'Producing the Scene': the Evolution of the Director in British Theatre 1900-50

The role of the director as the individual who harnesses and controls resources to shape the theatrical product to a personal artistic vision, begins to emerge in British theatre in the early years of the twentieth century. What distinguishes the role from that of the actor-manager who had led the profession since the seventeenth century, is that it separates off from the leading actor in performance. The power and authority of the director (or producer as he or she tended to be known initially) is exercised in the pre-performance stage. In the first half of the century there were still old-style actor-managers—Donald Wolfit is a prime example—and many of the new directors had begun their careers as actors and some continued to act their in their own productions. But the perception of the function of the director began to change radically. In part this was linked to the early attempts to create a new model of producing company or ‘repertory’ theatre which required a different set of administrative as well as artistic skills to tackle the challenge of a short-run system of multiple play production. This became especially important in the developing network of regional repertory theatres which were established as autonomous, locally-specific institutions predicated on policies opposed to the dominant commercial ethos. The best-known of the early directors, most notably H.Granville Barker, confined their radical experiments to short-lived metropolitan experiments, or, as in the case of Terence Gray and J.B.Fagan, operated within the influential Oxbridge nexus. Others such as H.K.Ayliff, Herbert Prentice, William Armstrong and William Bridges-Adams remain comparatively obscure because of their long-term ‘provincial’ connections or, as in the case of Nugent Monck and Edy Craig because their creativity was largely channelled through amateur actors. This chapter will explore the evolving role of the director as both a necessary functionary and an artistic innovator within the changing structures of British theatre.

The Object Animates: Displacement and Humility in the Theatre of Philippe Quesne

This article considers the animating role that objects play in the theatre of Philippe Quesne and Vivarium Studio (France). The conventional role of object animation is often characterised by the performer manipulating objects and scenic material on the stage, asserting a control over the environment they are implicated in. In Quesne's theatre, this relationship is democratised. The theatrical apparatus, both materially and conceptually, is set up to enable the flow of animation to be interchangeable, affording an equal agency to the objects being used much as that of the performers. This theatre of animation is drawn through the framing concepts of displacement and humility. Displacement is considered as a compositional strategy that makes us aware of the volume of the stage space beyond the proscenium frame as a plane of composition. The introduction of large inflatable objects, real cars or large roles of fake snow foreground the objects material presence allows Quesne to play with moments of equilibrium, tipping, excess and absence. Humility is traced as a philosophy of objects that transcends the choice, handling and use of material items in Quesne's work. Simple objects take on a specific vibrancy because of how they give shape to the human participants on stage, animating moments of recognition that allows the human figure, its ethics, emotions and humour, to appear.

The Silent Majority: an Exploration of the Integration of Voting Software within Theatre in Education programmes

I wanted to explore whether traditional Forum Theatre approaches can be enhanced by the use of integrated voting software to empower young people. My research is based on two of a series of widening participation interactive TiE programmes focused on the decisions young people make on educational progression. I worked as a director alongside students studying Drama and Performance at The University of Worcester and the programmes have toured widely to schools across Worcestershire and Herefordshire. ‘It’s Up to You!’ (2013 – 2014) was aimed at years 8 and 9 choosing their GCSE options and ‘Move on Up!’ (2014 - 2015) looked at the hopes and fears of year 6 pupils about to go up to secondary school. Finding a voice in Boal’s framework as a ‘specactor’ does not always appeal to a pupil who does not want to stand out from the crowd or is not familiar with a classroom where drama conventions are practised or understood. The anonymity of the voting software with results of decisions made appearing instantly on screen is certainly appealing to some pupils: ‘I also loved the keypads they gave us so that we could answer the questions without having to put our hand up and wait..’ This paper aims to interrogate the idea that empowering needs to not simply be about giving voice to a few confident group members but allowing the silent majority to be able to experiment with decision making in an educational and social context.

Facing the Face of the Other: The Case of the Nia Centre

Until comparatively recently there has been little systematic effort to record the contribution to British theatre history of the diversity represented by Black British and British South and East Asian theatre makers. That failure to ‘see’ and acknowledge this lacuna within the academy reflected what in 2001 was condemned as widespread institutional racism within the theatre industry itself. The other ‘faces’ had been rendered effectively invisible. This chapter considers the ethical and evidential challenges associated with the task of recovering the history of a project created to enhance an important concept of cultural identity: the little-documented failure in the 1990s of the Nia Centre, the UK’s first black arts centre which opened in Hulme, Manchester in 1991. My exploration raises a number of key ethical challenges: How in the aftermath of the Nia’s collapse and in the almost complete absence of archival records, is the historian to mediate what inevitably are multiple truths coming from different perspectives? Whose, and what values were, and remain, at stake both at the time of the project itself, and in the telling of the history? How does the historian deal with failure especially if the circumstances were obscure and little regarded? The dream of the Nia died more than a decade ago, but the participants in that history are very much alive and their sensitivities have to be respected as part of the ethical challenge.