviting the audience’s participation. The song is happy and bouncy, but there is disharmony lurking beneath the surface. LIVE: THERE’S A RAINBOW ‘ROUND MY SHOULDER (JOLSON/ROSE/DREYER) I’m happy, so happy Walking on air The why and the wherefore Is someone I care for I’m yellin’ I’m tellin’ Folks everwhere I know that she loves me So what do I care?

There's a rainbow round my shoulder And a sky of blue above How the sun shines bright The world's all right Cause I'm in love

There's a rainbow round my shoulder And it fits me like a glove Let it blow let it storm, I'll be warm 'Cause I'm in love

Hallelujah, how the folks will stare When they see that solitare That my little baby is gonna wear …yes sir

There's a rainbow round my shoulder And a sky of blue above How the sun shines bright The world's all right Cause I'm in love

CHORUS and INSTR. DOUBLE BASS MAN begins to do a solo. UKULELE MAN stops him with a shoosh! BR 2 CH Uptempo Instrumental Coda UKULELE MAN forces the tempo up, competitively sparring with DOUBLE BASS MAN. They step back, and bow in unison. GORILLA manages audience applause.

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SECTION 2 IN WHICH THE VIRTUES AND HISTORY OF THE UKULELE ARE EXPOUNDED AT THE EXPENSE OF THE DOUBLE BASS MAN UKULELE MAN moves to DSC, holds up the ukulele and makes it ‘fly’. DOUBLE BASS MAN pulls out a paperback and begins to read. UM: Look – up there in the sky! Is it a bird? Is it a plane?

Is it a ‘little guitar’? No, it’s a ukulele, the ‘funky’ King of Instruments. GORILLA brings out a toy keyboard, and underscores the following action with a selection of tinny beats as the parts of the ukulele are demonstrated. UM: But before we get started, let’s take you through the parts of the ukulele.

This is the top bit, the middle bit..and this is the er..bottom bit. Turn it upside down, and it’s exactly the same, except the other way around.

Some of UKULELE MAN’s observations are less than illuminating. UM: The ukulele is as light as a feather. UKULELE MAN lifts the ukulele with his little finger, and demands applause. He turns his attention to DOUBLE BASS MAN and reprimands him for reading the book. He hides it. UM: Oi. Bet you can’t do that with your double bass….. no, don’t even try. You’ll break your finger lifting that fat ugly thing. DOUBLE BASS MAN sees no reason for that comment. UKULELE MAN demonstrates how easy it is to carry a ukulele.

UM: You can carry it anywhere. Under this arm, under this arm, between the knees, but that’s not so good for walking long distances. Like to see you carry a double bass between your knees!

DOUBLE BASS MAN is teased once again about his instrument. UKULELE MAN ‘confides’ in the audience. UM: It’s so small and cute, I even sleep with it, like a teddy. Again, he teases the DOUBLE BASS MAN.

I’d like to see you fit that great lump of a thing in your bed! For no apparent reason, UKULELE MAN begins to enact a day in the life of a ukulele owner. Unnoticed, DOUBLE BASS MAN reads his book again. UKULELE MAN sleeps, and dreams, talking aloud. UM: Zzz…zzz… Yes, mum, of course I’m wearing clean undies…

GORILLA ‘wakes’ him with noises from the keyboard.

Wh…huh…? Oh, good morning world, the sun is singing, the birds are shining and I have a ukulele all of my very own. Good morning ukulele. Glad you’re not a double bass.

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UKULELE MAN kisses his instrument. It becomes a mirror. UM: Looking good. Got my mother’s nose. How does she smell? Terrible! He looks at his watch, pops the uke under his arm and ‘leaves the house’. UM: Is that the time? Better shake a leg, or I’ll miss the bus. He ‘walks’ to the bus stop, where DOUBLE BASS MAN is sitting, reading his book peacefully. He confiscates it and hands it to the GORILLA. UKULELE MAN begins to improvise, and the show veers off track. Again, he teases DOUBLE BASS MAN. UM: Well, here I am at the bus stop.

