B.O.B Rehearsal 28/01/2010 UNIT 7

Thursday 28th January 2010, 7-10pm, Room UT


Aim:
To run through units one to the end of unit five to refresh over scenes crafted so far without cast members Belle and Father (cast members absent but filled by other members for tonight). To move onto unit 7 as unit 6 as almost been outlined and blended into unit 5 already.

Recap:
Firstly, unit one is recapped with the cast running over the first song with building vocals and 'numb' song. The cast move onto unit two, mapping out each cast member's movements and recapping important details such as the pained stances and bridging of scenes. The key focus for unit three is the office dance routine which is revisted briefly. Unit four is added on. The whole running time for the first four units is approx 17.5 minutes long.

Joseph (Our in house music composer) has watched the sketched out scenes; he has been noting the vocals and routines to grasp scope of the play so far. Sam Grogan asks the cast to keep running through the first three units to touch up and get an aspect of running time. Joseph films the final run over to take away and work on supporting music. He has a string quartet, drummer, macs etc (resources from our music department) to work with in order to build the sound track. Joseph explains that he would like to have motif sounds for certain scenes and characters. These will stick with the key characters in different scenes; they may just be a matter of two notes but they will be signatures of the key cast, subliminally letting the audience know of their presence. Joseph and Sam have discussed ideas such as widening out songs with the rest of the musicians to hand; filling out the sound and also positioning the musicians as though they are watching the play with the audience.

Mapping out of Unit Seven; Just to recap the unit, here is what the Iumentum has set so far:

Unit 7- Father’s reluctant betrayal

Father enters his apartment. Belle is in her room, and does not hear him.

Father silently prepares Belle’s food. He slices, stirs and chops, (repeats this over and over) mixing food with sleeping powder. His pain is evident. (cuts finger maybe?) He leaves the food on the table. He fetches Belle, sits her down and leaves her. He drinks whisky shakily in his study while Belle eats the food. Puts down his drink and carries on with some paper work, hands shaking. She passes out, slumped across the table. Beast enters quietly. This is arranged. This is business. Father cries silent screams in the darkness as Beast collects the limp body. The door closes and footsteps disappear. The apartment is dark and empty. The apartment echoes with Belle’s absence The television quietly buzzes with white noise.

Development of Unit 7:

Sam Grogan decides to split the group into two and each are to work on the first 2/3rds of Unit seven. The initial part of unit seven is split into three key moments; firstly when father is walking up to the door of his house; the second part is when he is putting the key in the lock, walking in and calling Belle's name and the last part is when he hears Belle cry out his name. Each moment needs to portray the tension, the worrying and fear that father feels walking up the stairs, then the relief when he hears no reply from Belle on his first call, then finally the crippling upset when Belle bounces into his arms.
The group toy with vocal humming and murmuring to capture the moods of the scene. Group one whispers words, hum and play with oral sounds ('tsst', 'psst', 'huuhhh' etc) to illustrate Father walking up to his front door. The group as a whole exercise this, crescendo-ing and adding a sharp breath in to show the moment when Father doesn't know if Belle is at home or not, just before her delayed response.

Sam T's stimulus suggestion- To find film parts that consist of street lights, people walking, spot lights, film noir moments in order to understand and capture the vibe of unit seven.

Final discussion:

** please note the final date for the last showing in the Uni Theatre is the 21st of March. Please book the Saturday 20th off to prep**


Tuesday's aim:

To build up on unit seven and move onto unit eight.

For Belle and Beast

This video is relevant to Units 10 or 12, either one. Just something inspiring for the bond between Beast and Belle under difficult circumstances. Possible inspiration for a chorus piece aswell.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnLVRQCjh8c

Lauren xx

Somthing else for Unit 8

Hey guys, I really liked the use we made of the dead bodies in rehearsal tonight so I thought it might be interesting to extend on that further we Belle wakes up after being brought to Beast's home. This is a scene from the film 'Legend', it's called Waltz with Darkness. I imagine something like this between Belle and the bodies only with less waltzing and a bit more contact movement. Hope you enjoy. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feqE4t0wmEI&feature=related

From Lauren xx

Something for Beast/Belle in Unit 8

A Poem by Sylvia Plath - I think that this poem (especially the second half) is relevant to Beast's determination to show Belle that the world outside is ugly and full of hate and he can offer her truth and his friendship to almost shield her from that. See you next rehearsal. Lauren xxxx

'Mirror'

I am silver an exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful -
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

B.O.B Rehearsal 26/01/2010 UNIT 5

Tuesday 26th January 2010, 7-10pm, Room UT

*warm up with the Sam*

Aim:
To recap the previous scene in unit four. To map out unit 5 and develop the true depth of the scene.

Recap:
Unit four recapped by the group.


Mapping out of Unit 5; Just to recap the unit, here is what the Iumentum has set so far:

5. a) Beast feeds father for friendship
Father wakes up in Beast’s house. Father’s first concern is his business – Belle is not mentioned. Beast feeds Father and then asks for companionship. A new best friend. A wiliness to be taught, shown the way to live.

b) Father rejects Beast
Father rejects this. This is nonsense in Father’s eyes, he works, he eats and he sleeps. This is not in his life plan. Father is physically, mentally and emotionally uncomfortable. This is not planned. Beast has not found an answer here. He must go out again, search again. First though, he must tie up ends here.

c) Beast demands payment
Father discovers evidence of Beasts previous victims. Father is shocked that Beast exists in his city. Beast looks through Father’s wallet. He sees riches here. He must receive payment for his troubles, then kill.

Development of Unit Four:
Group move out into the room, listening to Farewell by Dario Marianelli (Atonement Soundtrack). Cast are asked to move their minds through the end of unit 4 and the first parts of unit 5. Sam Grogan narrates the first time through with the group. Sam T recaps over the same scene. Both Directing members highlight the key moments when the father receives a home made meal and comfort. The group begin to really exercise the scene, beginning with muscle tension and then moving into relaxation when receiving warmth and hospitality from Beast. The group are even asked to imagen the particular soup that the Father is given.

While the rest of the group toy with the overall scene, Father and Beast move away from the group to focus on the dialog of unit 5a. The scene is played with several times, developed and characters are built on. The scene then moves onto parts b and c. Kelcie-Gene sits (B.O.B's writer in residence) works with Father and Beast, running over recordings of their scene. Kelcie highlights the scene's dialog with constructive criticism and ideas for clarity and direction e.g Father is reminded that he is highly work orientated, he will give anything materialistic to get out of the Beast's grip. This influences Farther to offer his credit cards, his house, car etc. Kelcie-Gene tailors the script as the cast discuss moving through the scene. The script builds and then the two parties (father/beast and the rest of the cast) rejoin.

