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August 7, 2007

The Glittering Desk Lamps of Broadway

I call this: summer stock,theatre — Posted by KP @ 10:08 pm

As promised, here is a picture of our electrical stand-ins for the 42nd Street marquees. I didn’t get a chance to take a photo of them in the scene, as I wound up rather hastily calling the run from the booth tonight. By hastily, I mean that as soon as the Overture started we realized that even literally screaming into our headsets we wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the blaring trumpets and tapping feet, and after about 32 bars, I gathered up my calling script, pencil, God mic, headset, and cup of soda from the tech table and ran up the aisle to the booth, calling cues as I went. We often have this problem of the orchestra sound getting into the headsets and drowning everyone out, but for some reason thought that on this show of all things I could get away with calling from the house. We realized our stupidity right away.

So when we got to the ballet I realized too late that I didn’t have my camera with me to get a shot of the “marquees,” and anyway I would have been too far away to get a good picture. After the run Steph turned them back on for a photo op. She also corrected my earlier post which assumed they were taped to the pipe. Oh, no. The desk lamp is actually lashed to the pipe by its cord. And of course the clip light is attached by its clip. And I forgot to mention my personal favorite part of the whole display, the extension cord with the end that glows orange when it’s powered, adding a nice third light source to the mix. I’m going to miss all of them when the real marquees go up tomorrow.


June 12, 2007

Umbrellas Under Sky with Buckets: A Still Life

I call this: summer stock — Posted by KP @ 10:06 pm


I asked as I left the theatre tonight, “For a show that’s going pretty well, why is it that we keep being here until 1AM?” In truth, it has nothing to do with how well the show is going, it’s been a different reason every night. Tonight part of the reason may have been that while looking at light cues at the tail end of our production meeting, somebody actually looked at what was on stage and realized how absurd it was, and that it would make a great art installation.

I wish I had a better camera, it would have been a great piece of art for a real photographer. Without using a flash my camera is always blurry, so I added some Gaussian blur in the hopes that it would look more intentionally blurry, and suitable for use as a desktop, which is what everyone seems to want. So I’ve made it 1440×900 for our Mac-using production team.

The completely rational explanation for all this is that we had flown in this sky drop to make some changes to a series of sunset cues. The 30-odd umbrellas were put out to dry overnight after having been used in the finale, and the buckets are there to catch remaining drips from the rain nozzles.

Anyway, I’m fried, but the run went pretty well. I’m still shaky on the second half of the second act, but a lot of the cues in the ballet would have given an observer the impression that I knew how to call them. I think we’ll be fine. This was the first run that actually felt to me like a performance rather than an experiment in technical theatre. Well it really was the first run without stops, and I think we’re in good shape. No rehearsal except the final dress tomorrow, and the dancers are coming in a half hour early because they wanted to go over the lifts in the ballet. I can definitely see the light at the end of the tunnel.


June 3, 2007

Yay Dimmers!

I call this: summer stock,theatre — Posted by KP @ 7:46 pm

I had heard through the grapevine that we were renting enough dimmers for this show that there wouldn’t need to be any patches during the performance. At the production meeting yesterday we actually got approval to buy the dimmers, and a multicable to the catwalk that will apparently alleviate some kind of lack-of-circuits problem that’s always an issue up there. That’s exciting — any decent design at this theatre has required a dimmer rental, so it’s a great investment in something that always winds up being rented anyway. Even with renting more dimmers, we usually wind up with a few patches during the show, which is never fun, and I’m never 100% sure I trust that it’s been done.

For those who don’t know, briefly, patching is done when you have more lighting instruments than dimmers, like you have two lights that you want to do different things (say one’s red and one’s blue), but you only have one dimmer available to control them. If you use the red light in scene 1 and the blue light in scene 3, then during scene 2 you can unplug the red one and plug the blue one into its dimmer. At the light board it looks like it’s bringing up the same light, but a different one is physically plugged in (or in many cases a switch box is used for the same effect — sending the current out to a different light depending on which way the switch is thrown).

    Favorite patching story: Two years ago we were doing Sound of Music. In the scene at the end where the von Trapp Family is performing for the Nazis, there were these ominous swastika gobos that appeared over the family’s house at the end of the scene where the Nazi officer demands that they perform at the event, and as the family steps downstage and the red velvet curtain falls behind them, the gobos came into focus and created the effect of Nazi flags at the concert hall. It was quite effective. So while we’re teching, the lighting designer says something to our deck electrician about making sure he’s done the patch for the swastikas. Now, having had a less than perfect rate of success with patches being done properly before, I asked, somewhat hesitantly,

    “So the swastikas are part of a patch?”
    “Yes.”
    “And what’s the other side of the patch? When should I be expecting to see swastikas if the patch isn’t done correctly?”
    “Oh, it’s not used much. It’s the stained-glass windows in the church.”
    “So you’re telling me if the patch isn’t done, I’m going to see swastikas in the church!?“
    “Well theoretically, but the church scenes are first, so if the patch wasn’t done you would see the church windows in the Nazi scene — you would only see the swastikas in the church if they forgot to reset before the next performance, which is much less likely.”
    “Okay… You’re right. I just wanted to be warned.”

