Do you know if the piano in the sitzprobe is recorded or if the pianist in the pit is playing it? Thank you!!
As far as I’ve know it’s recorded? I remember being shown the old Dutch piano in use in Hamburg anyway. It still had the cassette mechanism intact inside it, though they had long switched to other mediums.
But for all I know there might be productions doing it live. :)
January 2013: As Phantomoftheopera prepares to celebrate 25 years on Broadway, we have been reminiscing about our past work together ( X )
September 2015: Can you name the show? ( X )
September 2015: Fitting some new covers today! ( X )
July 2016: TBT to an original photo of one of the original Phantom New York curtains! Check out the headband on that stagehand! ( X )
January 2013: Got Phantom.... iweissinc is proud to have played a part in the last 25 years of the curtains rising thephantomoftheopera, here's to the next 25! ( X )
THE LAST PHANTOM MUST CLOSE AND TURN OFF THE LIGHTS
A glimpse behind the mask of opera singer Jørn Pedersen, one of the four Phantoms at Det Ny Teater in Copenhagen 2000-03.
MASQUERADE… PAPER FACES ON PARADE…
Tilting hat. Itching mask. Chafing shoes. But it might just work out today too – it usually does. Up on the lift. The mask allows the tiniest field of vision, but I’m handed a big book. Thank you Effi. The small truck-lookalike-lift with the soft back support is placed in position behind the grand staircase – the ”STAIRCASE!!!” – where the whole ensemble dance and sing in the grand opening number of Act 2. ”Maskebaaaal….”. There’s a jerk, and with an alarming speed I am lifted up to the staircase’s upper level, covered by the tallest man in the cast. In with my paunch and toes – if not you’ll be squeezed between the staircase and the truck. But I didn’t – this time. Thank you, Allan.
SKULL CHATTER
Red Death makes his entry (without a safety net, and there’s three metres down to the floor, so be sure to stand steady). Everybody trembles in horror. Or rather, simulates horror, as they’ve been throught this scene at least 200 times before. Every night, except Monday, and twice at Saturdays, for a couple of years. Yes, the surprise is simulated, but entertaining. Maybe they’re visioning themselves doing this 200 more times?
Red Death poses, waits for the cue, and moves with stiff legs and in a choreographed way, with the score in hand and the death skull on head, down the stairs. Exaggerated jaw movements to chat syncronized with the prerecorded tape which can be heard in the auditorium – if it plays. It does. Boy, my voice is good tonight…. Even better, the hat sits where it should, and there ARE steps where I set my foot. Most promising. It’s a grand evening indeed. The score is flunged towards manager André, and he actually cathc it. I can see his giggly face, which the audience cannot – luckilly…. But I keep a straight face (my note: he had actually written ”holdt masken” – held the mask – which means not to laugh. A double pun). Red Death points at Christine, summons her and rips her necklace off.
In the hollow death mask eyes one can see a nervous pair of eyes starts to search the floor for white marks. It looks coincidental when Red Death stands on the floor, with the arms crossed – but the crossed arms gives a clue to the director. ”Boom” – smoke and mist, and he’s gone. Or rather, gone through the floor on yet another lift. Now we’re all the way down in the cellars, underneath the stage floor. Smack – the floor is closing above our heads. The hat fell of, but I got through alive this time too…. Competent technicians and a gentle dresser awaits me, and frees me from the cloak, the hat and other loose items. Must hurry – the next scene, the graveyard scene with all it’s technical equipment and effects, is the next scene up, and it requires a new costume.
Time: a random performance between 2000 and 2004. Place: Det Ny Teater. Role: Phantom in ”Phantom of the Opera”.
But before Red Death the Phantom has appeared several times, and every time he has, in magical ways, enchanted Christine as well as dazzled the audience. Think of the scene where he and Christine, on a subterranial lake illuminated by thousands (105) of flickering candles (diodes), in moody mist (stage smoke) have gondoled their way to the big musical organ and ”Music of the Night”. Well, gondoled… Imitated a gondol would be a better description. Who are able to gondol when you stagger in half a boat on wheels, controlled by a technician with a remote control from Toys’r’us? OK, so it’s not quite true that the remote control is from a toy store. But it’s true that we more than once have had to ”wade” our way to the lair, because the boat would not go where we wanted to go – or go at all. It might be reasonable to walk on the water when you're Jesus, but not when you’re the Phantom. But a new remote control gave us less wade walks. Thank you, Tina.
REMEMBER TO TURN ON THE MUSICAL ORGAN
”You’re to play the Phantom, Jørn – here’s two books; one small and one big”. The small one is the score. What about the thick one? Oh, that’s the technical manual…
Of course there’s not such a book, but it SHOULD be, because the Phantom’s many functions almost demands that you have a minor in directing. ”Remember to turn on the musical organ before you sing – and remember to turn it off again.”. ”Remember that the switch on the candle turns backwards, and please don’t aim at Tomas (Ambt Kofod). That goes for the death skull in the graveyard scene as well. Peter (Jorde) almost hit a technician yesterday!”. ”Please don’t walk on the floor at the spots where the big candelabras comes up – no, not even when you’re running. The result can be unpleasant”. The list is endless…..
