As a traveling performer I've seen and heard and experienced a lot of wacky stuff. But in over 20 years on the road, I'd never heard what was uttered amidst the audience the other day at a performance of "Tangle of Tales" at the Gaston County Public Library.
Heck, I've seen a stark-naked child walk across the stage during a performance. Puppeteer Donald Devet was manipulating a character in front of our puppet theatre that was perched atop a large street festival stage one hot summer day. From backstage I heard a collective sort of gasping chuckle from the audience. I peeked out to see a young boy, let's say 4 or 5ish. He was completely naked as he casually strolled from stage right to stage left, inches from Donald and his puppet, Bruno, the ugliest man in the world. But then again, this was in Asheville, so what the hay.
Then there was the time in New York City when Death caught on fire. We were at the Asphalt Green Theatre doing "The Nightingale." In the Emperor's dramatic dying scene, he is surrounded by lighted candles as Death approaches. Death was a marionette. As I deftly manipulated Death past the candles and towards the reclining Emperor, I realized that I wasn't deft enough. Smoke and a small yellow flame appeared around Death's shinbone. I heard a woman in the second row, with a thick Brooklyn accent, say "He's on fye-yah." Alarmed, but keeping a stage face, I dramatically stepped on Death in hopes of extinguishing the flame. I removed my foot to see fresh flames and more smoke as strings began burning in two and Death was left dangling by his elbow string, the only one that remained. The woman in the second row spoke a little louder this time, "he's still on fye-yah!" I threw theatre to the wind and stomped on Death and finally extinguished the flames. I dragged him by his one string upstage and out of site.
But let's get back to the scene at the Gaston County Library the other day. Now, I didn't hear this, but I was told about it after the performance by the librarian. It seems that as the 250 folks filed into the theatre, security was summoned after an exchange between two mothers that went like this:
"If your child sits in front of my child, I'm going
to kick your ass."
Can you believe that? The affronted woman went to the librarian to tell her what had happened. The unflappable librarian replied, "Well, I suggest you sit over there, then."
So, there you have it. Another one for the books. Or the blog. As someone told me years ago, gee whiz it's just a puppet show!
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2 comments:
I think you should add that Death Fire Bit to every act. Or at least make a character out of a working fire extinguisher in case of a repeat performance.
I'll see your flaming death and raise you one Lobster Flambe! I was operating blacklight puppets during a staged musical show. The number prior to the puppet number was a firey depiction of the fall of the city of Atlantis. There were sparklers that went off, then a waterfall of sorts and the audience was magically taken under the sea to where the blacklight fish all played. I was the first puppet out, with a large manta ray that flapped his "wings" and glided across the stage. Preset was a 7 foot tall lobster "crooner" who I performed in a musical number later in the act. I was sitting on the edge of the lobster's rolling stage cart to stay out of the way of the Atlantis dancers and techs who had to mop up the stage after the "flood." I was already in my blacklight hood and had the manta (who weighed about 20lbs and was about 5' across at the wings) strapped to my arm ready to go. The stage tech on the curtain controls was pointing at me. I was used to them playing tricks on me during the act, so I ignored him. He pointed more frantically. I got up to get ready to go onstage, and turned to see the lobster's foot, which was on fire. A stray spark from the pyro had jumped a fire curtain and ignited the supposedly fireproofed foam puppet's leg. By the time I could get the manta unstrapped and out of the way, the lobster was completely engulfed and the fire had jumped another fire curtain to ignite a singing mermaid perched atop a piano. After the fire was finally extinguished, there was nothing left of my poor lobster but one antenna and one shoe. The mermaid was badly charred, and the piano a sooty, soggy mess. My brother's comment when I told him about the fiasco? "Did anyone have any melted butter?" Brothers!
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