Guest Blog: 'It's Trashy, But Intellectual; Silly, But Serious': Actor and Writer Olly Hawes on His Show F**KING LEGEND

‘I JUST HOPE YOU DON’T END UP WORKING IN THEATRE.’

My mum, who worked in theatre, would often say to me. It didn’t seem to have any impact - I ended up working in theatre. It’s all I ever pictured myself doing. And yet, I imagine I’ll say the same to my kids.

When my mum said it, it was usually followed up with something like: ‘THERE’S JUST NO MONEY IN IT’. Clearly actions speak louder than words. Mum always seemed to be gratified by her work - in fact she is still working, well past retirement age. Maybe that’s because she loves it - or maybe it’s because there’s no money in it, and she has to.

The making of my show F**king Legend (which was at Pleasance Courtyard at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe, and will run at Riverside Studios on 13 November - 21 December) was about the convergence of two questions, one artistic, and one economic. Is it possible to be a good man? And is it possible to make a decent piece of theatre spending as little money as possible at every juncture?

People - audience, reviewers, enlightened members of the industry - have commented on F**king Legend’s innovative style. ‘How innovative it is!’ they say. ‘How unusual!’ ‘How distinct!’ ‘I mean, what even is it? Does it even count as theatre?’ Of course, I’m happy about this - I’ve been developing the show’s style my whole career (I unashamedly and pretentiously call it ‘experimental storytelling') - but it’s also a style born out of necessity.

When I started writing the show a few years ago - emerging from some years in the artistic wilderness imposed by Covid and having babies - I looked at the wasteland that was the UK’s theatrical landscape, and realised: we’re all skint. I’m skint, theatres are skint, funders are skint, audiences are skint, we’re all f**king skint (well, not all of us, but pretty much anyone who shouldn’t be shot in the revolution is). And so I decided I had to make a show that would be as absolutely cheap as possible to make.

There was to be no set, no sound design, minimal lighting, no technicians, just one performer in an empty space, telling a story. From these limitations came stimulation. I wanted to explore to what extent individual men are responsible for or victims of the worst aspects of the current version of masculinity (free will vs determinism, but with stag dos and dystopian action movie fantasies).

Naturally themes of solipsism, narcissism, cognitive dissonance, and morality emerged. I wanted to create a form of performance that reflected that, and so decided that the only voices in the story that we’d hear were that of the protagonist, the protagonist's internal monologue, and the narrator. Once I’d made this decision, I quickly concluded that the greatest dramas in our lives don’t happen out in the world, but inside ourselves, in the dialogue we have with ourselves - and actually, this heavily restricted mode of performance was, far from being an inconvenience, an ideal way to explore that.

I also wanted to explore the collision between modern masculinity and the biggest issues facing us - climate breakdown, inequality, refugee crisis - to what extent does our very modern form of masculinity shape our response to these very modern crises? How to do that in performance? Well, when all you have is a performer, an empty space, and the audience’s imagination to work with, the possibilities are myriad.

And so what emerged was F**king Legend, a show that is trashy, but intellectual; silly, but serious (because I feel to properly respond to the world right now, it has to be). A theatrical experience that is - I hope - viscerally immediate, very relevant, something that provokes cackles and thought, something that’s probably a bit frustrating at times, that’s challenging, but ultimately enthralling.

So, is this way of working going to be my blueprint for the future? For my next show (working title: Old F**k (or maybe Dead Horse)) yes. Long term, I f**king hope not. I didn’t answer either of the questions I started out with. I really don’t know if it’s possible to be a good man. And in the end, I did spend money, shit loads of it, because you have to if you’re going to take a show to Edinburgh and have any chance of getting noticed. And the money I spent on it has meant that my family - my partner and kids - had to make sacrifices.

I said earlier I ended up working in the theatre, which I suppose is true, but of course it’s not my only job, because what my mum said back when I was a kid is truer now than ever: ‘There’s no money in it’. Trying to be an artist in the UK in 2024 is an act of extreme self harm, or an absurdly bourgeois endeavour. For me it’s both.

The first Labour budget in 14 years announced £26m for upgrades to the National Theatre, but little else for any other theatres. A thriving arts industry is an ecosystem and right now all parts of that ecosystem are in turmoil. I hope that changes, and I hope that one day more of us can make art with a little more economic - and therefore artistic - freedom.

Olly Hawes: F**King Legend is at the Riverside Studios from 13 November - 21 December. 

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