The rest of the group have been working on the backdrop of the scene. The theme is the bodies of the victims left behind from Beast's past. These cast members switch from a haunting backdrop to a set for 5a; two chairs and a table. The whole theme is bodies and the past of the Beast still tainting his future intentions to find friendship. The cycle is on its course again. The scene captures the fairtytale feel with the body part scene. Kelcie-Gene adds that a butchers table/ old fashioned table would suit the scene best. The rest of the cast agree this would suit the scene well.


Thursday's aim:

To walk through all of unit 5 and begin working on unit 6.

Something for Father?

This is a short non-fiction story. It's about a serial killer and a victim that escaped. It is quite graphic- please do read, but be prepared!

"Denny Johnson

The One That Got Away

Jeffrey Dahmer certainly went down in history.
As usual, for a few short days, the Tabloid newspapers had the edge. The regular news media filed stories daily - the Tabs' worked on a weekly deadline. With a story moving this fast there was no time to look back. The body count was growing each day as police pieced together Dahmer's ten-year rampage - with the bones and flesh that remained.
Terrified Traci Edwards was nearly the twelfth victim. Only he escaped a hideous death at the hands of the cannibal killer Dahmer, who confessed to the mutilation-murders of at least eleven men and boys. Traci was held prisoner in Dahmer's apartment of horrors - an apartment littered with human skulls and body parts. Finally after hours at the knife-edge of death, he fled half-stripped, bleeding and handcuffed into the street, where he flagged down a passing police car.
When freelance reporter Denny Johnson was assigned to the Dahmer story the tabloid M.O. ran true to its peculiar form. Johnson was thinking front page, not tomorrow and local, but next week and national. To perform this magic Denny would prospect for any small nugget the gold-rush-media-frenzy had overlooked the first day. That nugget which would still be news seven days later. News even to the media that covered the story from the start.
The first day after the story rocked the world, the Journal ran a small page one article on Traci Edwards and his escape - here was Johnson's nugget. The account of Traci's getaway was short and shallow. It was dwarfed by the huge headlines and photos of Dahmer's arrest and victims' IDs. Other reporters pursued grim body counts, grieving relatives and daily news conferences. There was no information about Traci's experience inside the apartment with the murderer - no inside story. Denny's assignment was to find the one that got away.
It would be a week before the media would turn back its collective attention to Edwards. By then Traci was on a plane home to Texas and, ultimately, jail. Johnson had them scooped.
The Journal article mentioned that Traci Edwards lived in the same neighborhood that the bodies were discovered. Denny headed to a saloon in the vicinity. He ordered a bottle of beer and lit a Marlboro. He made small talk about the murders with the bartender and a few of the lunchtime customers from the block. He didn't learn too much new until a man in uniform at the end of the bar, piped in his two cents worth - the needed information. "I know where the guy lives," said the postman on a break. And, after a few well-placed beers, the mailman agreed to deliver Denny to Edwards's apartment.

< 2 >

The neighborhood was declining ethnic. Bungalows mixed with apartment buildings and the occasional two-flat wood frame house. Traci lived in one of these, a brown two-story in need of repair. Paint was chipped, wood was peeling, and a few broken windows were visible from the street. Paint flaked from the railing as they climbed the deteriorated front stairs of the house and the postman pointed out Edwards's name on the rusty mailbox. He said with a slight slur, "Edwards lives upstairs. Good luck. I deliver your magazines each week to every old lady on my route. We'll be looking forward to your story." He winked. "I usually read them before I deliver them."
Edwards didn't answer when Denny rang his door bell. A quick search up the back stairs of the house and a peek through the rear windows indicated that no one was home in his apartment. The downstairs' neighbor confirmed he hadn't seen Traci in awhile.
Denny parked his rental car out in front of the house, switched the ignition to accessories, tuned the radio to the local news channel - and waited. Sitting the stakeout isn't romantic, it's cruddy. Every time a metro cop passed him by, they eyed him suspiciously. They knew who lived there and they knew Johnson was a reporter. He just looked like one. Denny was hot and hungry. There was no bathroom available, and he was running out of cigarettes. The bad characters in the neighborhood knew he was there in ten minutes. They figured he was a cop. Hours later, Traci still wasn't home. He was obviously lying low somewhere else. But by that time, Denny was familiar with everybody in the neighborhood, hooking, selling drugs, or beating their wives. He noticed over time a middle-aged fellow carrying a bucket who seemed to be the janitor at the building across the street. Denny approached him with a $50 bill outstretched.
The man was standing in the courtyard of one of the larger red brick buildings on the block. He wore blue jeans and a dago-t that displayed an ample beer belly. He was nearly bald, what hair he did have was matted and dirty. He was sweating profusely. The janitor eyed the $50 closely and told Denny that he knew Traci from around the neighborhood. "Yeah," said the man. "And I seen you sitting over there. I figured you was something like a reporter, or a FED maybe. I know most the local cops. Didn't think you were a new guy - your hair's too gray."

< 3 >

Denny wondered aloud if many reporters had been in the neighborhood. He himself had seen very little action that day around Edwards's apartment. "Not hardly any reporters today," the janitor said, "but you know that yesterday they was all over the place like maggots for dinner at Jeffrey Dahmer's." He laughed; it was a nasty sound.
Johnson grinned. The black humor mill was already to work. "Do you know if any of the reporters talked to Traci," asked Denny.
"No. The little creep was doing his best Houdini," said the janitor. "What about that fifty?"
"Do you know Traci well?" asked Denny.
"What about that fifty?" said the janitor again, wiping the sweat from his face with his arm. Denny handed the $50 over and the man snatched it away and stuck it in his Levis. He wet his lips - the pump had been primed. "I'm the maintenance engineer for this here building," the man said using his thumb to point out the fact. "I been working here a long time. I got plenty of stories. Seen some crazy shit around here."
"I'm sure you'd make a good book," said Denny, "but right now I need to know where I can find Traci Edwards."
"Yeah, yeah, slow down, I'm getting to that. We all know him around here, he's lived here a couple of years already. That's a long time in this neighborhood. We seen his picture in the paper yesterday, and on T.V. Before he was just a punk, now he's a big squeaking deal. Everybody's looking for him, because he almost gets himself killed and eaten by some freak. All I can say is, Duh."
Denny promised to quote him. And another $50 bill to match if he could get to Edwards - and let him know that he would pay $1,000 for his exclusive story. He gave the janitor his phone number and went back to his hotel. Three hours later his phone rang. Cash money gets everybody talking.

