Free Is Never Free

From Zoe:

I was playing Blanche in a production of “The Glass Mendacity” at a small theater. This is a spoof that combines all the major works of Tennessee Williams into one play. It's what one might call a “romp,” although not in regular conversation, because who talks like that?

Things were going well. The cast got along, for the most part everyone was talented and enthusiastic (in spite of the toxic swamp breath of Big Mama) and for once the box office was pre-selling -- a cheerful indication that we wouldn't be showing up for a call and repeatedly asking the stage manager how many were on the books now as we delayed putting on our make-up in case the show got cancelled.

During tech rehearsal, everything seemed fine until we started doing full runs of the show. We would happily be mid-romp when suddenly: total darkness. The director would yell, "Hold!" We'd freeze, lights would pop back on again after about ten seconds and we'd continue.

The first few times? “Hey, it's dress rehearsal; these things happen.” The next ten times pushing into final dress, we started to ask questions. (For a “romp” with lots of physical comedy, darkness was a real issue.)

"Oh," the director shrugged. "That's just John." As an afterthought: "He works for free."

My friend Dave, who was on the soundboard, reported that John was a Vietnam vet still suffering from the effects of his combat time. If he was late for a cue, or god forbid missed one, he would panic, slam the main power button on the board and then sit frozen with his hands trembling over the board. Dave would gently say "John… JOHN." Turning the board back on, he’d place John's hands on the sliders for the next cue. Once back in position, John could continue. John loved theatre and loved running lights.

We played for sold-out houses night after night. And almost every night, we would be plunged into darkness, freeze... and wait.

Oh, Henrik!

From Lacy:

A friend attended a production of "Hedda Gabler" in college.  It was what you'd expect of a college production of "Hedda Gabler," more or less.  Until the last moment.

In the script, as you may know, Hedda goes upstage to a semi-concealed anteroom, shoots herself abruptly, interrupting the conversation onstage, and her husband dashes back to find her, upon which:

TESMAN: (shrieks to Brack).
Shot herself! Shot herself in the temple! Fancy that!

Well. In this staging, Hedda was supposed to go offstage, then a running crew would fire a prop gun for the sound cue.

So one night, she exited as planned, and … no gunshot.  

The actors stranded on stage … waited. Dragged out their lines, repeated the cue. Finally, Tesman muttered something along the lines of, "well…. You know, I think I'll just go check on Hedda," and awkwardly went offstage where the frantic running crew member could not get the gun to fire.

So Tesman covered the only way he could.

TESMAN: (shrieks to Brack).
Stabbed herself! Stabbed herself in the temple! Fancy that!