Must be kerbside cleanup time. Oh. My apologies. Is that your instrument? Are you sure they’ll let you on the bus with that big fat thing? Whoops! There goes the bus. Let’s catch it at the next stop! Can you run with that thing? Let’s see. On your mark, get set, go.

UKULELE MAN starts a race that is over even before DOUBLE BASS MAN knows it has begun. UKULELE MAN rushes round the back of the set and emerges triumphant, ‘getting on the bus’ as DOUBLE BASS MAN comes puffing ‘round the corner. The ‘bus’ departs, leaving DOUBLE BASS MAN ‘on the footpath.’ GORILLA makes ‘bus noises’ UKULELE MAN waves to him. DOUBLE BASS MAN sighs. UM: One ticket to [insert local suburb here], please. Thankyou. Brrrrrm.

Bye bye! UKULELE MAN ‘travels on the bus’. He narrates his journey, adding sly digs at DOUBLE BASS MAN, who just sits and watches. The GORILLA becomes the bus driver, assisting, as the show gets back on track. UM: Just pop the ukulele on the lap. I suppose if you had a bigger instrument you’d have

to buy a ticket for it.. No madam, it’s not a little guitar. It’s a ukulele. UKULELE MAN pretends he has been asked to play a song. He makes up a song, which is derogatory to the DOUBLE BASS MAN. UM: Of course- i’d love to sing you a song.

I’m on the bus, and you aren’t [ad lib] And everybody sings and claps along. See? Great conversation starter. Breaks the ice. Improves the social life. Assuming you’ve got one. Everybody loves a ukulele. It brings joy and happiness to everyone.

The song ends. UKULELE MAN waves at his imaginary friends. DOUBLE BASS MAN looks dour. UKULELE MAN makes his instrument fly once more. UM: Look – up there in the sky! Is it a bird? No.

Is it a plane? No. Is it a little guitar? No, silly - it’s a ukulele, the ‘funky’ King of Instruments.

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Ukuleles are great for singing, they’re great for playing… [to GORILLA] …get the mic. They’re also great for dancing…

UKULELE MAN launches into a new song. GORILLA puts the mic in front of him. LIVE MUSIC :TIPTOE THROUGH THE TULIPS WITH ME (DUBIN/BURKE) V1 Tiptoe through the window By the window, that is where I’ll be Come tiptoe through the tulips with me V2 Tiptoe round the garden By the garden of a willow tree And tiptoe through the tulips with me

BR Knee deep in flowers we’ll stray We’ll keep the showers away

V3 And if I kiss you in the garden In the moonlight Will you pardon me and Tiptoe through the tulips with me UM: That little song was quite big at one time. It was sung by a guy called Tiny Tim, who

was quite a large fellow, actually, which just… goes to show. UKULELE MAN moves to a new mark and begins the next ‘set piece’. Like the presenter of an arts show, he is uppity and annoying. DOUBLE BASS MAN has withdrawn to sit on his stool. GORILLA takes UKULELE MAN’s hat and uke and exits. She comes back with a three-cornered hat and cardboard uke. UM: But where does the ukulele come from, I hear you ask?

Well, the history of the ukulele is rich and fascinating in itself.

Once upon a time, a long time ago there were some… UKULELE MAN is crowned with the hat… but spies DOUBLE BASS MAN reading. He also spies an opportunity for fun. He confiscates his book and throws it away. UM: …explorers. They were about to go on a long journey to distant lands, so they took

little guitars with them so they wouldn’t be bored, after all, music self played is happiness self-made…

The show takes a new tack as DOUBLE BASS MAN is recast as the explorer. UKULELE MAN strides over and whacks the three-cornered hat on DOUBLE BASS MAN’s head. He gives DOUBLE BASS MAN’s hat to GORILLA. She realises DOUBLE BASS MAN is now ‘playing the explorer’, and takes the cardboard uke to him. He refuses it, handing it back, and snatching back his own hat from the GORILLA. They swap hats and cardboard uke until the GORILLA ends up dressed as the Explorer. UKULELE MAN turns on them and angrily makes the GORILLA dress DOUBLE BASS MAN as the explorer. UM: The OTHER way AROUND!!!! UKULELE MAN forces DOUBLE BASS MAN off his stool and takes it to his side of the stage. DOUBLE BASS MAN now stands exposed and embarrassed.