***

Traci agreed to meet the next morning at Denny's hotel; he wanted all the money up front. Denny told him it would be $500 when he showed up, the remainder when the interview was over. Traci reluctantly agreed. He was anxious to tell his story, as long as he was well-paid.

< 4 >

Denny contacted his office and by dawn the next day a photographer from Chicago was on the scene. He and Denny made their plan in the early morning light over room service coffee. The story would be a first-person account of Traci's experience. The photog would shoot candid photos of Edwards. At 10:15 a.m. everything was ready.
Traci was about 5'5" but sturdily built - a real fireplug. Denny guessed he might tip the scales at 160 pounds. When he showed up that morning at the hotel he was wearing a white t-shirt, pants, Nikes, and a blue "Georgetown" sweatshirt with matching baseball cap. He told Denny that he was 22, and an army brat. He arrived with another young man whom he introduced as his friend Jeremy. Breakfast, packs of Kool cigarettes and pots of coffee were perks Traci demanded for his story. On the other side of the room, the photographer discretely snapped images of the scene with a telephoto lens.
Edwards was well-mannered and surprisingly articulate. They sat around the coffee table in the living room of the spacious suite the paper had provided for the interview. The table was littered with coffee cups, half-full ashtrays, the daily papers and a tape recorder. Another table nearby held the spent, spotless breakfast plates that Traci and Jeremy had cleaned with their fingers and the last bit of toast. In one corner of the room a large color TV, muted, was tuned to CNN.
Denny's tape recorder was running. He handed Traci five crisp $100 bills. "Just start from the beginning," said Denny. "Tell us all you can remember, and then we'll ask a few questions to clear anything up later."

***

Traci rolled the bills, stuffed them in his pants pocket and sat back nervously in his chair. With a cigarette shaking in his hand, he closed his eyes and concentrated. The vivid memories flooded into words. "I haven't slept in two days," he began. I can't believe that this happened to me. There was no clue. I looked into the eyes of the devil and saw death.
"Believe me, God delivered me from Satan. I'm still in shock. I can't trust people. And when I do try to sleep, I wake up in a bolt, sitting straight up in bed - wet with sweat. I'm still scared to death. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder." Traci paused, taking a few rapid puffs off his cigarette.

< 5 >

"I was in the mall when Jeffrey Dahmer showed up and asked if I wanted to have a party," Traci said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We all knew him from around the neighborhood. There was no way to guess he was a maniac. He was just an ordinary guy. I didn't think too much about him either way.
"We never thought he was gay or anything out of the ordinary, because the people on the block where he lived just never would have tolerated him. They don't like gays in that part of town. If they had thought that he was gay the guys in his neighborhood would have messed him up. They jump guys like that over on his block. It's just not accepted.
"The whole area is loaded with gangs and stuff so I guess nobody really knew that he was gay, or into that kind of lifestyle. He just couldn't have survived if anybody knew about him," Traci emphasized that last sentence with another nervous glance at the camera. Denny wondered if he spoke from experience.
"'Let's get some girls and all go down to the lake and have a party,' Dahmer said, 'I got a hundred bucks, I'll buy the beer.'
"I was broke," said Traci, shrugging. "It sounded like a fine idea to me. It was hot and sticky and a party at the lake would be good. We walked to the liquor store and he got the beer. Dahmer said he had to stop by his apartment to change clothes. He was still in his blue work suit with his name 'Jeffrey' embroidered over his pocket."
The interview was interrupted momentarily when a loud knock on the door announced room service - more pots of coffee, and another pack of Kool's.
Denny now believed Edwards was lying about his motives. He guessed as he walked around the hotel room stretching his legs that Traci knew what was happening when he accepted Dahmer's invitation to the apartment. At least Traci thought he knew what was happening. He didn't know about the eleven that had proceeded him to Dahmer's for a visit. As it turned out, Denny's instincts rang true.
At the time he met Dahmer in the mall, Traci was a street-wise punk fleeing a Texas arrest warrant on charges of raping a teenage girl. Traci had been around, he was aware. But that day in the mall neither of the two men knew what they were up against. It was Cannibal Killer versus A Clockwork Orange. But at the moment Denny's suspicion was that Traci was of the bi-sexual persuasion and that he knew full well that Dahmer's offer of free beer and a party didn't include the company of women.

< 6 >

Settling back into his chair, Denny eyed Traci and Jeremy as they poured themselves fresh cups of coffee, adding lots of sugar and cream, and clinking their mugs with their spoons as they stirred. Denny suspected that Edwards probably went to the apartment to earn or steal money - by whatever means necessary. Knowing, or at least thinking he knew what Dahmer was up to. After all Traci was broke and he knew Dahmer wasn't. Dahmer's M.O. was to offer his victims money so he could take sexy photos of them. Most agreed to the bargain. And money was the major motivator with Traci. He lived pretty much from day-to-day. Denny believed Traci went to that apartment to play Dahmer for a sucker and, boy, was he surprised.
"It was really hot," Traci said lighting a cigarette from the recently-delivered pack, which now nestled in the neck of his t-shirt. "Everything seemed pretty normal, I had never seen where he lived and when we first got there it looked like a pretty nice place. We went in the back exit of the two-story apartment building and the stench hit me right away," said Traci.
"Damn, what's that STINK? I asked.
"Dahmer just brushed it off. He said there was a problem with the sewer in the building. As we walked down the hall, the stench made me want to gag." Traci wrinkled up his face. "I said let's just grab a beer and get out of there, and he said: 'That sounds good. I can barely stand the smell myself.' He said it was the sewer, and I've smelled some pretty raunchy sewers before, so I just assumed he was telling the truth."
Traci leaned forward in his chair, his voice lowered dramatically. The droning monologue was hypnotic. Denny concentrated, realized that they were on the portal, the point of no return. The photographer had stopped taking pictures and listened quietly from the edge of the bed. "His living room was tiny, but air conditioned. A small unit buzzed in the window. The dark colored drapes were drawn and the intense sun outside locked out. We sat down on his couch and popped open the beers. He had a beautiful fish aquarium and the colors of the fish were stunning in the darkened room." Traci let out a sigh.

