I write this in a sort of gobsmacked state. As I type these words, I’m painfully aware that, under usual circumstances, I’m doing it at the same moment I would normally be finishing up a performance of “Slaughterhouse Five” at Custom Made Theatre Co. (we close on Sunday the 26th, so there are still tickets). Something happened tonight that’s never happened to me in 42 years of doing theatre: we had to cancel a performance in the middle of the show.
Now, I’ve had performances cancelled –
even whole productions. (And don’t get me started on that incident …) I’ve had an
actor die (quite literally) in the middle of a run. I’ve worked with actors who
were drunk or deathly ill. I’ve performed while being deathly ill myself or
even lacking a voice, but the show, as the cliché has it, has always gone on.
Until tonight.
Now, I’m not going to go into the exact
circumstances. Not only do I not know exactly what happened, but it’s not my
place to violate the medical privacy of the actor in question.
What I will say that, whatever happened
occurred during a scene change and I was getting ready to come on, so all I saw
was the aftermath and another cast member, Sam Tillis, who was the hero of the
evening, taking charge in an extremely admirable way, calling for the show to
be stopped and doing all he could to get a cell phone and call the paramedics –
who arrived within a matter of minutes and really took charge.
Sam
Tillis rocks
The stage manager came down from the
booth, assessed the situation and made the announcement that, basically, there
was nothing we could do and we were going to have to cancel the rest of the
performance.
After a few minutes, the audience pretty
much cleared out, even the friends and family who were there – and for whom I
felt especially bad, if only because I know them. We got out of costume, and
the cast kind of stood and sat around, trying not only to sort out our
feelings, but also what we should do. There was, of course, nothing. The
paramedics were taking excellent care of our friend (who has, in the meantime,
Facebooked from the ER about how the morphine was working well, so that’s a
relief), so there was nothing we could do in that regard. There was nothing to
be done in regard to the show or the audience, and we were all sort of dealing
with – well, not shock (because that’s far too strong a word), but the sudden
unexpectedness of it all. As with anything unexpected, we were all left to deal
with whatever the hell had just happened and why we weren’t doing the show we
were supposed to be in the middle of.
My
approximate reaction to the whole situation.
Even now, two hours later, and at a time
when I’d normally be home, I’m still sort of gobsmacked. To tell the truth, I
felt a little off at the beginning of the performance. We’d had our usual few
days off, so I’m sure that was the reason. It was little things; nothing major,
and probably stuff no one else would ever notice, but then one’s perception of
one’s own performance is always different from everyone else’s, isn’t it?
Anyway, we’re probably due for some
changes in the show Friday. I can’t imagine it’ll be business as usual, but it’ll
doubtless be interesting.
“The Magic of Live Theatre,” indeed.
“Let’s
go on with the show!”
