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."