< 7 >

"As I looked around and my eyes began to adjust I could see the living room walls were covered with photos and drawings of guys working out." Traci's demeanor suddenly changed. He became impatient, almost brisk. "I hoped Dahmer would hurry and change his clothes and we would get out of there. It really stunk, and it was creepy somehow. I didn't feel right.
"Dahmer told me he had all the drawings because he was a member of a health club. He was in pretty good shape, his arms were muscular and toned; he was wiry. We were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, but it was a fairly small couch and there really wasn't much space between us. He said some of the fish were piranha, and he told me how they like to eat each other. We sat there for awhile, making small talk about when he was in the Army and stuff," Traci said, his voice falling again into that hypnotic drone and, again, abruptly breaking off, as if he were trying to shake off a fatal sleepiness.
"He was pretty boring and if it wasn't for that beer, I would have beat it. In fact that's what I was thinking," Traci said, his voice angry and hard. "But this guy was such a professional. He was way ahead of me. Before I knew what hit me, he had a handcuff on my wrist and a big-ass machete sticking me up in my armpit. Right up under my heart!" Traci clasped his hands over his heart and twisted his body wildly in the chair.
"He said, 'If you don't do what I say, I'm going to kill you.' He said, 'I've done this before. Don't make a move because I can kill you,' he snapped his fingers, 'just like that!'
Denny was concerned for Traci's well-being. The boys breathing was labored, his eyes watered. He noticed Traci's fingertips were stained yellow from the tobacco, and he also noticed how his hands shook. He suggested they take a break, but Traci waved him off with a better-to-get-this-over-with look.
"The machete was army issue - heavy and effective. Black handled with a long silver, double-edged blade." Denny was amazed at Traci's recall and his descriptive powers; it would make his job all the easier. "It felt as if it had been sharpened to a point that would split hairs. I'll never forget what that blade looked or felt like." Denny guessed he would remember, too.

< 8 >

"It was all so quick, he was experienced, and he had practice. It was all in one motion. I had the beer in my hand, and I'm talking about fish, and in an eyelash - boom! - the handcuff was on my wrist. And the tip of the blade was stuck in me. I looked down and I could see through my shirt. I was bleeding." Traci caressed the bandage under his t-shirt.
"Then his eyes changed," Traci said. "Maybe the sight of red blood did it."
The room came to attention. Denny glanced quickly at the tape recorder; he didn't want to miss a word of this. The photographer rose from the bed, thinking of picture possibilities. Even Jeremy held still, looking interested.
"At first I couldn't face him," Traci said, fervently, "but God made me look right into his eyes. It was like confronting the devil. Pure and simple. Dahmer looked nothing like when we first met in the mall. He had changed completely. He had transformed somehow into evil. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he had killed.
"Damn! I knew I was in trouble. A chill ran down my spine when I realized that the rankness in that apartment wasn't coming from any sewer - it was the smell of death!" Traci's eyes were wide and Denny looked over his shoulder just to make sure Dahmer wasn't standing behind him.
"He kept telling me that he was going to kill me. For an instant I felt incredibly stupid," Traci said, spitting out the last word. "Then I realized I had no time to retrace my steps. I knew I'd been smelling death all along. And it was sitting right next to me.
"I've had martial arts training, and I know how to take care of myself. I'm a strong man, but he was just as strong. It was so surreal. He couldn't quite force me to get my other arm around so that he could handcuff me. He didn't hit me. He kept telling me, 'C'mon, c'mon, let me get your other arm.' But I kept resisting, wrestling it away." Traci mimicked his panicked movements, twisting and pulling his arm close to his body. He stopped as a new, more macabre thought dawned on him. "Dahmer was trying to sweet talk me into my own murder."

< 9 >

Two short rings on the hotel telephone shook everyone back to the present in the hotel suite. Denny reached the phone just as it rang a second time. It was his editor checking on the progress of the story. In a few moments Denny briefed him on the situation, and told him that he would be filing his story later that day. Traci and the others politely ignored the conversation.
Turning back to the group, Denny interrupted their small talk with a question to Traci. "Through all this time, you never once yelled for help? It was a pretty well-populated building," Denny went on, "didn't you ever consider screaming for your life?"
Traci turned sullen. "I was already bleeding from the cuts in my underarm," he said. "That knife seemed as sharp as a razor. They put eighteen stitches where he cut me. There was no doubt in my mind that if I had raised my voice he would have stuck me dead right then.
"Dahmer told me to stand up and he led me across the room by the handcuff. The knife was firmly stuck in my armpit. I told him, 'you don't have to try and hurt me, I'm not going to fight with you.' I tried to reason with him as he pulled me through the door into a scary scene." Give me details, Denny prayed silently. Traci didn't disappoint him. "The bedroom, just off the living room, was gloomy and foreboding. The dingy gray walls were plastered with nude pictures of men in all types of disgusting sexual poses. I'd never seen anything like it before.
"But I didn't look for very long," Traci said. "I couldn't take my mind off of the knife. The blade felt hot as fire. Every time I'd catch a glance of it, it was looking bigger and meaner. Meanwhile, Dahmer was going through these wide mood swings. He'd whine a low moan over and over. One minute he'd be as cool as a cucumber and the next minute his face was screwed into the devil's mask telling me how he would kill me and eat me. He kept telling me that you just can't trust anybody anymore, you can't believe people. I told him, man you can trust me. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have come here with you. 'You'll never leave here,' Dahmer said. 'It won't be long, I'll show you. I'll show you things you won't believe. You'll stay here with me.'"

< 10 >

Traci's monologue broke off with a cough. He sipped his coffee, grimacing at its lukewarm sweetness. Traci looked up and Denny noticed his eyes seemed out of focus. But as long as the story is clear, he thought.
"The bedroom was dark except for a lone light in the corner and a television set on the other end of his small single bed," Traci recited the details. "A video tape of The Exorcist was playing on the TV. Dahmer pointed at the television and told me, 'This was the best movie ever made.'
"I almost laughed. This guy thinks he's a movie critic," Traci said.
"The windows of the bedroom were blocked and I could see that he had security alarms hooked to the window sills. Nobody could get in or out of the place without an alarm going off. I was trapped. There was no escape from this room. I looked at the bed. There was a huge stain on the bed sheet. I guessed it was a bloodstain, but it had turned to a tarnished brown color," Traci said, his face pale at the memory. "I was beginning to lose it. The smell. The sounds of the T.V., and Dahmer. It was all getting to me. I felt dizzy and disoriented.
"Then I saw it - a hand was sticking out from under the bed." Traci's eyes were clenched shut so he didn't see the excited grin Denny aimed at the photographer. "I could see the end of it. It was just a hand on the end of a small piece of arm. At first I couldn't convince myself that it was real. It looked like something you might buy in a trick shop. But it was real.
"I wanted to throw up, but I couldn't. Just a dry retch was all I could manage. 'Don't be sick," Dahmer whispered wetly in my ear, 'I'll take care of you.' He pushed the knife harder and cut me with the blade a little deeper. He forced me to sit down on the dingy bed - and he sat down next to me."
All eyes were riveted on Traci. "Next to the bed Dahmer had a small file cabinet. He reached over and pulled open one of the drawers. Inside the drawer was a human skull."

