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True Talent, Equal Access?

On the tube home from “Barnum,” something very interesting happened.

Fairly near the end of the line, my section of the carriage was empty, except for me in the corner… I suspect that my new choice of deoderant wasn’t quite the sucess I’d hoped with the travelling public. Anyway, at the next station,  a group of 8 or so late teenage boys got on. Pretty much the type of urban bunch you’d expect to find, if you are a reader of certain newspapers. Mostly black, with 2 or 3 white who adopt the same speech patterns, attitudes and behaviour.

They were bantering as boys do, about how they crashed the ticket barrier without paying (yeah, I bought that one – not), how they’d be getting off at the next stop, who had done what to whom, etc, etc. Oblivious to me, yet registering the middle aged male presence in the corner. And no, I wasn’t concerned in the least. Not THAT long ago since me and my friends must have appeared very similar to those now approaching retirement age.

Suddenly, one switched on the speaker on his phone. A little clapping from then all, then 2 started using the handrails as gymnastic poles, 2 more simply danced to the music. Anti-social behaviour? Perhaps… but…

Fact: this was raw talent, purest and simplest form.

Fact: I’d have paid to see it.

As it was, I was similing and laughing. The boys noticed, and included me in the film one of them was taking on his phone.

They got off at the next station, with a cheerful wave (reciprocated).

I was left energised and elated, a piece of private street theatre of the highest quality – and unless there is a youtube of it somewhere, it’ll never be seen again.

About 10 seconds later, though, I almost drowned in a bath of depression.

Think about it. Those young men were (and I’m going to make a HUGE assumption, which I really, really hope I am wrong about) quite probably “typical.” No particular education, no particular direction to go in. Genuinly decent young men…

…. with the kind of talent that would have any professional theatre maker with any sense drooling. For movement, for “performance” (yes, they knew damn well the show was for both theirs and my benefit) and for improvising.

At that moment, I suddenly understood just how hard it is for anyone outside of those already “inside” to not just begin a career in the arts – but to actually even know that it a potential option, or to find the guidance to bring it to fruition. “Diversity” and similar acts delighted thousands every night at the Palladium last Christmas – and these guys, well, several of them, honestly had the potential. And I say that with my own “professional” hat on, as someone who passes opinions on live performance for a living.

I don’t have a clue how this can be channelled, but I do know it has to be a fairly cheap to create way of giving hope, interest, even employment to a section of society beneath the radar. There probably are some “outreach” workers engaged on this at the moment, I hope so, and that there are more to come.

Meanwhile, if I were a casting director or drama school admissions supervisor, I just might be grabbing a travelcard rather than a copy of “Spotlight.” There is more to performing life than is dreamed of in your philosophies, Hamitonio…

 

 

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