Wednesday, 8 November 2006

Fourth Estate

by Tim Massey

Paul Sirett's Seventh Commandment of Being a Writer is, 'Thou shalt not get depressed when thy work gets rejected. Also, do not place too much importance in the content of rejection letters. And later, of reviews.'

Sound advice, but as with most counsel of this kind, it's easier commanded than obeyed. In Salt'n'Sauce I've tried to explore how it's not so easy to be philosophical or magnanimous as a writer, making the frustration and resentments of the writing life the subject of my comedy.

I've had enough rejection letters not to feel much of a sting when one of my scripts is returned, and having been on both giving and receiving ends of tough love criticism at Southwest Scriptwriters, the content of reviews isn't likely to cut much ice either. But when you're putting on a play, the press is important to its success, and - as I also point out in Salt'n'Sauce - you need your previews and your quotable reviews to help publicise the production.

Fortunately, the local press has been overwhelmingly kind in its coverage of this and my previous productions in Bristol.

In the week before Salt'n'Sauce opened, Bristol Evening Post printed a feature on the show subbed nicely from the UWE press release with the great headline 'Rivalry, revolt and a taste of life behind the scenes'. The only snag was that they illustrated the piece with a picture of Andy Graham, labelled, 'Writer: Tim Massey'. The picture is cropped from one shot at the Tobacco Factory to go with a feature on Southwest Scriptwriters' New Writing Festival three years ago. I'm standing behind Andy in the original and the Post transposed our names in the photo's caption when it was first published. They've very efficiently retrieved the shot from their archive, but unfortunately also dug up the old error. Andy thought it was hilarious and said that he'd take the credit if the play was a success and blame me if it wasn't.

I've already mentioned the excellent preview we had in Metro last week, and the one in Venue wasn't too bad despite my slightly garbled interview. For various reasons at the time of writing, I still haven't seen Harry Mottram's three-star Evening Post review from last Thursday - I'm told that it's reasonably good, though. On Monday we received a glowing notice from Theresa Roche on the BBC Bristol website - a shot in the arm at the start of the show's second week.

The only black cloud louring in the blue skies of this positive press coverage is a thundering brickbat dealt by Steve Wright in this week's edition of Venue published today. Overall, I'm ready to accept that much of what he writes about my play (although not about the performances) is justifiable. Maybe I haven't explored the premise with any fresh insight and, in his view, the language and ideas might be 'thin'. What rankles, though, is when Wright deigns to speak for the entire audience - 'the audience spends the evening as underwhelmed as the protagonists.' What is he? Omnipotent? This patronising sentence highlights Wright's glaring omission from his quick list of 'easy targets' I take pot shots at in the show - pompous theatre critics.

The Word of Paul Sirett is Good; give me virtue enough to heed it.

Performances have gone well since Tumbleweed Night last Friday. Both cast and audience were back on form on Saturday, although the house count took a dive (19) thanks to it being Bonfire Night weekend. (There was a blitz of firework bangs during the final scene on Saturday and the cast didn't miss a beat, although they also didn't rise to Sam's challenge of using these as sound effects.)

I was a bit worried that the show was going to hit Tumbleweed Night II on Tuesday because it was the official Southwest Scriptwriters evening, and members might feel less than generous about the show if I've ever been less than constructive with my criticism at workshop meetings. The 43-strong house was very responsive, though, with the in-jokes playing well. Simon and Paul paced the 'I mean to have you...' lines nicely and stretched the laughter during the final scene.

Tonight's performance drew 42, and the cast, Sam, Kirstie and I went for a curry in an Indian restaurant next door to the Alma afterwards. Simon was grateful for the chance to eat fresh poppadoms rather than the ever-staler prop ones he's been munching during the play's closing moments, and life didn't imitate art at the meal as there was bonhomie to spare. The show has proved the box office hit of this autumn's Theatre West season so far, so no art-life coincidence here either.