Break A Leg

Some of you may know that I’ve done a little directing in my time. 

I’m not a professional.

However, although I am an amateur, over the years I have gradually been putting together a small manual I call Gibb’s Handy Guide To Theatre or What Not To Do On Stage If You Can Possibly, Possibly Help It.

My wish is that points from my GHGTTorWNTDOSIYCPPHI may prove to be beneficial to would be actors or directors. Here’s some examples. 

1. Sharing a stage with live animals is always a risk. 

The least thing that that cuddly dog, lamb, pony, cat might do is to leave an interesting ‘deposit’ behind the stage couch. 

It has been my personal experience that said steamy little deposit will not be found until well into Act I when the leading lady will step into it wearing  her stilettos. Or slip in it.

This will result in extremely colourful lines not in the original script and scolding letters to the local paper from area clergy. 

Frankly, even the most rigorously trained stage dog can bring down an entire production. 

Let that previously docile Spot or Fido detect something or someone in the matinee crowd that unexpectedly offends his doggy senses and the startled cast can find themselves abandoned in an empty hall as their audience flees out the exits just ahead of the pursuing “mad dog.” 

Additional rule of thumb. 

Make sure that all your male dog stars are neutered and preferably well aged!

It really is disconcerting for two actors to be halfway through a passionate love scene on the stage only to discover that Old Dog Trey, supposedly soundly sleeping under a table is now, in fact, enjoying a really, really physically romantic tryst with a large pillow down stage centre. 

The actors might as well wander off and have a lunch break.

2. If you must use some kind of prop gun in your production, it will never, ever work during any actual show.

No matter how carefully the gun is loaded and cocked and tested, it WILL NOT WORK. 

This will lead to that awkward on stage moment where the killer/hero/police officer will be left frantically yanking on the trigger to the sound of empty, dull clicks. 

Most audiences can be relied upon to eagerly detect this sort of glitch.

Even more so if the desperate actor finally bellows “Bang!”

An additional problem then arises if several back stage people, suddenly aware of the problem, also try to cover the gun failure by yelling “Bang!”

As these ragged, shouted bangs are never in unison, and come from several regions of the stage, audiences are left with the confused impression that the hero/villain/police officer must have some kind of New Wave machine gun hidden somewhere on his person.

They spend the rest of the Act trying to spot it.

3. Assume that if a prop on the stage is in any way breakable, it will break – and at the most inopportune moment.

In one comic murder/mystery production, set in an elegant drawing room, the legs on the right side of the long couch snapped unexpectedly (and loudly) in two. 

The amateur actor seated on the broken end sank abruptly to the floor as the other end of the couch rose majestically into the air, carrying aloft the smallish actress seated there. 

Her little feet now dangled in mid air.

There was a fairly pregnant pause, but like good troupers, the two carried on.

Unfortunately, a short time later, the first actor had an impassioned speech where he was to rise up and stride downstage, shaking his fist at the audience. 

He remembered his actions,  but forgot the state of the couch.

Breathing fire he leaped up – only to have his big moment spoiled by a shriek of terror from the actress as her end of the couch plummeted to the floor so hard it bounced, flinging her backwards. 

It was impossible to fix the sofa legs until intermission. 

Consequently, most of the cast  spent Act I riding what appeared to be a wildly bucking bronco, right in the middle of their set, while they tried to get out their lines, blindly adhering to the original staging.

As I recall, the audience gave the couch a standing ovation and it was favourably reviewed in the local paper.

(And, just to cap off this all round memorable production, the prop gun needed in Act II for the big murder scene did not go off. I think some one beat the villain to death.)

I continue to add to my opus, Gibb’s Handy Guide to Theatre or What Not To Do On Stage If You Can Possibly, Possibly Help It.

I have a feeling there are several chapters still to be written.