The big guns arrive

I have a cold. I am full of cold. Totally chilly. I blame it on the Spaniard from Madrid who I would call Jose as a pseudonym, except that Jose is his real name, so i'll call him Ted. I think in many ways feeling a little grumpy is the best way to approach 'Le Jeu' - hitherto I had been TRYING to play and TRYING to play energetically, but I must remember to play honestly: It's very easy to get carried away with trying to impress Phil. Being such a wanker about it, i'm trying to say that I am relaxing into the class.

It is the beginning of the class. "Bon...So...So...We start!...Bon...So....So...We start the class" It seems that Philippe will continue this way merely stating the opening of the class, so I stick my hand up "Yes?" and I say "Can I be the Queen?" "The Queen of where?" "Of Namibia?" "Of Namibia? Yes! Everyone behind the Queen of Namibia" and we began to play 'Balthazar says.' Someone asked me for a kiss and instead of speaking quietly I sang out (in the style of Dan Lewis) "No way!" I am beginning to play. Hurrah.

After we play 'Balthazar says' we play a game called 'Mr Hit' and the game itself is great, but not worth noting here. I should have mentioned the protocol surrounding it before as it is pure Gaullier magic: Once we have gathered in a circle to play 'Mr Hit,' Gaullier pretends to make a phone call into his hand. "Allo?" he says, a look of inquiry dancing all the way through him "Allo? Stani? Stani! It's Phil! Philippe...Philippe Gaulier...non Gau-lli-er. Ah bon, so Stani we're going to play Mr Hit now, ok? Ok, say hi to Slavski, ok bye Stani. Au revoir!" That's right this wonderful playful-grumpy old man is pretending to phone Stanislavsky! To ask his permission to play a stupid game! HA. I love him!

After the games, we move to the exercises. Well, up to now i'd been enjoying studying with Gaullier, but I was beginning to feel a little dissappointed: Come on Phil! This insulting is fun, but where's the gore? I want blood! And sure enough, today Philippe pulled out the big guns. That's right, dear reader: I'm talking, in-depth personal confrontation.

We were doing an exercise on Major/Minor (i.e. of two people on stage at any one moment, one will be the focus, and one will be the support - think Laurel/Hardy)- a group of us are in the space and one person holds a tennis ball, the tennis ball represents the Major, and the ball (and therefore Major) is passed from person to person within the group. Philippe asked us, when we received the ball and passed into Major, to speak to "Mam, Dad, your boyfriend...whoever" and tell them "look at me! I am in Sceaux, in Paris! I am in Major!" etc etc.

The first tears of the course were shed when a very lovely oriental girl. (The ethereally beautiful one from blog 2) took the Major ball. She spoke, I've no idea what she said because she spoke in Mandarin, but it sounded beautiful - I could feel every male heart in the room heave a little sigh of desire - "Stop!" cries Philippe. "They have fish sellers in Hong Kong? Yes? Fruit Vegetable sellers? Speak like them" She tries "No! NO! NO! Louder!" Again she tries "LOUDER!" she continues to try, but there is palpable expectation in the air that Philippe is not going to give this one up until he's really done with her. "You are too well educated. Someone get some water" Everyone looks around, 'water?' 'why the...?' We were soon to find out. "Poor some water on her head. MORE! Now, mess up her hair. MORE." He looks to her "Ah, now you are thinking 'fuck you Philippe' yes? Now, the fish seller." He carried on trying to provoke her until they were there eye-to-eye Philippe growling "fuck you" and her, in tears "fuck. you." OOh it was FUN!!!

This continued and every person who tried was given simillar deconstruction. I, sadly, did not get a turn. During another person's "lesson" he asked for a female to work with him, and (due to the cold) I volunteered. He asked us to stand side-by-side at the end of the room and walk as if we were walking to the funeral of Princess Diana (I laughed - this is not what he meant) So we were to walk upright and with a clear "fixed point" while he played the National Anthem on his ipod. We did. "There is a difference in education here. Yes? You madame, you are very sophisticated. You monsieur, not so much. Go back, and do it exactly the same but this time with text. Madame you first." As we were walking back to the wall (because I am a wanker) all I could think of was Prufrock by Elliot (I think it's the only thing I can recite for as long as five minutes) so I did that. "Very Good madame. Zat was very good." HA! VERY GOOD? VERY GOOD! My partner then went and Philippe told him he was boring, and he said again "But madam, very well done." OHHH I am so chuffed! I have to admit that this exercise is on my territory - I can focus and speak slowly with a nice, poised voice - when it comes to bouffon/clown/mask (the rest of the course) I will be back to good old 'fucking boring.'

I will tell you of one amazing exercise more. Philippe was talking to us about 'hearing the echo' of your words - whether with the audience or a chorus etc. When one girl caught the ball and became Major, Philippe told her she had no joy: He told her to sit on a chair the other side of the room to us. He told her to move only when really compelled to. We sat at the other end of the room calling "Come!" "Come Nelly!" "Come!" She was drawn to us with a beautiful expression - she was, as Philippe would say "showing us her beauty."

Oh Philippe!

Jesus! Jesus Christ! Philippe said I was "not so bad." I couldn't believe it, I almost wet my pants.

