A Hair-Raising Experience

In which The Author goes to the theatre yet again

In keeping with my promise to support our local performing arts scene to the best of my ability, I took Clare E. to the Coliseum on Saturday night. The Colstars were doing a show called Hairspray, which was completely new to me.

Clare is about half my age, and far more in touch with contemporary shows than I am. We met about a year ago, (naturally) through our shared interest in music; she's another of the Aberdare karaoke regulars. She'd already warned me that it was along the lines of High School Musical. I'd replied that it couldn't possibly be any worse than Grease, which I suffered in the cinema when I was twelve years old. It was that summer's 'blockbuster hit', apparently, so we went to see it purely out of a sense of 'everyone else has seen it'.

[A digression: I should have known better, really, having endured 1977's 'summer blockbuster hit' Star Wars during our previous holiday. It was only a Close Encounter with Steven Spielberg's mystifying masterpiece, a few weeks after Grease, that assured my lifelong fascination with Science Fiction – which, after nearly four decades, very neatly landed me the job I'm doing now.

I think it's fair to say that Grease almost entirely – and perhaps unfairly – coloured my vision of US teen musicals. I found the 'story' impenetrable, maybe because I was a boy from the Valleys and not especially interested in chasing girls at the age of twelve. How the hell I was supposed to relate to a US high school setting is a mystery I've never quite solved. It's only over the past few years that I've been able to listen to some of the songs without wincing. I certainly couldn't sit through the film again, never mind experience the whole show.

Hannah W. gave me a little more background to Hairpsray at her mother's birthday party a couple of months ago. In particular, she was wondering how the Colstars would be able to cast the black characters. After all, Aberdare isn't the most culturally diverse of communities, in spite of the chunterings of the Debating Society et al. Showcase and Colstars have a young lad of Indian heritage in their line-up (he's the chap with a flair for visual comedy I mentioned when I wrote up Hello, Dolly recently), but otherwise Hannah and I were baffled.

'Surely they wouldn't "black up" for a show,' I said, rather aghast at the idea. I vaguely remember the horrible spectacle of The Black and White Minstrel Show on TV when I was a kid. The whole thing seemed unlikely at best, and very uncomfortable at worst.

A couple of weeks ago Liam J. came into the library on a Monday afternoon, and rescued me from the merciless droning of the Local History Dalek. We repaired to Thereisnospoon and had one of our enjoyable free jazz conversations over a couple of drinks. Liam told me that Hairpsray was inspired by the John Waters film, which is a cult classic among some of my friends. He gave me a bit more background, but I was still none the wiser (I've never seen any of Mr Waters' films, except Serial Mom).

While I was browsing the DVDs in a charity shop last week, I came across a copy of the film of the show of the film (if you know what I mean). I could have bought it there and then, but I decided I was going to go into the show completely fresh, and without any preconceptions of how it 'should' be done.

On Saturday I met Clare in town, and we had a pint before heading to the Coliseum. We were first through the doors, because I had to collect our reserved tickets from Julie G. (and that's a story in itself!) We had a Coke each in the bar while we waited for the start of the show. Chris D. came in while I was waiting to be served, and told me that his wife Cath and his daughter Mali were both in the cast. Soon after that, I spotted Iwan joining Chris and the rest of his family. He was the talk of the town this weekend, because his picture had appeared in Saturday's edition of The Times. They'd done a feature on the incredibly competitive RADA application process, and Iwan had been photographed with some of his fellow first-years. (Afterwards, in the foyer, I teased him that his brief stint in London had put years on him. According to the photo caption, he's twenty-five years old.) He'd come back for a flying visit to check out his friends' latest show.

Clare and I were sitting three rows from the front, right in the middle, which gave us great views of the stage. The musicians were tuning up as we took our seats, and a gauze curtain with the show logo was obscuring the set. The lights went down, Clare gave my arm a squeeze, and we were off.

And I can honestly say that I enjoyed every minute of it. I love that doo-wop style of pre-Beatles bubblegum teen pop anyway, and the music set my feet tapping from the word 'go'. Once again, the energy and enthusiasm of the youngsters blew me away. The acting and singing were on a par with anything you'd see in a professional production; the costumes were vivid and authentic for the period; the lighting was atmospheric and exciting; the minimal set design proved once again that it's possible to do more with less.

The only slightly uncomfortable parts (for me, anyway) were the scenes where white people were playing black people, with obvious Afro wigs and a bit too much fake tan, but not really carrying it off. It was a slight improvement on the old am-dram standby of cocoa powder, but it made for awkward watching all the same. I couldn't help wondering whether a quick shout-out at the University of South Wales mightn't have turned up some talented performers who'd have been more suited to the roles. Still, when you've got a man playing the protagonist's mother, you can put it all down to the high camp nature of the Waters original.

