UNDERGRADUATE PAGE
Man of Many Parts
By MICHAEL GILL (Edinburgh University) It happened because the appropriate union will not allow its members, the opera chorus, to take non-singing parts. In London, we were informed, privates in the Guards are often co-opted to enact these dumb waiters-about-stage. In Edin- burgh, however, the powers-thdt-be turned to the university, and we were enrolled ; a tatterdemalion collection of future artists, architects, lawyers, philosophers, economists, medicos. There were even one or two people who had acted in amateur theatricals. But we were almost all, like Byron's bass, " ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellows." It did not matter ; we were not supposed to sing. We only had to appear. Those evenings before the footlights had their excitements, however.
It was the thrill of the bizarre and unpredictable. None of us had seen the particular productions in which we played. We were never rehearsed, nor even saw the set before we were actually "on." A number of suave but somewhat harassed gentlemen would whisper rapid and often conflicting directions at us, we would be thrust into some outlandish uniform, a sponge of orange " wet-white " would be pushed soggily into eyes and ears, and then we would be dithering in the flies with the dazzling, deafening stage just beyond the stacked floats of last night's performance. We were never quite sure what would happen next until it actually did ; and, of course, we frequently did the wrong thing.
Opera is production on the macrocosmic scale: the detail is unimportant. Extemporisation and a ready reaction to present- possibilities are essential to its stage-managers, especially when on tour. Should an ambitious elephant or troupe of trained mice present itself at the stage-door it would be fitted into whatever production was current with perfect aplomb. Thus our philosophers, conventionally bearded, were welcomed as ideal secret police. Did this opera usually have a Gestapo ? Unnecessary question—it would tonight. (" What do they think, they are?" grunted one of the regular chorus at sight of the Socratic growths. "Ruddy musicians ? ") It was unusual, however, for any of our number to gain character-parts such as these. Most of us were "everything by starts, and nothing long." We would struggle out of cuirassiers' helmets, frogged jackets and scarlet tights, straight into the brocaded finery of the picador. At the last moment someone had always mislaid his sword, or could not find a pair of trousers adequate for his dimensions. Then the resolutely cheerful voice of the assistant stage-manager would be shepherding us towards our next entrance. 'As we elbowed past shadowy props and piled scenery towards the distant glare and glamour, a melan- choly whisper would warn us " not,to forget to stop on the steps." "What steps ? " we would eltorus unhappily. "We haven't been told to stop on any steps." By now, however, it would be too late for further directions, and we would tumble • on willy-nilly, to be nudged into approximate position by the - seasoned chorus.
Undoubtedly our worst performance was guard-changing in the first act of Carmen. Entangled with thirty excited school- children (they had been training for a month), deafened by bugles being blown off-stage in our ears, new and old guards entered in a flustered mix-up through the same arch instead of from opposite directions. We had been instructed to left-turn off the stage on being dismissed : but when our over-zealous mentor hissed "Guards! Right—turn! " army conditioning was too much for half our numbers and we broke up in a properly Iberian disorder. " Thank God we got a Navy," commented a cynical stage-hand.
It was a consolation to note that we were by no means the chief of the stage-manager's worries. Few temperaments were thrown in the wing, among the pre-appearance throat-clearings and trillings ; but the air was electric with potential. Neverthe- less, it would seem that the day of the diva is past. There are no more great personalities in opera. just as there arc none in sport, politics and so many other fields. The tremendous character of a Chaliapin, the imperial airs of a Tetrazzini. would be as anachronistic on the modern stage as would be Grace's beard in a six-day Test Match on the "Gridiron." Our machine- turned, perfectionist age calls for team-work and Al superlative mediocrity. Cultivated individualism has left its supreme stronghold in the world of music and makes its last stand on the conductor's rostrum. The principal singers whom we encountered were, in general, efficient, conscientious people, but so normal that we had to ask Carmen who she was, and mistook Don Jose for a "super."
The mantle of egocentricity has passed to that ubiquitous character, the stage hand. Few in number and negligent in attitude, these laconic gentlemen would perform miracles of transformation in the fleeting minutes of curtain-drop. Their utter disregard for the life and limb of all around them must show, we felt, a single-minded absorption in the demands of the performance. Here must be demonstrated a unique love of the theatre for its own sake. Once more we were to be dis- illusioned. We asked a gnarled individual about the next even- ing's show. He shifted his " plug " gloomily. "That there Lohengrin. 'Orrible hopera ; starts hearly, finishes late. Lots of changes. All them there 'elmets, an' swans, an' pigeons, an' things. . . . 'Orrible hopera."
Even the longest opera comes to an end, and eventually we were grouped on the cathedral-dim stage after the last curtain-fall. It was the pay-off ; the short Edinburgh season was over. We were wealthier by a few shillings—and a fund of Lifemanship —gambits. We might not have set the Water of Leith on fire, but we must at least have excited the admiration of friends in the audience. A final disenchantment awaited us. We had seldom been recognised (apart from the president of one of our oldest and most learned societies, the sight of whose moonish coun- tenance, peering short-sightedly between powdered wig and lace cravat, had entirely ruined the second act of Fidelio for some). Even our worst misdemeanours had passed unnoticed. We could not have been fulfilling our true metier. Probably we should have appeared in optfra bouffe.
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