It was Friday afternoon and I was just having my first negative spell - could I really put up with the insults for a whole year? had I been fooling myself thinking I could cope? Was this really the right place for me? Philippe had been in characteristicaly vitriolic mood, although he declared at the beginning of Friday's session that he is not so mean to people on Fridays - it makes for a bad weekend. I didn't see any evidence of this leniancy - but maybe I will only get, (I hasten to say 'compliments', so rather) non-insults from Philippe on Fridays.

I jumped up to demonstrate the new exercise with a girl from Hong Kong. This girl is ethereally beautiful, she has one of those oriental faces that seem to radiate thousands of years of wisdom and peace. "So..." says Philippe, and I'm just thinking, come on you bastard - do your worst, "here we have two women who are both very...very..." he hesitates looking around the room "both very charming" ('fucking hell' I think, 'that's a compliment. Where's the joke?') One of them is slightly more charming than the other. I won't give a name, but so." Ha Ha Ha. We did the exercise (which was about using your voice in major, whilst playing a game) and he says "but you, you were not so bad. Quite surprising eh? Well done Madame" and I did a fucking curtsey. That's right.

We had a party on friday night for all the first years. We gathered in a bar near Gar de L'est - not one of the most picturesque areas of Paris - and we drank and talked and people danced. This is a boring account and I only record the event because I so impressed myself by managing to find a nightbus home on my own! I had to walk to Chatelet (30 mins south of gare de l'est) and find bus number N21 - I still can't believe I managed it. So I sat listening to Bob Dylan at 3.30 in the morning on le noctambus N21.

Life begins at Gaulier

I have just finished my third day of study at l'ecole Philippe Gaulier. I have yet not stopped wondering just what exactly is going on. I'm in Paris! In bloody France! Paying to learn from a man who is clearly mad as a box of frogs!

The morning sessions are straightforward enough - it is the movement class, led by a very sweet and convivial Argentinian called Martin (sounds like Martine) we play and exercise and are beginning to learn the art of controlling the body. Afternoons are with Philippe and it is like no workshop environment i have ever encountered. Philippe always wears a hat and his tiny red spectacles are always perched in the middle of his face. He holds a drum on which he beats to punctuate his class. BANG! "You shut up now!" We begin each session with a game called "Bartholomew says" which is a version of 'Simon says.' BANG! "Who wants to be king?" and someone volunteers, everyone else follows behind the king as Bartholomew begins to shout his orders "Bartholomew says run. BANG" From this moment we are just a group of people running around - the entire concept of the king and us running behind as his subjects is totally lost - another moment of total absurdity in the Gaulier classroom - and we continue to play 'simon says.' "BANG! Stop running now! Nooooo there was no Bartholomew says - who stopped? Put your hands up if you stopped! Ah. What do you want?"

This is the part of the game where the running around stops and punishment must be dealt out to those who disobeyed Bartholomew. Philippe asks what you want and you have the following options as reply:
1. Nothing
2. A Kiss
3. Two nothings and a kiss
4. A kiss and four nothings
5. Four nothings and two kisses

The explanations of these are as follows:
1. Nothing - you want nothing, Philippe says 'bon': it is over
2. A kiss - you have to ask someone in the room if they will let you kiss them. If they say yes - then voila! you get to peck them on the cheek. However, if they say no, you must go to Gaulier. Gaulier puts down his drum, wrenches your arm up behind your back and bends you double, so that you wince with pain, then carries out a sequence of torture on you: shampoo (ruffles your skull) guillotine (chops the back of your neck) acupuncture (pinches the flesh on your shoulders) and then Le Pen in Algeria/Guantanamo (grabs your little finger and bends it backwards) Sometimes you get a chinese burn, then you're done.
3. 4. 5. etc etc Two nothings and a kiss - well, two times nothing is still nothing but you want a kiss aswell. Gaulier says you chose the nothings+kiss options if you "are not so confident about your body, if you think people may not kiss you."

Gaullier is funnier than I could have imagined. The rest of the afternoon consists of people doing exercises to the class (15%of the total time) and Philippe discussing if they were so boring we should kill them and how we should do it (85% of the time). For example, he stops a couple and says "so, that was totally boring. That was the most boring day of my life - maybe not the most boring but right up there. What do we think students? Do we think that we love these two, that these two are actors? Or do we think that they should be pharmacist in Sceaux? You go to the pharmacy in Sceaux, you will see, they are fucking boring. So maybe they are pharmacists and we set fire to the pharmacy? What do you think Roger?" Everyone replies that they are boring and that we should kill them - but everytime he says something funnier and more imaginative; i look around at my fellow students gazing upwards adoringly at this fountain, this rock of humour and spirit. He's phenomenal. He speaks slowly and definately. I did an exercise with another girl, and at the end he said: " That was totally boring. you two are totally boring. What do we think class? If these two were primary school teachers, do you think you would learn more, or do you think you burn down the school?

I have no idea what he wants - I guess that he wants us to show imagination, fun and pleasure - but as yet i don't know how to show him those things. It seems that he is creating an environment of silliness and disregard in which we will eventually be able to be free in our playing, but as yet it's a little like sitting with Derek and Clive in the pub, except 'Derek and Clive' are the most interesting, funny and warm old French man I have ever met.