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UM: So, they got in their boats and set sail, UKULELE MAN urges him to ‘sail’, so he does, in a pissweak sort of way UM: …they set sail…

…across seas that were stormy. …and seas that were calm…

UKULELE MAN makes DOUBLE BASS MAN sail ‘roughly’ and ‘calmly’. It’s a game of Simon Says, and UKULELE MAN is Simon. UM: …stormy…calm…stormy…calm…

calm…gotcha!

…till one day they spied a beautiful tropical island. UKULELE MAN pulls out a blue handkerchief. To it is glued a miniature island with palm tree. He lays it on the stolen stool and presents it like a boy with a new train set. UM: The explorers grabbed their little guitars, got in their speedboats and sailed to shore. UKULELE MAN gives DOUBLE BASS MAN a model speedboat, and blowing a raspberry to represent the engine, forces DOUBLE BASS MAN to ‘motor’ it across to the miniature island.

When they got there, they saw beautiful people in colourful costumes… They had arrived at… Hawaii!

SOUNDTRACK: HAWAIIAN WAR CHANT(NOBLE/LELIOHAKU) UKULELE MAN stands back and presents the GORILLA, who has entered in a flowery costume that includes a coconut bra. They festoon DOUBLE BASS MAN with leis and dance around him. He’s hating it and tries to get away. UKULELE MAN and GORILLA corral the DOUBLE BASS MAN into a very silly dance. Then they force him alone to DSC. UM: But all good things must come to an end, and it was time for the explorers to go home UKULELE MAN takes the stage and shoves him out of the way. DOUBLE BASS MAN drops the hat and cardboard uke, and retreats to sit on the floor USR. The GORILLA waves, picks up the cardboard uke, and plays it. UM: But they left in such a rush, they left their little guitars on the beach.

The Hawaiians picked it up, played it, and marvelled at the sound. They liked the way their fingers danced up and down the middle bit, and liked the bouncy little sound, so they called it ‘ukulele’ which is Hawaiian for ‘jumping flea.’

GORILLA immediately begins scratching for fleas and drops the prop ukulele.

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UM: Do you know what the words ‘double bass’ mean in Hawaiian? UKULELE MAN moves to the double bass and gestures expansively. DOUBLE BASS MAN’s attention is attracted momentarily. UM: Nothing. SOUNDTRACK STOPS UKULELE MAN goes to the mic for his closing statement. GORILLA brings out his regular hat and uke. She then assumes the position, ready for her big dance number. DOUBLE BASS MAN retrieves his stool. UM: So there it is, the almost completely true story of how the ukulele got its name.

I’d like to sing you a little number now. It’s about Hawaii and what a wonderful place it is. It’s called Makin’ Wickey Wackey Down in Waikiki and it goes something, no, it goes a lot like this…

a.. 1, a…2…a 1,2,3,4…

The intro stalls. He turns his glare to DOUBLE BASS MAN, who has his back turned and is refusing to play. UKULELE MAN takes a breath then leans towards the GORILLA, who immediately goes to plead with DOUBLE BASS MAN to rejoin the song while UKULELE MAN waits, tapping this mic. She needs to save the show. She begs DOUBLE BASS MAN and he acquiesces, slowly getting up to play. Shooting UKULELE MAN a cautious glance, he turns to play facing the other way. UM: Ready now? This song’s called Makin’ Wickey Wackey Down in Waikiki

and it goes something, no, it goes a lot like this…a.. 1, a…2…a 1,2,3,4…

The song is bright and uptempo, but played with an aggressive edge. LIVE: MAKIN’ WICKEY WACKEY DOWN IN WAIKIKI (HOFFMAN/LANE) The song is bright and uptempo, but played with an aggressive edge. V1 Pack up your troubles, come along Where lights are dreamy and life’s a song In Honolulu across the sea Makin’ Wickey Wackey down in Waikiki V2The hula dancers are sure good news Their joy dispenses a cure for blues It’s absolutely the place to be Makin’ Wickey Wackey down in Waikiki BR1 No wearing clothes, any thing goes, believe it or not And when the night shadows fall, that’s when they’re all getting hot

