THE DAY'S WORK.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 290, 1 September 1908, Page 8

THE DAY'S WORK.

THE ACTOR'S DAY. A WORLD A WORLD. M A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon tho stage,* arid then is heard no more.'I—Shakespeare.1—Shakespeare. "As in a theatre,, the eyes of men, After a veil-graced actor leaves the stage, Aro idly ••bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle,to be tedious." ; —Shakespeare. : - CALL BOARD. "Wednesday^—Principals arid extras, Act ■ 111 'The Blighted Soldier'—lo.3o a.m." So runs an announcement near tho stage-door under a Irtful gas-jet that is perilously near to being 'blown out every time , the door is opened. A heavy-jowled, blue-chinned person, with His collar turned up, eyes tho notice-board malevolently , before passing into the night. "Rehearsal, nothing but rehearsals 1 It's that new girl, ; I suppose. v Don't see why the stage manager cannot put her through . —she's only got about half-a-dozen sides in tho act-."'" • • • < "Well, I want the rehearsal anyhow," says another actor, looking over the first one's shoulder, "I don't want her to kill my scene. The brass i band bit is the only 6cene worth a rap. Come -onJ" '. "Come on, gentlemen!" says a spruce .Voice that comes, from a"figure seen dimly in the grey, half-light. of the stage; standing near the .footlights with his back to the auditorium. "It's past half-past ten, 'and we .want to get through. • First scene, you and: Miss Montmorency, beginning 'But you will fly with me'—go ahead!/' ■ ' -~-Mr. Fitzmaurice mumbles monotonously the lines allotted to the base man to 'give the new girl her cues—"But you. will fly with mo to the golden shores of sunny Italy,'' and there we wiil live'in a glow of love till death do us part." :'"/; "Take the cue up quickly," barks tho stage manager. !' . . , "Oh, do not tempt me, alluring man; I must; I will bo faithful to my Jack —my brave soldier lover, who is away fighting for his king and country." , "He , wil] , never' return," hisses the bad man. "Dispatches have arrived: stating: that he deserted, took-shelter in a Turkish harein, from whence he was dragged forth and shot I Hal'ha!!"'. "Now. Miss M.j" says the voice in the, gloom, sink on your knees, ■ and raiso your: Bands to)heaven .or the-flies.-'. That's right —now tho lines—. i • ■ ■'• , "Oh," shrieks the actress, "say it is not true—oh, Jack, como back £o me. Como back!" , "Now, you fellows, are you ready?" this to the supers, at the back.' "Mark time softly, getting louder as you get down to the wings -—you're Jack's regiment" returning, d'ye, seep" / '<■ -V l ' , " Tar-ta-ta-ta-ta, boom I" says the stage ■ manager, impersonating the'barid as he leads the supers down stage—"Now, Miss Montmorency, again!" : '' "Come back,' my Jack, como back!" " That's right; enter Jack—como on Bifkins, it's up to you!" ' ! 1 -' " Oh, I beg pardon," says Bifkins, assum-' \ing the heroic Jack. "■••>■,■ • '."Halt! What is-this J see? Mabel in the arms of another? It cannot bo,\yet.it is. Oh, false ono!"' Jack, hear me, I beg," gasps the heroine; . "ho said;you were dead! Ho said—he said— ; ('.' you were faithless," yells the manager) he.Baid you-were,faithless.": ..., \ "Out .of ..'my' way, false jade! I swear before high' heaven and the regiment-that never again will,', the powder from your lily-whito, cheek 'whiten the scarlet of my. tunic. On to the'barracks!" 1 " r -!5 ; ... : - i " Ta-ta-ta-ta—keep in stop there, arid' keep quiet when you get off," says tho stage manager.". • In -the meantime the heroine has fainted' 'into, tho arms of the villain, and the curtain has fallen—imaginarily. . . ■!■'•. "You'll havo to get. those lines, off, my' girl,;by to-morrow,"-says the stage manager'. '"It'll.be all right at night, Mr.' Whitfield." .-' ■

