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The show that the audience see is the result of a large amount
of work by a lot of people - the cast you see, and
the crew you don't (usually). Here's what some of them are
thinking, as the call comes over the show relay:
Beginners for Act I please. Beginners for Act I.
Helena Say
was a Biomedical Sciences Fresher and "Tallulah" in Bugsy Malone 2007
One month of costume fittings, three-day-a-week rehearsals, learning lines,
flogging tickets, putting up posters, drunken socials and sleepless
nights...and here it was at last. As I sat in the dressing room smothering
myself in unreasonable quantities of eyeliner and oompa-loompa-esque
foundation, there were so many thoughts going through my head - "Will it all go
smoothly tonight?", "Oh No! What's my first line?!" and "Why oh why did you
audition for a principle role?!". I slid into my almost indecent dress, brushed
my hair a few thousand times, tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and
put on a smiling face.
The show started, and everyone was onstage apart from a few poor souls who were
left waiting nervously. Whilst most of the cast were shining in front of the
audience, we had to wait in the dressing rooms with pounding hearts, until our
names were finally called. "Tallulah to the balcony please, Tallulah to the
balcony." "Ooh! That's me!" I race up the stairs, wait nervously behind the
curtain, give my hair a final flick and then then I'm in the spotlight and
saying the lines I've rehearsed a dozen times before. I don't have to think
about it, somehow they just flow from my mouth. I walk down the stairs trying
to look as graceful as possible and return to the dressing rooms, joking around
with everyone but really still panicking about my song in Act II.
Act II begins, and I try my best to cover up my shaking hands and stay frozen
whilst the audience come in. My mind is racing, "Oh God, Oh God, I'm going to
forget the words. I know I am...hang on, what are the words? Argh! OK, relax,
just breathe...remember to dance with that guy over there, don't trip over,
hold the mic near your mouth..." The music starts, and I snap into character.
Inside I am terrified Helena trying to pull back her shoulders, remember the
words and cover up her shaking limbs. But outside I am sassy, confident
Tallulah, Fat Sam's moll who always gets what she wants. The music ends. It
seemed to be over in a flash. "That wasn't too bad actually. I want to do it
again now!" I am still shaking from the adrenaline. Just a few more scenes and
then the grand finale. "Will my dress get caught on Kim's buttons again? I hope
not."
The show ends, and everyone is on such a high. The sense of achievement you get
is incredible, and the buzz of being in the spotlight is like nothing else on
Earth. Sure, shows are a lot of work, and can be stressful...But was it all
worth it? You Bet!
Matt Helmers
joined MUGSS in September 2005, gaining principal parts in both Rock Trial and Utopia
Ltd. When not being a rock star or a drill sargeant, he's studying English Literature, Theology,
Spanish and Philosophy in Manchester on his year abroad from Arizona State University...or as Sam put
it "somewhere in America."
Sitting in the improvised dressing room which actually
appeared to be more of a dance studio with full length
mirrors covering one entire wall, slowly strapping myself
into the conglomeration of leather and metal and spandex
that was lovingly referred to as my "costume" I suddenly
realized that this was it: a few weeks of whirlwind
rehearsing, pushing my voice to dig and scoop in just the
right "rock" manner, trying desperately to remember the
bits of choreography thrown at me a few weeks before and
praying to God that I'd hit that incredibly high note in
the final song — all of it was for these
performances, this night.
I did the same warm-ups I'd done a hundred times before for
all those other shows, but here I was, thousands of miles
away from any venue I'd ever played, jumping around the
hallways of the RNCM and hoping that Manchester would like
me. It's odd that all the worrying comes when I'm doing my
hair or putting on my shoes, and not when I'm singing in
front of a hundred people. When I'm onstage with the lights
and the crowd and the chorus behind me nothing can go wrong,
but when I'm backstage with cast members putting the final
touches of spray-on glitter to my trousers — well then
it seems like nothing will go right.
On stage I'm Edwin, cocky, self-assured jerk who's the lead
singer of "The Unfaithful" and being sued by the gold-digger
Angelina — but offstage I'm just terrified Matt trying
to make enough jokes to cover up the shaking hands and
trying to remember if it's three or four beats before my
entrance in the tango number. But then the call comes and
the musing is done. The next thing I know the techies are
herding me towards the door, shoving a radio-microphone in
my hands and telling me to break a leg — half an hour later
I stumble back off stage.
By: Malcolm Grey
Physics Lecturer and MUGSS Chorus Member
There's something exciting about the difference between the backstage
darkness before the curtains open, and the smart front that the audience
see.
It's great to see all that mess of wood, weights, cables and, good grief,
there
are funny people moving around here in black gear wielding torches and
coarse carpentry implements. Do they know what they're doing any better than
we do?
Nerves, what nerves? A MUGSS performance is so much more scary than
giving lectures. Partly, this is because the show is a team effort, and I
want it to go well for everyone else. Also, the audience pay; I'm
forgetting,
so do students now. Perhaps I should give lectures in a MUGSS costume; that
would be value for money!
Just a few minor worries about going on stage: surely this red and gold
gown thing is from 'The Mikado', rather than 'Princess Ida'? Will I trip
over it? Hope they've stuck enough powder on my head to stop me looking like
an
overgrown lightbulb. Please, please let me get that trumpet somewhere near
my mouth before the music starts. Oh, and no fire alarms, like the one
that went off in Pirates' year.
Just time to wave at people in the wings and discuss tonight's rendition
of the overture (in the quietest possible whisper, of course). Drat, now
where's that trumpet.....
By: Frankie Still
Fresher and 'Mad Margaret' in Ruddigore 2005
I'd be lying if I said I felt nervous when I heard the beginners calls
during Ruddigore. My primary concern was finding my way through hordes
of chattering bridesmaids making their way to the stage, and squeezing
past villagers fighting over mirror space to try and get to the
sanctuary of the make-up room. Every night I panicked that they
wouldnt be able to complete the change in time, but every night the
two make up artistes (yes, two, that surely qualifies me as a diva!)
managed to transform me into Mad Margaret through the use of painful
backcombing techniques, half a can of hairspray, and artily applied
splodges of mud all over my face.
Mad Margaret doesn't appear onstage until 45 minutes into Act 1, and so
when I was finally called I was nervous but raring to go after
catching the infectious excitement of the chorus every time they came
off stage. I made my way to the props table where the props man smiled
at me reassuringly and handed me a photo which I shoved down my top.
On stage it would be removed with a flourish and used in the throes of
an emotional song. I then prowled around backstage, stealing nervous
sips from the water bottles of unsuspecting crew-types, patting at my
hair to make sure that it was still standing on end and constantly
checking that my skirt wasn't tucked into my knickers. I waited in the
wings at the foot of the stairs I made my entrance from. The song
before mine ended; Dick Dauntless exited the stage in such anguish
that he almost knocked me over as he careered down the stairs. The
lights went down and the introduction to my song started. I took a
deep breath and began to climb the stairs.
If you are interested in joining MUGSS as
cast,
crew or
Orchestra
then please come along to the
next MUGSS rehearsal.
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