Week 1 - Death by drum

What a first week! I have been staying with a beautiful French family who live right in the centre of Paris next to le Jardin du Luxemburg. (The Luxemburg Gardens if you hadn’t worked that out). Their roof looks out over Paris and the Eiffel tour which flashes in a most tacky fashion after 10pm. Every morning Clemence has been my running buddy and done laps with me around the Garden (NB: This is a huge garden – so no small feat). I think I could now tell you more about the statues and plants in that garden than I could any fact learnt in school.

So far my observation of ‘French living’ is that they eat like birds.  Classy birds. For any one meal they eat everything – a walnut, a slither of cheese, a pinch of bread (Sometimes dipped in tea!?) a fig, a small sardine, one piece of chocolate etc. but VERY SLOWLY. I am so not used to this coming from a large family where the mentality is very much: Get in there or go starving. It’s a battle to get a decent portion when you are competing with teenage boys so I have had to attempt to do as the French do and not eat like a starving person running late. No doubt a healthy adjustment to my food habits but whether I will be able to continue this in America is another question…

I have completed one whole week at ‘clown school’ with the master himself Philippe Gaulier. Despite my expectations being huge as he has ‘beat up’ the likes of Emma Thompson, Sacha Baren Cohen and Mrs Brown with his insults – he manages to in fact be more brutal in real life. But the training is addictive. Everyone in my class comes from different backgrounds, of all ages and I think we are all having some sort of existential crisis to be here… These are some of the notes I took on the first day of class:

On Monday - Gaulier enters the class wearing red harry potter like glasses, a hat, suit, abundance of grey prickly hear and was equipped with a drum. He bickers with his wife Michiko then explains to us that tomorrow he wants us to be unrecognizable, in full costume otherwise he won’t work with us. He then asks us to split into two groups of roughly even boy: girl, gay: straight and intelligent: vegetable type people in each. After admin we get to the “serious” and play a game of Simon Says. It seems like a typical game although the instructions are difficult to understand through his thick French accent. Then all of a sudden one student accuses another of pushing him. (I am confused as to what is going on) Philippe then punishes the girl with ‘twenty’. (I think he means pushups but quickly discover he means: “beg the class for 20 kisses.”… Oh of course.) The students in the class grant or refuse the request for a kiss often with insults back: “Not today or any day. You deserve to be murdered for your mistake.” Then if you don’t manage to get the number of kisses required Philippe literally bends you over, twists your arm and smacks your back whilst pretending to saw off your head.

After this Philippe get’s all the newcomers to go on stage one by one and introduce themselves to the class with their name and where they are from. He then questions us: “Are you intelligent? Leftwing or right? Are you kind? Are you boring? Etc.” Next up he allows a group of 10 on stage to dance and when the music stops one must step forward to say “Daddy, I am in Etampes and I am in major. But you can’t recognize me because I am playing a character. See I am an actor…” (Well something along that phrase – the performer can do what they like with it). Part way through dancing Philippe stops the music and asks me “Are you racist? Because you are dancing with an Asian you know?” It seems this is his teaching style – pushing it too far and seeing how you react. One by one we went through this exercise and most he stopped mid way through with his drum or blasted the music. If you were trying to be funny, or unbalanced, or not fitting the role of the actor or not finding the pleasure you were punished. (Either with slaps or an imagined disease or road accident.) One girl didn’t even make it to speaking as he called her a slut just for her walk onto stage and beat his drum. Everyone got one try – no exceptions. He would often ask the class after a turn: “Now was that boring? Or fucking boring?” I get more and more tense waiting my turn. Finally it is my go and my Italian dance partner tells me to relax and find the pleasure. I step out: “Vanessa. Well Mum. I am in Etampes. Although they don’t pronounce the ‘s’ here because we are in France. Now you won’t believe this but I am an actor. Are you proud of me yet?” (I then proceed to carry out a set of foolish acts, which I can’t even remember now as I was feeding of the audience’s laughter). But he didn’t stop me… he let me go all the way through then said: “Hmm. We like her. You had much pleasure on stage and not awful actor. Not bad. And I don’t like saying that.” Not bad for a first day but I must go op shopping immediately to find a costume for my character in order to be unrecognizable for class tomorrow!

On the following days we did movement class in the morning and then a performance task in the afternoon. For example: Your character has to get up and sing a song on a talent show, 20-minute improvisation in your house, musical chairs as your character etc. It is a huge achievement just to get through a couple of minutes without him beating his drum for you to get off because you were “boring, fucking awful or destined to be deported to your home country.” Whilst you are on stage he raises his hand in the air and the class whistle if you are getting close to a flop or DOUBLE ZERO, which is the mark he so loves to give out.

There are too many hilarious/brutal quotes to write down and I can’t begin to capture the absurd brilliance of this school but if you have ever wanted to go – GO. Just to experience it.

That’s all for now. Au revoir!