< 11 >

"Jesus," Jeremy said. It was the first time he'd spoken. He stubbed out his cigarette and walked across the room to the bathroom. "I don't want to hear anymore of this."
Denny ignored him. "Go on," he urged Traci.
Traci blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Dahmer rubbed the top of the skull while he stared into my eyes. He said that I looked a lot like the men on the wall, but that I had a better body." This was said almost proudly. "He kept telling me I was very beautiful, it was as if he were talking to a woman. I was freaked out, but I kept focused on his eyes, looking for a chance to bolt out of the hellhole. I knew the man was possessed.
"'I'll let you go if you just let me put your other hand in the handcuff so that I can take some nude pictures of you,' Dahmer told me. 'Let me be more in control. Let me take some nude pictures of you, then I'll let you go.' I guess I was in shock by this time. All the while he was stroking me slowly. My legs, my back, my head. I just kept talking - talking about anything to keep his mind off what he might have planned. He was holding on tight to the handcuff and once in a while he'd shove that huge knife further up into my armpit." Traci winced in memory of the blade.
"I said you've got to trust me, I'm not going to leave you, I'm going to stay with you. I tried to reason with him, but I could see that he was going to do what he had to do. He wasn't buying it. He said, 'you're persistent aren't you? You're real good - but you're going to stay with me forever.'
"I knew right then this guy's going to kill me. He put the knife right in my groin, and pushed steadily on it."
In the hotel suite, Traci started to cry. He was phony all right, but the tears and shaking were real. He had experienced genuine terror. Even more horrifying was the realization of what he had escaped from - how close he had come to his own end.
"Every so often, Dahmer would open the file drawer and rub the skull, then he'd look back into my eyes," said Traci, his voice breaking again. "He was going through some type of ritual. He had done this before. Then he pulled some Polaroid pictures of dead men out of the file cabinet.. The bodies in the photos were decomposed, and Dahmer told me, 'You'll look real good this way. You'll look better than they did.'

< 12 >

"Then he put the knife deeply back into my armpit and ordered me to lay down on the bed. The pain was searing," Traci said. "I laid down on my back and he lowered himself slowly down on top of me with his ear to my chest. He said he wanted to hear my heart beat. He told me he wanted to see how my heart looked. Then he said that he wanted to eat it."
Denny let out a little yip which startled everyone. He could see the headline: "Killer Wanted To Eat My Heart!"
Denny apologized and made a pretense of checking the tape. Traci resumed. "I told Dahmer that I had to go to the bathroom. And, if he let me, I'd come back and take off all my clothes so he could take photos. I was trying to buy time, but I was already beginning to feel like a dead man.
"While I was going to the bathroom he stood right there with me watching and keeping that knife in my armpit. When I finished, I unbuttoned my shirt all the way down, you know, to make him think I was going along with him. I said, let's have another beer. He went to the refrigerator and got two, dragging me with him by the end of the handcuff. The kitchen was filthy. There were pots and pans with disgusting gunk in them everywhere. He wanted to go back in the bedroom. But I said, it's cooler in the living room, let's have the beer in there. I noticed that he wasn't sticking the knife so close to me and I thought he might be getting drunk," Traci sounded hopeful for the first time in his narrative. "He just kept telling me how pretty I was and how I had such a nice body. But he never tried anything sexual with me. I guess that came later. He told me he liked to keep bodies around. He said he liked it when they didn't move or struggle.
"We went back to the couch and I sat down real comfortable-like. I made him think I was right at home, but I was watching his eyes every second," Traci said. He sat forward in the chair, his hands resting on his knees, and talked into the tape recorder. "Dahmer said he'd soon show me things I'd never believe. He asked me if I was drunk, and then told me he'd been drinking all day. I told him I was woozy. Then he started weaving back and forth, not saying anything, just humming in a low tone. It was like he was in a trance.

< 13 >

"I finally decided that this guy was going to have to kill me. I wasn't going to give in to him. I thought to myself, he's going to have to stab me or whatever, but I'm going to try to get out of here. I figure I'm going to die either way.
"The fish tank was blocking the front window, and there was no window in the bathroom. I wasn't going back in that bedroom. I couldn't see how I could get out. I told him that I had to go to the bathroom again and this time he let me get up from the couch by myself. I thought to myself, now's your chance. In an instant I grabbed my bag and shot for the door. He reacted like in slow motion. I got to the door and turned the dead bolt. It clicked open.
"Just then, Dahmer grabbed hold of my arm. I turned and hit him flush in the face with my fist and kicked him backward. He reeled and I never looked back. He underestimated me, and it was his undoing." Traci grinned.
"I bounded at top speed down the hallway, whizzing past a few folks who were walking the other way. 'What's wrong?' they asked, but I never even slowed down. I flew through the front door of that building in a flash and at last took a deep breath of sweet, fresh air. I ran into the street with the handcuff still dangling from my wrist and immediately spotted a police cruiser.
"There's a guy in there trying to kill me! I gasped at the officers inside." Denny thought that was probably the first time Traci had actually sought out the police. "They led me back in the building and we went up to Dahmer's door. And he opened it like nothing had ever happened. Of course, after the cops took a quick look around, well, Dahmer was history."
Anything else was anticlimactic and Denny and the photographer fiddled impatiently with notes and film as Traci came to his conclusion.
"Later as I sat in the squad car, shaking with fear and thanking God that he had delivered me from a human devil, the whole impact of what had happened took me over. I started to cry and babble like a baby."

< 14 >

Traci attempted a pious mien as he moralized. "I thank God I'm alive, and I pray for all the poor souls that visited that apartment before me - and never left. I know that God sent me to get this guy. It was my destiny to put him away."
Denny didn't ask many questions during or after Traci's narrative. Sometimes you just need to let a story tell itself. Traci's retelling of the story had immersed the hotel suite for more than two hours. For a few minutes it was quiet in the room as each man digested what he had just heard.
Denny jotted down a few more notes and handed Traci the remaining five one-hundred dollar bills. He was officially paid-in-full for his contribution to journalism. Traci pocketed the money as he got up from his chair, and he and Jeremy gathered their things to leave.
"If I were you," Denny told Traci at the door of the suite "I would use that $1,000 and get yourself a good therapist - you're going to need it." Denny knew he'd have trouble sleeping.
The following week, when Denny's front-page story broke, Traci's photo was plastered over the cover of the paper. In every supermarket and drug store across America the colorful headlines shouted for attention. And an off-duty cop in a Texas Wall-Mart spotted Traci's face in the paper instantly. The policeman had filed rape charges against Traci two years earlier, and had been looking for him since. (He'd found his man in the check-out line.)"