In fact, my Tweet sent at the end summed up the whole evening: 'High camp, high energy, high hair.' I should have added 'hi-jinx' to the proceedings, as I mentioned on the Colstars Facebook page later on. You could tell that it was the last night, because things were going wrong and everyone was trying desperately not to 'corpse' – with varying degrees of success. The audience were really in the spirit of the show as well, doing their best to make the actors laugh during the brief cock-ups. When the whole thing is as daft as Hairspray is, you can't help getting into the party spirit.

Clare and I repaired to the Harlequins Bowls Club for the afterparty, and I introduced her to a couple of the regulars, including Iwan, Dan T., who'd played Link Larkin, and James D., who'd played Corny Collins. It turned out that she already knew Zoe S. who'd taken the lead role of Tracy Turnblad, and Damon M. (who'd played Wilbur, Tracy's father). If she ever fancies getting involved with the Colstars, she wouldn't be going into a room full of complete strangers.

And once again, a couple of the youngsters asked me when I was going to come on board. Well, I've left it too late to try out for the panto, but their next full show will be Carousel, early next summer. Deb J. is going to lend me the film, as I haven't seen it since I was about twelve. Who knows what'll happen once the audition dates are announced?

Dolly Mixtures

In which The Author sees another set of talented young people

I'm pleased to say that my love for live theatre, having been well and truly re-ignited by the Colstars this summer, shows no sign of dying down any time soon.

I never had the chance to tread the boards as a teenager. Aberdare's Phoenix Theatre was pretty much a spent force by the time I was old enough to get involved. My slightly older friend Adrian T. did join Phoenix; he was telling me the other night of the nervousness he experienced on his way in the first time, which was quickly dispelled when he found out that loads of girls were involved. Unfortunately, a fire at their base in Aberaman put the kibosh on their operations.

Slightly nearer home, the Little Theatre – with whom Dad had been involved for a long time when he was younger – were still going, but they all seemed to be middle-aged or even older. Then there were the outright amateur operatic societies, which wasn't a scene that ever attracted me. (I've said on many occasions that if I wanted to hear a couple of fat woman shouting at each other I'd have moved to Penywaun.)

I did a couple of productions with the Little Theatre in my early twenties, having been introduced to them by Dad in the pub one evening. Then I started working away from Aberdare, and that put an end to my involvement with local theatre on any level. Having lost the key to my TARDIS, and therefore being unable to do the twenty-three mile journey in much less than an hour and a half, I always had to cry off.

In Connecting People I told you how I got involved with the now-defunct Youth Entertainment Society. Even that was a struggle, as I had to dive straight onto the bus after work and jump off in Aberaman to get to rehearsals. (I'll tell you the tale of the one show I stage managed for them another time.) Then my new boss decided that our unofficial flexitime system was against the rules, and that (as Victor Borge might have said) took care of that. I started going to plays in Cardiff instead. It was much easier all round.

By the time I went back to university I'd got out of the habit of going to the Coliseum. It took the Colstars' amazing production of Jesus Christ Superstar to reintroduce me to the joys of a live local show.

There's another performing arts company in Aberdare who have been on my radar for a few years. My old friend Pete has been involved with a group called Showcase (Sioe Gerdd) for ages. However, I was never able to check out one of their shows. To add to the fun, they often stage their plays at the Dare Valley Country Park Vistors' Centre. It isn't the easiest place to get to. Even assuming we still had buses after 6 p.m. on weekdays, the centre is the best part of a fifteen minute walk from either of the bus routes. When it's barrelling down with rain and the wind is howling around the hillsides, it's really not a pleasant prospect.

I was kicking myself a couple of months ago, when I discovered (after the event) that Showcase had staged Dennis Potter's surreal gem The Blue Remembered Hills at the DVCP. Mind you, it was the height of summer, so it was probably pissing down that night. I was also a bit disappointed to learn that they'd done Two Gentlemen of Verona at St Fagan's Church in Trecynon, a hymn book's throw from my house. So when posters started going up all over the place for their production of Hello, Dolly at the Coliseum, I made a note in my diary straight away.

I was even more determined to go when Liam J. (the young chap I had a couple of drinks with in I'll Have a Large Retcon, Please) told me he was in the show. I knew he'd done Film Studies at university, but I hadn't realised he was in Showcase as well. (As things turned out, I knew a few of the cast from being around in Aberdare.) As I was unexpectedly free on Wednesday evening, I decided to go along and check out the show for myself.

