Top Of The Class! - Teechers Review by Neil Kelly
Ah, school days! The happiest days of your life! Who can honestly say that Ian Ward's excellent realisation of John Godber's play did not transport them back to their pubescent years in the hormone-charged world of secondary education, where we were forced to keep company with the educationally subnormal and the mentally ill, not to mention a fair number of hardened professional criminals? Who can forget that nervous little fluttering of the heart whenever you noticed that the kid sat next to you had started rocking and muttering to himself as his medication either kicked in or wore off, I forget which, but you knew it meant you had to watch your back because who knew what kind of shiv he might have fashioned for himself in the metalwork shop? Like me, you probably went for the safest option, getting yourself ejected from the class for some petty disciplinary infringement and spending the rest of the period hanging around in the puke and fear-stinking corridor, hoping that vicious little rodent of a deputy head wouldn't happen to pass by with his cane. Better that than featuring in the next issue of the school magazine's obituary column. School equipped this correspondent with 4 CSEs, a nervous tick to go with his 20-a-day smoking habit on cigarettes earned giving [censored] behind the bike sheds and a strong sense of having been cheated out of something. I began planning my revenge, joining the army to gain access to explosives and automatic weapons, but... but I digress! It's the play you want to read about, not the rambling, random reminiscences of some bitter old [censored].
Directed by former schoolboy Ian Ward, 'Teechers' is a fast-moving play set in a 'modern' comprehensive (it was written circa 1980, so some changes to the script were necessary in order to comply with the author's instruction to set it in the present), and follows a new drama teacher's progress through two terms of unruly classes, demoralised colleagues and a particularly obstreperous caretaker. John Godber's script initially met with lukewarm responses. 'Well it's alright I suppose,' some would comment. 'It has its moments.' It is a tribute then to Ian's inspired vision and casting that turned this potentially drab material on the page into pure gold on stage. After opening night one audience member (a real teacher as chance would have it) commented that she had seen the original when it was first performed and that the Carlton's presentation was every bit as good. She also reminded us of our promise to stay away from her school.
Teechers opens with an explosive "Knackers school!" as the three leavers, Gail (played by Kirsty Collins), Salty (played by Andrew Candish) and Hobby (played by Carlton newcomer Naomi Nicholson) burst onto the stage, overwhelmed by their newly-found freedom.
"Everyone's been lovely," says Naomi, "apart from Tori who made me sick." ("Well you've got to stop kissing me, darling," Tori interjects.) Naomi's favourite scene was The School Killers. "My favourite bit is where I fall on the ground and I have a big bruise on my knee which I'm going to treasure forever. There was one nasty moment when I couldn't remember my line and could feel my world caving in around me and I thought Oh my God I'm going to spoil it for everyone and they'll all hate me... But then I remembered it and it was fine."
"The earth is still moving under me," says Andrew. He too loved the Ninja scene. "It was one of those scenes that grew throughout the whole run and I always looked forward to doing it."
"I nearly crippled Naomi about four times throwing the bag around at the start," Andrew adds. "One time I got her fair and square. She was always there when I was flailing around. Kirsty knows me well enough to stand back, so she was never hit."
I tell Kirsty she has won a number of admirers throughout the show. She demands that I name names so I grass up my ex-boss. "This is probably the most enjoyable play I've done with Carlton," says Kirsty. "There was so much scope to just muck around on stage, whilst keeping in character."
And a special thanks to Kirsty on behalf of all the cast and crew for hosting a great after-show party.
Rich Gladwell returned for his second appearance with the Carlton, ably playing the new teacher, Mr. Nixon with the great professional stage-craft that has become his trademark. I ask him his favourite scene, but he declines to answer as Kirsty is still collecting fines for quoting lines from the show (double if you quote from a previous show). I offer him an amnesty if he will tell me his worst moment, but the worst he can think of is a moment in the dressing room during dress rehearsal when his mind suddenly went blank. "No bad moments really. It's been a top show." As ever, it is difficult to get Rich to talk about himself, as he can't stop praising his fellow cast members and crew.