Johnson, D. (Undated) The One That Got Away [available online]: http://www.short-stories.co.uk/
[accessed 20.1.10]

Sam T

B.O.B Rehearsal 19/01/2010 UNIT 4 continued

Tuesday19th January 2010, 7-10pm, Room UTG06

Aim:
To pull the lyrics together from unit 4 and run through vocals. To run through all units in chronological order from start to finish and then finally sketch out Unit 5, part a.

*warm up with the Sam*

Recap:
Unit four recapped by the group and the vocal build up is focused on.

Mapping out of Unit Four; Just to recap the unit, here is what the Iumentum has set so far:

B.Beast captures Father
Beast has sets his trap and waits in a dark area for the inevitable to happen. You see a slight hint of pride in Beast, this is his plan and its working. A Flawless creation in his eyes.A dark alley. A quiet time. A hunt. He will not be seen. He will capture his victim, take them home and then play the good Samaritan in the aftermath. He will look after the stranger. He will make them well. He will make them his best friend or they will pay for his aid.
This time, the stranger is Father. It is late at night. Father has been working hard. He is tired, unaware of quiet signals all around him.

Beast did not know who to expect, only that there would be someone to expect. He does not care for the gender, race or class of the victim, he only thinks of them as prey. We see Beast’s animalistic traits.


Development of Unit Four:


The lyrics to be used are yet to be formed into a solid and fluent text. The cast move back into their lyric groups and begin swapping lines discussed last Thursday.

Inspiration given for the vocals: Imogen Heap- Hide and Seek(Speak For Yourself), which draws out harmonies.

Beast and Farther practice the poigniant moment when the beast attacks father at the end of unit 4.

The group collect together again and begin vocal practices with lyrics 'let me be' and 'let me in'; holding out notes in harmonies and dropping semi-tones to pull in minor notes.

Sam highlights that the vocals that have built should immitate a lulluby and illistrate the feelings the Beast has for the Farther. The scene is to show Beast letting the Farther know he is going to help him, almost against his will but letting Farther know he will understand. Very eery! This is practiced on a canon role and over again to perfect the right atmosphere.

Lyrics include

'its cold,
its dark,
Its late,
Your tired,
Not Long..Now,
We'll escape,
let me keep you..awhile,
learn me suits and a smile etc...'

(2 mins break)

The group rejoin. Its explained that there are lots of little narratives within this scene. Beast is in tumoil; feeling pain for doing something you feel you have to do, need to do. He doesn't want to hurt father, just care for him and so should display he is pained to poison Father but he has to for the greater good.

The group are sent off to play with the actions and feelings of crawling and yearning of the Beast. Sam tips that the simpler the movements and emotive display, the better. All is practiced in silence.

The group shares their practiced movements. Bijan shows a pained lifting of hands from his face, Lauren then adds slow reaching, Danni adds opening and strained palms followed by Rocky making a 'clawing face' action. Sara holds herself with the last movement, looking cold and insecure. Sam throws in the imaginative idea that the movements collected together should mime playing with sick. This should help the cast remember the moments, if not make them laugh.

The vocals are then layered over the top of the movements as the group stand in a circle. Next they move into a collective group and adding the key scene when father is preyed upon by beast and finally poisoned. The focus is on the Beast and the Beast shows the internal pain he feels; the struggle he faces knowing what he is about to do. The vocals are the Beast's internal monologue and he breaches the scene with improvising stressed mannerisms with repeating lyrics painfully. Vocals build as Father is laid down and Beast tends to his new best friend; singing along with the choir behind him to Father.

(Brief chat the summarise the session)

Thursday's aim:

To run through all units as unfortunately there was not enough time today. Map out unit 5 a, b and c. To mark out individual journeys of each cast members as they revise all units.

Lorca Poem

City That Does Not Sleep

In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream, and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the stars. Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. In a graveyard far off there is a corpse who has moaned for three years because of a dry countryside on his knee; and that boy they buried this morning cried so much it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet. Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful! We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead dahlias. But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist; flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths in a thicket of new veins, and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders. One day the horses will live in the saloons and the enraged ants will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the eyes of cows. Another day we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue. Careful! Be careful! Be careful! The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm, and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention of the bridge, or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe, we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes are waiting, where the bear's teeth are waiting, where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting, and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder. Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is sleeping. If someone does close his eyes, a whip, boys, a whip! Let there be a landscape of open eyes and bitter wounds on fire. No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one. I have said it before. No one is sleeping. But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the night, open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters. Federico García Lorca

Beast (Unit 5?)

It had to be like this
I had to take, so that you could give
It is you
It is you
The probability.
It had to be you.

You are the one that can feed me
Like a brain starved of oxygen
I will breathe again
I can fit
And it is you that can give to me
Be mine
Be mine

You will be my dawn
I can wake from this slumber

http://allpoetry.com/poem/4106737

Smashing Pumpkins- Useful Lyrics?

"Ava Adore"

It's you that I adore
You'll always be my whore
You'll be the mother to my child
And a child to my heart
We must never be apart
We must never be apart

And I'll pull your crooked teeth
You'll be perfect just like me
You'll be a lover in my bed
And a gun to my head
We must never be apart
We must never be apart

In you I see dirty
In you I count stars
In you I feel so pretty
In you I taste god
In you I feel so hungry
In you I crash cars
We must never be apart


It may be a bit late, but could influence part of unit 5 (a, b, c)

Let me know what you think!

Sam T

American Psycho

I found a quote from American Psycho (Easton Ellis).

It's reflective of Beast and his intimacy, or lack thereof, within the society. The part that I feel is rather touching is towards the end in italics.

He is so aware that this happens to him, but involuntarily can't escape the perpetuating cycle he exists in.

"Soon everything seemed dull: another sunrise, the lives of heroes, falling love, war, the discoveries people made about each other. The only thing that didn't bore me, obviously enough, was how much money Tim Price made, and yet in its obviousness it did. There wasn't a clear, identifiable emotion within me, except for greed and, possibly total disgust.
I had all the characteristics of a human being-- flesh, blood, skin, hair-- but my depersonalisation was so intense, had gone so deep, that the normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, the rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning. Something horrible was happening and yet I couldn't figure out why -- I couldn't put my finger on it. The only thing that calmed me was the satisfying sound of ice being dropped into a glass of J&B."

Please tell me what you think! I'm trying to find more things that could be of use from American Psycho!

Sam T

A Beastly perspective

just some reflective writing with Beast in mind...


