In a professional Broadway style musical like Mamma Mia, Cats, or The Producers, the musicians are traditionally only heard and not seen, for they are playing in a properly located orchestra pit that is roomy and well-ventilated. The conductor can see the actors on the stage as well as the musicians below it, and can easily give cues and keep the musical part of the show running smoothly. New York, London, and many other cities around the world boast theaters, playhouses, and other venues that are designed and built specifically for such performances.
However, in community theater, many times the production is in a school, church, or community all-purpose room where there is no pit, so the producer is forced to make a choice:
1) sequester the musicians in another area so far out of the way that they can barely be heard, or
2) place them in full view of the audience, sometimes mere feet from the first row of seats.
Audience enjoyment is the first priority, of course, but I’ve encountered a number of unusual scenarios from the musician’s perspective. Some were good and some were bad, but all were quite memorable.
Chess
“Sardine city”
Everyone involved in a musical must hear the action on stage and the accompanying music. If not, the production could encounter a massive train wreck. For this show, the producers decided that it was more important for the orchestra to be hidden than to be heard.
We were stationed on the same level as the stage, but behind the main area in a space that felt like a large sardine can. It was about 50 feet long by 15 feet wide, and into that we squeezed a drum set, an upright piano, two electronic keyboards, approximately ten musicians and their instruments and music stands, plus all the equipment and wiring for various electronic gadgets. We were separated from the actors by not one, but TWO sets of curtains, with only a couple of audio monitors to let us hear them. I sincerely don’t know how they heard us; I think they just told us to play louder. Wow.
42ND Street
“The subterranean pit”
There are basically two types of orchestra pits: The mechanical platform that can be raised and lowered in front of the stage, and the physical room located directly below the stage. Of all the mechanical pits I’ve played in, this one felt like the deepest, since it was quite narrow and, as usual, the only illumination came from our music stand lights. Oh, it was lots of fun and the show was great, but it felt like we were playing in man-made sinkhole.
Also, as the theater was extremely old, there was no heat, which was brutal because it was not summer. So not only did the musicians wallow in the murky depths, but the entire cast and crew suffered through chilly rehearsals; the handful of space heaters around the theater helped only marginally. I don’t remember how we got through the production, but I’m guessing that by the time the audience settled in for a performance, there was enough natural body heat to warm the theater.
Guys and Dolls
“Part of the show, but not really”
For this show (great music and story), we were told that we’d be playing on stage, not quite front and center. It was more like rear and center. The cast had built a small raised platform on the main stage, complete with steps, upon which the two dance numbers were to be performed. The musicians were to be housed underneath this wooden contraption. Joy.
It wasn’t that bad, really, once I got used to it. The only thing that made me nervous was when the girls were up there doing their kick-line, and every time those feet came down, a light sheen of dust and wood particles rained down upon us. It was like being in a coal mine with a bunch of little explosions from above.
Additionally, we had to enter this cave through the back, because they had attached a scrim to the front. This had the effect of looking through approximately 40 square feet of thin, dark gauze. The audience could still see us relatively clearly, so in addition to the traditional rules of dressing darkly, the musicians were to dress in character (generic 1950s gambler) in order to “become part of the set.” That was the cool part.
Camelot
“Shadowy corners”
Ideally, the actors should always face the audience and project their lines for the best performance. But when you are singing and need to get cues from the music director, what do you do when he’s all the way to one side, off the stage? You can’t turn your head—that’s an unprofessional no-no—so you just have to know the timing and be aware of any musical cues. Being on stage, but way off to the side, I felt for the actors and their predicament.
The orchestra was situated on one corner of the stage, surrounded by four-foot-high sections of black cloth that were held up by wooden posts, and we were facing the director, or in this case, stage right. The production was in a lecture hall, so the lighting was not optimal for a musical; we could barely see the director, as he was all but hidden in the shadows. Again, this was an instance of someone deciding that it was more important to hide the musicians than to allow eye contact between actors and the director. However, we were comfortable and everyone made the production a success, and that’s what counts.
Thoroughly Modern Millie
“What’s the forecast?”
Similar to the Camelot story above, the musicians were stuffed into a small area on one side of the stage. This time, however, we were separated from the actors by tall wooden partitions built by the crew, with a few gaps in between. So, both the audience and the actors could hear us just fine, and luckily, each member of this cast was fitted with stage microphones, so with a help of a high-quality speaker, we could hear them, too.
The unique situation here was the fact that this was an outdoor theater, so we were at the mercy of the weather. And yes, we did get rained out a few times during the month. There was even one day of hail. Despite this risk and my 45-minute drive, this turned into one of my all-time favorite shows. You just can’t beat 1920s jazz!
Brigadoon
(sniff, sniff) “What IS this stuff?”
There are times when you’re in the pit playing, listening, or watching, and something unexpected occurs on stage. Those are the truly fun stories!
If you were brought up by moderately liberal parents who allowed you to choose your own breakfast cereals as a kid, many of you are certainly as familiar with Captain Crunch as I was. Cast you mind back to the sugary vanilla taste, and remember how you ate bowls full of the stuff before heading off to school. Well, that’s the exact aroma I smelled when they cranked up the fog machine for this show.
Most stage productions use a smoke/fog machine for dream sequences or other ethereal scenes, and this stuff was both sweet and pungent as it swirled into the pit like a slow, misty avalanche. I could barely see the music in front of my face for the roiling, white vapor that seemed to fill the entire front half of the theater. Luckily, I didn’t have to play for that scene, but it did make me want to rush out and get a shopping cart full of Crunch Berries!
Pit musicians, please share your community pit orchestra stories:
What was your favorite show? Least favorite? Most unusual? Toughest music?