I’ve just performed in a ballet. Prokofiev’s Cinderella to be precise. Picture the scene if you will, 136 dancers aged between 4 and 25, all of whom were light on their feet, dainty, proficient, elegant… and then myself, playing Cinderella’s drunk father. Luckily the part involved mostly stumbling and goofing in a tailcoat, with only the hint of a pas de deux … it was a part I was born to play. I got a nice mention in Corren’s review too, which you can read here.
It was a great experience to be in a ballet; I feel filled with moral superiority, like I’ve eaten a cultural green salad rather than populist hamburger. But it’s not all glamour… Backstage at the first performance, the entire cast was waiting in the wings for their first entrance. All ages, all sizes, the tension was tangible, nerves were in the air. I was in the wings by a group of five year olds who were playing snowflakes in the winter scene and as the music started we heard a loud SPLOSH! from behind the wing curtain. I assumed someone had knocked over a bucket of water and one of the five year olds asked me if someone had done a wee wee….. And then the smell hit us. A six year old mouse, who had tried to cope with the nerves of appearing onstage for the first time by filling herself with crisps, sweets and Coca Cola could literally not contain her nerves and vomited over a fellow mouse. There was a danger that backstage could end up like a scene from a Hieronymous Bosch painting, but the show must go on.
The performance went without a glitch (minus two mice) and the grace onstage belied the frantic mopping and nose holding behind the scenes. I enjoyed it so much, I’m going to start practising my pliés with a view to a part in the next one.
Meanwhile, I’ve been busy selling tickets for the Al Pitcher show at Sagateatern on Friday. Over half the tickets have already gone, so looks like there will be a fantastic atmosphere. If you are in Linköping, get your tickets NOW!
