THE SHOW MUST GO ON! (Continued)
In last week’s post, we described the amazing special effect of an actor throwing up on stage. This week’s example is a little more complicated.
Case #2:
This case involves Murphy’s Law at its finest and includes multiple “points of failure” (POFs), weak spots where disaster could strike. You can count along with me.
- POF #1: It was a tense night at the theatre. A nearby theatre had just received a surprise inspection from Code Enforcement, who went so far as to walk across the stage during the performance. (Code Enforcement guys can be real dicks.) So all local theatres were on edge.
- POF #2: At our particular theatre an actor arrived (you guessed it) extremely ill. Only this time he couldn’t stand up. Sadly his character had to stand up. A lot. What to do? Well, the show must go on, right? As luck would have it, someone was on hand who could fit the costume and had the ability to perform the role, albeit with a script in hand. We suited him up in the costume and he went on stage, as his fellow actor (Alex) lay on the dressing room floor writhing in pain.
- POF #3: With so much at stake, I had to watch the show. But I did so from the sidelines in case Alex needed help. As a result I was in a position to see one of our subscribers (Kyle) get up in the middle of the first act. Surely he was headed to the restroom. Only he wasn’t. He was headed in the opposite direction, towards the lobby. I was following him discreetly to see if I could be of assistance, when he suddenly crumpled to the floor without warning. And lay motionless with his eyes staring in mute terror at the ceiling.
I’m told that I did a great imitation of Bette Midler in “Down and Out in Beverly Hills”, running to the office screaming “call 911, call 911!” Only I’m a theatre person, so it was more of a whispered scream that wouldn’t disturb the performers. Yep, those theatre habits die hard.
- POF #4: Emergency crews arrived, they started working on Kyle, and two things happened of which I am not proud. First, I asked them to KEEP THE NOISE DOWN so as not to interrupt the show. Kyle could be dying but everyone knows the show must go on. And second, when they asked for more light to SAVE KYLE’S LIFE, I hesitated. You see, it would turn on the lights in the theatre too. The hesitation was brief but it was there, proof of my theatre-ingrained insanity. (“Seriously,” I’m thinking, “you’ve got flashlights, people, use them instead!”)
Imagine you are an actor on stage. What’s happening? A surprise visit from Code Enforcement? A power surge? Your training tells you the show must go on, and so it did. And the audience didn’t notice a thing.
Kyle survived and without any lasting ill effects. We remained friends for many years. But I am grateful he never learned the full story. For theatre people, the show must go on, but for normal people, LIFE going on ranks higher on the priority list.
NEXT WEEK: The show must go on, continued!