There are three basic ways to experience a Short & Sweet Festival:
1) As a wildcard, performed once (or twice) - with all your work focused on that one (or those two) performances to impress an audience
2) As a Top Thirty play - five performances spread over a week, a decent but short season to show off your ten minute play, put together in a handful of weeks by writer, director and actors that are basically thrown together randomly
3) As an Independent Theatre Company submission - where an independent theatre company presents the show as a group, able to handpick their director and have more discretion over casting, production, etc.
And as I've been involved in three Short & Sweet Festivals in Melbourne now, I've progressed through each of those experiences. They all have their pros and cons, but for me, developing this project with The Wooden Leg team has been the most fulfilling to this point thus far.
Wallis, Andy, Hayley and I got to decide which play we were going to submit. We got to throw down a list of directors' names and invite them to pitch ideas. And once we had a director, we got to talk about how we saw the show, what we wanted to say with the show and who we wanted in the show.
And now we have our director and two cast members, here they are in all their headshot glory...
Director - Clara Pagone
Adam - Sean Scanlon
Eve - Anna Burgess
And the final star of the show...
Earth
You are cordially invited to witness its destruction.
Eight Minutes by Keith Gow is on as part of Short & Sweet Melbourne 2012 as part of Theatre Group B:
Wed Nov 28 7:30pm, Thur Nov 29 7:30pm, Fri Nov 30 7:30pm, Sat Dec 1 1:30pm and 7:30pm
Twelve months ago, I premiered a short play of mine at The
Owl & the Pussycat in Richmond. Titled You
Will Be Kissed By Princess Leia, the play was about how you can’t always
live up to the dreams you had when you were fifteen years old. It’s definitely
the most autobiographical of all my plays, dealing with one character at age 15
and at age 35, interrogating himself about where he’s been and where he’s
going. It’s about finding your feet as a kid and finding your comfort zone as
an adult.
Paul Knox and Tom Carmody, You Will Be Kissed By Princess Leia
September, 2011
There was some fun to be had in the fifteen-year-old not
understanding references his thirty-five-year old self makes. And some drama in
the conflict between how the character had been as a teenager and how he’d
wished he’d been. And the show was done in the round in the Owl & the
Pussycat’s then-gallery space, as if the crowd was surrounding two kids
fighting in the schoolyard.
After the show, if we weren’t drinking at the Pussycat, we’d
head next door to Holliava to talk about how that night’s performance had been
and how people had reacted. The play gets emotionally raw at certain points –
with thirty-five-year old David throwing his fifteen-year-old self to the
ground. The bully inside had got the better of him.
Twelve months later, on the night The Owl & the Pussycat
celebrated its third year as a gallery and theatre, Holliava – the bar next
door – hosted the twenty year school reunion of Highvale Secondary College’s
class of 1992. It was time for me to see some people I hadn’t seen for many,
many years.
I remember when the invitation came for the ten year
reunion. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see those people again. My life hadn’t
changed so much. I was still living at home. I have a feeling I was away the
weekend it happened, but that was a decade ago. All I know is that I missed it,
but at the time it didn’t feel like such a big deal.
When the invitation for twenty years came around, I was less
in two minds. I felt like it was time to find out what these people had been up
to – even though some of us had reconnected on Facebook in the past few years,
that wasn’t the same as seeing them in the flesh and chatting about old times
and what everyone had been up to in the intervening two decades.
Me in 1991.
As you might understand, even from the outline of You Will Be Kissed By Princess Leia,
high school wasn’t always a good time for me. I think most people liked me and
I liked most of them. I was shy and didn’t necessarily feel like I fit in. I
was picked on by bullies, but I was defended by most people – even if we weren’t
close friends. And while I had close friends in high school, but we lost touch
soon after.
It was easier to lose touch in 1992 – no mobile phones, no
text messaging, no internet, email or Facebook. But, in a way, leaving high
school was a nice way to clean the slate and start again.
Once I RSVP’d to this year’s event, I was pretty excited
about who might be there and what might have happened to people I wasn’t able
to find on Facebook. In the week before the reunion, a few people asked me if I
was nervous, but I really wasn’t. I’m comfortable with who I am. I’ve got a pretty
great life most of the time. And, you know, if I was really bored, I could
always go next door to the party at the Owl & the Pussycat.
