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When someone hands you a lemon, make lemonade. When live theater hands you a lemon, make art.
Actors perform "in the moment," making scenes appear spontaneous. At the same time they must be on alert for the unexpected. Must "cover" intrusions and, as best they can, make them appear natural.
An old saying: "anything can happen on stage, and will."
I've seen doors fly off hinges, walls tipple backwards, windows refuse to open; heard zillions of flubbed lines - and covered, as if part of the script. You'll never see it in a movie, but I've seen actors literally guide a balking actor through a show.
It's an art inside the craft.
Recently local theater had two extraordinary examples of major glitches overcome with improvisation and courage.
On opening night of Cygnet's A Behanding in Spokane, Jeffrey Jones had been sending chills through the audience as Charmichael. The guy lost his left hand 27 years before. He's chained Marilyn and Toby to a radiator in a cheap motel - and poured a gallon of gasoline on them.
Carmichael is not having a good day.
Toward play's end, he relents, kind of. He decides to uncuff Marilyn and Toby. So Jeffrey Jones tosses Marilyn (Kelly Iverson) the key. Only his aim's a hair off, and the key flies past her shoulder and into the audience, on a woman's lap.
A collective "oh NO!" shoots through the house.
Jones doesn't flinch. He stays completely in character, as if to prove that Charmichael's having such a bad day he can't even toss a key accurately.
Jones pauses. Then, as if flustered to the tipping point, he gets up and slowly walks the downstage steps to the audience. He grabs the key from the woman, walks back, steaming, and goes on with the scene.
"I always look for the 'happy accidents'" says Jones. "Before I go onstage every night I pretend to have amnesia. So each night I'm out of my head and I go with the mojo, like it's the very first time."
When the key misfired, "right away I thought: I'm gonna take out my gun and MAKE that lady come on stage and give them to me.
"Then I thought: wait - she might have issues with guns. I better fetch them, with attitude, 'cause Charmichael doesn't like having to deal with this effort.
"I knew the house was in the palm of my hands, so I gave them a look to include them too, like flirting with them."
The audience actually bonded with a vile, sadistic villain.
"I once read that Jim Morrison always wanted to include the crowd in his shows. And it stuck with me. And since the opening of Behanding a lot more of those 'happy accidents' have happened, and I love them. Audiences love them too, because they want to see you use them."
Pictured: Jeffrey Jones on right
When someone hands you a lemon, make lemonade. When live theater hands you a lemon, make art.
Actors perform "in the moment," making scenes appear spontaneous. At the same time they must be on alert for the unexpected. Must "cover" intrusions and, as best they can, make them appear natural.
An old saying: "anything can happen on stage, and will."
I've seen doors fly off hinges, walls tipple backwards, windows refuse to open; heard zillions of flubbed lines - and covered, as if part of the script. You'll never see it in a movie, but I've seen actors literally guide a balking actor through a show.
It's an art inside the craft.
Recently local theater had two extraordinary examples of major glitches overcome with improvisation and courage.
On opening night of Cygnet's A Behanding in Spokane, Jeffrey Jones had been sending chills through the audience as Charmichael. The guy lost his left hand 27 years before. He's chained Marilyn and Toby to a radiator in a cheap motel - and poured a gallon of gasoline on them.
Carmichael is not having a good day.
Toward play's end, he relents, kind of. He decides to uncuff Marilyn and Toby. So Jeffrey Jones tosses Marilyn (Kelly Iverson) the key. Only his aim's a hair off, and the key flies past her shoulder and into the audience, on a woman's lap.
A collective "oh NO!" shoots through the house.
Jones doesn't flinch. He stays completely in character, as if to prove that Charmichael's having such a bad day he can't even toss a key accurately.
Jones pauses. Then, as if flustered to the tipping point, he gets up and slowly walks the downstage steps to the audience. He grabs the key from the woman, walks back, steaming, and goes on with the scene.
"I always look for the 'happy accidents'" says Jones. "Before I go onstage every night I pretend to have amnesia. So each night I'm out of my head and I go with the mojo, like it's the very first time."
When the key misfired, "right away I thought: I'm gonna take out my gun and MAKE that lady come on stage and give them to me.
"Then I thought: wait - she might have issues with guns. I better fetch them, with attitude, 'cause Charmichael doesn't like having to deal with this effort.
"I knew the house was in the palm of my hands, so I gave them a look to include them too, like flirting with them."
The audience actually bonded with a vile, sadistic villain.
"I once read that Jim Morrison always wanted to include the crowd in his shows. And it stuck with me. And since the opening of Behanding a lot more of those 'happy accidents' have happened, and I love them. Audiences love them too, because they want to see you use them."
Pictured: Jeffrey Jones on right