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How to Succeed in the Chorus Without Really
Trying - Part 2
27th August 2008
By Ms
Cassandra Trumpington
How to Succeed
in the Chorus Without Really Trying
Or
A Guide for
the Amateur and Professional Chorister, with special reference to
The Chorister’s Code
Contents
3.
Props to you! Parasols,porridge and pitfalls
·
Introduction
·
The highly-prized Prop
·
The less than desirable Prop
·
A salutary anecdote: Sometimes it’s just a question of where you
stand
4. Chorus Acting – An ancient tradition
·
Introduction
·
Rhubarb, rhubarb! The silent conversation
·
What he said! Facial Expression Fundamentals
·
Staging Basics for the Male Chorister
·
Staging Basics for the Female Chorister
3. Props to you! Parasols, porridge and pitfalls
Introduction
The wise
Chorister will take a look in advance at any designs that might be
available or at the props table if there is one, to get an idea of
what props the Chorus might be using. It’s vital to avoid right
from the get-go being lumped with a prop that is heavy or
uncomfortable, that makes you look physically awkward, or is somehow
just vaguely embarrassing in a way you can’t quite identify.
The highly-prized Prop
·
Children
– contrary to the old showbiz adage, kids make great props.
Directors think they’re cute so they’ll usually have a nice position
on the set, as will you, and they allow a lovely range of dramatic
interactions, all the way from “peasant parent bravely shields
weeping child from brutal oppressors” through to “aristocratic
parent indulgently dandles charming child on knee”. Works equally
well either way. So, if you ever get an offer to be in anything like
Annie, Oliver, Mary Poppins, The King and I,
The Sound of Music, The Music Man, The Secret Garden or
Annie Get Your Gun don’t hesitate, take it!
·
Dogs
– see above.
·
Guns & Swords
– very sexy props indeed. Difficult for women to get these
generally. (Exception – Annie Get Your Gun (wow, that show’s got
everything!); Carmen gypsies - almost any French opera
in fact.)
·
Parasols
–
an outstanding prop; most women look peculiarly beguiling
whilst in the act of opening or closing their parasol (go figure);
they frame the face nicely and if a good colour, will cast a
pleasant glow on the skin (not green ones obviously). Difficult for
men to get these generally (Exception: the Gay version of HMS
Pinafore; operas by Berg - almost any 20th century
opera in fact.)
·
Bouquets and
garlands –
yes fine –
usually mean you will have some nice interaction with a Principal;
bestowing, draping of etc.
·
Faux fish –
often pleasingly accompanied by cleavers; excellent opportunities
for hearty fishwife acting, and spontaneous homages to Monty
Python’s fish dance. (Ref. Benjamin Britten’s opera Peter Grimes)
·
Spears/pikes/tridents/staffs of office
– a little
clichéd, but all still “give good Chorus”; hands nicely occupied;
can be leaned upon in any number of manners, from the interrogatory
to the dubious, as well as offering useful support during the
witching hour of the second Piano Dress.
·
Bowls of tepid
porridge
–
surprisingly, an unqualified Yes. Hours of fun in
performance, with unlimited opportunities both for overacting and
persecution of irritating fellow Choristers in ways you never
thought possible. Plus free chow.
Footnote: It’s
a wonder we weren’t sacked.
The less than desirable Prop – here are just a few that spring to
mind…
·
Flags
– too awkward, too heavy, and will attract a constant stream of
irritating notes from the Director pertaining to: elevation;
billowing; draping; folding; now you’re obscuring the tenor for
goodness’ sake etc.
·
Trays of
drinks
– a no brainer this one. Heavy, cumbersome, liable to cause
embarrassing interruptions to the drama when glasses crash to the
stage. Klutziness ensues when directed to kneel and stand while
holding a heavily laden tray whilst wearing 18th century
dress. This also means that that you have been given the lousy role
of servant, while most of your fellows are swanning around in
evening gear and tiaras – indicating a serious lack of attention in
the early rehearsals, when you should have been actively charming
your Director and displaying your abilities aristocratical. In
fact, shame on you, just hush up, carry your tray and do better next
time.
Footnote**:
You will also become a convenient dumping ground for any minor props
that other Choristers are sick of holding.
·
Tumbrils
–
don’t be seduced by the gory allure of the tumbril during
rehearsals. Tumbrils are inevitably hideously awkward to manoeuvre,
and when floor length dresses, peasant children in bare feet, and
weighty corpses are added at the first piano dress, it will be
you that loses your head.
Footnote: see
above**.
·
Machinery –
e.g. tractors, anything on wheels in fact.
Such props, in connection with steeply raked stages, and orchestra
pits with nothing but a ragged fishing net across them, are scary.
Trust me on this one folks. Let’s just say there was once some
unpleasantness in a touring show of Postman Pat involving an
unlicenced performer, a ride-on-mower masquerading as a tractor, a
remote-control cat and several innocent little children, who, once
so full of hope, were given a harsh lesson in momentum, gravity and
waiting periods in their local Emergency Dept.