The lovely Anna Parker was perfectly cast as Mrs Cordelia Parry, a "large, attractive" headmistress with a clashing wardrobe and a passion for drama. Anna probably delivered the most consistently funny line across all six performances, "'You did what?', said Mrs Parry, her pink jacket clashing with her yellow blouse." Listening in down in the dressing room, we watched in trepidation as the tannoy shuddered under the roar of laughter and feared that it was going to explode off the wall at any minute. What are you going to do with that lovely costume, I ask her. "I'm going to donate it to the London museum of fashion," says Anna.
Returning to the stage for the first time since the 2006 Showcase, the inimitable Tori Heggs drew upon her remarkably expressive face, her wide range of funny voices and a debilitating illness to play the three roles of dowdy teacher Maureen Whitham, P.E. dodger Haley Patterson (the object of Salty's desire) and Mrs Clifton of St. Georges, whose appearance altered every night.
This production was so bedevilled with illness that our newly renovated (severely reduced) dressing room sometimes resembled a plague pit. Tori turned incapacity to her advantage, developing a new comical squeaky voice with which to imbue Miss Whitham. The tissue into which she snuffled on stage, and the bottle of linctus which she would pull from her cardigan pocket for a quick swig between lines weren't just props.
I caught up with Tori at the after show party and asked her how she was feeling. "Sniffly, chesty cough, fairly high temperature, but all round great!" Her best moment on stage? "It wasn't when I coughed up my guts. It was probably when I played Mrs Clifton because I do quite aspire to be a governess of a really posh school." I remind her of the moment on opening night when she forgot she was supposed to be on stage, but she is happy to talk about it. "Panic struck. Didn't know what to do except cry, swore a bit, like 'Oh dear, gracious!' (steady on, old girl). Then I climbed the steps, cardigan all over the place, did it up, chucked on the glasses and went on as if nothing had happened. Because that was the way it was meant to be." A real trouper!
Newcomer David Hall drew satisfying hisses from the audience as the borderline fascist deputy head Mr. Basford, an authority figure we can all identify with. I ask whether Mr. Basford was based on any real life character who might have been the scourge of his school days. "No," says David modestly, "I just made him up." I point out that he looks old enough to have been caned at school. He gives me a funny look, perhaps wondering where this is leading. "I was soundly thrashed," I assure him. "We got to like it so much that when there were no teachers around we used to spank each other."
"I think you're just fantasising, Neil," he replies.
What can we say about the always superb Ellie Levy as P.E. teacher Miss Jackie Prime; that tight Reebok-footed [censored] [censored] [censored], that schoolboy [censored]-fantasy! Reverting to her Tennessee trailer park drawl, Ellie May says how much she enjoyed Rich's gospel singing during the warm-up, as it reminded her of home. Praise the Lord! We agree how much we both enjoyed the scene where (as directed and completely in character) I look up her skirt while she's bending over the magazine rack. "I'm a good girl at heart," Ellie says. "Are we done now?"
Nicky Young drew much admiration from younger female members of the audience playing school thug Oggy Moxon. In real life of course, Nick is a model of propriety; no chance of a date unless you can produce a National Insurance number, or preferably a driving licence, girls!
Nick wins top prize for the most eye watering ad lib with his remarkable, 'You broke my nose, you [CENSORED]!' during the Friday evening performance. It was truly heroic when you consider that his mother was in the audience at the time. Audience, cast and crew gasped in wonder as he repeated the expletive for the benefit of those who didn't get it first time around. Outraged, yet unable to reach Nick from her place behind the sound console, Jo unleashed a furious punch sound effect at him. However, some in the cast were inspired and considered pepping up their own lines in a similar way, but did we dare? I thought perhaps I might be accused of scene-stealing (something I am very sensitive to) if my first staff room line was, "Oh you can't sit there, that's Marcus's seat, you [censored]." Nick was noticeably absent from the cast slap-up curry meal later on, and presumed to have been led away by the ear to have his bottom warmed.
"The last time I used that word in front of my mum she scalded me," says Nicky. "I don't mean scolded as in told off, I mean scalded as in she threw a cup of tea in my face."
I asked Nicky whether he had drawn on any real life experiences in creating his character. "There was no acting required whatsoever. It was me aged fourteen. At age twelve I was angelic, but that was what I had turned into by age fourteen. That's what an all-boys' secondary modern does to you. I actually spotted one of my teachers from my high school in the audience. I used to behave like a complete arse at school and I had her for English and I saw her looking from me to the programme then back to me again and I could tell she'd clocked me. I haven't seen her for about fourteen years. I was going to say hello after the show, but she was straight out the door."
