Why make crisis out of our drama

TO be or not to be, that is the question. . . for the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, an institution which is unique in Scotland.

The RSAMD is facing a crisis which is largely not of its own making and which could have huge repercussions for the country's reputation worldwide, let alone the standing of Scottish actors within the UK.

For the sake of a paltry £600,000 (compare that to the cost of trams, the Parliament building or Edinburgh city councillors' expenses) there will first be compulsory redundancies from an already tight ship or even ultimately, the prospect of closure. That is, unless a belated offer of a review of funding from the Scottish Executive pulls a rabbit from the hat.

As an immigrant from the west, I can't help the feeling that people in Edinburgh would be more disturbed by this appalling state of affairs if the RSAMD was located here. Certainly it is close to the hearts of most Glaswegians, even those who have never daubed on a bit of grease paint or dreamed of treading the boards.

For a start most people know someone who has studied there . . . and has had the pleasure of watching them go on to achieve success. Many people have attended performances in one of the Academy's venues or taken part in their workshops.

I suspect there is also a lack of concern in some quarters because acting is seen as a self-indulgence at worst and something that at best, requires no more than a lucky break.

Certainly there are block-busting movie stars and big names from Scotland who made it without the RSAMD – none more famous in these parts than Sean Connery.

But studying there inevitably provided a springboard for the likes of Robert Carlyle, James McAvoy, David Tennant , John Hannah, David Hayman et al. Fine actors who have given Scots something to be justifiably proud of in luvvie land.

Then there are the thousands of teachers and technicians produced by the RSAMD. Drama isn't just about movies and high-rating TV dramas. It can be used in therapy, in prisons, in education.

But if glory's what we want, glory's what we get. The Academy's Digital Film and Television degree course has been going for just two years and has already notched up a Bafta.

Despite all this, while the RSAMD gets £13,000 for every music student from the Scottish Funding Council, it only receives £7000 for a drama student.

Compare that with the only similar UK academy, RADA, which gets £12,000 per drama student.

If the worst came to the worst and the RSAMD had to close, our Scottish would-be students would simply have to join the long line of RADA wannabes. Fewer places and more competition wouldn't be likely to work in their favour.

Yes, some universities offer drama courses and degrees. But that is simply not the same as attending a real conservatoire where the performing and production arts form the ethos for the whole establishment.

Nor do they have the kind of relationships RSAMD has with a whole raft of excellent companies such as the Tramway, the Royal Shakespeare, The Tron, The Traverse and the National Theatre of Scotland.

Of all the educational venues in Scotland, none has more impact on us than the RSAMD. If we don't go there ourselves, we are taught by their graduates, inspired by them, some we pay to see at the cinema, some we watch in the comfort of our own homes.

Some we read about in newspapers and magazines. Others are behind the scenes creating the programmes, the movies and even the adverts we see every day.

Saving it is not just a challenge for Glaswegians, it's a responsibility for all Scots.

Recipe for ignorance
I AM one of those sad women who could watch wall-to-wall cookery programmes, pausing only to, well . . . eat.

But even I have to turn over or leave the room when chefs get down and dirty with the raw, living materials. So I wouldn't have watched Gordon Ramsay's F Word which involved one rabbit being accidentally beheaded and another having its neck broken or Jamie Oliver's Channel 4 show in which he slit a lamb's throat, both of which have some extreme animal rights groups in a right froth. However, nor do I delude myself that the lamb who provided the chop on my plate was gently dispatched under sedation or that the rabbit never knew what hit it.

Real cruelty comes from people who "object" to such realities yet happily buy cling-film wrapped baby sheep, fluffy bunny or Bambi, with absolutely no idea or concern for how it lived or died.

At least Messrs Ramsay and Oliver have the guts to do their own dirty work, which is more than can be said for the rest of us.