…on the ukulele

UKULELE MAN turns to DOUBLE BASS MAN, expecting a solo, but he’s withdrawn from the song, and is playing surly single notes. UKULELE MAN’s solo that follows is flashy, but desperate. GORILLA ‘presents’ each solo with graceful gestures. V3 They use the movies to light the night And every tune seems to sound just right It’s absolutely the place to be,

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Makin’ Wickey Wackey down in Waikiki X 3 At the end of the song, GORILLA facilitates applause. DOUBLE BASS MAN spins his instrument. UKULELE MAN scoffs and attempts to do the same, but with less than impressive results. DOUBLE BASS MAN spins again. For quite some time. UKULELE MAN is about to compete when he places his instrument under his arm and strides offstage in a huff. With his tormentor safely out of sight, DOUBLE BASS MAN mimics UKULELE MAN’s exit.

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SECTION 3 IN WHICH UKULELE MAN INTRODUCES HIS MOTHER, WHO IS SOMEWHAT DEMANDING AND ALSO PREJUDICED AGAINST BASSISTS. Music plays, the curtains part, and a large portrait of UKULELE MAN’S MOTHER is carried onstage by the GORILLA. There’s quite a family resemblance. The portrait obscures GORILLA’s head and torso. UKULELE MAN enters and presents the portrait, mouthing the words of the song. SOUNDTRACK: MY MOM (DONALDSON) My mom, I love her My mom you’d love her Who wouldn’t love her, my mom

UM: This is my mother. Hi, Mum. Isn’t she as pretty as a picture?

It’s obvious where I get my good looks from.

DOUBLE BASS MAN and GORILLA look at eachother, then look at UKULELE MAN and nod in agreement.

She’s still alive. She lives in a home now. My home. Mum gave me this ukulele when I was small, but now I’m big. The ukulele’s still the same size, though, which just goes to show. She said I’d always keep out of trouble if I kept my ukulele in my hand. So, Mum, I’m going to sing this song, especially for you. It’s all about my ukulele, and it’s called ‘My Ukulele’ and it goes something like this.

The UKULELE MAN introduces the song, but there’s silence. DOUBLE BASS MAN is staring at the portrait, whose eyes have started to move. Then it speaks. UKULELE MAN thinks for a moment he’s entered the Twilight Zone, but quickly falls into line. UKULELE MAN moves to the mic, but is interrupted by the painting of his mother. He is very keen to start the song all the way through the conversation he has with the painting. MUM: Tyrone… Tyrone…Tyrone… UM: Yes, mother? MUM: Don’t you say hello to your mother? UM: Hello, Mother, how are you? MUM: Feeling a little ‘flat’ today. The painting laughs maniacally. UKULELE MAN goes to play, but is interrupted. MUM: Tyrone… UM: Yes, Mum? MUM: Are you wearing clean underwear? UM: Am I wearing clean underwear? MUM: Are you wearing clean underwear? What if you get run over by a steamroller? UM: If I get run over by a steamroller, then not only will my underwear be clean, it will be

well pressed. This is a song all about my ukulele and it’s called My Ukulele… 1,2,3,4…

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UKULELE MAN goes to play, but is interrupted. MUM: Tyrone… UM: 1,2,3,4… UM: YES MUM!!!!! MUM: Don’t you look at me in that tone of voice. UM: Yes, Mum. Sorry Mum. MUM: How’s the show going? UM: Good, except I keep getting interrupted all the time. MUM: Who by? UM: Um… him UKULELE MAN points at DOUBLE BASS MAN MUM: Bleurrgh. Is that a double bass? UM: Yes. MUM: Bleeeuuurgh! Is that a double bass player? UM: I’m afraid so. MUM: I thought this show was all about the ukulele, the King of Instruments. UM: Yes. It is. MUM: Oh, I don’t like the double bass.

