Peering out at tonight's audience, I get a fright. Scattered in little clumps around the centre block, and making the half-lit auditorium look vast and cold, it's the smallest turn-out yet. (Later we're told they numbered forty-nine.)
As the show starts, I stare at myself in the dressing-room mirror. Not sure I've got the energy for Titus's journey tonight…
I'm thinking of Stephen Fry walking out of that play in London…
No. I don't have the courage or stupidity or whatever it takes -- the WILDNESS -- to do that. I'll go for a different option. I'll stroll through tonight's performance, I'll phone it in. If people can't be bothered to come and see me, fine, I needn't bother doing the real thing.
Then I hear Gys and Ivan over the tannoy, as the emperor's warring sons, lashing into one another and I hear the rest of the cast, as 'the crowd', supporting them with passionate cheers and heckles. And I think, Everyone's really going for it tonight. Why? Why are they working so hard? For such a small audience.
The answer is like a splash of cold water. This isn't unusual for them -- tonight's house -- this is normal; this is what it's like being an actor in this country. They've had years of this. And along the way, they've made a decision -- a decision to serve up the goods, whatever the circumstances. It's why they come in early each evening to do long warm-ups, it's why they were so nervous in the John Barton sessions and learned his lessons so keenly, it's why they reacted so emotionally to the workshops on violence, laughing or crying, it's why Jenny went to meet a man who's had his hand chopped off and another who'd lost his tongue. It's why, at the end of every performance, Gys -- wild-boy Gys -- comes into my dressing-room , and says 'Thank you', and then seeks out the stage managers and says it again, in Afrikaans, 'Dankie.'
Tonight we end up doing one of our best shows ever and the tiny audience give us our first standing ovation.
I’m half-drunk and pretty low tonight; myriad shades of blue, as it were. Rereading this, I started weeping. It strikes all sorts of home, in all sorts of ways.