"It's called a play." This statement is often espoused by directors looking to instil a sense of spontaneity, inhibition and, yes, playfulness into their actors. Acting training often strives to unlock a state of authentic play to give actors a sense of ease in performance.
And that's all well and good, but being playful can be hard along side the pressures that accompany a professional job. Lines, lyrics and dance routines all need to be learnt and perfected, almost always in too short a time frame. The only solace is that the audience will clap politely whatever ends up onstage.
Usually.
I've never done theatre for babies before. TIE for moody teenagers that would rather be anywhere else? Sure. Family shows billed as, "for ages 3 to 93"? Certainly. But not baby theatre. I'm used to audiences being potty trained at the bare minimum. Bonus points if they're old enough to know it's polite to sit quietly.
For the uninitiated (as I was), baby theatre is literally theatre aimed at babies. "Baby Show" specifically is a show for 6-18-month-olds currently running at The Unicorn Theatre in London until 30th October. The 40 minute show consists of an approximately 20 minute solo performance followed by playtime and baby disco, complete with disco ball and classic tunes.
When I was offered the contract to perform in "Baby Show" at one of the UK's premier children's theatres, I didn't know what to expect. But following what I've described to friends and the director as "the weirdest zoom audition I've ever had", I found myself intrigued. And as an actor who loves to try new things, I decided to give it a go.
Next came rehearsals. As a remount, naturally there was set blocking to learn. But the process retained a faint essence of its devised roots. My fellow actors and I took turns exploring the various sounds that make up bird names, the games you can play with a pack of wet wipes, and the joy in swirling scarves.
When the age of your audience is measured in months, you don't have to play make believe. Babies find everything inherently interesting: the way the letter B feels bouncy, the feeling of water sprayed on your face, the thud of boots on the floor.
But what about the actor? How does one entertain 18 tiny humans who, according to teachmetotalk.com, can only attend to a single activity for an average of one minute?
Rule one: don't perform.
As adults, we feel an overwhelming urge to perform for young people. We put on high pitched voices and act larger than life. But people are fascinating and for a baby, watching an actor doing interesting things like playing peekaboo or singing a lullaby is enough.
Maybe it's the crippling self esteem issues, but as actors we rarely believe that we are captivating enough to hold a space. We rush through silence. We long for more lines. We wonder what to do with our hands. But we don't have to do anything.
As an adult audience member, I love moments of seeing people exist, whether it's a lone actor being in whatever space the set represents, or the ensemble in the relaxed play that comes from knowing you're not front and centre. "Baby Show" has required me to find that sense of natural being that can be so difficult to achieve.
Rule two: there is no 'right' way.
What's the 'right' way to poke your finger through a hole in a jumper? What's the 'right' way to do the voice of a sentient mitten? What's the 'right' way to blow a raspberry at a baby in a pram (a prop baby, just to clarify)?
There is no 'right' way. And therein lies the beauty. Myself and the other actors who are performing in this run of "Baby Show" all perform the show differently. And whilst there are 'wrong' things we need to be aware of, our 'right' versions of the show are unique.
I find it easy to get caught up in the binary of 'right' and 'wrong' as an actor. I've often speculated that part of this is down to my musical theatre training, which in it's nature consisted of a lot of technical training. But holding on to the idea of one 'right' way can bleed into our professional practice.
With "Baby Show" the entertainment for the babies comes in the discovery. The novel actions of the performer. You can't perfect a reaction or an instinct, and attempting to do so destroys the very thing you're trying to achieve.
Rule three: play.
What I've loved about doing this show is you are literally being asked to play. Play is inherently open. When we see people playing that joy reaches us too - it's infectious. In a theatre context, an actor actively sharing that play becomes an offered game with the audience, rather than a performance at them.
Could playing with a coat zip get old for me? Possibly. But at the time of writing this blog, it's not. None of that exploration is set, so I'm free to mine the depths that zips and bobble hats have to offer and share my indulgence with my tiny companions in the audience.
It's safe to say that not many of my theatre colleagues (who are all over 18 months old) will see "Baby Show". And I'm sure there are some who would sneer at theatre made for the youngest members of our communities. But like the other less mainstream work I've done - TIE, outdoor theatre, village tours - I've learnt much from baby theatre.
It can be hard to remember the first principles of our acting craft when you're bogged down with the technical aspect of getting the work done. But "Baby Show" has forced me to acknowledge and internalise a universal truth of acting:
Being and playing are enough. When you're open and present, you don't need to perform.