It’s such a limiting instrument. I’m glad you don't play one of those. UM: So am I, Mum. MUM: Now, I’m not bassist, but you have to watch out for their kind.

They can turn. UM: Yes, I’ve seen him do it. MUM: Well, are you going to play the song or not? UM: I was just about to. It’s a song all about my… UKULELE MAN goes cautiously to the mic… MUM: I hope nobody interrupts you this time. Is interrupted again… then introduces the song. DOUBLE BASS MAN isn’t taking malicious pleasure in the way UKULELE MAN’s mum is treating him, but it’s nice to see someone else being bossed around for a change. UM: Here’s a little song about my ukulele and it’s called… MUM: My Ukulele UM: It’s called ‘My Ukulele’, and it’s about… MUM: My Ukulele… UM: Here’s a song all about… UKULELE MAN is getting frantic, wondering if he will ever regain control. MUM: My Ukulele… UM: And it’s called… UM: My Ukulele… U: 1, 2, 3, 4

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SECTION 4 IN WHICH THE UKULELE MAN COMMITS AN ACT OF MUSICAL VIOLENCE UPON THE DOUBLE BASS MAN UKULELE MAN performs the song enthusiastically. The GORILLA makes the portrait dance, at first quite subtly. LIVE: MY UKULELE (COTTRELL/ARR FORMBY) V1 Now everybody’s got a crazy notion of their own Some like to mix up with a crowd some like to be alone It’s no one else’s business as far as I can see But every time that I go out the people stare at me CH With me little ukulele in me hand Of course the people do not understand Some say why don’t you be a scout Why don’t you read a book But I get much more pleasure when I’m playing on my uke *Of course I take no notice you can tell For mother’s sound advice will always stand She said my boy do what I say And you’ll never go astray If you keep your ukulele in your hand Yes son, Keep your ukulele in your hand UKULELE MAN sings a verse he has made up himself. DOUBLE BASS MAN hears it and stops playing. GORILLA looks up over the portrait. Then the song continues with a reprise of the chorus

V2 I’m glad my mother didn’t give me a big double bass It is so large and heavy it don’t fit in my case I like my ukulele; I like the way it sings I like to sing along with it while strumming on the strings TO* UKULELE MAN and his MUM duet on an over the top call and response coda, And his MUM sings as she exits back through the curtains. Her voice continues as she disappears from view. CODA UM: keep your ukulele in your hand U: Yes, Mum, I ’ll. keep my ukulele in my hand UM: yes, son, keep your ukulele in your hand UKULELE MAN finishes the song and bows, but DOUBLE BASS MAN continues it, playing something classical. LIVE: EINE KLEINE NACHTMUSIK – OPENING PHRASE UKULELE MAN moves to DOUBLE BASS MAN and places a hand on the strings, muffling the music.

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SECTION 5 WHERE THE UKULELE MAN AND THE DOUBLE BASS MAN ENGAGE IN A MUSICAL STANDOFF, RESULTING IN HIS DEPARTURE AND THE FORMATION OF A NEW ALLIANCE. DOUBLE BASS MAN is almost at the end of his tether. UKULELE MAN plays an aggressive little note at him. DOUBLE BASS MAN replies. He looks up at his bow, still suspended USC. GORILLA goes to fetch it, but UKULELE MAN stops her in her tracks with a glare. They launch into a frantic instrumental battle. LIVE:WILLIAM TELL OVERTURE (ROSSINI) They compete at being ‘quick on the draw’, at increasing the tempo, and even at playing their instruments behind their heads. They play with manic focus, each stretched to the limits of their abilities. Each holds their own in the battle. The song concludes. It’s rather good, actually. The audience will applaud. UM: Well, thank you very much. I think the double bass spoiled it, but you’re very kind. He condescends to offer the DOUBLE BASS MAN advice.