    Cut to a few hours later. We finish teching Act II, and quickly reset for a run of Act I. The show starts — the nuns are holding candles, singing a hymn behind a black scrim. It’s all very dark and mysterious. Next cue, the stage brightens up and we’re in the…. SWASTIKAS! The nuns can see this because there’s a scrim in front of them catching the light. Several scream. I turn to the lighting designer and say, “That’s why I wanted to know!” Of course she was right about how unlikely it was, it only happened because we did the rather unusual process of starting the day with Act II and going back to Act I.

That’s one of the reasons I worry about patches. During some patch-heavy shows at Reagle, I started referring to the process as “patchy-patchy.” I think it was because I had trouble remembering to confirm that a patch had been done at intermission of a certain show, and kept writing the reminder bigger and bigger at the top of the first page of Act II, and eventually wrote “PATCHY PATCHY!!” across the entire top margin. The head electrician saw my note, and it became a verbal term as well. By the end of last season, it was a well-understood technical term. When a patch came up, I would say, “Patchy-patchy?” and if it was complete the deck electrician would reply, “Patchy-patchy.” Since that came into use we’ve had a lot more success — I think because it’s so much fun to say that you don’t forget. I’ll kind of miss it if we don’t need to do any this year.


Singin’ in the Rain, Remastered by George Lucas

I call this: summer stock — Posted by KP @ 6:44 pm


One of my actors just sent this to me. As a fan of the un-altered Star Wars movies, and as PSM of Singin’ in the Rain, I find this hysterical in so many ways.


May 30, 2007

Good Morning

I call this: summer stock — Posted by KP @ 8:34 am

I’ve realized I find the song “Good Morning” annoying. I haven’t been able to figure out if I’m the only one, but I’m probably the only one who has been so permanently scarred by that song.

When I was in high school, I had a teacher, Mrs. Schneider. She taught physics and chemistry, and she was fond of making up songs about either subject. Generally she would take some standard, and replace the words with something about physics or chemistry. Sometimes they would actually be educational, to help you remember things, and other times they were just pointless, like this one:

“Good morning, good morning!
It’s great to start the day
Good morning, in a physical way!”

If it was a chemistry class, then she’d say “chemical” instead.

I didn’t realize until now, when I actually know how the song goes, how badly she butchered it. And if it was an afternoon class, you’d think she’d be out of luck, right? Oh no. She could cram “Good afternoon” in there instead. In fact, I think she even said, “It’s great to start the afternoon.”

The important thing to remember here is not just that this annoying song existed, but that she sang it at the very beginning of class every day! And I had her for two years!

A perfectly good showtune, ruined for me.


May 23, 2007

Kristin Chenoweth at the Drama Desks

I call this: theatre — Posted by KP @ 12:18 pm

I didn’t get a chance to watch the live webcast of the Drama Desk Awards last week, but some videos are floating around of parts of it, including this one of some guy at intermission talking too close to a live mic, and going off about the war in Iraq and intellectualism or something for about ten minutes.

But the one that had me rolling was this segment of host Kristin Chenoweth going around the audience and asking some stars silly questions. Some people out on the internets are saying the bit fell flat, but I was laughing out loud at several points. I guess I’m easy to please.

I’ve always liked Kristin’s work, but not with the enthusiasm of some. This bit gives me a new respect for a performer I was always a little “meh” about, sort of like when Sutton Foster performed a poem about her dressing room toilet at the Gypsy of the Year competition a number of years ago. That made me a fan for life. Unfortunately that one doesn’t seem to be on YouTube, but I did find this video of her performing her eleven-o’clock number “Gimmie Gimmie” with Mad-Libbed lyrics suggested by the audience (including a few you won’t find in a family musical). Personally I think it should be a requirement to be a Broadway star that you must do this with your most famous songs, and pull it off as well as she does. Bernadette, I await your “Rose’s Turn.”


May 19, 2007

Little One

I call this: summer stock,theatre — Posted by KP @ 7:52 am

I found the Singin’ in the Rain package in my mailbox when I got home last night. I was glad it fit so I didn’t have to waste a day picking it up at the post office. I didn’t have time to get through much of it, but so far I’m kind of entertained by it.

In the package was a note referring to me by my top-secret code name, “Little One,” which I had actually forgotten about until this week. Just thought I should tell the story on that.

