The British Theatre Guide: Choosing the School Show

School & Youth Theatre

Choosing the School Show

There are as many different ways of directing as there are directors, but they all begin with one thing - the play. You must believe in the play or you won't give it your best efforts. The poorest production I have ever done was my first full-length show at my present school, Smike. I really only did it because my MD wanted to.

I'll be honest: I wasn't that keen on the show when I started. I only really agreed to doing it because I wanted to keep the MD sweet for when I started - as I knew would happen! - to want to do shows that she was unsure about.

I'll be completely honest: I didn't like Smike at all. It went down well with the audience and the powers-that-be because it was the first show that school had seen for many a year and - if we are really truthful - expectations of school shows are so low that staff, parents and friends are just delighted to see the kids up there on stage and remembering their lines. Critical faculties do tend to fly out of the window!

Not for me, however! I was, in the event, pleasantly surprised, because it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The kids put their all into it. They loved being on stage, they enjoyed the singing, they were mesmerised by the lights and sound equipment, they took (generally speaking) well to the discipline, and, all in all, from an educational point of view it had to be considered a success.

Artistically, however, it wasn't, and here I must part company with many of my colleagues. With a theatre, rather than an educational drama, background, I cannot be satisfied with the idea of "the process, not the product", at least in relation to something for which you charge an entrance fee. The idea's fine in the classroom, but the moment you ask people to pay good money to watch what you are doing, you have, I firmly believe, to give them the best value for that money that you can, and you mustn't be satisfied with that so damning comment, "Well, they are just kids, of course". I want the audience to forget that they're watching kids!

And that isn't a pipe dream. It can happen. The most satisfying moment of all, as far as I am concerned, was when, at the end of a show back in the early seventies, a relative of a kid in the play just sat in his seat and said, "I only came because the wife said I had to because our X was in it. I still can't believe they're school kids." That's the reaction to aim for, and if you get it just once in your career, you'll feel wonderful!

You might even think that sounds selfish, but it isn't really. If you drive, bully, cajole the kids to aim for that kind of level, then even if they don't make it, they'll still achieve a standard well above that of the average school production. When we did Godspell, a reporter from the local paper came to review it, and set out a list of those things for which school productions are famous (or, rather, infamous), such as giving sly waves to mam and dad in the audience and so on. She went on to say, with what seemed like genuine surprise, that there was no sign of any of them in our show!

The thing is, kids, if they are really inspired by what they are doing, will work their socks off to achieve what you expect of them. Set your sights low, and you'll get what you ask for; set them high and your kids will bust a gut to try to meet your expectations.

And it all starts with the play. Choose a play which is written down for kids and you're on a hiding to nothing. But choose one which will make real demands on them and they will respond - and surprise you. Even now, after following this philosophy for over twenty years, I still find myself surprised by what they are capable of achieving.

Take Steel Magnolias, for instance. When I mentioned the idea of doing this play to the Head, she reacted with "Well, if you think it's suitable..." which summed up the attitude of everyone, except me and the kids. But it worked: the first night audience was in floods of tears at the end! These six sixteen year old girls had taken part in shows since their second year, had developed a reasonably sophisticated taste in theatre, and were willing to work on understanding the situation and the feelings of the characters. It was the right choice of play at this time: four years before it would probably have been a disaster. It's a much more difficult play for kids to do than, for instance, Antigone (the first straight play I did at the school), which is, after all, about a young girl and her feelings. In Steel Magnolias they were nine years younger than the youngest character and fifty years younger than the oldest, but they were able to make that imaginative leap by studying the text in a very mature way.

I am not saying that you shouldn't choose a play which has been specially written for kids, but rather that you should approach such plays with care. Many are little more than pot-boilers, written (like the myriads of light comedies and thrillers produced for amateur companies) because the market is insatiable - and quite profitable. For goodness' sakes, don't lose your critical faculties: apply the same criteria to a children's play as you would to a play for adults, or, for that matter, to a novel for children. Children's novelists like Alan Garner, Susan Cooper, Joan Aitkin, Diana Wynn-Jones and Peter Dickenson (and today we would add Philip Pullford and JK Rowling), to name just a few of the best, all make demands on their readers, stretching their imagination, testing their response to language, making them think, whereas others pander and preach. Decent teachers cringe when they hear others putting on their special talking-to-children voice ("Now children, I want us all to think today about..." Yech!) and yet they often seem to have no qualms about choosing the dramatic equivalent for a school play.

And please, please, please! avoid those plays which are sold on the basis of their "relevance": they might be good, but they might also be a load of rubbish. You may have thought, in the last paragraph, that my illustration of talking down to kids was a bit old-fashioned, rather Joyce Grenfell. You're probably right, but people like that still exist in our schools (I know a couple!). Their modern equivalent, however, is the relevance-monger. You know the sort I mean: This exciting new play by Fred Bloggs explores the temptation to vandalism which all teenagers face and shows how Joe, a new fourth year at Mucktown Comprehensive, is nearly dragged into crime by a gang of......, and so on! What a bloody insult to the kids! Pander to the fascination with low-life that all kids have, and preach a good old-fashioned moral at the same time! They might even try to give it a veneer of literary respectability by calling it a "modern, teenage morality play"!

