The Kindness of Strangers

Sorry for the title. I loathe Blanche, really I do, as all stout and hearty Yorkshireman must loathe these youth-seducing, paper-lantern-proffering, rhinestone-next-door-to-glass-wearing hussies. (This tirade is probably congealed with my memories of Vivien Leigh's Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, whose Little Miss Innocent act got old about the time she started gunning down looters and watching amputations... not to mention dallying with the affections of the Tarleton twins! I ask you! Who would dare?) Harrowing semantic webs aside though, it's a fairly accurate description of the experience I had at work today. As much as labouring at The York Dungeon is a wonderful and rollicking investment of time - one that I certainly wouldn't swap for anything else - it can also be a demented and pitiless grind. To stick with the Dickens analogies, it's as though the torture wheel occasionally rotates a little too far in one direction. All at once, the actor ceases to be the stentorian, hulking authority figure - a Buzfuz or a Bumble or a Dombey or a Tulkinghorn - and is reduced to the post of parish orphan, prostrate on the work-house altar and crumbling into ash. It's that very fine distinction between an energising, invigorating task that makes you feel alive... and a crushing ordeal that accomplishes the exact opposite.

Make no mistake. This is very hard work, and, in summer particularly, the actors are placed under an enormous strain. Examples are endless. Numerous actors have been slapped and punched by over-excited members of the public. Travelling folk have ravaged our catacombs with their dogged determination to intimidate our female staff and run off with the severed heads. There have been mass exoduses to the toilets and constant families requesting to be led outside again. Recently, one actress actually coughed up blood in a show. It wasn't serious, which is a blessing; it did occur on Plague, which is deeply amusing, so far as the line 'has anyone here been coughing up blood recently?' is the virtual opener to the script.

Just last night, I was ranting to George Potts about my recent nightmare stint on the Judges show. Picture it! Me: wigged-up, velvet gown (ermine trim!), raised quite high. Peak time of day: crowds coming in fast. Indecently so. Just about... tolerable. But then: ah. Complication. Flaw in system: no margin for human error. The offshoot of this sorry state of affairs was poor, pitiful me being forced to smirk, sneer, screech and (worst of the alliterative barrage) SHOUT for three hours. Three hours! Now, it's not unprecedented to struggle through a shift of that length. But when it's without the shortest break due to crises in the Dungeon batching system... My goodness. The horror - the horror! A group in the courtroom - a group waiting to come in from the Vikings section - and a group in the torture chamber preventing you from sending the current lot forward. And the only way out... is more shouting. It can be uncomfortable, to put it mildly. My pain threshold is relatively high, but you certainly feel the after-effects come eventide. It's for this reason that my blog output has been so underwhelming this month, and this offers yet another reason for resentment. I suppose that it's possible to give a little less energy in shows, if only to preserve yourself for the world beyond. However, my diffuse set of ethical values simply will not permit this! Everyone who enters pays the same amount, our charges are extortionate enough as it is, and it's inexcusable that a customer who just happens to catch you at the end of your shift should receive a diminished show.

So, you can imagine my delight when I read this email in the staff room:

Following our telephone conversation regarding our visit was on Friday 23rd July at about 4pm - and the Judge deserves everything you can give him!!
A stellar performance. Tell him not to change it one jot! Sneak in, Helen, and video him!! He's outstanding!
He may recall the day. He offers 3 punishments to the "convicted" in the dock - and one guy in our crowd (found guilty of theft I think) opted for his fingers to be chopped off - as opposed to the obvious most lenient punishment offered. We, the audience thought - what a prat - but your Judge didn't belittle him, but cleverly got him out of his embarrassment with his honour almost intact, whilst we all sniggered. What a pro!!

Ahhhh... Great happiness. And I mean great. I don't think there's much more to say, other than it's the nicest review I've ever had! I'm still of the opinion that most of my best acting has gone on in the Dungeon, so it's heartening that someone went to the effort to mention their appreciation of it. It's a tiresome old cliche, but it really does make it all worthwhile. Sad prat that I am, I've been walking on air all day.

I've come across a video of one interpretation of the Judges show online. The actor is Michael Collin, who I believe had moved on as early as my first stint at the Dungeon, way back in October 2008. It's very different to my characterisation, which is probably best described as an unrepentantly manic (aha!) fusion of Ebenezer Scrooge, the Child Catcher and the Wicked Witch of the West. Collin is considerably more droll, and has a very nice turn of phrase where the elusive majesty of improvisation is concerned ('you massively mutated mounds of monkey mucus' - premeditated or not, it's a golden line). A great deal of the humour is lost in this version - as are a few of the punchlines, including the sensational naked dancing pay-off for the witches crime, in which contumely anachronisms such as 'work it baby, work it baby!' are mingled with ritual humiliation - with distinctly delicious results. This doubtlessly has much to do with the lack of audience hysteria - at least two of the audience members are Dungeon actors (and still in makeup, by the looks of it). It strikes me that this material was intended for a show-reel, and has since gravitated mysteriously to YouTube. Where the video triumphs is in communicating the show's pervasively creepy atmosphere. The set dressing is outstanding: blazing torches, heavy red drapes, dark wood panelling, portraits of Tudor monarchs... The blinding white light that emerges from 'the big book of crime' - the shadowy jury of cloaked monks and friars... Best of all is the background noise, with assorted grunts, yelps and screams, all filtered through a blazing furnace, rolling gracefully in from the torture chamber... Odd quibbles aside, I really do love this job:



This might well be the shortest blog entry I've yet produced. Scary (welcome?) stuff, and a sure sign that this journal is in dire straits until such time as the Dungeon turns me out and I can get back to normal life. Should I ever finish my exhaustive guide to the Dungeon experience, I'll be providing a more comprehensive overview of the Judges show (officially titled 'Judgement of Sinners' - see, yer learnin' already!) and toss in a few of my stories about it. Given the pivotal role played by Justice Stareleigh in the 'Bardell and Pickwick' section of Pickwick & Nickleby, all of this legal rumination is very useful to me - and, provided I'm lucky, a sure sign that I'm on the right track with at least one character!