Anything that can go wrong will.
Murphy's Law. Everyone knows it. Unlike Cole's Law, which is mostly shredded cabbage.
We all have stories about disasters, but sometimes what goes wrong is unimaginable, and unforgettable. This is one of those. During a production at our local community theater.
One of the truisms about theater is that we write about ourselves, for ourselves. There's some truth to this, and there are many plays about performers. You're thinking of several already.
Moon Over Buffalo is such a work, about an aging 'romantic couple,' who have one perhaps last grand chance to impress someone influential.
Another common theme is that of The Inspector General. You know it, whether you realize it or not. Someone important's arrival is anticipated, someone who must be impressed, for one reason or another. But some bumbler arrives first and is mistaken for the important someone, with hilarious consequences. leading to the actual arrival of the important someone just as things have degenerated to their worst. Again, Moon Over Buffalo. A gag-a-minute door-slamming farce. Fun from start to finish.
This aging couple once had their faces on the cover of Life magazine, and had that cover glazed onto their formal china. A prized posession. Pieces of it on display above the make-up mirror in their dressing room. Vain?
The stage is set.
The action is rolling.
The audience is having a wonderful time.
The bumbler, mistaken for the awaited impressario, has found a costume for General George S. Patton, and is putting pieces of it on, including the gun belt. He loves the gun, and is waving it around, when it goes off. The concussion, even though it's a prop gun, knocks the china plate off the wall, and it breaks, horrifying the lead actor, playing the lead actor, but he must roll with the punches, because this man must leave impressed. That's what should happen.
Now, the china plate is actually pushed off the shelf from behind by a stagehand, using a hidden stick. The plates, one per performance, are greenware, which is unfinished pottery that hasn't been fully fired. It holds its shape, but shatters easily. Actually, it's more like it crumbles.
We never knew what would happen. Once, the plate just flew apart right there on the shelf, just from the stick poking it. Sometimes it would hit the make-up table, other times it would go straight to the floor. Sometimes it would shatter on the table, other times it would bounce. Sometimes it would flop around. Once in a while, it would refuse to break.
None of that really mattered, because the effect on the actor was the same, and the show moved on.
But this one time.
This one time.
This is it. No one who was there has ever forgotten this. Even Murphy would remember, and he's seen enough unexpected disasters to make up a law about them.
The gun goes off. The stick gets pushed. The plate flies vigorously off the shelf and turns head over heels twice in the air on its way to the table. The plate bounces off the front edge of the table, and, while turning twice more in the air on the way to the floor, also spins once in the sideways direction. The plate bounces again on the floor, flipping again and spinning again, lands again and begins to roll towards the actors, developing a wild wobble as it does. It can't possibly maintain its balance, but somehow it does. Sheer momentum. The plate rolls, quivering now, to the lower end of the fainting couch, turns unexpectedly upstage, visibly slowing down, and rolls along the side of the couch to the farthest corner, slowing all the while, and quivering all the while. Then it gracefully leans itself up against the leg of the couch, its motion down to just a shimmer, and comes to a stop.
Every eye in the building is glued to that plate.
The action of the play is forgotten. We are watching the plate. We can't help it.
Now, now that the plate has stopped demanding our attention, the lead actor must deliver his next line, and get us back on track. And he knows what is going to happen. And he has no choice.
Remember, a piece of his precious china has just been damaged by this buffoon playing with a prop that he shouldn't. He's outraged! He can't help it, he responds!
The plate is finally still. All eyes are on the plate. What we've just seen is unimaginable.
The actor says his line.
The line is, “DAMMIT!!!”
That's it. The audience loses it. They are convulsed with laughter. They are howling. The interruption to the action of the play has been compounded. The two actors on stage are biting their tongues, trying not to get caught up in the gale of hilarity, waiting for the chance to get the play back on track.
Another theater truism is that you should never work with children or dogs, because the audience will love them more than they love you, and pay them more attention.
We never expected to have that problem with a plate.
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