Even as a child my presence was often noted as gloomy. Its no wonder you stayed away, a mere split second gaze, a moments acknowledgement to the depths of that gloom that seems to surround me, would cause a terror struck look across your face. As my eyes concentrated and deadly would pierce you and begin to bleed all the happy memories of today’s play far far away, you would turn away, every one of you.

That curious glance, something so innocent would turn into an unwanted entrapment…for as long as your eyes were padlocked to mine…you belonged to me. For that split second you were my friend.

Time dilation, thoughts and whispers slither through me painfully slow yet hope rises at speed through you. Even now, despite the crowded room, I remain in my own solitude, shoved in the corners… ever restricting, isolated from your chitter and chattering that dampens your ears from my tortured screaming, silent screaming, but screaming non the less.

So I sit here drinking away my pain, what a cliché, all thoughts of myself blur, twist, turn, and gently fade away from my consciousness. So I just sit, as if in a different room, savouring each drawn out sip. And it takes all of my strength to restrain myself. To sit here, to look well composed when I’m sure you all see me as filth, the intolerable. The… I could scream in your face and you still wouldn’t notice me. It takes all of my strength not to upturn this table, to scream in your face notice me, look at me, I’m hear and I’m real. I’m right here! Id like to be looked at once in a while, touched just once in a while, to be loved even.

The realisation that if any of you saw me, none of you would bare the thought of remaining in the same room… that realisation that I am just the bad smell that you would sense for just a moment before violently heaving at my sent. I don’t exist in your eyes. That realisation that is so real for many of us, hits me like an upturned table, like a bottle smashed in my face, like standing on my head as I choke in the gutter, you laugh and you smile as I choke in your presence! And this realisation, this physical manifestation of my mental thoughts hits me every second of every minute, every excruciating hour of every day. Oh God let me out of here!…

B.O.B Rehearsal 14/01/2010 UNIT 4

14th January 2010, 7-10pm, Room UTG06

Aim:
To keep choreograph fresh from unit 3 and to bridge unit 3 to when the beast is to trap father in unit 4. The group are yet to work on how the beast traps the father exactly but hope to form a plot and feel for the scene by the end of the session.


*warm up with the Sam*

Recap:
The cast re-practice the backdrop to Father's office with the choreography of the busy office. Father is in the office working hard. Belle cries for her father.

Recapping the choreography:

(*video to be inserted here next week* to keep fresh)

The cast run over the dance as a whole while Pete tries the father's monologue with strong sticarto lines over the top. Pete then begins to embed the monologue by moving through the dance group.

*short cool down break to bring the energy levels away from the busy office *


Mapping out of Unit Four; Just to recap the unit, here is what the Iumentum has set so far:

A.At home, his daughter cries harder.


B.Beast captures Father
Beast has sets his trap and waits in a dark area for the inevitable to happen. You see a slight hint of pride in Beast, this is his plan and its working. A Flawless creation in his eyes.A dark alley. A quiet time. A hunt. He will not be seen. He will capture his victim, take them home and then play the good Samaritan in the aftermath. He will look after the stranger. He will make them well. He will make them his best friend or they will pay for his aid.
This time, the stranger is Father. It is late at night. Father has been working hard. He is tired, unaware of quiet signals all around him.

Beast did not know who to expect, only that there would be someone to expect. He does not care for the gender, race or class of the victim, he only thinks of them as prey. We see Beast’s animalistic traits.


Development of Unit Four in session:


A.'At home, his daughter cries harder' bridges units three and four. The group brainstorm and discussing the feel of the scene. Belle cries harder as the office scene melts away. The office leaves slowly and the scene ends with the father staying late at work and Belle crying.


B. The plot begins to be outlined by the cast: Beast is praying on father is the key of the scene as the tension builds. Group suggestions are building vocals to emphasise tension. Father continues to work alone and then decided to go home as he has to be back early in the morning. The Father goes to the car park, he is distracted and unaware of his surroundings (fiddles with keys and is on the phone). Beast is preying in the car park in a 'film noire' style. The cast suggest spot lighting the farther in a pool of light. this scene is from the Beast's perspective as Farther is unaware. He is hungry to capture, to be nurtured and is slowly creeping towards his victim. Reference to Little Shop of Horror's 'itssupper time' scene. The scene is to have strong vocal build up. The Beast is to climb on the back of father and display putting chloroform in a cloth over Father's mouth. The next scene will show Father waking up in the Beast's care.


Lyrical building exercise:


The group decide to split off into small groups in order to pick key words for the vocal build up in the scene. When the group rejoin they bring together a collection of hard hitting words and references to reflect the adrenaline building in scene that the father is being preyed upon.


Words, thought and feelings suggested are:

Sam suggests a Philip Larkin poem called 'For Sidney Bechet' which shares a fetish love feel to it; a sick and twisted affirmation. The line highlighted is

''On me your voice falls as they say love should,
Like an enormous yes.''

Words drawn on were: 'Mime, tick-tock, possession, film void, step in time, next in line, you will be mine, caged, be my friend, not long now. Its cold, its dark, its late, you're tired. Take my hand, let me help you, let me hold you, let me keep you, under your skin, I want to be in your heart, in your mind, running through your veins and in your blood.'

Feelings drawn upon were of the beast wanting to rear the human. The scene having an adrenaline rush feel whilst everything slows down and the vocals form almost a twisted love poem. There has been discussion of the beast waiting, wanting, longing for the next in line.


Reference to Mary Shelly's Frankenstein: ''I desire the company of a man who can sympathise with me; whose eyes reply to mine''. (Please click here should you want to read the page that this line comes from. Please look under 'letter 2' to find the line)

Next Tuesday's aim:


To revisit the lyrical and vocal build up in Unit 4. The group hope to then crack onto Unit 5 where the Beast has the father in his capture.

Beast Monologue; Unit One

The Beast's monolgue written by the boys:

Part 1:

'I see you in the street as you pass me by and in those five seconds you wasted on a mundane thought, in my thoughts I have shared drink with you, I have shared a meal with you, I have shared a lifetime with you. You all move around like pawns on a chessboard. Your eyes are gifts from God that you fail to use. Instead you choose to stare at the floor. You need a friend. You need me.'

Part 2:

'Digest me completely. Take every part of me. Regurgitate me, but don’t let me go ‘til I am satisfied. ‘Til you have used me and I have used you. Completely spit me out so I leave my mark on everything and I take away all that is good of you.'

Part 3:

'Look at me, look at the sun; look at the universe that summands you. This is what mankind has degraded to, dead stares, animated movements, living in the recyclable, self-absorbed lives; passing the same faces and street everyday.'

