Road to Opening Week 4: Cynthia Dale On Rehearsals for A Little Night Music

I fell into an orchestra pit.

Just like the Coyote being chased by the Road Runner and ending up in a puff of smoke at the bottom of an endless canyon, I plunged into an empty black crevasse that was just as unforgiving.

It was in the Avon Theatre, the year was 1983 and the show was The Gondoliers.

On just our third day of rehearsals, the wonderful director/choreographer Brian Macdonald was blocking the opening number when I was tripped and lost my balance on a very steep raked stage. Ass over teakettle I somehow landed on my feet--and cracked my left heel completely in half.

In blinding pain, I swore like a truck driver as they hoisted me out and carted me off to the hospital.

It was an auspicious beginning to my time here, and one I think of often when we start working on stage for a new show.

This week marked our first days on stage. Thankfully I am still in one piece and I did not repeat my faulty debut.

I have been lucky enough to do many shows in the Avon Theatre at the Stratford Festival and I've done a lot of dancing in most of them. In Anything Goes, I called on Gabriel to blow his horn, in South Pacific I actually showered on stage and washed a man right out of my hair, and in My One And Only I tapped up a storm!

This year the dancing is obviously a lot less strenuous, but no less important. Stephen Sondheim's elegant 'Night Waltz' at the top of the show sets the story in motion. Our choreographer Christopher Bailey is having us waltz and move and sway to the sweeping score.

Moving from the rehearsal hall to the stage, things always shift and change. We now have the full crew with us. Our microphones are on to help the sound department start to work and people from the wardrobe department are on hand because we can now use our 'show shoes.'

The biggest adjustment though is the addition of the sets. Debra Hanson's evocative turn of the century set pieces are like a new scene partner. A bench, a ramp, a gate, even determining wing space for entrances and exits are all pieces of the puzzle that are to be discovered.

How things will all work together is up to Gary Griffin, our director. He is our alchemist.

There is also the joy of having our conductor extraordinaire, Franklin Brasz, lead us from his perch on the podium in the orchestra pit.

Standing on stage and feeling the sympatico between yourself and a wonderful conductor is like being lovers and feeling your hearts beat together. The rhythm and flow, pulse and life force of this music binds us.

The other addition to most of the orchestra pit now though, is a net.

I like to think it's in case a prop goes toppling in and lands on someone's head, say the oboeist's.

Hopefully it's not because they are worried about a certain actress taking an unexpected TRIP down memory lane.

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