And I wasn’t nervous... until I was approaching Holliava,
only a few paces away. My heart started to race and while I never considered
walking past, I did suddenly wonder – what if I don’t remember anyone’s names?
What if they don’t remember me? What if I’m suddenly as awkward as I was back
then?
But then I took a deep breath, walked inside – and headed
straight for the front bar to grab a drink before venturing out to the beer
garden that was reserved for us old Highvalians. Well, not old – but you know
what I mean. Older. The best thing about high school reunions, even if you’re
reminded about how old you’re getting – everyone else is in the same boat!
Any nervousness dissipated as soon as I walked in and
started to talk with Rachael and Tracy and Natalie, who had organised the
event. And Stuart, who had lived five minutes down the road when we were
growing up and had been a really good friend since grade five in primary
school. But we’d lost touch. I’d lost touch with everyone. And apart from a
couple of people I’ve bumped into over the years and caught up with
post-Facebook, I really hadn’t seen most of these people since we’d graduated
in 1992.
Many of the conversations in the early part of the day were
the same – where are you living? What work are you doing? Married? Kids? I got
pretty expert in giving a precis of my life – single, no kids, working for an
IT company but really I’m a playwright, living in Bayswater. And the
conversations flowed from there. We gravitated toward people who we knew better
back in the day, but as the day moved on, I found myself saying more to some
people than I ever had during our six years at high school.
Sharon and I spent a lot of time saying wow. Nils, Lisa,
Stuart and I talked about how our parents are still living in the same places
they had since we all grew up within walking distance from each other. Adam,
Aleysha, Stuart and I talked about our sisters, who are all two years younger
than us and all went to Highvale, as well. And it’s only two years off their
twenty year reunion, so they are getting old, too!
Some genetically lucky people looked exactly the same as
they did twenty years ago. Others – most of us – have age lines and worry
wrinkles. Some people are wearing glasses. Others are wearing beards and a hat –
oh, wait, that’s me. Some boys have lost their hair and others have shaved it
off in defiance.
Some people I recognised as soon as they walked in the door.
Others, well, I’m glad we all had name tags. Happily, though, once the synapses
started firing, once I had commited all those names to memory again, I started
to remember things I never even knew were in the recesses of my mind. Parties
we’d all been at. Bus trips we’d taken. Things about one another’s families
that I’d long since forgotten.
And, most importantly, or most embarassingly, the lyrics to
Mr Big’s “To Be With You” surfaced from our collective unconcious – which was
recited, misremembered and drunkenly sung much later in the night. If only the
DJ at Holliava had had the balls to play it over the sound system – I think we
might have all actually disappeared back in time, rather than just happily
reminiscing about it.
As the night wore on, the crowd got thinner but the
conversations got more intense. Or at least a little more detailed. And only
once did I consider leaving this gathering for the Owl & the Pussycat party.
I did slip out for a cameo appearance and a free beer from Jason next door, but
quickly got back to pretending I was still in high school. Finally hanging out
with all the cool kids.
More than once we talked about how close the class of 1992
were – and those that said that weren’t wrong. I may have had tough times, but
I think we all do as kids. It was a close group of people – as proven by the
groups who did stay in contact for all these many years since. And others said
it was amazing how much we shared and remembered, when all most of us had in common
was that we went to the same high school from 1987 to 1992.
I don’t know if we’ll see each other again for another ten years
or if some of us will keep in contact because of this one drunken reunion we’ve
just had. But even if we do disperse until we’re – shudder – forty-eight years
old, at least this Saturday was fun, funny and totally worth doing. And those
nerves of mine, like those bad memories of high school, were left at the front
door of Holliava – where I hope they stay.
And, you know, in a few years time, I’m sure I’ll think of a
high school reunion play worth writing.
Thanks to all those who went. Boo to all who stayed away.
Or, as Mr Big sang, "when it's through, it's through, fate will twist the both of you / So come on baby, come on over, let me be the one to show you..."
