When my wife
mentioned she might go to an event at North Herts College today, she
inadvertently triggered a flashback to a horrific acting exercise I once took part in
on the premises.
Before I went to
drama school, I did a BTEC in Performing Arts at North Herts. It was a great
way to dip my toe into being an actor: an image that makes little-to-no sense.
I was released from the restraints of an unpleasant secondary school
experience; I felt like an adult, or a bad-haired, slightly acned
representation of one at least.
While my college
years mostly bring back happy memories, one class left an unpleasant indelible mark in my
head: a workshop called The Watering Hole. In it, we had to find a space,
choose an African animal and think about how it moves. We were told to imagine
we were our animal in an enclosure at a zoo, and behave accordingly; I opted
for a lion, so I could pretend to be asleep. Taking the easy way out probably affected the fluidity of every characterisation I’ve done since.
Then came the
horrific bit. The class split in two, with one half improvising interacting as our chosen species at the watering hole, while the other half watched from a
balcony. This went on for the best - or worst - part of twenty minutes. Of the
many times I’ve felt like an arse, this was one of the arsiest. Andy
Serkis needn’t step down just yet.