Steppenwolf Theatre Company Blog – Chicago Theater, World-Class Ensemble

As I sit here writing this in the dim light of the Garage Theatre, laptop balanced on my knee, I have to be careful that my legs aren’t sticking out too far into the backstage walkway — we’re currently about 15 minutes into a performance of The House Theatre of Chicago’s The Sparrow (presented at Steppenwolf as part of our Visiting Company Initiative), and my goal (especially in the absence of any grateful, gift-bestowing understudies) is to not trip any of the cast members who are constantly sprinting by my seat en route to one of the show’s numerous rapid exits or entrances. After last week’s embarrassing collision with an actress during a scene change, I’m trying (bolstered by the fear of being told to put on a skirt and go on in her knee-clutching place) to stay as far out of the way as possible.

Of all the issues I’ve addressed as a house manager in our Upstairs and Downstairs Theatres, I can safely say that tripping an actor has never been one of them (though I did recently entertain a few thoughts after Ian Barford schooled me at a game of ping pong). Patrons passing out, getting sick, falling, snoring, losing their purses, arguing with their neighbors, getting lost, drinking too much, burning incense in the lobby, bringing tickets for not only the wrong play, but the wrong theatre or season (keep in mind this list is a collection, not one unlucky person’s nightly saga) – these things I’ve dealt with. But making sure that I don’t collide with the talent backstage? During a performance in our larger theatres, where every show-supporting activity has a designated space, I rarely get any closer to that hallowed ground than the spacious and well-lit green room… and, even then, usually only briefly and with the passport of an actor-bound bouquet of flowers in hand.

In the intimate Garage Theatre, though, a single versatile room where the needs of a production combine with the available square footage to require the space to serve multiple purposes, the traditional boundaries found next door are either blurred or eliminated entirely. It’s through this doubling up of space that you can find the wardrobe supervisor ironing costumes next to the snack bar just before the lobby opens, or a patron resting a drink on a props table, or (more a testament to The House’s philosophy than to function) how actors can be found mingling with the audience on stage during pre-show and intermission.

It’s also how I find myself backstage at the moment — while my seat next to the main entrance had technically been in the lobby on the pre-show side of curtain, that shifted (even though I didn’t) as soon as I signaled to the stage manager that the house was now his. One flick of the light switch, and I was suddenly in the actors’ territory, every inch of what had been lobby now being used to travel behind the audience and between the thrust stage’s four entrance points, as well as to store and transport props, quick-change costumes, prepare magic tricks, practice gymnastics, and (hopefully) not trip over the house manager… who, looking at his stop watch, is realizing that it’s just a minute until intermission now, and that he should probably, with so many boundaries askew, put his laptop away before a patron asks to check their e-mail on it.

Until next time…

This entry was posted by Evan Hatfield on Wednesday, April 4th, 2007 at 2:12 pm and is filed under The Sparrow. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.