Evan’s Bedside Table

We had an automation fault yesterday during the show. It doesn’t happen often at Dear Evan Hansen, but this time it was on the stage left disc track. When the piece faults, it stops. Immediately. You know how we wear seatbelts so we’re not thrown from the car? Props do not always wear “seatbelts” onstage, so as you can imagine, some items were thrown from the disc.

This sort of stop wasn’t the worst sort of stop, but we don’t like any show stop. It has taken millions of dollars and thousands of hours of work to be at a point where we can make you pay good money to suspend your disbelief for two hours and forty five minutes while we tell you a story. We, the stage hands, don’t want to be seen.. We really, really don’t want to be seen. Alas, sometimes it is unavoidable and we take to the stage. It’s ALWAYS awkward…we’re trying to pretend that nothing happened, like we’re invisible, or worse, like the clean up is somehow choreographed. The audience has no idea what to do, but there’s always that one person, probably a former aspiring actor, who decides to be “nice” and start applause for the stage hands. That’s sweet, it really is. However, it also makes my nervous response of laughter set in…More on that later…

When the prop team (Carlos, our IATSE Local 11 Partners Jackie and Tommy, and me) walked onstage last night to pick up the pieces of the Evan bedside table and lamp, the audience clapped and I smiled. It doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, I noticed. Everyone moved with observant efficiency and while the chaos created by the unexpected fault was around for a moment, we moved through it with experienced efficiency. Team Props cleared the pieces and then the carpenters reset and rechecked automation. Jackie and the house head carpenter Chris repaired the broken lamp, stage management, lighting and the conductor wrangled the cast and figured out the plan for restarting. The show was actually stopped for seven minutes, but it always feels like a lifetime for me. I guessed twenty and was surprised when I read the show report later. We restarted and the audience came along for the ride, buckled in to feel. It was a great show and the brown gaff tape lamp held up, bless its heart. If we can get the audience back, performances that stop are some of the best…once they get going again. Maybe because in the chaos, the audience is reminded that anything can happen.

And anything is possible, but challenges come up everyday. When your performance stops for a bit, it’s important to remember:

1. Know when to go for and/or accept help.
2. Teamwork really does make the dreamwork.
3. You have to pick up the broken pieces before you can move forward.
4. Being prepared makes the unexpected mishaps of life a piece of cake….or in my case, zucchini bread.