{The Shakes}

In this exercise we explored the life of a soldier. Firstly, we were told to stand in neutral with our eyes closed and then create the mindset of an everyday British citizen before the war began in 1914.We were then asked to convey this persons everyday lifestyle through mime. I took on the role of an artist who is seen by the public as the town idiot due to his rather bizarre mannerisms.

Eventually, Jack the narrator of our lives stated that the war had become and that conscription had begun.  Everyone in the room began to enroll themselves into the army. The exercise no longer revolved around miming so our characters were allowed to interact with each other thus to show the enthusiasm or pessimism towards the war.

Suddenly, it was the final night before we were shipped off to 6-weeks of training. This stage of celebration naturally took place in a pub. Roars of anger towards the enemy was expressed whilst others who weren't as enthusiastic towards the war stood in the corner downing their last ales and by the end of the night every man was drunk stupid.

The next day Jack narrated as the hangover of all hangovers whilst additionally being the day of saying goodbyes to loved ones etc. Later we were on the ship that took us to the training camp, headaches, nerves and excitement lingered within each of the trainees. When we reached the training camp we began shooting exercises with the traditional English Bayonet. We would aim at our targets and shoot. Next, we would stand in our war stance and run at the enemy screaming war cries; this pumped us up for the war.

We then began marching to the trenches through mud and water, dirt and gas. At last we reached the trenches, Jacks words clearly portrayed a dead mans land  which was now our home for god knows how long. We imagined the tall daunting trench walls covered with rusty barred wire.

The first night enlightened us of the horrors of war. The deafening sounds of bomb explosions and cries for help was maddening. My character however kept composed aiding those who succumbed to the dreaded 'shakes'. Finally everyone in the class was called by Jack to over the top into 'No Mans Land'. Fear and anger took over the soldiers; some broke down and some stood there emotionless. Jack then shouted 'CHARGE!' and we began to run towards the enemy screaming our war cries. My character just ran singing, shooting into the smoke. Jack would tap on people shoulders signalling that they had been shot; my shoulder was never touched.

At long last the war had ended. We were brought home still affected by the war; characters who portrayed themselves as normal citizens before the war now returned maddened by what they had experienced in the trenches. Jack then told us to stand in neutral and slowly break out of character and reflect on what we had just gone through.

In hindsight, this was one of the most enjoyable exercises I have ever participated in a physical theater lesson for the reason that it allowed me to explore the mindset of a person without just purely focusing of the movement which in my view can emotionally disconnect you from your character. Moreover, the process of this exercise gave me loads of stimulus and ideas for my solo as it allowed me to open up my mind and unconsciously just live the character.

A Little Fillem

Sparky Spark get Shot in the Dark

In our first physical theatre lesson of year 13 we began by studying the flame from a matchstick; how it moved, the colour shades it possessed, the burning life etc. We were then explained to by Jack that during World War 1, sparking a match in the trenches could have been a fatal as one could be sniped down if the light if the match was seen by the enemy. He then told us that these small acknowledgements that had to be used in the war we should bring to our pieces in order to maximize its potential. 

Next, we were instructed to make a trio with the objective to physically express fire with an ensemble movement. I was partnered with Molly and Bradley and we discussed the important role of movement in a flame, as it is unpredictable. As a result, we then stood in a long row of three- Molly sat at the front replicating the top of the lame which moves the quickest, Bradley stood in the middle and mirrored the core of the flame which is most present whilst I stood a the back and took on the role of the bottom of the flame which moves the slowest but has the most fluidity in its movement.

In conclusion, I believe the strengths of this exercise are that it allows you to engage with the smallest details when creating an ensemble or even a solo piece which is an essential factor when attempting to create a successful and effective performance. 

£MIDEA£

After watching a play called 'Not about heroes', a two man play about the relationship between Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen, I was enlightened to use one of these to poets as my stimulus for my physical solo. As poets their writing styles used rich and vivid literature that portrays a clear picture of the horrors of World War 1. However, I had a particular area which I wanted to explore at that was the life of a soldier. Therefore, I began looking at some of the wartime poems written by Sassoon and Owen. It didn't take me long to find the perfect poem entitled, 'The troops', which uses a variety of adjectives to increase the brutality and horror within the text. The poem explores how a soldiers life in the trenches replicates a  sort of living hell and who slowly are sucked into the war to the point where there is no return and they merely become 'dust'.

