To Pea or not to Pee

Green Room Gossip
By (Sir) C.E.S.S. Poole
Your honorary knighted Thespian.


The art of performing in a drama broadcast on the wireless, or steam radio as it was affectionately called in the sixties, is unfortunately gone. The skills displayed by Sir John Gielgud, Sir Larry, Sir Ralph and many other of my fellow knighted Thespians are possibly lost forever. Our American cousins also contributed to this now dying art. The great Orson Welles' radio production of The War of the Worlds in 1938 had thousands of listening public rushing to their local shops to stock up on baked beans as they believed the Martians were landing. More recently Robert de Niro, Sam Shepard and Al Pacino have displayed their talent in radio dramas.

But unfortunately today most radio stations across the globe broadcast either music, news or phone-in chat shows around the clock. The latter - the Talk stations - now bombard our ears with a style similar to the recently created Reality TV channel and the bizarrely popular Jerry Springer show. The highly talented presenters invite the listening public to air their clean and dirty linen on the airwaves twenty four hours a day.

The use of the thespian skills of the jobbing actor in the field of radio have slowly diminished since the mid-seventies. Acting on the radio required the fine tuning of the actor's most valued asset - his voice. The art of moving on and off the microphone to convey a sense of distance; the half covering of the mouth to create a whispered aside; the close-on-mike purred delivery for the intimate bedroom scene. All these practiced tricks of the trade have been lost. Or have they?

Nowadays instead of gently delivering the classic romantic line, "But soft what light through yonder window breaks?" many highly trained and versatile actors are asked to croon softly into the mike and utter such wonderful lines of dialogue like, "Zinophay Shampoo gently caresses your hair from root to tip."

This bastardisation of the art of radio acting is called "Doing a voice over". Many jobbing actors across the globe have been enticed by the lure of the green backs to hire their voices to advertising agencies. I too fell to the smell of money but being a crafty old sod I endeavored to kill two birds with one stone. I was determined to fill my wallet and my "Toddie" at the same time.

For thirteen years of my life I extolled the almost non-existent virtues of a larger which stood the test of time. It was during this time that I became au fait with the jargon of the advertising agencies. It was a gradual learning curve as I began to understand the difference between a copywriter and an artistic director, between an executive director and an account executive, between the client and the client's marketing manager, between a client executive consultant advisor and Tom, Dick, Harry and all.

Unlike working either on film or on the stage, where the actor has to follow the careful guidance of his one and only boss, the director, - in the loneliness of his sound proofed booth the voice artist has to deal with sometimes seven or eight directors. And this number can double if members of the product's creative brand imaging team are also present in the studio.

Nobody in the world of advertising or product marketing seems to appreciate that in the creative world of theatre or film there is no place for democracy. The director is a dictator. I don't think that Mr. Speilberg held a four hour meeting with his writer, his cameraman, his actor, his creative technical supervisor and his underarm deodorant supplier before he shouted, "Print that one!" as ET said, "Go-home."

The legendary Orson Welles had such a confrontational meeting with a team of semi creative minds when he was asked to do a voice over for some frozen peas in 1978. Orson at this stage of his life was not a small man in mass or temperament and for an over sixteen stone man to be confined in one and a half square metres of space can only be described as uncomfortable.

The line he was asked to deliver was "The New Fresh Frozen Garden Pea." He delivered four "takes", sat back, lit up a cigar and waited. Through the glass he watched the menagerie of Ad agency and product marketers discuss his readings. "Mr. Welles, could you possibly try a heavier stress on the word new." Piped up creative brain number one. "Sure thing", and he obliged. "I'm sorry Mr. Welles, go for the fresh." Said the marketing manager. He obliged. "I'm really sorry Mr. Welles, could you try the stress on Garden,” asked the customer services manager. He obliged. "Would you mind if we tried it on Frozen and Fresh.", asked the bespectacled managing director of the frozen pea company. He obliged. "I really, really am sorry Mr. Welles but could you possibly try.......".

"I'm sorry too," he quickly injected, "but I need to take a pee!"

He walked out of the studio and was never seen again.

Till we meet again, don't know where, don't know when...........

(Sir) Cecil Edward Steven Simon Poole signing off till next month.

 

Ron Smerczak

 

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Name

Comment

Date

James Tobias

I would really like to see writings from Ron and not his highbrow sidekick.
Nothing wrong with the writing, in fact rather good, but the content.

I'm sure I've mentioned it before. If one is not in that tight (and I use the word loosely) clique, it is difficult, if not impossible to comprehend what CESS is on about.
How many have heard of Orson Welles - didn’t he do "War of the worlds" or something - or am I drinking at the wrong Welles?

Radio? Isn’t that a device that alleviates awkward silences?

Points 3 - Very promising piece of writing

2008-02-17

Erna

Movie buffs of all ages have surely heard of Orson! Oh, Rosebud! He was a pioneer in filmographic techniques – a legend as director and actor! I guess Ron’s target audience is probably us over 50s… why not? Some young people under 45 (albeit rather eccentric ones) are still mad about Jeeves & Bertie Wooster. I love Sir Cess. I would love to meet him in person. I’d even feed him and give him a cigar so he’d settle back on my settee and regale the family with his reminiscences. I’d water his drinks, though, or he’d nod off, I imagine. And I imagine that he’d be difficult to get off my settee, too – he might move in and stay forever… I doubt whether his agent will ring and offer him a job any time soon!

 

Points 4

2008-02-17

Louis Harris

Ron, I was in stitches at the end.

So were my dinner guests. They all agree, it is the way a person reads the piece that makes it work.

Remember Springbok Radio? I can hear the signature tune of Squad Cars and Die Geheim van Nantes, Die Wit Sluier, Pick a Box, and The Man they couldn't Kill.  Pleasant memories of what it was like as a schoolboy without TV.

I had names flying at me from every guest.  One wanted to know whatever happened to Bob Courtney.  Another wanted story radio back.  Another said your piece stands out visibly.  So, at my dinner table you were well received.

No buts. 

Points 4 - Pretty close to perfect. I was captivated

2008-02-23