Now. It's not that I don't know how important stage managers are. Actually I think I'm particularly aware of this due perhaps to my lack of prowess in that field myself. In fact my personality and skills are so much the antithesis of what makes a good, nay passable, stage manager that my recent announcement to friends that I spent part of my gap year working as a paid stage manager was met with disbelieving sniggers that went on for far longer than should be considered polite. So while there have been trials and tribulations along the way and not every project has always run smoothly I'm unbelievably grateful, and in awe, of all those (including my dear mother) who work in stage management on any show I'm in or working on.
However - it wasn't until a night out at the theatre recently that I got an insight into a whole different style of stage management in existence. The play was performed by an amateur dramatics company. I mention this not because I have any snooty beliefs about all am-dram being a cacophony of clumsy acting, sub-par direction and cliquey nonsense, quite the opposite in fact (particularly in light of Lyn Gardner's recent piece on this topic*), but in this case I think it might be both fair and important to point out that I am talking about someone learning the art of stage management and doing so as a hobby rather than a job.
As it happened, it wasn't the strongest production I've seen from this company. I've worked with them in the past and seen years worth of their shows, many of which have blown me away, but this wasn't one of them. It was simply an okay show with some confident but not overwhelmingly good performances. It was just a nice evening out with the chance for old friends to catch up.
For this reason the sound heard coming from the auditorium was, for a while, as expected. Silence, interrupted by the usual sniffles, coughs and shuffles, whilst listening to the more serious scenes. Light titters and a few bigger laughs. But it would have been the scene changes that mystified a company member standing outside. Easily the worst part of the show, they were painfully long and clunky with an unnecessary number of items switched around between scenes (presumably to cover the time needed for the actors' costume changes). So why did these elicit giant guffawing from the back rows of the theatre?
The reason for this was that each of these scene changes was undertaken by between 1-3 stage hands who, despite being dressed in blacks, ignored the whole concept of stage managers being like theatre ninjas - getting the job done and slipping almost undetected through the darkness - instead entering a dimly lit stage with an actor's poise, stopping briefly to 'take in' the stage and then strolling leisurely around it, moving beer mats a quarter of an inch, turning through pages on a desk to withdraw the appropriate piece to place on the top of the pile, recrossing the stage to redo something forgotten...there's nothing else for it than to say it was a performance in itself. The first time it happened we all thought that perhaps something might happen a la the ensemble singing scene changes in the Royal Court's Posh, but no - it was just a series of very, very painstakingly slow and over complicated pottering about the stage. Nothing was clumsy, they were actually very dainty with their movements but there was none of that efficiency stage managers are, rightly, famed for.
I feel a little bad delighting in quite how bizarre this was but I don't think there's another response when the main topic of conversation when the audience leave the theatre is the scene changes. It was a totally unique experience for me and, whilst amusing, not one I'm in a hurry to repeat. So may I please just take this opportunity to thank each and every stage manager out there who adds and upholds the grace, pace and beauty of all the theatre out there. Because sometimes we forget quite how integral you guys are.
* (Amateur Theatre should be celebrated, not derided Lyn Gardner )
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