Chris Wilson - Lump-Boy Logan
Chris Wilson won the 2009 Alfred Bradley Bursary Award for his script Playing the Game, a new version of which will air as part of Radio 3 drama series The Wire under the title Lump-Boy Logan.
So here's Chris to talk about the play:
Chris Wilson
I write about horse-racing for a living. I spend my days producing copy from exotic locations such as Pontefract, Catterick, Redcar, and Thirsk. It is a fun job, but far removed from radio drama.
That was until both worlds somehow collided last summer when I won the Alfred Bradley Bursary Award. Playing the Game, my monologue for radio about a teenager struggling with hideous acne, received a handy wedge of cash and, more importantly, the likelihood of a Ö÷²¥´óÐã radio commission.
Perhaps correctly deemed unsuitable for Radio 4 - the play begins with Andrew Logan, my protagonist, masturbating in his bathroom - Playing the Game was happily commissioned for The Wire on Radio 3. Last month I was invited by my producer/director to attend the two-day recording of Playing the Game on location in a quaint terraced house in leafy . This, as they often say on the telly, is my story.
Beginning
After winning the Alfred Bradley, I stupidly thought my play was in the can. An untouchable artefact simply awaiting a few jazzy sound effects and the pre-pubescent tones of a talented young actor. Look out BAFTA, I thought, I'm coming for you next.
Reality, of course, offered a reassuringly more balanced view. Under Pauline's diligent eye, several rewrites were required. Although most of the revision involved fine-tuning, crafting a 'more believable' ending proved slightly more arduous. As did the transition from monologue to a more conventional four-person drama. This was at first daunting. Breaking up what I considered a masterpiece - ahem - was a bitter pill to swallow. It soon became clear, though, that it was utterly the right decision.
Then came the request to change the play's title from Playing the Game. This is something I expected. Playing the Game sounds like a day-time TV quiz-show fronted by , rather than a coming-of-age drama. That said, some have suggested the new title, Lump-Boy Logan, could easily be mistaken for an extra in , so I guess it's a matter of opinion.
It should also be mentioned that the final, final draft and title change were not completed until only a few days before we were due to begin recording. This required plenty of last-gasp soul-searching - especially as I was due to get married that very same week.
Day One
I arrived 'on location' - I'll never grow weary writing of that - at 10am prompt. Pauline, the two SMs, Paul and Celia, and production coordinator Sarah were already ready to roll. As were , who plays Andrew, (Auntie Jeanette) and (Dad). Pauline delivered a briefing over coffee and away we went. Or should I say away they went. My role, while everyone else worked their nuts off, was essentially a voyeur.
The morning was spent in either the kitchen or the dining room recording scenes featuring Andrew, Auntie Jeanette and Dad. My brief was to watch, observe and pass critical comment when appropriate. So enamoured by all of the performances, I brought little to the table other than an awkward thumbs-up here, or a faux-knowledgeable nod of the head there.
What immediately struck a chord, however, was the reliance upon sound. Being a radio drama, that is hardly a hold-the-front-page revelation. But for the complete novice - that would be me, then - I was blown away by the dedication to audible authenticity. I had envisaged radio FX to basically consist of a bored pensioner from stomping through gravel, banging together coconut shells and playing a kazoo. How eyewateringly wrong I was.
Among the labyrinth of props used to provide genuine sound effects included - a silver fish knife, a squash ball, a football, an Avon magazine, salt, soda water, a chocolate flapjack and schoolchildren.
The fact it took around twelve takes to accurately portray a silver fish knife being thieved from a kitchen table perhaps speaks volumes as to how 'the crew' - I'll also never tire of writing that, either - strive for realism for the sake of the script and the medium.
A mid-morning break was followed by wild-tracking - a romantic term for backing audio material - of Annette and Smug performing as angry spots on the side of Andrew's neck. I am not sure whether Annette or Smug have played angry spots on the side of a young boy's neck before, but they pulled it off without once shooting me a look of "Were you on drugs when you wrote this?" That said, they probably knew what lay in store for them after lunch.
Without wishing to reveal too much, Smug and Annette were forced to aggressively simulate the prevention of "keeping the wolf from the door", as Alan Partridge once famously said. While all this hoo-haa was erupting, Will's task was to crawl on his hands and knees with a pair of football boots in his hand. I was stood in the corner, laughing. Once it all started happening, as it were, Pauline then asked them to do it again and again. I cannot be sure but I suspect this was not why Will, Smug, nor Annette wanted to get into the business.
With Jeanette having soon departed - it was because she had finished all of her scenes, I promise, and not due to utter disgust at my prose - Smug and Will then recorded a clutch of 'intimate' scenes together before Will did some monologue-type stuff in the bathroom. It all seemed to go swimmingly, but rarely without at least a few takes. My slap-dash approach would have happily allowed everything to slip under the radar after one bash.Thankfully, Pauline is a professional.