You know, with music, they say sometimes it’s what you don’t play that makes the difference…perhaps you might consider not playing at all? Ha. …I suppose we’d better keep the show rolling along. The next song is a…

DOUBLE BASS MAN has had enough, so he packs his instrument up, the double bass disappearing back into the uke case. UKULELE MAN continues with the introduction to the next song, not noticing his actions. UKULELE MAN turns to see DOUBLE BASS MAN standing, holding his case; then he leaves the stage. The stage falls silent. UKULELE MAN is angry. He follows a little way, then calls. UM: Come back here RIGHT NOW! [to audience] Excuse me. Ha Ha. UKULELE MAN returns to his intro. UM: ..This next one’s a charming little song…(ad lib) DOUBLE BASS MAN returns.

… open that, get there and play! … DOUBLE BASS MAN exits again, taking his stool. UKULELE MAN follows for a moment, then rushes back to face the audience. The GORILLA appears from backstage, having sensed something’s going wrong. Both performers strike a showbiz pose. UM: Is there something missing here?

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GORILLA goes to check her lipstick, then UKULELE MAN points out DOUBLE BASS MAN is gone. She exits. UM: This song is a charming little number that I happen to have composed myself.. UKULELE MAN attempts to introduce the next number. Turquoise Moods, his own original composition. He is interrupted by the curtain behind him repeatedly opening. It reveals glimpsed vignettes of the GORILLA pleading with DOUBLE BASS MAN to return to the show. GORILLA returns without DOUBLE BASS MAN. UM: Well, where is he? GORILLA shakes her head. He’s not coming out again. UM: Oh come on, all I asked was that you go back there and bring him out here.

What’s so hard to understand about that, you dumb ape. You stupid monkey. These insults hurt GORILLA’s feelings. She begins to sob slightly. UKULELE MAN backpedals, trying to keep the show going. UM: Oh, come on. [aside] Geez, you pay peanuts… He sidles up to her, keeping one eye on the audience. She gives him her sopping handkerchief. He gets rid of it and produces a trinket, which he dangles in front of the GORILLA. UM: You go get him, you get this. GORILLA grabs his arm and takes the trinket. UM: OK, you take that, then you go get him. GORILLA exits. UM: So, where was I?… that’s right. .. [ad lib] GORILLA retrieves DOUBLE BASS MAN’s bow, which is still hanging high UCS. UM: Don’t touch that! What are you doing? She leaves in high dudgeon, and it’s clear to everyone but UKULELE MAN that he is no longer in control of proceedings. UKULELE MAN goes to the mic, and imperiously orders his crew back. UM: You know who you are…Can you come out here? DOUBLE BASS MAN returns. UKULELE MAN is jocular, and play punches him like a mate down the pub. UM: Hey. Come on maaate…maaate, maaaate….

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UKULELE MAN punches DOUBLE BASS MAN’s arm. Once. Softly. Again. Harder. It’s not playful. He pulls back for another shot and DOUBLE BASS MAN raises his ukulele case to protect himself. UKULELE MAN connects with the case, and hurts his hand. DOUBLE BASS MAN exits. UKULELE MAN is embarrassed, but is not letting it show. He goes to the mic and quietly makes another request. He will try anything. UM: …Can you please come out here? DOUBLE BASS MAN returns, and UKULELE MAN attempts an extremely insincere apology UM: …I’m…sss…I’m really…ssss …honestly, I’m …sorry. The word ‘sorry’ is whispered unseen by the audience into DOUBLE BASS MAN’s ear. DOUBLE BASS MAN sees nothing has changed and departs. UKULELE MAN chucks a tantrum. UM: …I said I was sorry…you fool! You fools!

You’re ruining my show! You’re ruining my show! UKULELE MAN is increasingly aware of the audience and how badly it’s going. He seems lost; a little deflated. Then GORILLA and DOUBLE BASS MAN return, holding hands. They stand together and look at UKULELE MAN, then at eachother. UKULELE MAN mimics them. GORILLA goes to UKULELE MAN and strokes his arm tenderly. Then they go. He follows them offstage a little way, then goes to the gap in the curtains and peers though. They are gone. UKULELE MAN is alone. Abandoned.

