For those of you just tuning in, I’m in the middle of a multi-part blog series called Project: Introspection. Previously, I discussed the importance of taking the initiative. Read on for the next part in the series.

Rules are created for a variety of reasons but ostensibly to protect people from harm.  Some rules are made to be broken, some can be bent a little, and some you don’t break at all unless you’re a moron.  In a theatrical setting, one learns quickly to which type each rule belongs.  You don’t eat while in costume, but maybe sneak a cookie when nobody’s watching.  No cell phones can ring at rehearsal, but inevitably, someone’s phone rings.  

There have been several instances in the past where I’ve learned the benefits to following rules and reaped the penalities for breaking rules. 

During the musical productions at college, one of the steadfast rules was “No talking backstage.”  Now, this is a rule for every show (and for good reason!), but it holds especially so for musicals since we used microphones to allow the actors to project over the orchestra.  Some actors’ mikes were almost superficial as they could project their voices very far, but others could barely be heard above the music.  At any rate, there was no guarantee that the microphone would be turned off when you exited the stage.

The resulting rule:  No talking backstage, because your mike might be on.

One particular instance comes to mind during a production of a popular musical.  The lead actor was kind of a douche.  He was perfectly nice to your face, but when your back was turned, he said all sorts of horrible things.  He also blatantly sexually harassed castmates.  Anyway, those are rules that he broke, but in this particular story, he didn’t break the rules.  He did, however, sing the opening number completely off-key.

One of the other actors backstage couldn’t believe how badly the song was butchered.  ”That fucktard sang the whole song off-key!” he exclaimed.

It later turned out that his microphone had been broadcasting, as he was in the upcoming number, and the entire audience heard the comment.

Oops?

Another rule that I’ve learned about theatre, especially when it comes to special effects on stage:  always be honest about your physical situation when your safety is on the line.  Are you allergic to latex?  Paint?  Have you had your tetanus shots?  All kinds of things can go wrong in the scene shop.

One show several years ago required that the TD build a platform to lower an actress from a balcony down to the floor of the stage.  

“How much do you weigh?” he asked her.

“Uhh… I weigh, uh… 120.”

He nodded and wrote down her weight and walked away.  Fortunately for the girl, the costume designer (you might remember Fred) overheard the conversation.  He went to the TD and said, “There’s no way that girl is 120, Dave.  She’s probably closer to 160, 170.”

They both went back to her and she fessed up.  She weighed closer to 160 than 170, but that’s still 40 lbs over the 120 figure that she gave to the TD.

Some of you may have figured out why that’s a big deal, but for those of you who didn’t, let me explain.  When you lower anything using a pu lley, you have to have a counterweight to keep whatever you’re lowering or raising from crashing to the floor, or to keep you from flying up off the floor.  This girl claimed she weighed 120 lbs.  Had the TD taken that figure and set up the platform accordingly, she would’ve been 40 lbs over the counterweight and fallen sixteen feet to the ground, possibly seriously injured herself, and opened the theatre up to a massive lawsuit.

So the next time the costume designer asked me how much I weighed, I applied the rule I learned:  be honest.

Some rules can be broken.  Some can’t.  The lesson you should walk away from after training in theatre is knowing how to tell the difference.