Part 4:

'Eyes front, strong jaw and canines, before incisors; I was built for the hunt- but I don’t want the kill- I want the cure. I want a friend.'

B.O.B Rehearsal 12/01/2010 UNITS 2 and 3

First rehearsal back after Christmas; 12^th January 2010 7-10 pm, Room UTGO6

UNITS TWO AND THREE:

Aim: To map out unit two and three. The aim is not to perfect the acts but to lay down the bones so there is strong understanding and good use of movement, text and sound so the cast can feel the characters with the scene. The group aims to all understand Belle and father’s perspectives in the context of the play.

*warm up with Samuel Tebbatt*

Tidy and recap

Tidy and recap of previous vocal work on lyrics ‘ broken, empty, plain’. A build up and mix of male and female vocals as words are repeated to deepen the feelings of Beast. Sam Grogan highlighted that vocals must harmonise and illustrate the torture of the beast while repeated so that the scene gives depth to the turmoil of the character’s feelings.

There was positive feedback given by Sam Grogan for the recap after Christmas as the session started off strongly and positively.

Mapping out Unit 2: Just to recap the unit, here is what the Iumentum has set so far:

A.He leaves to stalk the city. (end of unit one in regards to beast)

B. Belle Cries Alone.

Belle is alone. She has no one. Suffocated by misdirected love. Her Father’s devotion is shown only in pounds and pence leaving Belle longing for a companion, a friend with a human face. It was not always like this.

She was happy once. She had a mother and a father. They were a family.

Father and mother worked hard to support the family.

Mother died unexpectedly. Father has no time to grieve. He must provide. Poverty threatens. Committing himself to long hours away from his daughter for his daughter.

Bereft of attention, Belle grows lonely and sad. She cries out for Father at home. There is no one there to hear her. He cannot answer. He is working. She thinks she holds no significance in the world but actually is the reason behind everything Father does and is soon to become everything that Beast has ever wanted and needed.

Interspersed with these scenes we see snatches of Beast quietly hunting. We see him sitting at home, tortured, on a street corner, in a crowded tube, unnoticed.

Development of unit 2 in session:

A. Sam Grogan emphasises that the scene that bridges units one and two must be almost un-choreographed with people walking the street. There must be an 'organic' hum of people around the Beast as he moves through the crowd slowly.

B. The first section of Belle’s song is then practiced ‘every door in my house slams on me’. This scene is from a present perspective and shows Belle’s home life (friends, family) being warped and slipping from her. The cast switch from the bustle of the street to a series of portraits; a group of friends; a family portrait and the funeral of Belle’s mother.

The photos are described as natural and happy; the cast suggested Belle should be almost super imposed in the photo, as if although the scene could have happened but the memory is more colourful than the reality. The scene then turns sour and is described as the ‘proverbial fist in the family photo’ by Sam Grogan. The characters pose happily, then sing minor tones and begin to slip into an uncomfortable mass (knees are bent, arms are down, faces are up and group merges a little). The cast then break out into the street walking to bridge to the next portrait.

*Think and feel exercise* To feel the energy of the scene, Sam Grogan asked the cast to close their eyes, repeat the words describing the scene whilst slowly elevating their faces and dropping their bodies slowly and uncomfortably . Words used were ‘ pain, broken, lost, lonely, sad, detached, sadness, fractured, empty, forgotten, longing, contained, hollow..’

The second photo is key, displaying Belle viewing her mother fall from her father’s arms to the floor (head to hit the floor first while body twists and falls). The surrounding cast face in various directions and join in singing the line ‘golden days are over….I have no one..’. Again the cast snaps back into the bustle of the street, on a count of ten the rejoin in the final funeral scene.

The funeral’s key lyrical line is ‘clinging to ghosts’ and the focus is on the relationship between Belle and her father in the middle of the scene. The cast have two even lines of either side of what is treated as the burial of Belle’s mother, Belle and Farther are centre. The six around the grave begin to crumple using core muscles.

The end of the scene is going to bridge units two and three. The key focus of Belle and her farther should show him slipping away from the pose to work and her displaying a longing for him.

4.Mapping out unit 3: Just to recap the unit, here is what the Iumentum has set so far:

Father the blind slave.

Father is a slave to the all-consuming need to provide for the daughter he loves. He lives at work, sleeps at work. He has enough now, but is driven by the fear that his fortune could turn in an instant. He develops spreadsheets for eyes and data streams for speech. He loves his daughter but is only able to show this through working harder, longer. This is all he knows now. He cannot, must not, will not lose this ground. He will not give up his wealth for anything. He is doing this for her. He is a methodical man. Things will be done this way and his way no matter the consequences. Brush it under the desk and carry on.

Development of unit 3 in session:

The back drop from unit four is the busy office and work environment for Belle’s father. The cast collect to discuss the feel for the scene. The father is to have 45/60 seconds of dialog of him working to show the audience his stressful job and him pushing away his daughter. The scene is from a present perspective of the father. The group brainstorm the environment father is in with stories of office bullying and pressure. The key example given was the Foxton’s estate agency that has been known for bullying the least successful employee of the month.

*Think and feel exercise*. The group were given a piece of fast paced, industrial dance music to exercise dance movements for the back drop of father’s work. Each cast member played with the music and movements they felt fitted.

The cast rejoined to discuss the movements found and build up the choreography for the office within the more confined black lines on the dance floor. The music chosen was ‘Printer Jam’ by Mistabishi Drop which fitted the scene and pace well. The choreography what repeated twice over period of the song; speeding up in the second part. The dance consisted of mechanical movements, dead pan faces, lifting, shifting and keeping a fast pace.

Please find below the video for the Printer Jam song to keep the feel of the office and routine fresh:

( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=is-HVxmUELQ )

The scene showed strong development and illustrated the father’s sense of pressure in the working world he lives.

Thursday’s Aim:

To embed the office dance with father’s scene and monologue.

Thoughts for tonight

Hi all,

Great to see all the posts from below. I think some of it is very useful. What we're looking for is unit specificity and, in addition to influences, (like the youtube vids) we're needing clarification on purpose or writing or action of the units within the units.

So, to focus us a little, can we earmark posts with labels - like; FOR UNIT 4 TEXT, or; THOUGHTS RE DESIGN.(for example)

Tonight we'll do a quick precis of what we've covered so far and then crack on with the substance of units 3/4.

I think there is some significant tidyiong up to be done in units after 4-5 as I'm not quite happy with some of the detail of the action - I think it strays a little far from the original tale. I think we can include fantastical elements in the text for example how beast is repayed and how father sees Belle first on his return home.

Looking forward to seeing you all,

Thanks,

Sam