Expect the unexpected

No matter what happens, the show must go on! Many of us in the performing arts have heard it said, but it's when things seem to be most out of our control that this old adage rings true.

I am currently singing the role of Jake in the National Tour of Porgy and Bess and have racked up at least 40 performances. (I stopped counting somewhere between San Antonio and Sarasota.) Most of the performances have been "business as usual" with my cast mates giving 150% and each performance ending with an overwhelming standing ovation. It wasn't until a recent performance in Charlotte, NC that I realized that being a performer means anything, and I mean anything can happen.

Case and point: Following the 20-minute intermission of our recent Saturday evening performance, Jake is set to descend a flight of stairs while announcing to his wife that he is on his way out to sea. It's a beautiful moment that foreshadows the storm that will eventually destroy Jake's boat and cause Clara to run into the storm looking for him. The sound of chimes ringing signals the curtain to rise. The curtain began its slow rise as I began my descent down. The curtain however had a different idea in mind and got caught causing it to lower as I was getting close to singing my opening line. As my music approached, the curtain moved up and down forcing me to fight to see the conductor and get the first line out before the curtain completely covered the scene. Finally giving up, the curtain hit the floor setting of a chain reaction that made the conductor stop the orchestra, the audience to laugh and me to climb back up the stairs with a puzzled look on my face. Before I had a moment to settle, the chimes and curtain began their synchronized dance only for the curtain to again get "stage fright" and lower itself. By this point, I laughed as I wondered how things would turn out. Would the show go on? Would we start over or simply skip my scene altogether? All of this was racing through my mind as I reminded myself to be the consummate professional and just go with the flow. Finally on the third attempt the curtain went up (but only half-way) framing the scene like an odd peep-show where the customer had only put in enough money to view a portion of the show. On the last note of the fisher men's song the curtain, assured of its purpose, went all the way up revealing the entire set and adding dramatic weight to my character's exit. The audience applauded I'm sure with a mix of joy and relief.

I was not the only person to experience an "unusual" performance. Following the show, the lovely soprano who sings my wife was attending the meet and greet portion of the evening where fans of the show come backstage and express how much they enjoyed the performance and in particular, the person they are speaking to. For her, all was normal, until a well-meaning patron made his way over to her. She expected the usual "Your aria was beautiful," "Your performance was moving," etc...but instead the patron simply shook her hand and said that she was holding the baby incorrectly. After a moment of "What?" she gathered her wits about her and simply nodded and smiled. She realized that when you put yourself out there as a performer you not only invite praise, but also critiques from the audience member who is convinced that what they have to say is the end-all-be-all to the newspaper critic who may not like the color of your outfit (or how you hold the baby,) thus affecting how they view your entire performance.

Nothing makes things more unexpected than the arrival of allergens. I often think of them as uninvited party guests. They show up and never seem to want to leave and bring nothing but trouble. Several singers were suffering from some sort of reaction and it actually caused one of the main characters to lose the top part of his voice during the performance. Nothing is more frightening for a singer than losing one's voice. Luckily the company employs covers (understudies) to be ready on a moment's notice. It's often a daunting task to jump into a role when you haven't had the luxury of performing it multiple times. It's even scarier when you have to do it mid-performance. But that was exactly what happened. Because he went on in the role he covered for his colleague, his cover was then bumped up to perform the roles now left vacant. Because we are paid to be ready and live by the idea that the audience deserves the best show possible, the shifts must appear seamless, no matter how much sweat, blood and tears are happening backstage.

The reason we perform is that it allows up to reveal and revel in our true selves. We work hard to make sure those mechanical things, the voice, the performance, the sets, costumes, curtains etc...are all lined up so that can free ourselves and bring truth to the characters we play. But sometimes all that planning gets thrown out the window and we have to deal with the present moment ( a curtain that wants a starring role, a "critic" who wants to have their voice heard or a voice that simply needs to rest) and yet the show waits for no man (or woman) and we must keep going no matter what and rely on the training of being a true professional to get us through.

Peace,
Eric