Headline: The Drama Behind the Theater

 Arts and Ideas

Winter, 2001 issue

I've noticed over the years that nothing enthralls you audiences more than something going wrong. A dancer tripping, an actor missing his lines, a musician breaking an instrument's string, whatever the misfortune, you'll instantly forget all about the artistic intent of the piece and rubberneck the accident scene until the wreck can be cleared and the pace restored.

We technicians backstage look upon such performers' blunders as another good reason to stay in the dark, but of course we are involved in at least as many errors and disasters, which may come to your attention as the dead microphone, or the piece of costume left on stage from the last scene, or the insufficiently attached lighting instrument that now dangles on its pipe like a fainted parrot, dramatically illuminating Row E.

It's a rare show that lacks some sort of little reminder for us to be humble, but fortunately the audience rarely notices. After all, how would you know that some character is wearing the wrong shoes or that four dancers, not three, were supposed to do that series of moves?

But when you do notice-holy cow-that's all we hear you talking about at intermission. And I'd bet anything it's among the first three comments you make to friends about the show when you get home.

Why? Because part of the appeal of live entertainment is the inherent drama of the presentation itself. With so very many things that can go wrong, it's just like car racing-it's just a matter of time until somebody pushes just a little too hard and crashes. The unfolding drama of the mistake is usually more engrossing than the show, especially given that it's unique to that one particular performance.

Our job backstage is to deny you your bloodlust and try to have a perfect show. There's just one thing the crew (Please do not use the label "techie" when I'm around) needs to ensure that these complicated shows go well: Organization. Organization, and communication.

During shows, members of the crew have clearly defined roles and responsibilities, and their actions are coordinated in part via special communications equipment. To avoid confusion, the crew adheres to terminology and protocol so precise that they make nuclear missile launch procedures seem downright lackadaisical by comparison. I'm kidding. There is a specific vocabulary, but it's generally more of a starting point to build on, a rudimentary language to be subsequently decorated with slang.

You could listen for yourself if you could eavesdrop on the communications equipment connecting all the folks actually running the show. The equipment we use (Clear-Com brand) functions not unlike an old-fashioned party line telephone system. Each user typically wears a headset with a speaker over one ear and a microphone extending over the mouth. Typically the microphone is kept switched off, so users don't have to listen to six people breathing and eating chips in their ear all the time. Each unit has a button that, when pressed, flashes a light on all the other units to get the attention of anyone not actually wearing their headset.

Who's "on headset"? Here's a typical production crew list:

The Stage Manager (SM): Generally seated in a soundproof booth behind the audience, the Stage Manager "calls" the show, coordinating all the technical personnel with the cast.

The Light Board Operator: Runs the lighting system. Typically, all the cues have been pre-programmed into a computer lighting console, and all the operator needs to do is hit the "go button" to tell the computer to bring all the lights to their correct intensities. This person is typically located in a control booth behind the audience as well.

The Sound Board Operator: Controls all the playback equipment, live microphones, and sound levels. This person is generally located to the rear of the audience, but not in a soundproof booth.

The Assistant Stage Manager (ASM): The assistant stage manager, or deck manager, is backstage with the performers, letting them know when to go on. He or she also takes charge of staging equipment, from microphones to props and scenery.

The House Manager (HM): The House Manager is in charge of all the ushers and the orderly placement of patrons' butts into their seats.

A typical recording of the Clear-Com intercom chatter at the start of a dance concert might sound like this:

SM: Jenni? (Repeatedly pushing the call light button) Jenni… Jenni… Hello Jenni…

Sound: (Responding to the light, not knowing who's being paged) Hello?

SM: Looking for the house manager.

Sound: Time?

SM: Looking to go in five. (Flashing)

HM: House.

SM: Hi Jenni. How's it looking out there?

HM: There are still a few people in the ticket line.

SM: Can we go in five?

HM: I think so. What's the story with late seating?

SM: We'll have to hold until after the first piece, which is about ten minutes.

HM: Okay. Parking's bad, so there may be a mob.

SM: Good to know. We'll bring up the house light a bit then. Four minutes.

ASM: Yo, backstage.

SM: Kelly, there you are. Let's go to places in three.