And I was so glad I did. I haven't seen the film since I was a kid, and I couldn't remember very much about it. For a company of that age group – I think the oldest are probably in their mid-twenties – there was a remarkable range of talent on stage that night. Meghann Reynolds, playing the title role, has an extraordinary voice and tremendous presence for someone so young. Stuart R., another pub pal of mine who was playing Vandergelder that night, also has a fine voice and a terrific manner about him. A young fella named Kishan Mehta has a gift for physical comedy which I'm sure will take him a long way.

There were great voices, some neat dance routines (not easy on a fairly small stage), a lot of very clever staging, and so many colourful costumes and lighting changes that it was a real visual feast, as well as being a pleasure to listen to. There were a few first-night hiccups, a couple of fumbled lines, and a couple of technical glitches, but they were perfectly understandable in the circumstances. It's one thing to do it in the privacy of the church hall, but quite another when half your family and most of your pals are watching.

Liam was playing a supporting role, so I waited by the stage door to catch up with him and lend him a book I'd promised him ages ago. While we were chatting he explained that several of the cast were doubling up, so he'd be playing one of the main parts on the Saturday night.

I went to the Mount Pleasant for a swift half and put this status on Facebook:

Great to see yet more talented young people on stage at the Coliseum tonight. An energetic, colourful and nicely played Hello, Dolly. First night nerves aside, a fine production. Whenever you hear an old pub bore moaning about 'kids today', give them a nudge in the direction of the Colstars or Showcase and ask them to report back afterwards.

So, not wishing to be an old pub bore, I went along again yesterday. I bought a programme before I went in, because I recognised so many faces on Wednesday that I wanted to put names to them. I also added my name to the mailing list, so that I don't miss anything they do in future.

My initial impression was reinforced last night – Meghann was born to sing that part, belting out the songs with the sort of energy and passion you'd expect in someone who's been doing it for years. The two guys playing Vandergelder's employees are knockabout comedians who worked really well together. There was just the right balance of pathos and farce, which can be difficult to pull off. The band were also top-notch – if perhaps a little too loud in places, drowning out the voices from time to time. The chorus and the dancers were all on top of their game, too; the frenetic 'Waiters' Gallop' featured six young girls who must have been exhausted at the end.

And, of course, there was the afterparty. Once again we repaired to the Harlequins Bowls Club for beer and shenanigans. Liam and Stuart introduced me to some of the others, and we chatted for ages about ideas for possible productions. In particular, Stuart is very interested in one scheme I've got in mind, of which more later (I hope). Liam also suggested something quite radical, which we're going to try and flesh out over the next few months. It was another great evening in good company, and certainly better than anything else Aberdare had to offer on a Saturday night. We wandered off at stop tap and I headed home to make some notes about Liam's proposal. So far, it seems doable. Watch this space, as we say …

It was just a pity that the turn-out was so poor. I actually felt a bit resentful on seeing all those empty seats when I came back from buying my interval ice cream. I mentioned this fact to some of the lads while we were chatting over beers. After all, I argued, millions of people who turn their noses up at going to see 'amateur singers' will quite happily switch on the TV on Saturday nights and watch … amateur singers. The only difference is that they have four has-beens (or never-weres) sitting on the other side of the stage.

And that's where my cunning plan comes in again.

While I was on my way out, I chatted to one of the committee members in the foyer. He'd sold me the programme on the way in, so I congratulated him on putting such a great show together. Then I made the same offer which I'd previously made to the Colstars: to look after their online presence. They've got a Wix website, which might be all right if you just want a quick and dirty fix-up, but I'm thinking about going down the full interactivity route. I can set them up with a blog, an Instagram, a Twitter feed, tie all the social media together, and build them a web identity to help spread the word by the cheapest possible means. As I said to Meghann, if I submitted a review to the Cynon Valley Leader at lunchtime tomorrow, it would probably go in about a week after their Xmas panto – if at all. Why bother messing about with Twentieth Century media in this new age of instant connectedness?

They've got my contact details. In turn, I can use my network of contacts to establish a web presence for both Showcase and the Colstars that will really allow them to get 'out there' and promote themselves.

I'm going to do everything I can to support them, because I've seen the energy, enthusiasm and commitment both companies put into their shows. After the dazzling display of Valleys apathy from the Cynon Valley Quiz League last week, I now know where my free time and portfolio of skills would be really appreciated. It may have taken me nearly forty years to throw my hat into the theatrical ring, but I think Dad would be pleased to know I'm following in the family footsteps … at least in a small way.