But are there no time for reflections for technician van Thomsen? Sure there are. But not in the most comfortable ways, although it’s warm and safe. At least warm…. I could mention the gliding ride on the angel, but it was the Mausoleum scene we talked about. Christine sings a heartbreaking musical hit next to her father’s grave. But she’s not alone – oh no, she’s supervised by the omnipresent Phantom. Where he is? The cross, the cross…. Covered by the darkness, the Phantom is dressed in a dark cloak and fedora, armed with a death skull stick. But this frightening hero has to be packed into the cross by a technician, like a mother packs the bed linens around her child at night. With one big exception – it’s not a cosy bed, but a hollow cross high above the floor. The technician is there to make sure the Phantom is in place, covered by the cloak. She is then supposed to say ”Are you comfortable?”. If the reply is ”NOOOO!”, she knows that everything is OK and set. Thank you, Louise. And then, then you stand there. You stand there a long time. What do you do inside a cross?
ARE THE WINGS OF CREATIVITY CLIPPED?
You can stand there and hum, to keep the voice warm and flexible. You can stand there and reflect about how it is to be a brick, a tiny brick, in such a big and technical show. Considering if it’s not limiting the creative developement than you yourself has to turn off and on the light. If it’s not mood breaking to be instructed to stand on a very exact spot to prevent falling through a trap door – or rather to MANAGE to fall through that trap door. Is it frustrating to be subdued all the technical limitations and all the instructions – not to mention has to lip sync ones own voice? Ponder, ponder… Uhm - no, not really. It’s actually not too big a difference between an average opera performance and ”Phantom of the Opera”. Not when comparing the limitations. All theatre is about finding the spotlight – or else you’re not being seen. If you yourself has to turn on the light, or count 3-4 before you sing – what’s the big difference? The click-track, which the conductor sometime conducts after, is probably the biggest limitation. But you get used to it. Even within a metronomic bar the artistic expression comes alive. We live, we surpress, we fight, we survive and we live again. When, where and what are always the elements we have to cope with – before we consider how.
What conditions does the art have in a controlled technical environment, where a standarized team of brainwashed dummies travels the world with ONE single purpose – to turn the artists into trained monkeys? Where a resident director supervise the performance every night, and where the stream of yellow post-it notes on the mirror never stops? Feel, feel, think, think…. It actually can. Obviously. Thank you Susanne. The life and the art really comes alive when there’s limitations. The limitations makes the creativity flow out every night, through the cables, round the cogwheels, through the bars, over the orchestra pit and into the audience. And the audience is responsive. There’s small nuances every night which is perceived by the co-players as well as the audience. It’s different every time. Thank you, Andrew Lloyd-Webber.
Shoot! I was almost forgetting my cue… It’s time for the Phantom to emerge from the cross. 3-4… ”Wandering child…”. Down the two steps. Aim. ”Boom, flash, boom!!”.
And remember to turn of the light when you leave.
(Jørn Pedersen was originally an understudy for the role of the Phantom, but became an alternate in 2002. He got to perform the title role more than 60 times. Judging from the photo he used Flemming Enevold’s mask. He also played Firmin, Lefèvre and Passarino. The article above was published in a Danish theatre magazine which I alas hasn’t been able to find in my stash)
Do you have any idea how that staph in the graveyard scene works? sorry if it was in the FAQ and i missed it
I don’t know, to be honest. I know the thing has to be charged in between performances, that the Phantom has to turn on a switch in order to use it, and that it is possible to tune it up or down, shooting big or small flashes of fire. But exactly what compound is used to create the fireballs… I dunno. Anyone?
9 peculiar production quirks in the replica productions (*) :
The original West End production had skulls on the large Mausoleum cross, as a nod to Leroux’s description of the scene. This was only done for the original West End production, as far as I know.
The early Japanese productions had a combination of low stages and very strict regulations, and didn’t have a lowering Golden Angel in the proscenium. Instead the Phantom sang his curse from the Pegasus sculpture on the rooftop.
The Stockholm production didn’t have the grave in the Mausoleum scene. Apparently due to the stage being low, so the bridge was placed lower. Copenhagen inherited this set, and didn’t add the grave though they definitely would have enough space for it.
Original Firmin, John Savident, liked to skip the jacket for the managers scene. This is something current Broadway Firmin - Tim Jerome - also does from time to time.
The current Hamburg production doesn’t have the dummies in the upper staircase. No-one quite knows why they’re left out.
The Theatre an de Wien in Vienna had to install the proscenium a bit differently. The side sculptures was installed closer to the stage, while the corner sculptures and Golden Angel was placed further out. I believe they also had to alternate the exact combo for the Raimund Theater?
The original Stockholm production didn’t have the side sculptures in the proscenium, but a wreath. This was another Stockholm detail that made it into the Copenhagen production.
The Viennese chandelier was circular.
The original Australian production and tour had collapsable candelabras in a colums shape without the usual triangular frame. The same candelabras are currently used in the World Tour. I believe the early US tour also did something similar. At least they had the column look.
(*) Obviously leaving out the Vegas production and the RAH concert, as neither were strickt replica productions though they used Maria Bjørnson’s set and costume design as basis.