I was knackered by around 4ish, even though my one significant role all day was to remove some rogue Blu-Tac from a bedroom wall. Having been at it full tilt since 10, heaven knows how Smug and Will were feeling as we made the transfer to the local park in Chorlton to record some football-related stuff. This was great fun and provided my long-awaited return to acting (critics still laud my performance as the Cowardly Lion in 's ground-breaking production of The Wizard of Oz in 1991). I, along with Pauline, played the over-eager parents shouting from the touch-line. I thought I nailed it with comedic whooping-and-a-hollering. Smug said I sounded more like I was a sheep-herder than a football fan. I am unsure whether my dramatic comeback will make the final edit.
We finished at around 7ish. I was tired, but pretty knocked out by the madness of it all.
Day Two
Will and I arrived five minutes late. Pauline was restrained, but non-plussed. I blamed my sat-nav, which seemed to take me via . Will blamed the fact it was his 16th birthday. His excuse was better. With Smug's scenes tucked away on tape - or is it CD? I never found out - the majority of the day revolved around Will/Andrew monologuely stuff, recorded in the bedroom, bathroom and living room. The accent was very much on tone from the outset. Will needed to continue to effect the persona of a teenager who was three of four years his younger. With such a welter of lines to prepare, allied to a host of dramatic sequences, it cannot have been easy - especially when the whole shebang was literally disrupted by outside influences.
Shortly after lunch Will was recording the final scene of the play outside. It is obviously quite an important passage of time. Sadly, and through no fault of the actor, it took several takes, adding over an hour to the day's scheduling. The problem was noise. We needed solitude, we got the . Kids screaming, a Boeing 747 overhead, a persistently niggling wind-chime, and a leviathan of a reversing delivery truck were all culpable towards the tricky production of the final scene. With most of us now resigned to a plague of locusts set to invade the back garden, Will finally soldiered on without distraction. His relief was fleeting.
I won't dive into the nitty-gritty of the opening masturbation scene, only to remark that Pauline's dedication to audio authenticity was not carried through on his occasion. That's not to say it didn't sound genuine, at least to my knowledge.
Life got much easier for poor old Will following the arrival of , who plays Big Smiggy. After having recorded a bunch of wild-tracking - Stephen also played an angry spot on the side of Andrew's neck - we loaded the wagon down to . Being of fame, a number of students flocked around Will in pursuit of his autograph. He later confessed he disliked being in such an awkward situation. I'm not sure I believed him.
St Bede's very kindly provided us with a group of school-kids who re-enacted being in an art class, from where Andrew loses the plot somewhat and throws a wobbler when goaded by Big Smiggy. The kids were brilliant and helped create a genuinely empathetic environment. We stayed at the school for an hour before heading back to our pad in Chorlton, where a few final bits and pieces with Andrew and Big Smiggy were laid down.
And that was it. The adventure was over. A few farewells and thank-yous later and I was on the way back to Hull to prepare for my wedding, which was then only three days away. There was a huge crash on the M62, however, which meant a two-hour journey became five.
I could not have given two hoots.
The End
Lump-Boy Logan is due to air on Saturday, September 18. At time of print, the final edit has yet to be completed. Pauline is hopeful it will sound "fresh" and "new". My negative inner monologue is merely hoping to avoid utter catastrophe. Whatever happens, the experience has left me energised. For that being the case, I will always be grateful to those responsible for bringing my words into existence.
The wedding also went well. We are still together.
Chris's Biog
Chris started with , and was selected for the Ö÷²¥´óÐã writersroom/ 24 Degrees scheme where an early draft of Playing the Game had a reading at the Court. The script won the 2009 Alfred Bradley Bursary Award. The biennial award was set up to commemorate the life and work of Alfred Bradley, the distinguished Ö÷²¥´óÐã Radio Drama Producer and encourages new radio writing in the North of England, in collaboration with Ö÷²¥´óÐã writersroom and Radio 4. Previous winners include , , and Mark Shand.
A note from the Producer/Director - Pauline Harris
Chris Wilson's play centres on unusual territory - an adolescent boy's struggle with severe acne. It's a bold, funny, disturbing and poignant play. The central character, Andrew, hears his spots or lumps speak to him; they are a destructive force and appear to thrive on his anxiety. The original play was a monologue but I suggested to Chris we might want to open the play out a bit, so whilst retaining the basic content and narrative, we vocalise the spots and we hear them as Andrew hears them. We dramatise his father, and 'Evil Auntie Jeanette', and the bullying Big Smiggy too. But a great deal of the monologue still remains intact. Chris has now got a Radio 4 commission for an Afternoon play, I Before Bee, a comedy about Spelling Bees, due for broadcast in 2011.
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