·
Bead necklaces
–
alright, granted these are merely personal props, but they’re worth
a special mention. (Guys, don’t skip this bit – you think this
could never happen to you? Pippin, Tommy, Hair,
Godspell, Sweet Charity. That’s right – read on fellas).
Strings of beads are a complete nightmare as obviously they can and
will break. The bead break scenario will be something like
this: main character hovers on the brink, about to make a life
changing decision; the whole show has been leading up to this moment
– the chorus freezes; the audience holds its breath; the stage is in
blackness as LX dim to a tight focus on the singer’s agonized
expression; the atmosphere is palpable – and - Cue bead break
– beads scatter devastatingly, deafeningly and for a long, long,
long time….across the stage, down into the pit, into the upturned
mouths of tubas, down the necks of the bassoons and along the
aisles. Enough said.
Or ponder this
dear Chorister. Scenario: Two singers, each wearing several long
loops of beads. The action demands that they go into a clinch, each
passionately clinging to the other. They finally end the embrace
and slowly begin to part. But now their bead necklaces are now
hopelessly and profoundly entangled. As they continue to sing and
act, they try to surreptiously disentangle them – ha! Finally, they
realise there’s only one way out…and – Cue bead break……(I
might add that I know this through bitter personal experience, in a
professional production many years ago - the scars linger even
now.)
·
How to avoid
the undesirable prop –
If a dreadful
prop is thrust upon you in an unguarded moment, there are steps you
can take. The most effective method (and I believe, the most
traditional) is to consistently forget to bring the offending prop
on with you during rehearsals. Eventually the Director will find
this so irritating that they’ll give it to someone else. Otherwise,
if it’s even remotely plausible, complain that the prop is: too
heavy; you have a bad back; it’s obstructing the upstage OP entries;
you’re allergic to the paint; it nearly disembowelled an adjacent
slavegirl. If none of this works, carry on cheerfully for the
remaining rehearsals, and then just never bring it on in
performance.
A salutary
anecdote: Sometimes it’s just a question of where you stand
A fine example
of the undesirable prop exists in a production of Verdi’s scottish
opera, presented some years ago by one of Australia’s leading opera
companies. You might recall that in the scottish play, Birnam Wood
seems to come to life – a very poor omen for M****th. In this
production, a bevy of real pine Chrissie trees was used to
create the perambulating woods. Obviously the trees were
cumbersome, prickly, sticky with sap, and were horribly awkward to
hold. The experienced Chorister knew this, and when the
scene was first rehearsed, volunteered enthusiastically to be placed
at the front of the stage.
Footnote: not
usual Chorister behaviour. Exception: See Footlight Fannies.
The staging
was such that the trees were drip-fed onto the stage from the
downstage OP corner, with those in the downstage line receiving the
trees and then passing them back to the assorted soldiers and
villagers behind them. Of course, instead of keeping a tree for
themselves, those in front generously continued to pass trees back
until there were none left. All was lovely downstage, and pretty
peachy midstage too, while upstage 7 or 8 luckless Choristers were
left wrangling 30 unwieldy, sticky trees, incurring sundry abrasions
and an interesting variety of pine needle-induced eye injuries.
Footnote: It’s
a wonder we weren’t sacked.
4.
Chorus Acting
– An ancient tradition
Introduction
Sadly,
Choristers receive precious little direction and consequently they
have, over the past 400 years or so, established an unbroken
tradition of Chorus Acting, still actively employed today.
Chorus Acting is characterised by a handful of basic
techniques, which, when used creatively and with a view to variety,
will get the Chorister through most shows. Once you feel you’ve got
a grip on these, you may want to go along to any mainstage opera or
music theatre performance in Australia, where you’ll be able to see
them applied by seasoned professional Choristers.
There are some
differences between male and female chorus techniques, see below for
details.
Rhubarb, Rhubarb!The silent conversation
A fundamental
for any Chorister. Age and class of chorus character is
immaterial. Working in small groups, nod and smile to fellow
Choristers, look across occasionally, but not too often, at
the nearest Principal character and smile/grimace as needed. It’s
important that all the members of a particular group appear to be
talking at the same time i.e. no-one is listening to anyone
else.
Please don’t
question this – it’s possibly the most time-honoured technique of
the Chorus Acting tradition. The silent words mouthed are
open to choice, and need not, in fact, be limited to repeated
“rhubarbs”.
What he said! Facial Expression Fundamentals
Through no
fault of their own (lack of rehearsal time and no private study –
see notes on the Chorister’s Code) the chorus will very often
have not the faintest idea what is going on in a scene, or what
characters the Principals are meant to be playing, and so will be at
a loss as to how to react. This is particularly, but not
exclusively, true when the show is in a foreign language (that’s
most operas, of course).