ASM: Okay, be right back. (Takes off headset and puts it down without turning the microphone off. It generates a sharp, painful noise in the system when it hits the table)

Sound: Ouch. There goes my career.

SM: Karen just came in.

Lights: Where? Oh, in the dress.

SM: Yeah, the dress. Now KAREN was a lighting professional.

Lights: Puny human! Do not cross me! I have powers you cannot…

SM: Two minutes.

Lights: Okay.

ASM: (putting headset back on, making more annoying noise) All ready back here.

SM, Sound, and Lights: Turn off your damn mic when you leave!

ASM: Sorry.

Lights: Puny human! Your powers of contrition are no match for me!

SM: Lightor the Cruel. We ask your forgiveness. Everybody stand by.

Lights: Standing by.

Sound: Standing by.

ASM: Standing by.

HM: House is closed.

SM: Grrrreat. Let's get started. House to half.

Lights: House going to half. (House lights go down a bit, audience hurries to seats) House at half.

ASM: (Talking to performers) Where are you going? Wait!

SM: What's going on?

ASM: One of them ran off for something.

SM: Which one?

ASM: The one with… I don't know, the ponytail and the white scarf.

SM: Ted. We don't need him to start. Stand by light cue one and sound cue one.

Lights: Standing by.

Sound: (Very quietly, so as not to be heard by the audience nearby) All set.

SM: House out please.

Lights: Going… house out. (All is dark)

SM: Sound and lights, go.

Lights: Going. (Music starts, lights come up on stage. Dancers come out on stage and dance).

ASM: Ted's back.

SM: Yay. Stand by Light cue two.

Lights: Standing by. (Pause) Standing by. (Pause)

SM: (Muttering, reading from notes) "Go cue two with left arm up three times." Whose arm? Whoa, there's the turns. Go, light cue three!

Lights: Three? You're the boss… Going… (Stage lights change)

SM: Totally missed two. Stand by light cue four.

Lights: Standing by for three out of four.

SM: You want to trade places? I'll just sit there and hit the "go" button, and you can call the show. And…cue four… go. (Lights change) A trained seal could do your job.

Lights: Uh oh. Damn.

SM: What?

Lights: The center special is burned out. That's going to make the next section look weird. Hey, Kelly. Kelly. (Flashing light)

ASM: Stage.

Lights: Is the guy with the white hat back there? Tell him that his little pool of light is out, and the next best one I have is going to be stage right of the original.

ASM: Okay. (Again, puts down headset without turning off the microphone)

Lights: D'oh!

SM: (Muttering to self) Kelly is new. Do not kill Kelly. Kelly is new… Stand by light cue five. Stand by sound cue two.

Lights: (Frantically reprogramming the light cues in the computer to replace the dead light with the next best thing) Yeah.

Sound: Standing by on fadeout.

SM: Sound cue… wait… yeah, sound cue two go. Light cue five go.

Lights: Ar! Ar! Ar! (Seal impression)

Sound: Going. (First piece ends, sound fades out and lights dim)

SM: Okay, we're holding for late seating. House to half. Kelly, go pick up that scarf stage left, they missed it.

Lights: House going up to half. (House lights come up somewhat so late seaters can find their seats. Their crankiness about being late poisons the room.) Don't tell me, the light never would have burned out if Karen were on lights tonight.

ASM: The dancers want to go back here.

SM: We're holding for house.

ASM: They want to go right now.

SM: Spray some water on their noses. We can't go right now.

Lights: Tell them we refuse to go until you learn to turn off your mic.

SM: Tell them the CD player's acting up. Stand by lights and sound.

Sound: Why is it sound problems always seem the most plausible?

SM: House out please. (Auditorium goes dark) Thank you. Do we have places backstage?

ASM: Got all three here and ready.

SM: Light cue six and sound cue three… go. Okay, no cues for about three minutes.

ASM: (Excited) One of them changed right next to me!

Lights: (Nostalgic) You never forget your first quick-change.

And so it goes, into the night. A small team of trained workers trying to do dozens of tasks in the right way and at the right time, each of them hoping that if the house of cards comes down, they won't be the one found standing next to the pile. Still, it's the challenge that draws many of them to the profession. It may not be air traffic control, but it's close enough.