At the Show
Standing stiffly on the proscenium at the left, the narrator peers across the darkened stage curtain, waiting. Feeling for his watch without looking down does nothing to smooth the tension. Something, it seems, has not gone to plan.
Clamor from the street kept safely out by double doors — even in the cargo loading area at the back of the stage, an area covered with that unbelievably heavy curtain, so heavy in fact that it requires motorized assistance to raise, lower or draw — the silence backstage is upset only by invisible coughs and uninterpretable whispering in the audience. The whispering growing more obvious on commencement of the narrator’s silent conversation with someone off the side of the stage, conversation punctuated by silent but comedically-vigorous gestures — momentary drama visible in the near-dark only because the lights had already gone down giving eyes in the audience time to adjust to the dim.
Momentarily, the narrator slips stealthily offstage and the main curtain ruffles as if someone — or several someones — were moving behind it, tapping it thoughtlessly. A faint whir of motors now just barely noticeable.
With a muffled click a single light shines in the orchestra pit. The conductor’s baton taps to alert the musicians. Dim lights popping to life accompany sounds of musicians and instruments being hurried into position. A sign above the stage suddenly flashes INTERMISSION in muted purple neon just as the the conductor gestures and the orchestra begins an unusually-orchestrated version of Brubeck’s `Take Five`. House lights come up. The unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke wafts in from somewhere.
Coughs are covered as the audience applauds with a crash that quickly dribbles off as people rustle up and out to the lobby, murmuring.
