:: Darkness ::
12:17 | view comments
In what will probably go down in Kultura history as the most memorable show ever, the cast and crew of Art have proven that regardless of the circumstances, the show must go on.
The evening show on the 20th was moving along smoothly. It was, in fact, turning into one of the best shows in the run. From a technical standpoint, it was damn near perfect. With the exception of a minor mistake handling one of the microphones, as well as a tiny power fluctuation that dimmed the lights just enough for me to notice, it was the cleanest show so far.
From the audience perspective, it was even better. For some reason, I felt like this audience was a lot more involved with the play than others. They laughed more, yes - but everybody laughs during the show. What seemed different was that their laughter was more contagious - at some point, I almost fell on top of the tangle of wires powering our lights. What proved to me that this audience was different, however, was their collective "aawww" during one of the scenes. I had always thought that was an "aawww" moment, but none of the other shows had gotten that. They'd elicited giggles, but not the "aawww" I was looking for. This show was different - of course, I didn't know how different it would be until later.
At some point, just after the most physical scene in the show, the lights dimmed. They immediately powered back on, then dimmed - and this cycle repeated another time before we were plunged almost totally in darkness. Each time the lights dimmed, I heard some loud noise off in the distance. I didn't want to say it at the time, but I knew the power wasn't coming back on - at least not for a while.
We made some announcements and tried to figure out what to do. Since most of the surrounding buildings were in the dark, we knew we couldn't rely on the city's power grid. We had generators in the building, but the operator wasn't around. We had to make do with what little light we had. We made another announcement, we made do.
It's a good thing our play has only three characters. You see, we ended up using three lights bright enough to light them up - a flashlight we borrowed from one of the guards, and an emergency light (with two bulbs) we took off the wall. I'm also glad one of the former technical directors for Kultura was there - she helped me light up our performers.
I'm not sure if it was just the circumstances surrounding us or if it was really the audience, but the applause last night seemed louder than usual. Right now, I don't really care. Things may have gone horribly wrong, but the show did go on. Our systems may have failed, but our performers soldiered on. Heck, the city may have been plunged into darkness, but everybody involved in the production helped to make sure that at least in the tiny space we call our theater, not to mention the path leading out to the exit, things remained bright. We lit up the place, not just with with our borrowed lights and our cellular phones, but with our enthusiasm, our smiles, and our performances.
12:17 | view comments
In what will probably go down in Kultura history as the most memorable show ever, the cast and crew of Art have proven that regardless of the circumstances, the show must go on.
The evening show on the 20th was moving along smoothly. It was, in fact, turning into one of the best shows in the run. From a technical standpoint, it was damn near perfect. With the exception of a minor mistake handling one of the microphones, as well as a tiny power fluctuation that dimmed the lights just enough for me to notice, it was the cleanest show so far.
From the audience perspective, it was even better. For some reason, I felt like this audience was a lot more involved with the play than others. They laughed more, yes - but everybody laughs during the show. What seemed different was that their laughter was more contagious - at some point, I almost fell on top of the tangle of wires powering our lights. What proved to me that this audience was different, however, was their collective "aawww" during one of the scenes. I had always thought that was an "aawww" moment, but none of the other shows had gotten that. They'd elicited giggles, but not the "aawww" I was looking for. This show was different - of course, I didn't know how different it would be until later.
At some point, just after the most physical scene in the show, the lights dimmed. They immediately powered back on, then dimmed - and this cycle repeated another time before we were plunged almost totally in darkness. Each time the lights dimmed, I heard some loud noise off in the distance. I didn't want to say it at the time, but I knew the power wasn't coming back on - at least not for a while.
We made some announcements and tried to figure out what to do. Since most of the surrounding buildings were in the dark, we knew we couldn't rely on the city's power grid. We had generators in the building, but the operator wasn't around. We had to make do with what little light we had. We made another announcement, we made do.
It's a good thing our play has only three characters. You see, we ended up using three lights bright enough to light them up - a flashlight we borrowed from one of the guards, and an emergency light (with two bulbs) we took off the wall. I'm also glad one of the former technical directors for Kultura was there - she helped me light up our performers.
I'm not sure if it was just the circumstances surrounding us or if it was really the audience, but the applause last night seemed louder than usual. Right now, I don't really care. Things may have gone horribly wrong, but the show did go on. Our systems may have failed, but our performers soldiered on. Heck, the city may have been plunged into darkness, but everybody involved in the production helped to make sure that at least in the tiny space we call our theater, not to mention the path leading out to the exit, things remained bright. We lit up the place, not just with with our borrowed lights and our cellular phones, but with our enthusiasm, our smiles, and our performances.
