Student Blog: Out of The Woods

Well. We wrapped up our two-week run of Into the Woods, and it was really something else. For many of the cast, this was their return to live, unmasked theater, and it was a joy to be there (nearly) every step of the way. Six night shows, one matinee, and one KCACTF briefing after months of rehearsal took a lot out of me, but it also gave me some incredibly valuable insights.

1. Stage managers show up early.

Stage managers show up early and stay late. Very late, in some cases. There were some nights, especially during tech, when we were there until after midnight. Being called in at 4:30 in the afternoon and staying until at least ten at night was a lot. But I began to get much better with my time management skills. Doing homework before rehearsal instead of chatting with friends in the lobby was a learning curve. And there were days when I did it in the early hours of the morning. But my educational and managerial work all got done, and done well.

2. Stage managers get fun keys. And the responsibilities that come with them.

Getting to have the keys to the kingdom was terrifically fun, until I'm packing up my things and remembering with a shock that I need to lock five doors upstairs: one with a physical key, four with a keycard. And as I'm tapping the keycard, I remember that I told my SM (who I've affectionately nicknamed "Boss") that I would lock everything in the basement as well. Off I go, down two flights of stairs, shutting the proscenium and backstage doors on the way, making sure the safeties are in the process of being put up and that the ghost light is on. Basement, great! Locked with a key, tap the keycard on the dressing and green room doors-one, two, three-and I'm headed back up the stairs, before I remember that I have to unplug, turn off, switch, and pull various other things in the pit, shop, and switchgear room.

3. Stage managers get a great workout, and then some.

I hustle up the stairs and double-check that someone put the safeties up. One is. I pull the safety tape across the proscenium, to prevent any well-meaning techies from falling into the pit tomorrow morning. Two. I look around for someone to help me, and wave in the direction of one of the other ASMs.

"Would you mind putting that safety up?" I ask, waving in the general direction of stage left. They nod, and I sigh a little, knowing that I could have done it myself just two weeks ago.

I would strongly advise you from dropping a fifty-pound stage weight on your dominant hand, it's miraculously not broken but still stiff even while I type. Here's a lesson in patience that I've learned the hard way; ask for help.

4. Stage managers have to manage.

I head into the audience and drop down next to the SM, who's running over the performance report and daily call for tomorrow. We fill each other in on what happened during the run, the two other ASMs giving insights where insight is needed on particular topics. Reminders for the cast are written down, notes for the crew are handed out, and I laugh a little as we finish putting the final touches on the emails that need to be sent out.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh," I say dryly as I watch the SM hit the 'send' button, "at least they don't have to get my line note emails anymore. One more thing they'd have to look over."

She rolls her eyes and scoops up her car keys. "Let's go home."

5. Stage managers are the unsung heroes of the show.

It's been so incredibly humbling to work as an assistant stage manager. I came into the process thinking they sat and communicated with the director and gave line notes. Maybe they would cue you if you were late to your entrance. There's so much more.

Keeping track of attendance, who's late, who's excused, who has a conflict, who has a class, tracking props, tracking set changes, tracking costume changes and quick changes, noting blocking and the blocking changes, checking (and double and triple-checking) countless kinds of paperwork, communicating with the director (and the sound techs, the light techs, the costume shop, the prop shop, the scenic director, the technical director, the movement coordinator, and the musical director) is a lot of work before and after the rehearsals, and that doesn't cover anything during the performances, making sure everyone is in places, ensuring that transitions are happening at the right time, communicating issues to the others over headset, and helping anyone backstage if they need it are all also essential responsibilities. That's not to mention the personal delegations and responsibilities that come with working with a cast of over twenty college students.

But it's over now, and I have a new respect for every single person that is not on the stage. Without anyone, actors would just be people saying words. The words would have meaning, sure, and the acting would be wonderful, but they'd be in the dark on an empty stage with no costumes, no props, and depending on the space, no mics for the audience to even hear them.

I'd better get moving, as I'm preparing to act in another show that opens in just a few weeks, waiting for the cast lists for the fall productions to come out, and getting ready for finals. It's a lot, but if I, an actor turned ASM for something as huge as Into the Woods, I should be able to handle the next three weeks. Right?