An American’s review of The Poor School short course…
Four days and £295 sounds like a package for a decent city break, to most. If a little light-hearted awkwardness and self-exploration is more your speed, it could mean entering a completely new world at The Poor School. As it turns out, four days of hard work and ample amounts of silliness was just what I needed to reset and re-energize.
Since 2007, The Poor School has been facilitating a four-day short course to anyone that would like to scratch their thespian itch — and boy was my class itchy. Among the consortium of course goers, I met Lynne Parker, the founder of Funny Women. Lynne was one of the many interesting and passionate faces I met that week.
The class was widely diverse — from early teens to late fifties, some with no acting experience while others were fresh off the stage. We were a curious bunch from all walks of life occupationally (divorce lawyers, psychiatrists, software developers, high school students, you name it… ) and culturally (British, Finnish, French, Polish, Indian, New Zealand and American).
Over four days, we quickly shed the skin of our daily lives and became bubbles, leopards, Elizabethan dancers, Wild West cowboys, colours and New England seafood lovers. Classes were split between voice, movement, singing, stage fighting, Shakespeare and scenes.
The teachers are stellar and genuinely want you to enjoy your time during the course all the while learning some practical bits about acting. Grantley, the singing director, beamed energy and kindness as we sang our way through show tunes, helping us to find confidence and pepper the songs with emotion and exuberance.
Anthony, my scene group’s director, sat in the audience cheering us on as we fumbled through lines, genuinely attentive and engaged. Clare, the voice coach, is pure brilliance. You can tell she’s been in the industry for a while and truly embraces everyone’s unique qualities and takes the time to work with those that seem to be struggling. Alison, the stage combat director, is energetic and hilarious — she showed us how to be badass fighters on stage without hurting ourselves or anyone around.
While some course goers attended with the sole purpose of trying something new, others were auditioning for a spot on the Poor School’s two year drama course. Because of this, there is a more serious 'you either have it or you don't' when it comes to feedback. If you are easily unsettled, don't ask! I took it on the chin.
Notable activities included:
– whirring through the room in a single steam of energy, plodding and rolling over splintered floorboards
– taking up residence inside bubbles of varying sizes, emotions and colours
– practicing diction folded over with tongues hanging out
– hitting the high notes by imagining marionettes and visits to the dentist
– learning to stage fight dealing out punches, hooks and backhand slaps
– blindly trusting a partner to walk us around a busy room, tracing your hands over windowsills, door frames and bubbled paint
While the breathless game of tag was a recurring warm-up at the school, the experience reminded this American of a childhood favorite — 'red rover'. A game where children clasp sweaty hands together and wait for the burst from enemy forces attempting to break the chain. The enemies being our own insecurities and vulnerability.
While perhaps the only thing I did well during the course was sport an American accent during Rodgers and Hammerstein’s ‘A Real Nice Clambake’ and a play about New York City Mormon’s by Neil LaBute, it was a start to expanding my comfort zone and keeping the drumbeat going of choosing vulnerability and newness over anything static and non-nourishing. Not everyone is destined for the West End — but I don’t know a single person that couldn’t benefit from a bit of escapism, laughter and new friends.
Heather Astorga is a Philadelphia-based writer currently working abroad in London with her cat, Grace. She’s the voice behind the newly launched website Figs and Folly, a personal blog and creative space aimed at breaking through creative barriers, applauding artistic vulnerabilities and getting down to business.