Using this poem I came up with the idea of following the step-by-step process of a soldiers life before and during the war. I pictured an artist who lives a quite life in the English countryside who eagerly enlists himself into the British Army when the war begins. During his training he slowly becomes a product of the British army thus losing his identity as an artist; he and the war are one now. Finally, when he is introduced to the life in the trenches he becomes mentally and physically lost. He has reached the point of no return and slowly becomes the monster that is war.

^^Mad Jack^^

Sassoon was one of the great poets from the horrors of World War 1. He was born on September 8th 1886 in Kent. Born into a reasonably affluent family, Sassoon was educated at Marlborough College and Clare College, Cambridge University where he studied Law and History. Nevertheless, he dropped out of university before graduating but discovered a love for poetry. Up until the outbreak of the war, Sassoon spent his time living a life of leisure – fox hunting, playing cricket and riding point-to-point. Encouraged by Edward Marsh to write poetry, Sassoon moved to London to immerse himself in literature. Though he was short of money and soon in debt, it was the type of  lifestyle experience that he was looking for.

However, the outbreak of World War 1 changed everything for Sassoon. He enlisted himself on August 2nd 1914. However, whilst training he suffered an accident riding a horse that resulted in a badly broken right arm, which delayed his move to the front. As soon as he recovered, he was given a commission in the Royal Welch Fusiliers in May 1915 and as a 2nd Lieutenant he served with both the 1st and 2nd Battalions. His poetry during this period he criticized in later life as being too patriotic and glorifying the war.

Sassoon was introduced to the full-blown horror of the war when his brother Gallipoli died in November 1915 as well as his good friend, David Thomas in March 1916.. However, instead of mourning over the two deaths the two deaths, Sassoon appeared  to have been maddened by revenge. He went out on patrol in No-Man’s-Land when no patrols were planned and such acts of recklessness led to him gaining the nickname ‘Mad Jack’ from his men. Sassoon wrote about longing to meet a German patrol and attacking it with grenades and cudgels.

Consequently, Sassoon was sent to the Fourth Army School for four weeks to help him calmed down from these revengeful antics. On the other hand,  he was awarded the Military Cross for his bravery and leadership in June 1916 for bringing back two British trench men who had been severely wounded in the raid of a German trench. 

In March 1919 after the war Sassoon resigned his commission and left the army.

The majority of his war poems commented on what life was like in England to those who were not experiencing the horrors of the war in France and Belgium. Moreover, he greatly criticized people who had used the war to make profit from the war.

Sassoon lived a long and resourceful life after the war writing his autobiography in six separate volumes which took around two decades to complete. He died in Heytesbury on September 1, 1967 aged 80.  

MASTIMZULOUS

The Troops

Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom
Shudders to drizzling daybreak that reveals
Disconsolate men who stamp their sodden boots
And turn dulled, sunken faces to the sky
Haggard and hopeless. They, who have beaten down
The stale despair of night, must now renew
Their desolation in the truce of dawn,
Murdering the livid hours that grope for peace.

Yet these, who cling to life with stubborn hands,
Can grin through storms of death and find a gap
In the clawed, cruel tangles of his defence.
They march from safety, and the bird-sung joy
Of grass-green thickets, to the land where all
Is ruin, and nothing blossoms but the sky
That hastens over them where they endure
Sad, smoking, flat horizons, reeking woods,
And foundered trench-lines volleying doom for doom.

O my brave brown companions, when your souls
Flock silently away, and the eyeless dead
Shame the wild beast of battle on the ridge,
Death will stand grieving in that field of war
Since your unvanquished hardihood is spent.
And through some mooned Valhalla there will pass
Battalions and battalions, scarred from hell;
The unreturning army that was youth;
The legions who have suffered and are dust. 

Siegfried Sassoon