Generally the
Chorister can manage quite nicely by gleaning meaning from the
context and by simply adopting the facial expression of the nearest
Principal – if they look happy, you look happy and so on. And
occasionally the orchestra will also provide useful clues.
The truth is
that you can’t really go too far wrong - the emotional range of the
Chorister need go no further than as follows:
Happy
– with variations – peaceful/victorious/sexy
Sad
– with variations – warring/vanquished/bereaved
Astonished
– with variations – frightened/delighted/horrified/scandalised
“Neutral
Chorus”
- When
context, action and orchestra leave you none the wiser, you can
always fall back on “Neutral Chorus”. This facial expression relies
on giving rapt attention to the Principal singing, the eyes a little
widened, the head at a slight angle expressing fascination, the
mouth in a kind of Mona Lisa – neither smiling nor frowning,
but looking like at any moment you will burst out laughing – or
sobbing. The audience, which has probably read the synopsis, will
do the rest.
Footnote: A
word of warning. While the practise of simply adopting the
expression of the nearest Principal works in almost all situations,
please be mindful that exceptions do apply e.g. pillages, murders
and mad scenes. If you can see buckets of blood and an excess of
hysterical spittle around you, you may very well be in such a scene
and might need to consult the libretto to find out if you are “with
‘em or agin ‘em”. (You could also consider asking the Director, but
would risk violation of the Chorister’s Code by so doing.)
Staging Basics for the Male Chorister
·
The Hearty Hand on the Shoulder – equally useful for peasantry and
merchant class choruses. Approach a fellow Chorister from behind,
raise your arm and place it with a hearty thump on said Chorister’s
shoulder, while laughing silently and shaking your head as if
amazed/astonished/impressed/delighted by the activities of the
Principal character singing.
Footnote:
adapt for aristocratic choruses by placing your hand rather
delicately on the shoulder, and simultaneously dabbing a kerchief to
your nose.
·
The Shoulder Lean – equally useful for all classes. Approach a
fellow Chorister from one side, raise your arm and lean heavily on
said Chorister’s shoulder, while laughing silently and shaking your
head as if amazed/astonished/impressed/delighted by the activities
of the Principal character singing.
·
The Back Slap – both the Hearty Hand and Shoulder Lean can be
decorated as needed with hearty back slapping.
·
Legs Akimbo – mostly for peasants and gypsies, but also useful for
victorious soldiers. Stand with legs very, very, very wide apart,
with hands on hips. Lean back and forth from the waist while
laughing silently and shaking your head as if amazed, astonished,
impressed, delighted… etc
Footnote: When
done without the laughing, this action works quite well for royal
advisers scheming bloody insurrection. Not sure why.
·
The Kneel – all classes. Kneel on one knee in an admiring group
around the Principal character singing. Be sure to occasionally
slap your knee as if amazed/astonished/ impressed…etc
·
The Hop, Skip n’Run Exit – all classes. Exits can be given extra
punch by adding a totally unnecessary but very fetching little hop
and skip on the spot, before you run off as if intent on conquering
the world. Favoured originally by Shakespearian actors, this has
remained an enduring staple of the male chorister. Essentially it
adds a welcome quality of non-specific “derring-do” to any exit.
Footnote:
Should your Director raise any objections, omit in rehearsal and
return at the first performance.
Staging Basics for the Female Chorister
·
The Shoulder Tap Greeting (with fan) – chiefly for aristocratic but
applicable also to upper middle class choruses. Glide up to a group
of choristers from the rear and give any chorister a little tap on
the shoulder with your folded fan. As the chorister turns to look
at you, curtsey, smile winningly and commence fanning yourself
vivaciously. You have just joined this grouping.
·
The Shoulder Tap Flirt (with fan) – once in a grouping, briskly tap
the nearest male chorister on the shoulder with your fan and
pout/giggle as appropriate. Silent conversation at this point might
include such lines as “Ooh Viscount, you beast!” or “How ever could
you, Alphonse, and in the middle of winter too!”
·
Point n’ Giggle – applicable to all classes. Appear to find the
nearest Principal deeply fascinating and profoundly amusing.
Express this by pointing at him/her with slightly extended fan or
finger and then barely manage to conceal a sparkling peal of
giggles. (A gift to your fellow Choristers who can now enjoy
tut-tutting and shooshing freely.)
·
Swoosh n’ Sit – aristocratic ladies only. Approach designated chair
from a minimum of 3 metres, ensuring that your skirt train is
swooshing extravagantly behind you. Gather up your skirts while
glancing seductively in all directions, and then sit whilst dropping
fabric around you in elegant mounds. At the very instant of
sitting, you must simultaneously lean back languidly and give the
nearest male chorister an arch look pregnant with expectation. If
he’s any use at all he’ll respond with a slight bow, meeting your
pregnancy with a look redolent with unbridled passion.
Next week: The
Performance Period – Bringing home the bacon, and The
Chorister’s Code |