Up Against The Clock - A Play In 24 Hours

It’s Easter Sunday at about 8pm; seven people sit around a table and ponder an antique bed warming pan. Twenty four hours later, five of these people will perform a twelve minute play based around it. This is the essence of the Overnight Plays which has become an annual event at The Questors Theatre in Ealing. This year is my debut as a writer for the plays and as I look at the warming pan I wonder, not for the first or last time, Why On Earth I have decided to do it.

The Prop!

The Overnight Plays were instigated six years ago by the inimitable Tristan Marshall and he is still the head of the show. Each year, he gathers together seven writers, seven directors and a group of around thirty actors. At precisely 7.45pm, he splits the assembled actors into seven groups and matches them up with a writer and director. There may be two actors in a group or there may be seven; only Tristan knows beforehand. The groups are then assigned a mystery prop, which must form a central part of the plot, and are packed off to pre-selected rehearsal rooms. Via the bar, it goes without saying.

Which brings us back to the table, seven people and the antique bed warming pan that will serve as the centrepiece of our play. Having been acting at Questors for around ten years, I know most of the actors taking part in the Overnight Plays but, by a quirk of fate, I know none of the ones I have been assigned. Some quick introductions follow, a sense of rapport is achieved and a sigh of relief (from me) that I will be working with a nice group of people. “So”, I say, “does anyone have any ideas?” – largely because I, myself, have none whatsoever.

Different writers work in different ways for the Overnight Plays. Some like to get the actors on their feet and immediately start building a play there and then. Others like to try a few things with a bit of improvisation before they go away and write. I take a more prosaic route and spend a couple of hours throwing around ideas with the cast and director, slowly building up a basic plot in my mind. To some extent it is a throwback to office life and one of those brainstorming sessions where there are “no bad ideas” – except this is far more successful than any I attended in my business suit.

So what type of genre should we choose? A period piece – that would work with the prop. Should it be comedy or drama? Or both? Does anyone sing? Is dancing an option? And what about the warming pan? What if it were gold? That decoration on the top – perhaps it’s an inscription in a long-forgotten language. Perhaps it’s not a warming pan at all, but an oversized banjo. Could we use it to play a game of spin the bottle? What if someone thought it was a bed pan? Those dents on the bottom – how did they get there? There are suddenly no end of opportunities for where this play can go.

Suitably armed with pages of ideas and a sketchy plan of a murder mystery, a will-reading and a ghost, I leave my colleagues to “bond” some more in the bar and walk home. The walk does me good, enabling me to organise my thoughts and by the time I walk in the front door I have a very definite plot in mind. The laptop is set up in the kitchen and I begin work at about 10.30pm, with a deadline of 9am the following morning to deliver the completed masterpiece to my director. After a couple of hours, I send out a text to my cast. “Can you all wear funeral clothes and does anyone know of a song where a woman kills her lover?” At 3am, I complete a decent draft and go to bed to catch a few hours well-earned sleep. An early start, a bit of editing and I present a script to my director on plan.

The Sript

The cast arrive at 10am and work for them begins. I hang around for a bit, so that any wrinkles in the script can be ironed out and then I leave them to it, my job being complete. The cast and director have a long day ahead. Between 10am and 7.45pm, when the performances start, they have to learn the script, map out each actor’s movements, source any other props they may need, sort out costumes, agree lighting and sound requirements and rehearse everything again and again and again in order to make the play run as tightly as possible. It’s a monumental task and I have helped the actors not one bit by producing a very dialogue-heavy script that is difficult to learn.

The actors get one dress rehearsal attempt on the big stage and then we hear the running order. Our play is second up on the evening, following a romp featuring two highwaymen and a dress. It is followed by a period piece set in a department store. As the time gets ever closer and I take my seat, the nerves kick in and I’m convinced that my play will be shown up by all the others, that my piece will pale by comparison. The highwaymen make their appearance and are superb which adds to my apprehension.

But cometh the hour, cometh the actors. My group of five hit the stage with purpose and energy. Not only have they learned my dastardly script but they bring it to life and elevate it to a level I had hardly dared hope for. How they have managed, in a few short hours, to do this I have no clue and, frankly, at this point I don’t care. An overwhelming sense of relief, mixed with pride and joy is all I am feeling and I want to run on stage and give each of the cast a bearhug as they take their bows.

The Cast and Director!

The rest of the evening is spent in a state of relaxed euphoria. I can safely enjoy the rest of the show, as the succession of plays come and go, each as unique as the last. Two characters from a novel complain to their author at the trite dialogue they are forced to speak. A jewellery theft at a railway station is thwarted by a princess with a lacrosse racket. And the final piece, a wonderful, wordless production dealing with sorrow and loss through music, movement and dance - with a conga thrown in at the end to bring down the curtain on another rewarding Overnight Plays. Plaudits are awarded, drinks are taken and we retire to our beds.

I wonder what next year will bring!

If you enjoyed reading this blog posts, you may want to check out my previous ones:

More Than A Milestone - That Fifty Feeling

Fifty Fat & Unfit

Battling Bertram for Supremacy - Back to the Gym

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About Questors Theatre: The Questors is one of the largest community theatres in Europe, with a membership of around 1,500, of whom around 600 are actively involved in productions. It is situated in Ealing, West London. It stages around 20 of its own productions each year, plus a number of others from visiting companies. It also run a number of courses, for both adults and children. The website is here

Thanks: There are a wealth of people who give up their time voluntarily to make the Overnight Plays happen. As well as the aforementioned actors, writers, directors and Tristan, behind the scenes are teams from stage management, lighting, sound, wardrobe, props and the front of house team. The bar is also staffed entirely by volunteers. I would guess that around 70 people annually give up a large part of their Easter weekend for this event. Thanks go out to all of you.