“Inc-RED-ible BAFTAs!”
Enjoy the view…
… This recent encouragement had stuck in my spirit…
… remained suspended, until the opportunity for the right view, came along…
… that being, a behind-the-scenes perspective of one of the most exciting nights of creative recognition, namely, the British Academy of Film & Television Arts Awards.
My view would begin at the Royal Festival Hall..
Sacred home to so many endeavours of artistry, from stage to screen… embracing space of the consummately classic and cutting-edge contemporary… sprawling venue for live, sonic experiences and intimate poetic expression. It is the epitome of an environment, which nurtures, both, the organic and site-specific nature of multidisciplinary invention…
… and, against the backdrop of a rich, aquamarine sky, backlit by piercing dawn sunrays, the milk-white hue of this hallowed building was, extraordinarily stunning.
Taking each step from Belvedere Road, a lively throng of fellow Arts-enthusiasts, was the chorus which greeted me… All in, animated, wait, anticipating a day which, as an observer, could not be planned for, simply, witnessed…
… and, as ever, my curiosity was piqued…
Who were they? Where had their respective journeys started? I had to dive in… and expeditiously learnt, that they hailed from Suffolk, on the 6.a.m. train… Essex, on the earliest train, possible… from all points, on the Central London compass, and beyond, by road and rail… and, like me, had a feeling that on this day, this place was the place to be.
Time seemed to decelerate…
… as if we were, now, suspended in our own BAFTA bubble… Hoardings had gone up, queues, were growing tails of eager-beaver, red-carpet connoisseurs and devotees of the stars, great and good, belonging to this wonder-world of the business called “show”..
… But who would, actually, show up, was still a mystery…
Revelations had been stoking the social-media engines and, on inquiring, as to whom the admirers would most love to see, it was a delight to hear that so many had come to support them all… although, after an eagle-eyed sweep of the clustering column, I did spot a number of tell-tale fan T-Shirts!
***
The sun had been steadily moving… as had the lines… The security, kindly, with the definitive air of authority, had kept us informed of entrance procedures and the Southbank, itself, had become a veritable hive of activity, with the Royal Festival Hall, the, unrivalled, Queen Bee…
Not only was the BAFTA buzz growing louder, by the second, not only were passing tourists approaching, to discover just, exactly, what the electric atmosphere was about, but whispers were becoming squeals of glee, when rumours became online confirmation, of attending A-Listers..
… For my part, the fashion was a distinct draw…
Gowns, from the extravagant to the excessive, were sure to make their appearances… Suits, from the understated, to the uber-o.t.t, would, most certainly, demand airtime… From up-do’s through tutu’s, slick-backs, to short-back and sides.. I was about the glamour, dahhhh-ling and I wasn’t going home, without it!
… And, before we knew it, the moment had come, to be the preliminary steppers upon the tapis rouge! Around the corner, ensconced by BAFTA-emblazoned hoardings, we made like legends-in-our-own-lunchtimes, into designated audience areas… and so began one of the most intense rollercoaster rides, in my living memory!
In a heartbeat, talk began, as to the best vantage point for selfies, the best arm position for selfies, how to lean and get your best side… for selfies… Followed by, from which direction the guests would come… then, how to get the full autograph-album completed, how to get an artist’s attention… There was serious strategy… and I was bowled-over… because, you couldn’t plan for this sort of day… or could you?!!
… From that point on, I observed..
I took it all in…
… and re-ran what had just transpired, to even arrive in the viewing gallery…
We had walked past the Press area, opposite, which was ready for representatives of allotted broadcasting outlets… Looking upwards, were 360-degree cameras, lids down, waiting to wake, and rapidly, blink-to-attention, at the celebrity procession, which would, first, be met by the beat of the step-and-repeat.. and, of course, the prestige courtesy-car, arrival area… which would be the last port-of-call, for last-minute wardrobe adjustments and last-minute calm, before the inevitable screaming-storm!
At the sun’s zenith, they streamed in, as it streamed down… and the V.I.P-count did not disappoint… U.K. to U.S., they hailed… From, soap, to stage, to big-screen… from daytime, to night-time, they adorned the red-carpet and, to be frank, were adored, by the most ear–splitting meet-and-greet welcomes, I have, ever, heard!
Presenters, were mic’d-up and ready to go..
… as homegrown casts appeared, in speedy succession… and the dawn chorus began to call a who’s-who of names… and the, now-perfected selfie poses, were editorials-in-action..
… and we waited.. and, mesmerised, I kept watching..
Who would be next?
Well, for future reference, to be acquainted with the language of “loud-screaming”, is advisable, as the higher-pitched, the more desired, the Artist… Until it all becomes one, continual, collective cry… because, everyone wants to see, be seen and be pictured with, well, everyone…
… and, who could argue with such passion, when, like a rushing river, global names approached, so graciously, to oblige, to the, mountingly, fevered requests (returning, in some cases, often, more than once, twice and, even, thrice)… not because the sun was a-blaze, but because the red-carpet was a-flame, with fame!
Oh… and how the style-files were overflowing, in my phone and my mind!
… And how my wishes were, beyond, fulfilled…
From home-made, billowing, bin-liner couture, embellished with wrappers, to jewel-toned robes, luxurious layers of exquisitely embroidered and crystal-encrusted attire, to magnificently, cut-to-fit bespoke, black-tie brilliance, which was the most… it’s safe to say that the stars had fallen out of the sky, had, elegantly, landed in London and entirely outshone the sun!
… This undulation of emotional crescendo, only became diminuendo, when all of the glitterati had been whisked away, inside the Hall, for a night to remember…
… and, as dusk fell, outside, I absorbed my red-carpet moments and smiled..
… because they might not have been BAFTAs, but they were my prized souvenirs, of a day, about which, I shall not, soon, forget!
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