UM: Right. Well, I guess I’m on my own. Good. I don’t need them. Indeed, I have just the song for this occasion, and I know you’re going to love it.

He strums the opening chord. The ukulele echoes, lonely in the empty space LIVE: MY WAY [REVAUX/FRANÇOIS, TRANSLATED BY PAUL ANKA] UM: And now, the end is near And so I face the final … Suddenly the curtains behind him part, revealing DOUBLE BASS MAN and GORILLA in a disrespectful tableaux. DOUBLE BASS MAN continues the melody to the song [curtain] on his instrument and the GORILLA pokes fun. The curtains drop and they disappear. UM: …curtain. UKULELE MAN regains his composure and sings again. UM: My friends, I'll say it clear I'll state my case, of which I’m… Again the curtains part, revealing his companions in another odd tableaux.

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DOUBLE BASS MAN again continues the melody. Before UKULELE MAN can react, the curtain drops again and they’re gone. UKULELE MAN wrestles for control, but it’s out of his hands. He continues the song melodramatically, wringing it for every inch of pathos, pleading in the music for the audience’s respect. UM: …. I've lived a life that's full I've traveled each and every highway The song seems to be going ok. But more, much more than this I did it… The curtains part once more, revealing an empty, dark, infinite space. Perhaps stars twinkle in the inky blackness. UKULELE MAN goes to investigate, then standing in the jaws on the red curtain, sings the final notes of… UM: …my way. The curtain drops, and a jaunty rhythm is heard. Bossanova. GORILLA and DOUBLE BASS MAN dance on, honking on party hooters and playing an upbeat, instrumental version of My Way. The curtains part. UKULELE MAN wrests control of the mic and sings. UM: …the final curtain. Hey! GORILLA sneakily steals his ukulele, and runs offstage. UKULELE MAN follows. The mad music continues. DOUBLE BASS MAN dances and plays with his instrument. GORILLA reappears. UKULELE MAN returns from backstage without his uke, pulls a rocks star pose and sings the final line of the song. It’s cacophonous. UM: …but more, much more than this, I did it my way… What is that awful sound! That’s not

music! He grabs GORILLA’s keyboard, and fumbles with it. GORILLA is dancing, oblivious. She bumps into him and forces him to stumble though the curtains, offstage. Crashes and bangs punctuate his fall as he disappears from view. The music stops. He is gone. All is quiet. DOUBLE BASS MAN sees his moment and with the GORILLA’s encouragement Takes the stage, reprising the beautiful tune he began the show with. It’s heartfelt and gorgeous; a lament. GORILLA asks for applause. As the clapping dies, the curtains part and reveal UKULELE MAN sitting dejected on a stool. For once he’s not play-acting. DOUBLE BASS MAN sees him, and begins to play the intro to a song. It’s bouncy. UKULELE MAN gets up to join in. The GORILLA stops him. This happens again. Then, DOUBLE BASS MAN, insistent, continues to play the intro.

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GORILLA allows UKULELE MAN onstage, but waggles a big black hairy finger at him. Behave. He goes to sing. GORILLA takes the mic from him. UKULELE MAN thinks its a prank, and goes to leave. But GORILLA is just placing the mic in the right spot for him. She sets him up to sing. The intro music continues. Insistent, funky. UKULELE MAN is about to play, but then stops, and says to the GORILLA: UM: Thankyou. GORILLA spreads her arms out wide. Finally! The next statement is a real challenge for him: UM: …and before our final song, a round of applause for.. the double bass! UKULELE MAN makes eye contact with the team. GORILLA goes to him, and hugs and grooms him. They play the opening song. The same as before. But different. LIVE: THERE’S A RAINBOW ‘ROUND MY SHOULDER [REPRISE] (JOLSON/ROSE/DREYER) The song ends, they bow, and leave the stage, waving goodbye. The three instruments are left onstage in tableaux. Ukulele, Double Bass and keyboard. Music plays. The curtains part one last time, the happy crew of three stick their heads out and wave goodbye. The curtains close: the show is over.