Last season the Troika tour of Cats did their tech and previews at Reagle in the middle of our season. (I was a little bitter that I was too busy being PSM of Millie across the hall — the idea of being on local crew for a production of Cats was absolutely hysterical to me.) Anyway, the traveling crew had a lot of people whose names we never actually found out, because they all went by names like Big Daddy, Big Mama, etc. and they in turn bestowed on our crew some new names that stuck for the rest of the season.

When they left and we began tech for Millie, somebody decided that the rest of us needed code names on headset. Mine became “Little One.” Here’s the story:
At the end of my first year, we were doing Sound of Music. And you know, there’s like seven kids. So at the top of Act II we needed the kids, Max and Elsa on stage in order to start. Most nights I would be sitting in the booth while the kids were counted, and being told who the culprit was that we were waiting for.

So one night it had been maybe a long intermission, or I got held up with something in the lobby after calling places, and when I got back into the booth I hopped into my chair, put on my headset, and the first thing I hear is the tech director, Lori, say “OK, we just need the little one.” Given the usual ritual of counting the kids at places, one would assume she meant the five-year-old girl playing Gretl. I press the talk button and say, “OK, we have the house,” and Lori says, “Oh, we can go now.” It now becomes clear that I’m the Little One. I thought it was pretty funny, and it stuck.


May 4, 2007

Things Never Said in Theatre

I call this: theatre — Posted by KP @ 8:49 pm

The following list is not my creation, but is one of those things that has been floating around for years, photocopied and posted on callboards far and wide. I first saw it on the callboard at Phantom a number of years ago, and I had to make a copy for myself, as it’s the most true assessment of what it’s like to do a show that I’ve ever read. Paper is so last century, so I felt I should transcribe it here so it can be shared more easily. I’ve also seen some other versions online with added entries and included some of my favorites from those.

Things Never Said in Theatre


By the stage manager:
It looks as though there’ll be time for a third dress rehearsal.
Take your time getting back from break.
We’ve been ready for hours.
No, I called that perfectly the first time — let’s move on.
The headsets are working perfectly.
The cue lights are working perfectly.
The orchestra has no complaints.
The whole company is standing by whenever you want them.
That didn’t take long.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the producer:
Of course there’s enough money to go around.
We have money left over.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the director:
Wow, the designers were right on, weren’t they?
No, today is the tech rehearsal, we’ll re-work that scene later.
I think the scene changes are too fast.
The sound is great!
Of course I think that we’ll be ready in time for opening.
We’ll use it as it is.
The crew? Why they’re just wonderful!
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the choreographer:
This floor’s fine.
Plenty warm enough, thank you.
Thank you.
The lights are spot on.
Leave it; we’ll fit in somehow.
The costumes are perfect.
The boom positions are fine.
The wing space is ample, really.

By the designers:
Of course all my drawings were turned in on time.
Yes, it is absolutely my fault the set looks awful.
You know, you might have a point there.
The director knows best, obviously I wasn’t giving him what he wants.
We have too many gel colors in stock, I can’t choose.
I have lots of spare instruments.
I’d be happy to move that instrument so you can hang a speaker there.
Of course the shop will have the costumes ready on time.
The actors are always in their light.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the technical director:
This is the most complete and informative set of drawings I’ve ever seen.
We built it right the first time.
No problem, I’ll deal with that right away.
I love designers.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the actors:
Don’t… Let’s not talk about me.
Really, I think my big scene should be cut.
This costume is SO comfortable.
I love my shoes.
No problem. I can do that for myself.
I have a fantastic agent.
Let me stand down here with my back to the audience.
I’m sure someone told me there was a wall here, I just forgot.
I can hear everything I need in the monitors.
Without the crew the show would never run; let’s thank them.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the stage crew:
That instrument is not in the way.
There’s room for that over here.
We’ll get in early tomorrow to do it.
No, no I’m sure that is our job.
Anything I can do to help?
All the tools are carefully locked away.
We’ve made sure there are no screws on stage that the actors might step on.
Can we do that scene change again please?
It’s a marvelous show.
I don’t need this many on the crew.
I’m getting loads of sleep – everything’s going really well.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the electrics crew:
This equipment is more complicated than we need.
Of course I can operate sound from here.
Be sure to keep that instrument away from the flying pieces.
All the equipment is working perfectly.
That had nothing to do with the computer – it was my fault.
I have all the equipment I need.
No thanks, I don’t drink.

By the orchestra members:
Wow, the strings and the woodwinds are perfectly in tune.
The saxophones are fine. In fact they could play louder.
This is fine. I have plenty of room.
These chairs are amazingly comfortable.
This stand light is great. I can see the music perfectly.
What a terrific conductor…so clear…so easy to follow.
I like sitting in front of the brass section. Then I can properly hear everything they are playing.
The air in this orchestra pit is so refreshing.
We don’t need a break now. Let’s keep playing until we finish this act so we can keep the flow going, and save time in the long run.
No thanks, I don’t drink.


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