Stripping yarn

Steve Pratt drops in on rehearsals and exposes the ups and downs.

of removing your clothes in public SLIDE your thumb inside the top of your boxer shorts, grip the elastic waistband with both hands, give a sharp upward tug and rip them off.

That’s the theory. Here, in a hall at Darlington Arts Centre on a Thursday night, this stripping yarn doesn’t go according to plan.

Get your hands in the wrong position and those boxers, designed to rip apart twice nightly, stay firmly in place and your bid for a full monty fails.

Chris Kelly is having the costume malfunction as Buddy “Keno” Walsh, a Chippendalesstyle stripper. But he and the other cheeky chappies from Darlington Operatic Society are confident of getting it right – and getting them off – on the night.

Less than a week away from tonight’s opening night, the production was doing the first full run-through in costume. And, hopefully, out of costume because the show is The Full Monty.

The British film became an international hit 12 years ago with the story of unemployed Northern steelworkers, who become strippers to earn a few bob.

The stage version relocates the action to the US – Buffalo – although unemployment, financial distress and marital strife can happen to anyone in any country at any time. The story appears as relevant now as it ever did.

“People say they haven’t seen the film for ages, but they remember the final scene and Robert Carlyle getting his kit off. But with the credit crunch, the story is as timely today as when the film came out,” says Julian Cound, whose character, Jerry Lukowski, comes up with the stripping idea.

The idea of seeing a grim, gritty drama about working men on the breadline is not, I would humbly suggest, the big attraction for audiences.

Especially the women. They want to see six guys take their clothes off as Hot Metal – the name the novice strippers give their act – shed inhibitions and thongs in the show’s finale.

Tonight is not the night. The dirty dancing half-dozen are keeping their pants on. The plan is not to go the full monty until the final dress rehearsal on stage at the Civic Theatre. A draughty hall where the onlookers of technical and backstage workers can reach out and touch the performers doesn’t seem the right place to dare to bare all.

“I think we are all quietly confident for it to happen, but there’s no need until the dress rehearsal,”

says Cound. They must master the dance moves and tricky business of ripping off boxers and coping with the fiddly undoing of the thong, G-string, pouch or whatever you want to call it while protecting their modesty with a security guard’s hat.

They wear underpants or swimming trunks under their thongs. As a fashion look, it won’t catch on. There’s something faintly ridiculous about a man wearing so many pieces of underwear.

The only glimpse of bare bottom (and he’s wearing a modesty G-string to prevent indecent exposure) comes as Chris Horn, playing Ethan, drops his trousers to show the audition panel his qualifications for having a big part in the act.

AS film and TV programme makers know only too well, the prospect of nudity helps sell a show. Accordingly, tickets for Darlington Operatic’s production, which runs for 11 performances, are selling well with breakeven point reached before opening night.

The society found no shortage of volunteers to strip. “It’s only after the event they thought we have to do it now,” says Cound.

He should know, he’s one of them – Jerry, who forms Hot Metal to raise money so he can keep joint custody of his son.

The six represent a variety of professions, including graphic artist, window cleaner and sales manager, as well as a variety of shapes and sizes. Paul Mason takes the role of chubby Dave – York-born Mark Addy in the film – whose wife wants him to take work as a security guard and not stripping.

Completing Hot Metal are Nick Holmes, Warnock Kerr and Winstan Robinson, who was found after the society appealed for a black actor to play Horse. He’s previously taken the same role in a production in Leeds. Assistant director Joanne Hand concedes that “they are probably getting a little more nervous as the reality of the situation comes in”, but feels a new show, one the society has not done before, creates “a bit of a buzz” for everyone.

You wouldn’t know from the American twang to her voice that she comes from Darlington, where her mother, Irene Hand, danced with the society in the Fifties. The accent results from having lived in the US and Mexico, and has been helpful in the cast adopting American accents.

In the rehearsal hall, the cry rings out, “Right, can we have all the company on the floor, please?” The run-through begins. A businessman in a suit wiggles and thrusts, slowly removes his clothes and walks off with his briefcase sparing his blushes. That’s Chris Kelly, who has the wardrobe malfunction as women in the audience chant “Off! Off!”.

The talk among the out-of-work men is of strippers and remarks that “real men don’t look like that” until Jerry hears that women will pay 50 bucks “to see strangers dance around in the raw”. There are constant reminders in the dialogue of what’s in store. “Anyone can take their clothes off, but to do it on stage in front of hundreds of people, that takes something,” warns Keno, echoing what the cast has to face.

The famous scene in the film where they rehearse their moves in the dole queue – and which Prince Charles emulated on a visit to a JobCentre – is switched to a funeral. As they stand around the grave, they begin moving, rehearsing their dance act.

And then they’re performing the final scene at the club. The security guard uniforms are peeled off. Boxers come off. So do thongs.

They’re left standing there in their pants.

Tonight, on stage at the Civic, it’ll be a different story although exactly how much the audience sees depends on the lighting operator – a woman, incidentally – who, if slow in picking up the cue, could leave the six exposing more than intended. A very full monty indeed.

■ The Full Monty runs at Darlington Civic Theatre until November 7. The show contains adult situations and strong language and is not suitable for under-14s. Call 01325-244659 or go to darlingtonoperaticsociety.org.uk