An email came in about a networking evening held on the Puppet Boat - A charity held in a wealthy part of town. I’d never been before, so I decided to go along.
There were some lovely students there, proudly showing off their work backstage — puppets, controls, mechanisms. I was surprised by the scale of them. They were tiny. I’ve always been interested in how a puppet’s image carries, and more often than not, when they’re this small, the face is static — no eye or mouth movement. I believe they had an underwater scene set up.
I bought a beer and mingled with whoever had turned up. It was interesting. I was probably the youngest person there. One guy came over and made small talk.
I asked if he was a puppeteer. His reply didn’t shock me because of what he said, but because he told me the exact same story twice, word for word, about five minutes apart — as if he didn’t recognise me at all. It felt like déjà vu.
What struck me more, though, was where the conversation went next. As is often the case in this industry, people are quick to shoot others down. He started talking about puppeteers in the UK with residencies. One name mentioned was a ventriloquist who’d recently won a TV show in the US and is now working in Vegas. The guy said he was worried this performer would “sell out” — that the quality of his work and performance would drop.
Another, younger UK ventriloquist was brought up, and he said much the same about them.
These comments shocked me. The man I was speaking to was an amateur. He doesn’t perform. Yet he spoke with such certainty, judgement, and authority.
Unfortunately, it echoed something I’ve come to recognise in the industry all too well.