Fusion 5

Five years ago, around 10 of us were sat on the Memorial Hall stage after school when Mr. Fry told us the name of the new production – ‘Fusion’. I never thought it would still be continuing 5 years on. In the first few years, I accompanied around 5 different acts. This usually meant playing a random instrument at the back whilst someone else shone at the front. For me,’ Fusion’ isn’t about showcasing your own talent, it’s more about being able to do something with your friends and work as a team. This year, as ‘Fusion’ came to a close, I realised that I was satisfied. I was satisfied because I had been able to perform with the people I wanted to perform with, sharing the stage with the friends I’ll miss when I leave to university. Performing isn’t for everybody, but ‘Fusion’ allows people to be involved in all kinds of weird and wonderful ways, and that’s what makes it different to the other theatre performances you see throughout the year.

My advice to those who want to join ‘Fusion’ is to not let anything get in the way of you enjoying yourself. 

(Mr. Grime: I added some extra cheese. You can take it out if you’re lactose intolerant.) Evey

Caryl Churchchill’s Top Girls- an abstract, exclusively female play about liberal feminism and England’s political crisis in the late 1970s- I initially thought too ambitious for a cast of predominantly GCSE students. The wet floor signs left standing the following morning, marking the puddles of tears shed during the finale, proved otherwise.  An unnervingly mature performance from Deryn Andrews perfectly captured the essence of Marlene, the ball breaking business woman who sold her soul to the devil, or at least Thatcher. Switching from cold hearted drawl to remorseful plea with such ease and accuracy allowed her to give a much more tormented and generally bitchier portrayal of Marlene than Lesley Manville could muster in the BBC’s 1991 production (not quite the same, but still worth a YouTube).

Grace Chatsuwan gave an equally mature performance as Joyce, the mother of Angie (no spoilers). Despite playing a frumpy middle aged woman, (a difficult task for any actor, let alone a usually chirpy fifteen year old) her final argument with Marlene was arguably the most moving scene of all, and rumored to be responsible for at least half of the aforementioned puddles. Her resentment for her sister’s Bentley was particularly resonant for much of the audience.

Thousands of audience members claimed to have forgotten it was a school production in the copious thank you letters which have since flooded the English office. It would be easy and appropriate to praise each and every woman involved, but it wouldn’t make great reading. The ability to call year 13 veterans such as Deena, Steph and Evey into the smallest parts, allowing the young guns to flourish, is testament to the strength and depth of the cast. A final individual mention, however, must go to Grace Carr and her chilling performance as Angie. Equally as far away from her highly intelligent self as Chatsuwan is from Joyce, Carr straddled this difference with ease, giving a truly chilling finale whilst resisting the temptation to make a caricature of Angie, as many a lesser actor would have done.

Regardless of how chilling a performance Grace Carr gave, such eeriness could never have been created without the artistic genius of John Grime, using the lights to wonderfully creepy effect. It is a true tragedy that such a director has since announced his retirement- a crime in fact, stealing theatre of its brightest jewel. This news is perhaps accountable for the other half of the teary puddles. However, with such an obvious passion for theatre having now directed 48 plays, I think his fans need not fear- his half century is imminent.

To all those reading this review wishing they too had witnessed the definitive production of the SHB calendar- good news. Evey Ong’s photos of the dress rehearsal are almost as good as the real thing, and we will happily dig them out from the mountain of thank you letters in the English office under which they are buried.

The History Boys

“Pass the parcel. That’s sometimes all you can do. Take it, feel it and pass it on. Not for me, not for you, but for someone, somewhere, one day. Pass it on boys.”

This is some advice a teacher gives his students in “The History Boys”, and I believe, to some extent, this is the basis of all teaching. Teachers pass on what they know, and students then pass on their knowledge to another generation. You could say this is the basis of all civilisation. We learn from those who have gone before. We learn from our history. Or at least we should.

One of the things ‘The History Boys’ looks at is different teachers and their teaching styles. Should teachers focus on getting their students through exams to the exclusion of other learning? Or should teachers inspire their students well beyond the end of the year, to equip them with knowledge and culture that will go with them for the rest of their lives, long after the exams are forgotten. A gift that goes on giving. One boy, Posner, played by Ben, conveys this dilemma so well when he discusses his personal problems, “Literature is medicine, wisdom. Everything. It isn’t though, is it?”

The play is set in the early Eighties in a boys’ grammar school, where, after their A levels, the boys are taking exams to hopefully find places at Oxford. The last time I taught in England, in the early Eighties, I also taught in a boys’ grammar school and prepared students for a similar exam, though my boys were, I suppose, The English Boys. This was thirty years ago, and things have changed a great deal, and those times, Margaret Thatcher, the Miners’ Strike and music by New Order, are now part of history themselves.

To be able to stage “The History Boys” is a privilege, that we have the actors in school to be able to even cast it: a young teacher just out of college who looks like one of the boys (well, except for his beard), an older teacher on the verge of cracking up, a grumpy old headmaster, a good-looking boy who loves himself, a mild-mannered boy who knows everything there is to know about everything and a boy who plays the piano like ringing a bell. Sounds familiar? Actually, now I think about it, it was so easy to cast!

For me, one of the best things about the process has been working so closely with Bennett’s text. Bennett can make you laugh out loud and he can make you cry, but what makes him special is that he can do these two things sometimes in the same line: for example when Mrs. Lintott says, “What is history? History is women following behind with the bucket.”

Oh yes, and working with the actors, both teachers and students, has been sort of OK too. Love you dahlings, love your work!

John Grime

The History Boys will be performed in The Memorial Hall, Sunday 29th and Monday 30th June, 6:30pm. Tickets free.

NB: Some content may offend and is not suitable for students below Year 9.