What's so good about Robin Hood?

(Kevin Costner as Robin Hood*).

A couple of years ago I was having a drink with Visible Fictions artistic director Dougie Irvine and pitching the idea of a new version of Robin Hood. It's always been one of my favourite stories and I reckoned a low tec, slightly bonkers re-telling would be great.

Dougie was enthusiastic but we both had other shows to make and that was that. Or so I thought.

Last August I was rehearsing Dragon in Film City in Govan and Dougie was re-rehearsing Visible Fictions unstoppable masterpiece Jason & the Argonauts. He asked if I had had any more thoughts about the famous outlaw. Visible Fictions and the Kennedy Centre in Washington DC were planning a new collaboration and had settled on Robin Hood. Would I be interested?

Erm... Yes please, I said. Yes. Definitely.

What's so good about Robin Hood?

One of the defining films of my childhood was Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (my little sister and I knew all the words to Bryan Adams' hit Everything I Do and would sing along every Thursday when it came on Top of the Pops) and Maid Marion & Her Merry Men is still one of the best TV shows for kids ever. Anyone a bit older remembers Robin of Sherwood and The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn is a Hollywood classic. I wasn't a fan of the latest BBC TV version or the Ridley Scott film but both pulled in the audiences.

Robin shouldn't be so attractive. He's a thief. He lives in a wood. He hangs out with a bunch of unruly blokes. *He often has stupid hair.

But he steals from the rich and gives to the poor and in a time when 85 people are as wealthy as the poorest half of the world's population, this ancient tale seems as relevant as ever.

Robin Hood is a story about what happens when the most powerful forget about the least among us.

He isn't perfect - far from it - but he's on our side and that's ultimately why we love him.

Visible Fictions/Kennedy Centre's The Adventures of Robin Hood opens at the beginning of March. See here for more details.

Robin Hood Rehearsals Week 2 - Making A Mess

Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham are building a castle out of cardboard boxes.

Well, to be precise the actors Martin McCormick and Bill Mack are building a castle out of cardboard boxes. Some of the boxes have white paint on, others have the word 'trick', and there one small box is marked 'chicken'.

Confused?

We are in week two of rehearsals of Visible Fiction's production of my new play, The Adventures of Robin Hood. This is the messy bit. We've had the first week when we have played around with ideas, now we are almost half way through the second week and the room is in chaos.

This is when we work everything out. Despite the mayhem, we are actually making decisions and building the show, brick by brick. It's slow and painstaking yet always playful and fun.

And what at first seems like a pile of old boxes suddenly transforms into the great castle of Nottingham...

Albion Street - recording

I think it was Paul Klee who said that drawing was 'taking a line for a walk'. For me, plays are a good way to take a thought for a walk.

Albion Street is my take on the debate on Scottish independence.

It's a radio play about a man and woman who meet by chance in a smart restaurant in the Merchant City of Glasgow and discuss their past, independence and pastrami.

I didn't start out with a particular point of view. In fact, it was because I wanted to find out more about it that I decided to write the play. I spent a year reading stuff and listening to people. When asked which way I would vote, I always replied 'I don't know yet'.

But the truth is that the play has ended up being about relationships, about people and their pasts and how they define themselves.

I watched a lot of Eric Rohmer while I was writing it. I love his films, such as My Night With Maude, where two people meet in unlikely circumstances, there is a confrontation and they leave. There are no big bangs, no murder or anything, but somehow everything has changed.

So Albion Street uses independence as a metaphor for relationships rather than the other way around.

I hope you enjoy it.

It's directed by Gaynor MacFarlane and is performed by the splendid Meg Fraser and Robin Laing. We're in studio today and it will be broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland Wednesday 29th January at 1330.

Traverse podcast

I spoke to the ace Associate Director of the Traverse, Hamish Pirie, on Tuesday for their monthly podcast.

Here is me talking about writing things. 

The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot

Yes I know it's only November but we are already at the end of our first week of rehearsals for my new play, created with and directed by Gareth Nicholls, The Little Boy at Santa Claus Forgot at the Macrobert in Stirling. An adventure for 3-6 year olds, it tells the story of Johnny (who hates Christmas) and his jolly neighbour, Mr McGregor (who loves Christmas) and what happens when Christmas is cancelled...

I'm sitting at the back of the rehearsal room looking at a roaring fire, a shy turkey and a massive pile of brussel sprouts. Oh and there's also a big bottle of Christmas Spirit in the corner. It's been a lot of fun this week. I hope you'll join us when we open on Tuesday 3rd December.

For tickets, book here.

Dragon flies into Edinburgh & Salford... PLUS a new trailer

Dragon - Production Trailer from National Theatre of Scotland on Vimeo.

We've had an incredible first two weeks on the tour of Dragon. The response from audiences has been brilliant.

Tomorrow night we open at the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh and run there until Saturday 2nd November. Following that we finish our tour at The Lowry in Salford on Friday 8th and Saturday 9th.

Please come along, if you can.

Here is the brilliant trailer by NTS Seth & team...

Up, up, up and away...

Dragon opens tomorrow at the Citizen's Theatre, Glasgow.

It's taken three years, three house moves, two computers and a lot of paper but I'm finally there. It's happening. Phew.

The first couple of previews (last Friday and Saturday) were incredibly positive. The audience seemed involved and excited. We have to make a couple of tweaks here and there but we have a show. And it's absolutely the show I wanted to make when we started this project.

A lot of people ask: how do you write a play with no words? My answer is: very slowly.

When Jamie Harrison and Candice Edmunds of Vox Motus approached me to write Dragon they weren't sure what they needed. They wanted a boy, a story of grief and a dragon. The how was up to me.

I had a few false starts. Lots actually. I wrote a play with dialogue with a covering note to say that the actors could just not say the words. I wrote a scene-by-scene synopsis but that was dry as dust and incredibly boring to read. I read a heap of plays for children, lots of novels and picture books, and the only other silent play I know, Request Programme by Franz Xaver Kroetz.

The problem was how to convey the story, the characters' journey and the world to the actors and directors and designers in a useful way but that wouldn't limit them but let them imagine and invent.

Then two things happened.

I asked myself the question as to why the play was silent. Why doesn't anyone speak? Tommy is twelve years old and has lost his mum. His dad is stricken with grief, his big sister ignores him and his pals aren't his pals anymore. He doesn't speak because he can't. And if Tommy can't speak and the play is from Tommy's point of view then the play must be silent.

The other thing that happened was that we went into development. Three actors, two directors and a dragon. We played and tried things out in silence and I went away into the next room to write a scene before bringing it back for the director's to try out. Quite quickly we found a formula that worked for us.

It wasn't a film script, it wasn't a short story. It was a silent play.

Over the last six weeks, I've had the privilege of watching the actors, directors and production team turn  the script into a piece of theatre. More than anything I've done before it is absolutely a team effort. Without that thing happening then or that person doing that at this point, none of it would work.
And of course, the thing about a silent play is that when you need to re-write a scene everyone has to be involved. It isn't simply a matter of me writing and the actor learning. Someone has to work out how those eighteen things that were happening now don't happen and those twenty-five things happen instead. It's incredibly complex and the fact that everyone makes it look so easy is extraordinary to me.

So I want to thank all the team for making silence beautiful and whatever happens tomorrow, it's been a blast.