I think in a weird way, as actors, we spend the entire rehearsal process trying to get everything right and then the entire run of the show cataloging all of the things that went wrong. We mark the time and remember the performances by whatever sort of catastrophe happened on any given night. Perhaps because they help us identify one performance from the next, perhaps out of some sort of disappointment that for all of our rehearsal work it still didn't turn out right, or perhaps because sometimes its just plain funny when things happen in the middle of a show.
I think I've mentioned here before that I'm in a production of Hamlet at the moment. We are only four performances in, but already, there was Opening Night, The Show Wherein Hamlet Died With His Hand On My Boob, The Show Wherein The Sword Hit Me In The Head And Landed In My Hand, and The Show With Sound Issues Wherein I Had Only Once Scene In Which I Did Not Mess Up A Line. I've also managed to get make-up on the costumes of at least two of my cast mates, I got my foot stepped on, the main exit door keeps sticking for people which makes furious exits kind of comical, and the skull was tossed and dropped one night which made people chuckle.
The thing that strikes me is that the audience seldom notices this stuff. I had seven friends in the audience the night the sword hit me in the head and landed in my hand, and not one of them noticed. Which I guess is a good thing because I'm dead at that point and shouldn't be pulling focus so if they are staring at the sword in a dead lady's hand instead of the rest of the action in front of them, we're all doing something wrong. But it is that kind of stuff that I kind of like talking about after a show. I like the silly backstage stories about how I got a SEVERE case of the giggles last night before scene 2.2 and was afraid I wouldn't be able to look Guildenstern in the eye on stage. Or the little dance that Rosencrantz does every night before 3.1. Or the moment of panic that happened at the top of the show when every single sound cue from the entire show started playing all at the same time and we're all in the bathroom trying to figure out how to start the show without the one sound cue that is supposed to be there. And if we're lucky, the audience will never know about these little things. But they are, to me, what makes live theater so much fun. They are what bring us together as cast mates. No, we're not facing dangerous crises like, say, soldiers in the Middle East are, but we run into obstacles all of the time that we have to figure out how to get past. And we do. And the audience applauds. And we get to feel good knowing that we conquered the giggles or the tech problems or the missed entrances or the people stomping around upstairs or the people in the second row chatting away through the whole performance and put up a good show anyway.
Though I'll admit, last night did not feel like a good show for me. I messed with my routine. My routine is never the same for two different shows, but within the framework of one show, I do get a little set in what I do. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit. But last night, I walked to the theater instead of taking the bus because it was gorgeous outside and I hate the bus. I did my warm-ups downstairs instead of upstairs. And I honestly felt a little not-ready when the stage manager called places instead of telling us we would be holding five minutes for the house. And then the weird sound cue at the top of the show...I just felt off of my game. Which means tonight, I'll go back to my regular routine and hopefully, all will be well. And I'll be totally ready to be stepped on or kicked or hit with a sword or for my flashlight to not work or my prop to be in the wrong place or to fall out of my chair or something.
I love live theater.
