IN THE WINGS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3033, 1 May 1912, Page 79

IN THE WINGS.

(Copyright.) In these days of so-called living pictures the stage still holds its own as the real living picture, with life-size figures, and possessing much of the animation and sometimes more than the colour of real life. The stage, even if it is a thing of conventions and illusions, is admittedly the meet graphic form in which to present a picture or work out a problem in human affairs, and as such has a perennial fascination for most people. Some, not content with seeing the play from the auditorium, want to go behind the scenes and see how it is done. The writer shared this desire; hence this article. BEHIND THE SCENES. If the stage be considered as a picture, then the proscenium is the frame, and, by means of an iron door, the privileged visitor may pass from the auditorium through into the wings, behind the frame of the picture as it were. The first impression is usually one of surprise at the size of the stage, and more particularly at the height of that part of the building immediately above the hoards. But it should be remembered that the modern theatre is usually a tall building, the auditorium being furnished with two or three galleries. That part over the stage known as “the flies” is the same height, but no doubt on account of the bare walls usually looks higher. Up there in the flics are hung the “cloths” or drop scenes that are not in use. and the scene-painter’s workshop is usually to be found not far away. As for the scenery, the effect in the halflight of the wings is for the most part one of disappointing dulness and an ineffective slapdashiness. But the secret of the scene-painter’s art is broadnere of effect to bs accentuated by strong light, rather than extreme accuracy of detail. Altogether the predominant feeling of the stranger in the wings is at first one of disappointment and disillusionment. Through the day the stage seems to be nothing but a wilderness of canvas, boards, and “props” (or properties), looking dingy and disorderly in the unaccustomed light of day. It is the picture frame without the gilding. STAGE-MANAGEMENT. Very different is the scene presented if our visit to the wings is paid during a performance. Before the curtain rises, and while the orchestra is playing the overture, there is much bustle and activity behind the scenes. The “flats” or side scenes—great tall frames of stretched canvas painted to represent walls or trees as the case may be—are placed in position by the scene-shifters and braced up with iron stays. A drop-scene is Jet down from the flics to form the background. Meantime other men are hurriedly laying the floor cloth —again of painted canvas • and appropriate to the scene. The electrician and his assistant are fixing plugs, cords, and bulbs. Still other scene-shifters are bringing on the “props”—chairs, tables, screens, and even a file place may be carried in bodily, while the stage carpenter super .htends the erection of a ready-made staircase which the actors ascend or descend only to reach the level of the stage again in the wings. Although there is so much hurrv and

bustle, there is little confusion. Every man knows his work, and does it—or if he doesn’t, a word from the stage manager soon wakes him up to a sense of his duty. In the modern .theatre organisation and discipline are just as necessary as in any other big concern, and at the head of affairs behind the scenes is the stage manager, who often acta a part as well as controls the stage, the principal taking charge in his absence. The stage manager then, seeing everything in its place, gives final instructions to the electrician (who switches on the lights), then rings' off the orchestra (with which he is connected by electric bell and telephone or speaking tube), rings up the curtain, and on goes the play. The actors are already on or waiting in the wings to enter as the cues direct. LIGHT AND SHADOW. The electrician has been mentioned, and he is an important individual m the wings, for he has of one of the most indispensable parte of the equipment of the modern stage. By means ot his switchboard he has control of the groups of lights in the flies, in the wings, scattered about among the scenery even of the red bulbs which form the ruddy stage “g re ” —of the so-called limes, which are really electric arc lights, and in short of the lighting of the whole theatre, stage, and auditorium. In fact, so indispensable a part does the electric light play in the production of stage effects, that the electrician is provided with a book of the play with proper cues. He and his assistants in charge of the limes provide the liodit and shade of the play, and on occasion can even invoke the lighting and add it to the stage effects. For the next change of scene the stage manager may give the order • No cuitaim Black out!” Instantly the stage is plunged into gloom. The scene-shitteis rush on. Each roan performs his allotted task, and they move “props and scenery with silence and dispatch. The audience sees only vague shapes moving about in the darkness, which is relieved slightly by the light reflected from the back of the' auditorium. Then suddenly footlights and limes flash out on a scene that has been changed as if by magic.

humour IN the wings. Many humorous contretemps may he seen in the wings. hrom point of vantage one may sec both sides nfcturs, so to speak. Lookmg towards the Lout of the stage upon the set sceneone sees the play proper—tragedy or comedy as the case may be—the actoia P sonalities for the nonce merged into their parts. Looking backwards one sees the more natural human side !!Lt men and women talking seriously, or laughing at some aside or <w ” or bit of by-play. ,Or again they may 5 be seen practising a bit of stage busiabow. a salute, or even a bout of SSuffs or a duel, in whieh^e l™beaS no mMice. and accepts his connueror’s cigarette with equanimity. Has he not just endured the audible contempt ° f Times have changed since actors had to perform in barns, and canvas fairs . Although at the best the proferoion is an arduous one, full of \ icissi tudes, the actors’ lot is a much more happy one than aforetime. At least they have a comfortable house, to, play w and decent dressing-rooms behind. Hut as a class, actors are optimistic, Bohemian of the Bohemians, with a siiint of cammderie and good fellowship that is limited only by the freemasonry of the craft. IN THE HALLS. Nowadays when most of the stars of the histrionic * firmament scintillate periodically in the “halls,” and theatre managers watch with critical eyes the production of theatrical sketches m the variety horses it is difficult to know where to draw he line between the “legitimate drama and vaudeville. An tourspent .n the wings of a music hall will show the visitor many points of rcsemolance, and many of divergence. . \ permanent stage manager is essential in a variety theatre, particularly m these hustling times of two houses a night. After The Monday rehearsal, which is ii feature common*to both the theatre and the music hail, the stage manager of the latter works to a time-table. He arranges the order and rotation of the different “turns," and, like his theatrical confrere is in close touch with orchestra and electrician. The latter is kept very busy as the succession of turns is rapid, and ’there are often trick effects to be looked after. Frequently there is only a drop scene down while a comedian or vocalist is entertaining the audience, and at the same time a scene is being set behind for the more elaborate requirements of a juggler reputedly Chinese, or a dramatic sketch. v MANY MIMES.

The “pros” who appear before the curtain at a music hall are necessarily varied, and the types one sees in the wings_ are decidedly "mixed, of varying occupations, classes, ' and even nationalities. An Englishman masquerading as a Chinese coniurer, or a German animal-tamer, may rub shoulders witn a Parisian danseuse, an American patter artist, or a troupe of Italian gymnasts. Naturally, Britishers predominate, and as the tone of the variety house has improved so the class of artiste engaged is raieed. Still their life is a precarious one. full of ups and downs, and one is not surprised to find the happy-go-lucky type predominating, though there are innumerable instances of thoir pluck in adversity, and their kindness to even less fortunate brother mimes. As for the audience —well, this is a delicate subject. Viewed from the wings, when the stage is in darkness, the auditorium presents the spectacle of vast semicircular rows of faintly illumined pink dots. Then as the lights are raised and the actor goes in front, the audience become articulate, and are moved, let us hope, to laughter or applause, or very rarely to hisses. A knowledge of human

•nature is indispensable to an actor, and while “playing to the gallery’’ rightly leaves us cold, let us always “give a hand” to real merit. Applause to an actor is the wine of life. It may even mean bread and butter. One sees much of pathos as well as humour in the ■wings.