Now I'm not saying that all "relevant" plays are badly written: they aren't (Willie Russell's Our Day Out springs to mind), but the vast majority are. For goodness' sakes, judge them on their worth as pieces of drama and not on their "relevance", a quality as spurious in Drama as "sincerity" is in poetry. And if you don't believe that, just look at some of the very sincere but absolutely appalling pieces of verse which appear in the Readers' Letters columns of local newspapers or the In Memoriam classifieds.

I think that's why I was unhappy with Smike: it's a moral tale (look at how much nicer schools are nowadays, and even our hard headmaster is much nicer than Squeers!), sugar-coated with a type of music which can best be described as the acceptable face of pop. It made no demands on the kids other than technical ones, and certainly made none on me other than problem of manipulating large numbers of very inexperienced kids on-stage for the first time. It was safe, sure to be a success with indulgent parents etc., and ultimately of no value except as a confidence-builder for something better.

Look for a play which makes demands on the kids as actors (and singers and dancers if that's relevant), and which also challenges their prejudices and makes them think and react in ways which are new to them. And don't be afraid of the audience: if you're doing the right thing, you'll take them with you. In a compilation show I did the following year - I included that scene from Richard III in which Queen Margaret triumphs over Elizabeth and the Duchess of York (from So now prosperity begins to mellow to

Farewell York's wife, and queen of sad mischance,
These English woes will make me smile in France.)

simply because I had three very good actresses (Year 10s) whom I wanted to push to their limits. They were unhappy with the idea at first (Shakespeare has such an undeserved bad reputation with kids!) and, even when they were feeling much more confident in their ability to handle it, they were sure it would die with the audience.

It didn't! Certainly many of the younger kids in the audience didn't understand a word (for God's sake, don't fall into the trap of playing to the lowest common denominator - someone is certain to bring a couple of three year olds!) and the older ones weren't sure, but they all admired the acting unreservedly, and for many adults it was the highlight of the show.

Actually I'm willing to bet that we would have got away with doing the whole play, if we'd had (a) sufficient boys, and (b) they were good enough to carry the parts. And again I'm not exaggerating: don't forget that the National Youth Theatre uses kids from fourteen upwards and they've done very many more than worthwhile performances of Shakespeare. And any company that produces Helen Mirren, and others of like calibre, has got to be good.

You may have to start with an obvious crowd-appeal play (which is why, in spite of everything I've said, I don't really regret having done Smike as our first show), because then your kids will trust your judgement. You see, there will be times when they'll say to you that they don't like what you want to do and they don't think it will work. You can say, "Look, I know it will work" as much as you like, but if they don't trust you, they won't accept your word and so will either drop out or put in a very unsure, and hence poor, performance.

You will have your failures here, of course. Kids are very wary of making fools of themselves in front of their friends, and sometimes that fear will overcome their trust. I had that problem with Godspell. I explained the story to the Drama Club and played the David Essex recording. The older kids fell in love with the show straightaway but some of the younger ones (mainly Year 9s) didn't like it (if it's religious it's got to be bad!), didn't believe my assurances that it would be a great success, and dropped out. I'm pleased to say that they sat in the audience and kicked themselves - and had to grace to admit it. It'll happen: you just mustn't allow yourself to be disheartened but keep your belief in what you're doing and fight on. If you're right, and what you want to do is good, you'll win in the end.

Finally on this matter of choosing the right play, if your kids are anything like mine they'll want to do Grease. Personally I wouldn't touch it: to me its message is appalling - if you want to get a man, be a slag! Annie, too, is out, because it both panders and preaches, and is mawkish about it into the bargain. Be prepared to hold your ground in the face of much pressure: in the long run they'll respect you for it.

Here follows an (almost) verbatim conversation between me and a group of kids:

"Sir, why don't we do Annie?

"Because I don't like it."

"Why not, sir? It's great!"

"Sorry, but I just can't stand it. I reckon it's the most rubbish musical ever written."

"Aw sir! I think it's great and we ought to do it." (Cries of agreement from the rest.) "We ought to vote on it, sir. That's democratic. You believe in democracy, don't you sir?" (Aha!, they think: got you there!)

"Yes I believe in democracy."

"So we can vote?"

"Yes. Real democracy. One man, one vote. OK?"

Jubilant cries of "Yeah!"

"Fine. One man, one vote. As I'm the only man present I vote against, so we don't do it. End of story."

Yes. I know. A bit silly. But I honestly think that if I had given way, when they knew I was dead set against it, they would have lost some respect for me. Kids expect teachers to be a bit arbitrary and autocratic and are a little disappointed if they're not. My mob think it's great to mutter to each other, "Oh him! he's got no taste. He doesn't like Annie or Grease."!

So, you will be able to tackle very demanding plays, but you do need to work up to them. You can do it in one school generation, but don't rush it. Choose your play to suit your company.