srm@nsc.UUCP (Richard Mateosian) (12/01/84)
In article <225@ssc-vax.UUCP> adolph@ssc-vax.UUCP (Mark Adolph) writes: > >This is another unsubtle attempt to get a net.theatre started. Alas, they've started net.theater instead. >I'd like to >hear from all of you theater people your most amusing theatrical anecdote. I have a lot of candidates. Like the time Joe Spano was playing Duke Mantee in "The Petrified Forest" at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre". At a certain point he slammed his fist on the table and the table fell off the edge of the stage into the audience. It was someone else's turn to speak, and somehow they managed to pull it off. By the way, that show was the first thing Joe Spano did that was any good. Now he's a big TV star. Last night I attended a performance of Harold Pinter's "Old Times" at San Francisco's ACT. After the show, the cast spent about a half hour discussing the play with the audience. Barbara Dirickson (Kate) told an amusing story about some of the things they hear the audience say during the exceptionally long pauses that Pinter writes into the script. At one point she is lying on the floor, stage front, no one is speaking, and someone in the front row turns to her companion and says "I don't know how much more of this shit I can listen to." Or, during another pause, someone in the balcony remarked "Do you think they've forgotten their lines?" Last week I attended a performance of Simon Gray's "Otherwise Engaged" at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre. There are some extrememly funny lines in that play, especially in the first act, before it gets "heavy". The principal character, named Simon, is discussing with his brother the brother's recent interview for assistant headmaster of his school. The brother describes an excruciatingly embarrassing moment. "I did something I haven't done since I was twelve. (Long discussion of details of the interview) As I bent forward to hear what he said, I farted." Pregnant pause. Simon: "You haven't farted since you were twelve?" Or, earlier, when Simon tells his brother that he's expecting a certain visitor -- a critic. The brother recalls one of Simon's dinner parties fourteen years earlier when he had an encounter with this critic. The critic had been drunk and had made comments to the effect that school teachers of a certain category (to which the brother belonged) were all latent pederasts. The brother had confronted the critic later, as they were leaving, and had almost threatened violence. The brother has kept this incident alive in his memory, constantly dwelling on it. Then, before the brother can leave, the critic arrives. Of course, he doesn't remember the brother or the incident. He learns that the brother is a teacher of the given category and begins to make remarks. The brother tries to confront him with the former incident and at one point says dramatically, "I'm the latent pederast!" Pregnant pause. The critic replies "Oh, then you're in the right job!" Oh, well. It's very funny on stage. -- Richard Mateosian {cbosgd,decwrl,fortune,hplabs,ihnp4,seismo}!nsc!srm nsc!srm@decwrl.ARPA
co20waz@sdcc3.UUCP (Bruce Jones) (12/05/84)
> In article <225@ssc-vax.UUCP> adolph@ssc-vax.UUCP (Mark Adolph) writes: > > > >This is another unsubtle attempt to get a net.theatre started. > > Alas, they've started net.theater instead. > > >I'd like to > >hear from all of you theater people your most amusing theatrical anecdote. > > I have a lot of candidates. Like the time Joe Spano was playing Duke Mantee > in "The Petrified Forest" at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre". At a certain > point he slammed his fist on the table and the table fell off the edge of the > stage into the audience. It was someone else's turn to speak, and somehow they > managed to pull it off. By the way, that show was the first thing Joe Spano > did that was any good. Now he's a big TV star. > > Last night I attended a performance of Harold Pinter's "Old Times" at > San Francisco's ACT. After the show, the cast spent about a half hour > discussing the play with the audience. Barbara Dirickson (Kate) told an > amusing story about some of the things they hear the audience say during the > exceptionally long pauses that Pinter writes into the script. At one point > she is lying on the floor, stage front, no one is speaking, and someone in > the front row turns to her companion and says "I don't know how much more > of this shit I can listen to." Or, during another pause, someone in the > balcony remarked "Do you think they've forgotten their lines?" > > Last week I attended a performance of Simon Gray's "Otherwise Engaged" at > the Berkeley Repertory Theatre. There are some extrememly funny lines in > that play, especially in the first act, before it gets "heavy". The principal > character, named Simon, is discussing with his brother the brother's recent > interview for assistant headmaster of his school. The brother describes > an excruciatingly embarrassing moment. "I did something I haven't done since > I was twelve. (Long discussion of details of the interview) As I bent forward > to hear what he said, I farted." Pregnant pause. Simon: "You haven't farted > since you were twelve?" Or, earlier, when Simon tells his brother that he's > expecting a certain visitor -- a critic. The brother recalls one of Simon's > dinner parties fourteen years earlier when he had an encounter with this > critic. The critic had been drunk and had made comments to the effect that > school teachers of a certain category (to which the brother belonged) were > all latent pederasts. The brother had confronted the critic later, as they > were leaving, and had almost threatened violence. The brother has kept this > incident alive in his memory, constantly dwelling on it. Then, before the > brother can leave, the critic arrives. Of course, he doesn't remember the > brother or the incident. He learns that the brother is a teacher of the > given category and begins to make remarks. The brother tries to confront > him with the former incident and at one point says dramatically, "I'm the > latent pederast!" Pregnant pause. The critic replies "Oh, then you're in > the right job!" Oh, well. It's very funny on stage. > -- > Richard Mateosian > {cbosgd,decwrl,fortune,hplabs,ihnp4,seismo}!nsc!srm nsc!srm@decwrl.ARPA *** REPLACE THIS LINE WITH YOUR MESSAGE *** More Anecdotes A friend of mine, who is a stage hand in San Diego, told me about a Passion Play staged in Old Town some years ago. It seems that the actor who was to stab Christ with a spear had failed to notice that the spear he was holding didn't have a rubber point, instead it was tipped in steel (not sharp). When jabbbed, the guy on the cross hollered "Jesus Christ, I've been stabbed!"
asente@Cascade.ARPA (12/07/84)
A few years ago I was in a production of "The Sorceror" (Gilbert & Sullivan) for which I also designed and helped build the sets. Since I was also in it, however, I never had anything to do with setting them up, so what follows was *not* my fault! The set looked basically like this from above: ----------------------------------------- <-cyclorama xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx = garden trellis o o o = flashpot other stuff \ over \ <-house facade here \ \ \ -------------------------------------------- <-edge of stage At the very end of the play, the Sorceror exits UC between the trellises amid flashpots during an almost-blackout. The entire cast and chorus is on stage milling about during this time. Well, one night, the flashpots went off just before the Sorceror passed between them instead of during or just after as they were supposed to. Momentarily blinded, the Sorceror bumped into the back trellis or caught it on his cape (nobody's quite sure) and it fell forward against the two forward sections. These in turn fell forward against the rest of the set. The SR section held up, but the house facade in turn fell forward. Fortunately there was no one hurt. But what the audience experienced was a blackout followed by a bright flash, followed by a crash, a louder crash, and a still louder crash, and then the lights came back on to reveal the set in utter shambles and the cast trying their best to look as if nothing's wrong. One of the leads then sang, changing his words to invite everyone to the ruins of his mansion for a dinner. After that night the trellisses were attached more securely. -paul asente