As ever, we had to cope with the problem of disappearing props. On opening night, Nick announced that the 'art pamphlet' featuring tastefully posed nude studies of the female form - used solely as a prop of course - had vanished overnight. This correspondent had to accompany Louisa to the local shop to procure a new one and we selected Sport Readers' Wives for its sheer brashness. The young man behind the counter was visibly impressed at the spectacle of this aging Lothario in the company of an attractive young lady who seemed willing to accompany him to the shop, help him choose a spangle book from the top shelf and then pay for it. Wearing his treasurer's hat, Andrew expressed some concern that a disproportionate amount of the budget was being spent on one-handed reading material. To his credit, he was not swayed by the offer of the chance to inspect the assets of Cassie from Leeds, despite assurances that she was 'all woman'.
And where would we have been without Stage Manager, Louisa Court? Future directors take note - Louisa is a Trojan. A marine. A Samurai. A storm trooper. A [insert favourite elite warrior here]. When she is on the team, she will serve unto death. We first noticed that she wasn't looking her best during the tech rehearsal on the Sunday; she looked pale and announced that she hadn't slept for 24 hours. Concern mounted as 24 hours gave way to 48 hours at dress rehearsal, then 72 hours without sleep by opening night, but still she soldiered on. "Just give me a light," she would mutter through gritted teeth. Just as comic book heroes draw their super powers from exposure to lethal doses of radiation, Louisa's are derived from cigarettes. She actually collapsed on the Thursday evening during Act 2, but we managed to revive her. We implored her to sit quietly and drink some water while Ellie fanned her, but that's not the way of Louisa. "Just hold the door for me so I can bring the table off," she gasped.
I hold the tape recorder under her nose and suggest that it's been a gruelling week for her. "You misquoted me for Outside Edge," she shouts, "I'm not talking to you now, except to say that the [censored] Ford Fiesta was a [censored] change! You can quote me on that."
Jeff Graves was a tower of strength as Assistant to the Director from the first rehearsal right through to the final show. "It was a joy to be a part of this show," says Jeff. "Ian knew what he wanted and he went out and got it. Ian cast this one so well that he was halfway there already." I notice that his glass is empty and that I am standing between him and the kitchen. "Get out the way, you [censored]," he says.
Cindy Graves as Producer was always there in the background, doing her bit. "It was fantastic. Great show. I knew that right from the first rehearsal, but new things just kept being added in throughout the week."
Jo Forest-Jones provided the excellent sound effects. "I also enjoyed dancing back stage with Kristen when the music came on at the start of the show." The famous punch, however, was less fun. "It was horrible. Every night my hand started sweating five lines before I had to do it, but it was OK apart from the time I missed it out and the time I did it twice (although that was deserved)."
Thanks also to mysterious newcomer Louise Blackman, who rocked up during the final rehearsals announcing that she was interested in working backstage and thereafter made herself very useful indeed.
Thanks also to Kristen Bowditch for the fantastic lighting and Simon for all his technical expertise.
"It was excellent," says Simon. "There were more cues than I've ever had to programme before, somewhere around seventy-five. The most I've ever done before was around fifty or sixty."
"Teechers was the most illuminating Carlton production I've ever seen in my life," says Kristen (and I've kept the tape so she can't deny it at a later date). "My favourite bit was 'that Friday incident' where mine and Ian's jaws dropped to the floor and the audience were sobbing into their handkerchiefs and we were barred from ever appearing in the Studio again. Even in the main theatre downstairs Elvis went "Uuh-huh-hunh!" in surprise. It's true!"
Thanks to Matt Petty for putting out an excellent full colour souvenir programme (sure to become a much sought-after collector's item) and for some deft work on the web page. [and for censoring this review - Ed.]
And a final word from Ian: "I've been working with a fantastic crew and cast for the past three months. It's like it had nothing to do with me. I blocked a couple of scenes and then left. Then I arrived back on the scene on Tuesday and found they'd put a show on. I love my cast, I think they love me and this directorial debut has inspired me to do it again soon."
The author made a modest contribution to the show, playing Doug the Caretaker, the legendary PE-dodger Barry Wobshall, Oggie's yobbish mate Dennis and Teacher B.
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