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Ropers-Huilman, B. (1999) Troublesome texts: Re-searching, re-reading, and re-telling hard data Journal for a Just and Caring Education Volume 5 Issue 2 Thousand Oaks. Ross, D.M. (1996) Childhood Bullying And Teasing: What School Personnel, Other Professionals, And Parents Can Do American Counselling Association, Virginia USA. Sawyer, R.K. Improvised Dialogues : Emergence And Creativity In Conversation Ablex Publishing Usa 2003 Seger, L and Whetmore, E (994) From Script To Screen: The Collaborative Art Of Filmmaking Owl books, Henry Holt and Co NY . Shedden, I (2002) ‘The Hobo Comes Home’ Weekend Australian Review 1-2 June p.3. http://www.stardate.org/resources/stars/bash.html Accessed July 2004 Sullivan, K. (2000) The Anti-Bullying Handbook Oxford University Press New Zealand Tierney, W.G and Lincoln, Y.S. (1997) Representation and the Text : Re-framing the Narrative Voice State University of New York Press, Albany. Want, C and Klimowski, A (1999) Introducing Kant Icon Books USA . Wiegang, K.P. and Nusselein, R. (1991), "An Interview with Nusselein, Ray, Founder and Director of the Paraplyteater, A Theater for Children in Copenhagen", in THEATER DER ZEIT, Vol. 46, No. 6, pp. 10-11. Wilson, PJ and Milne, G (2004) The Space Between: The Art of Puppetry and Visual Theatre in Australia Currency Press. Wright, S [ed] (2003) Children, Meaning Making and the Arts Pearson Education Frenchs Forest. INTERVIEWS WITH THE CREATIVE TEAM Conducted by Lenine Bourke DM 1 David Megarrity Jun 3 2002 UKULELE MAN [writer/performer] DM 2 David Megarrity Jun13 2002 SM 1 Sean Mee Jun 12 2002 SM 2 Sean Mee Jul 14 2002 [director/deviser] PC 1 Peter Cossar Jun 4 2002 PC 2 Peter Cossar Jun 15 2002 GORILLA [performer/deviser] SV 1 Sam Vincent Jun 3 2002 SV 2 Sam Vincent Jun 15 2002 DOUBLE BASS MAN [performer/musician/deviser]

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WORKING DOCUMENTS AND SCRIPTS PRODUCED BY THE SOLE AUTHOR Unless otherwise noted, all texts by Megarrity Ukulele Mekulele Songs October 1999 Ukulele Mekulele 1 June 29 2000 Ukulele Mekulele Lyrics August 15 2000 Ukulele Mekulele Simple Draft September 2000 Ukulele Mekulele Two Page Scenario October 10 2000 Ukulele Mekulele La Boite – 28 November 2000 Ukulele Mekulele Arts Queensland Application 6 June 2001 Draft Scripts And Treatments Ukulele Mekulele Treatment 5 December 2001 [aborted] Ukulele Mekulele Extended Treatment December 7 2001 Ukulele Mekulele Extended Treatment January 17 2002 Ukulele Mekulele Draft 3* February 4 2002 Ukulele Mekulele Draft 4* May 2002 Ukulele Mekulele Draft 5* June 2002Ukulele Mekulele Draft 6* 19 June 2002 Ukulele Mekulele Draft 7 November 2004 Ukulele Mekulele Draft 8 [final] November 2004 *= Devised with Sean Mee, Peter Cossar and Sam Vincent Journals RCD - Record Of Creative Development Jan 25 - Feb 1 2002 Record Of Evolving ‘Floor Treatments’ JOURNAL - Personal Journal June 7 2001 – June 25 2002 Briefing documents Ukulele La Boite June 27, 2001 Ukulele Mekulele Sean Mee Sept 17, 2001 Out Of The Box January 30 2000