Charles Hyatt , Contributor
IT HAS been said that whatever profession one might gravitate towards, if at some time they participated in or studied theatre, they would become a better performer in that profession.
Theatre teaches what university doesn't. About you! And in a most interesting way. Another interesting thought is, those of us Jamaicans who have had the opportunity to study and work in theatre in Britain in my day, have graduated with degrees of knowledge of one's self that formal academics would have had difficulty instilling in us.
Working in theatre provides one with the opportunity to think, not just of a master's lecture but by placing you in varying life situations that in order to be able to convince an audience that you are truly the character you are pretending to be, you have to think and think hard.
If you think right, whether you like what you discover or not, the right actions will more than likely follow. During many of these processes one gets to learn more of one's self as others see you and how to live with it.
For instance, I was sent by my agent to audition for a commercial for Guinness Stout when they were about to launch their campaign in the Caribbean. The producer liked my voice and my reading but didn't like my hands. To him, my hands didn't match my voice or suit the beverage.
SHORTCOMINGS
Many times I was not dark enough for the Negro they wanted. Some of us do lose a lot of our tan after a few winters. Yet I have been cast as an African head of state more than once.
There was the time in Crossplot when Roger Moore was being tried for the 007 role, then again in Obi Egbuana's television play The Wind of Change.
At times being too small was also a drawback. There was the time when I was cast in a film to be directed by a famous Hollywood director - a man of huge statue in physique and reputation, standing some six feet four.
On the day of shooting my first scene I reported on set in costume and make-up, when in walked this giant of a man complete with his head shaven (in the days when it was far from fashionable), and a very frightening countenance, placing people where he wanted them to be in the scene. When he got to me he stopped in his tracks. "Who are you?" he barked. I told him my name with a smile.
With that he walked away and went over to one of his assistants and had a quiet conclave. I noticed that his glistening head was making negative indications but I wasn't prepared for what happened next. He stormed off the set out of sight and we were told that shooting would be suspended for a while so we should return to our dressing rooms and await further calls.
My 'further call' came near the end of the day and it was from my agent telling me that I had been fired but my fees and credits would remain as per contract.
The director felt that I was too small. From his point of view I could well understand and since I was being paid for not working and given credits in the film although not having appeared I couldn't care less.
That was not accurate for I was angry. The man didn't even want to know what I could do!
Then again there was the time when I was too smart. This was in the film A Warm December starring and being directed by Sidney Poitier. I had been given a script but I never got through reading much of it because up to where I got in the story, it was a rather run of the mill crime plot.
The first day on the set the director was explaining what was being planned for the day's shoot and he started off by saying; "This is a love story" whereupon my sarcastic remark was "Yeah right" with a chuckle at the end. The look Sydney gave me could have frozen a volcano's lava.
The end result was that all my speaking scenes were left on the editing room floor. Did that affect the plot? I dunno, I never saw the whole film.
But I got my own back, I thought, when I was cast to play Bloodknot opposite the playwright himself, Athol Fugard, who was then an up-and-coming highly respected actor and author.
The story was set in South Africa during the reign of apartheid. It was about two brothers of different fathers and a black mother. One had white skin and features while the other was obviously black. Athol was of medium height and frail statue. Together we looked like brains and brawn. My figuring was, as a black West Indian I would not find it difficult to play the part of a black South African.
How wrong I was. Born in a relatively free society gives one no way of knowing what South African apartheid was all about, or slavery in America for that matter. That is why West Indians caused so many problems for the American blacks. There is an attitude that comes with both that is quite different. But that's another story.
During the four weeks rehearsal for this production I noticed that I was gradually being excluded from all the social happenings of the studio. Even at meal breaks no one sat with me or even spoke with me.
It began to get to me. I had taken a lot of trouble to be word perfect in this part. After all I was playing opposite the author, and I was remembering all my moves and business, yet I was being changed from one small detail to the other and being criticized at every turn. I couldn't understand it. It was as if I was being picked upon.
Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and I blew up and stormed off the set. On my way I heard the director call my name in a tone that stopped me in my tracks. He said, "Where are you going?" I turned to him to say something, I don't know what, and saw that both he and Athol were smiling. This is what they wanted, to see me angry. Well they saw it and I was frightened. From that moment on Charles Hyatt disappeared and Morris the black brother took over.
The BBC-2 ninety-minute two hander production of Bloodknot directed by Robin Midgley was the only one to be shown on television in Britain and networked in the United States on their Channel 13, which was then the Public Education Channel. I was so right for the part that I was asked to play it on stage twice afterwards.