Tlio actor of to-day is usually a man of taste, and frequently one with great observation. .The . old long-haired, beer-loving, pompous .variety : has been superseded by smart up-to ; date young men who are difficult to place as members of any particular order. f Ho usually has ,a: hobby—athletics, photography, cricket, painting, etc.—to, fill in the ■ lazy hours of the day,. for a company well up in a repertoiro rehearses but seldom when on tour,' unless it' is necessary, in the case of a change in the " cast,?'. or for tho benefit of the " extras " (supernumeraries). The present-day actor is—if ambitious—conscious that his work has been raised to the elevation of a profession-—"the they: call ilr-and in. the golden mists, of the future ho sees the possibility of rising to the status that gave Sir Henry Irving, ! Sir Charles AVyndham, and Sir John Hare, dignified prefixes to' their stage names. If ho" be wise,-ho-will, study diligently, and take all honest criticisms as friendly hints to.try and do better; ho will watch the methods of successful players; will read Hamlet's .speech to the players at least once a week; and will endeavour to find out what parts ho is best adapted to. An actor might the stage for years • playing straight parts, arid by the merest accident ascertain that his liue is low comedy, and vice versa... Some painstaking actors study humanity in its broadest, aspect —Mn the streets.-The street has ever been considered the, best place to study humanity in/ it 3 multifarious manifestations. Balzac spent' hour's in the, street watching the different types of; people, which later lie pourtraycd in his novels.- Kean went to see a notorious, felon hanged in order to catch his dying expression of horror and despair. Garget.drew'his .-conception of Lear from life' Eichard Mansfield owed his triumph as Baron Ghcvnal to, painstaking study of senility gone over with a physician; The actor searches for ideas and types in shops, railway_stations, street cars, boats—everywhere. He finds his man, cultivates his acquaintance and does not. leavo him. for weeks, perhaps while the stranger.littlo suspects that lie is a model for a new laughable or tragic stage creation.. . . ,

'.'•Quarter to eight!" yells tho shrill treble of the call-boy. , The actor takes half or three-quarters of an hour "making-up" before eight inches of mirror. A heavy character make-up in which nose paste and crape-hair have to be used with fine discrimination might take an hour, but an ordinary straight "make-up"— a mere emphasising of tho flesh tints, darkening of the eyebrows and eyelashes, can bo accomplished in a quarter of an hour or less. But the "make-up" of tho face is not all. It may be a'costume play, in which caso tho actor dons his satin breeches, stockings, and shoes before he touches the paint. Then spreading a clean towel across his knees, ho sits before tho glass, softens the end of a stick, No.' 2J, and rubs in a groundwork of flesh—a sort of dull pink that must cover all visible parts of the face except the ears. On top of that ho probably gets a nice tone by building up the flesh with the deeper tinted No. 9, which gives an even, healthy, manly complexion. Then the powder puff to i-emove the "shine," followed by the gentlo application of black or blue cosmetic or paint, either by brush or/'from the stick direct, to the eyelashes and eyebrows, not forgetting tho darkening of tho eyelids, which gives a greater brilliancy to tho ej'es. Ladies of the theatre used to. favour belladonna as an eye-illuminator—they have" moro sense nowadays. Having adjusted tho collar, rulflc, and wig, the hands are washed and powdered, and finally tho waistcoat and coat aro donned, and perhaps a sword-belt and Bivord adjusted. Ho looks onco more at the glass—oh, yes, of oourso, a touch of carmine for tho lips. "Beginners for the first act!" pipes tho call-boy. Ho leaves tho drossing-room, gropes doivn tho murky stairs, and waits about in the " wings" until his cuo for entranco coinosn and-in an .instant. is vJaaagiprted_J)Mk,

to the period-of powder and patches, to the ruffled , times "of Elizabeth, or any timo or place that havo! found favour with the author.; He is in 'another world —must speak as they spoke ; look as they looked, and summon up his art.-to aid in deceiving tho public into what they' 'are seeing is good make-believe. :— '■ And so the actor lives his day, which is mostly' night,. for tho play is not usually over before 11 p.m., and • then he has to undo all that he has accomplished in tho way of "make-up'? a few hours earlier. That ■is why tho actor (and actress) loves matinees —it is just getting in. and out of paint and clothes to "strut their hour upon tho stage." But art on the stage means applause, and applause to tho acter is as tho breath of lifo to the nostrils. "Give the cloth anothor shake, Jimmy!"