Drama Index
The first School Play was staged at the Hemsworth Hippodrome on Dec 20th 1922. It was Midsummer Night's Dream.
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School Plays |
Staff Plays |
Other |
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Staff Plays 1920s |
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The Morning After
From the School Magazine 1960
The play had made a successful impact on the world. Even the harshest of critics had been reasonably complimentary, and so all the members of the cast, from the leading lady and leading man downwards were wallowing in the luxury and excitement of success. Meanwhile, at the theatre itself, the cleaners were arriving - a very different crowd of people from those who had assembled there the previous evening. The building was silent, stripped of its laughter, conversation and rounds of applause. No longer a fairyland of shimmering light and colour but just a dishevelled, lonely, drab building. Discarded programmes lay where they had fluttered; empty chocolate boxes, cigarette packets and cigarette ash were strewn about the floor; gloves and dainty handkerchiefs were to be found - dropped in the excitement of the moment, probably never to be seen by their owners again. Flowers which had been placed in every conceivable spot for the glittering first night, wilted. This feeling of abandonment seemed to prevail throughout the building. However, the cleaners worked wonders, and in a comparatively short time the theatre had regained its former air of splendour, and over everywhere settled that feeling of anticipation, not as intense as the previous evening, but still, as before every performance, there was the question of "Will the audience like our play?"
Carole Margaret Oates, 4A. Holgate
That Last Thirty Minutes
Half an hour to go, and everyone, despite the fact that they are wearing make-up, is looking very white and nervous. Try as one may, one cannot stop that butterfly fluttering in one's stomach. Although everyone is rushing round, there is a queer silence which falls upon the actors, enabling one to distinguish an actor from a stage-hand or helper. One hears the braver actors muttering their lines to themselves, while the not-so-brave dare not go over their lines for fear of discovering that they have forgotten some of them. They just trust to luck that they know them. It's most extraordinary, but when one is fully made-up and ready to go on the stage, one always has the inclination to sneeze or blow one's nose, thereby smudging the make-up. Quarter of an hour to go." That infernal call-boy!" Why does he keep reminding me? One feels fidgety, hot, sticky and bad-tempered. One is not encouraged by the fact that So-and-So and his mother are in the audience. Then there's mother and dad. One must not make a fool of of oneself in front of them, or else. Five more minutes to go." Those last five minutes! They simply fly by. Very soon, one is rushed from the Domestic Science Room on to the stage. Well, here goes! The curtains are opening; one hears the first lines vaguely, then one seems to wake up. The nervousness has been swept away with the curtains, the play has begun, and, with a sigh of relief, one realises that everything is going to be all right.
Wendy Toone, 4A, Guest
From the School Magazine 1960
The play had made a successful impact on the world. Even the harshest of critics had been reasonably complimentary, and so all the members of the cast, from the leading lady and leading man downwards were wallowing in the luxury and excitement of success. Meanwhile, at the theatre itself, the cleaners were arriving - a very different crowd of people from those who had assembled there the previous evening. The building was silent, stripped of its laughter, conversation and rounds of applause. No longer a fairyland of shimmering light and colour but just a dishevelled, lonely, drab building. Discarded programmes lay where they had fluttered; empty chocolate boxes, cigarette packets and cigarette ash were strewn about the floor; gloves and dainty handkerchiefs were to be found - dropped in the excitement of the moment, probably never to be seen by their owners again. Flowers which had been placed in every conceivable spot for the glittering first night, wilted. This feeling of abandonment seemed to prevail throughout the building. However, the cleaners worked wonders, and in a comparatively short time the theatre had regained its former air of splendour, and over everywhere settled that feeling of anticipation, not as intense as the previous evening, but still, as before every performance, there was the question of "Will the audience like our play?"
Carole Margaret Oates, 4A. Holgate
That Last Thirty Minutes
Half an hour to go, and everyone, despite the fact that they are wearing make-up, is looking very white and nervous. Try as one may, one cannot stop that butterfly fluttering in one's stomach. Although everyone is rushing round, there is a queer silence which falls upon the actors, enabling one to distinguish an actor from a stage-hand or helper. One hears the braver actors muttering their lines to themselves, while the not-so-brave dare not go over their lines for fear of discovering that they have forgotten some of them. They just trust to luck that they know them. It's most extraordinary, but when one is fully made-up and ready to go on the stage, one always has the inclination to sneeze or blow one's nose, thereby smudging the make-up. Quarter of an hour to go." That infernal call-boy!" Why does he keep reminding me? One feels fidgety, hot, sticky and bad-tempered. One is not encouraged by the fact that So-and-So and his mother are in the audience. Then there's mother and dad. One must not make a fool of of oneself in front of them, or else. Five more minutes to go." Those last five minutes! They simply fly by. Very soon, one is rushed from the Domestic Science Room on to the stage. Well, here goes! The curtains are opening; one hears the first lines vaguely, then one seems to wake up. The nervousness has been swept away with the curtains, the play has begun, and, with a sigh of relief, one realises that everything is going to be all right.
Wendy Toone, 4A, Guest