When people think of the Am Drams, the consensus stems from the assumption of drab and dull acting, vocals comparable to X-Factor auditions, and dancing that would make Bruce Forsyth turn in his grave. This is even touched upon in popular culture, with films such as Hot Fuzz poking fun at its often self-absorbed, tedious nature. I can vouch for this (to an extent), having seen some productions that have made me recoil in my seat from cringing, an emotion I struggle to handle maturely. However, occasionally, you come across an amateur dramatics society that encapsulates the joy of the theatre. These societies adopt values of tolerance, transparency and cooperation that have facilitated a socially accepting and safe space for all age groups. My society was south-west London’s BROS Theatre Company. If it wasn’t for them, I would have never been born.
Once Upon a Time…
My parents met through BROS. Whilst rehearsing for Anything Goes, which would be performed at the famously magnificent Minack Theatre down the road from Land’s End in Cornwall, their relationship developed, and the rest is history! Not many love stories are usually formulated from tap dancing on a metaphysical cruise ship (apart from Anything Goes itself, of course), but my parents’ meeting was a lucky exception. Their story set sail that summer to the beat of tapping feet and crashing waves. They say, ‘If music be the food of love, play on’, and it seems that BROS amateur dramatics society provided plenty to chew on.
Problem Child
Unfortunately, it seems like I bit off more than I could chew in my family of gleeks. Growing up with Elaine Paige on Sunday on constant repeat drove me up the wall, although, on reflection, I do miss the Sunday roasts that accompanied her obscure laughter. I had a love-hate relationship with musical theatre, particularly amateur dramatics. The hate came from the obligation of attending rehearsals. I was young and a frantic child, characterised by my hyper-obsessions and strange noises. Hence, my irritable nature would suit me much better in front of the Wii remote than in the West End. To find my routine of Wii Sports Resort and Pombears interrupted by dissonant harmonies and uncoordinated pirouettes did not sound like my idea of an entertaining time. However, once I stopped resisting and got involved, I experienced amateur dramatics from both sides (call me Joni Mitchell) and realised there was more to it than meets the eye.
Oliver, Oliver.
I performed Oliver at the Richmond Theatre in southwest London when I was nine years old. I played one of the orphans and one of Fagin’s gang members. Talk about range. It was a culmination of biweekly (as in twice a week) rehearsals in a nursery school hall, with actorial and musical direction coming from society member volunteers who made the entire experience feel comfortable and structured, albeit occasionally monotonous and time-consuming. Furthermore, whilst I formed plenty of friendships and fond memories with my co-stars, the reality of rehearsing with more hyperactive children and hormonal teenagers was, at times, overwhelming. However, once the curtains were called and the costumes were on, performing from the stage that has been graced by the likes of Sir Alec Guinness and Sir Ian Mckellan was a palpable thrill. My primary school teachers also came to see me perform, which was flattering, if not a bit terrifying.
I Never Walked Alone
Once I got a taste for it, the musical food of love indeed satisfied my appetite for escapism from the horrors of my first four years at secondary school. This compelled me to audition for a part in our rendition of Carousel. Liverpool fans will know the anthem ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ featured in the grand finale. The magic behind this musical, however, did not lie in football but in the setting in which it was performed. Every two years, our society would travel back to Land’s End for a Minack Theatre performance, and I was lucky enough to experience the perspective from the other side of the stage. A sun setting on the horizon whilst waves crash against the cliffside is enough to satisfy a lifetime of breath-taking views. It certainly did for my parents. But to perform in front of it? I finally understood the romantic appeal that enthralled my parents. On the final day, I distinctly remember a single tear falling from my eye as I uttered the final note of the finale. I am not a Liverpool supporter, but I finally understood the hype. It was in this moment that the magic of musical theatre was transported into my heart, and ever since, I have been an avid fan of the amateur dramatics culture. So, if you ever fancy a fun night out, grab your mate, a bucket of popcorn and a ticket to your next local am dram. You’ll be in for a blast.
Performing with my mother and sister when I was twelve years old seemed to be poetic. I owe my life to amateur dramatics, and it seemed that I finally paid off that debt in front of a Cornish sunset.
