jamesn
Junior Member
Posts: 99
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Post by jamesn on Aug 17, 2016 17:56:48 GMT
I referred in my introduction to myself a little about this, but will take the opportunity to tell about it in more detail here. I like to tell other fans, especially of supposed "opera singer" Jackie Evancho, that I'm probably one of her few long-time fans ever to have been onstage in an opera, not once but several times - even though I can't sing a note! The autumn of 1986 I was between jobs and looking for work, having no luck, when while driving around I heard on the local Dallas, Texas, city-owned classical radio station, WRR, that the Dallas Opera was needing extras for their upcoming season! (These jobs are traditionally known as spear carriers even though I don't remember that expression actually being used at any time.) This shouldn't in any way be confused with being a real job, since it was by necessity temporary and paid the munificent sum of $5 per performance - and nothing at all for the rehearsals! Nevertheless, I thought it would take my mind off my problem and provide an interesting experience, so I went for it. the first opera in the season was the French Revolutionary drama and spectacle Andrea Chenier, and since this is one of my very favorite historical periods it was the one that initially interested me. Extras aren't members of the chorus nor are they required to do anything like singing, so I was a natural for the job! This was intended to have a very large cast of soldiers, sans-culottes revolutionaries, members of the Assembly, etc.; but I was fortunate to be able to be a soldier of the Garde Nationalle the entire time. The rented uniforms were very nice and authentic - except of course for the velcro closures up the front of the tunics! They weren't quite "right" for the period of the French Revolution and I suspect they were probably intended for productions of La Fille du Regiment (Daughter of the Regiment) or some such instead. The hats were, however, quite atrocious, looking like souvenir garbage "tricornes" from Colonial Williamsburg! Having little to lose, I furtively re-blocked mine into a proper ca. 1789 bicorne; at some point, another of the extras asked me why my hat didn't look like the others, a question I dodged! I'm a gun collector, a fact I'll discuss at length later, and I also hated the silly wooden rifles they had to represent muskets, but could do little about them; until the two Sunday afternoon matinee performances, that is! Not everyone could participate, so these were somewhat pared-down productions, and there were only two soldiers. I brought from home two original French Revolutionary muskets for us to carry and my partner said he didn't want to ever use one again - they were each about 10 pounds instead of the light and flimsy all-wood fakes rented by the company! We mere extras had to apply our own makeup - in the photos below you can see the garish job I did, which was on purpose: stage makeup for this type production is grossly exaggerated, as one of my later photos done by a professional will show. In the first photo I'm posed backstage with one of my period muskets beside the tumbril or manure cart used to carry condemned victims like the title character poet Andrea Chenier to the guillotine. In the second, I'm in the green room with one of the extras portraying a Revolutionary woman; her wild hair is a wig. Next time Rigoletto and La Sonambula!
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jamesn
Junior Member
Posts: 99
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Post by jamesn on Aug 18, 2016 18:06:22 GMT
Andrea Chenier's large cast of extras - or supers for the term supernumerary, as we were called here - disappeared in the following productions; however, myself and Gordon Curvan were retained for the next two productions, Verdi's classic Rigoletto and La Sonambula. Gordon was a good bit older than me, retired, and a veteran of several years of this foolishness which he enjoyed a great deal. I suppose I was kept because I must've at least appeared stable and reliable! This time we were the only supers in the cast, and we were limited to about five minutes' worth of action during the opening scene, set at a ball or party. We were pages whose sole function was to pass among the crowd of chorus members who were the guests at the affair. Short though our little bit was, it was still necessary to appear in full costume and stage makeup. In the pictures below, Gordon and I are in the supers dressing room; I have yet to don my page boy wig! The next two show us aping the performing of our routine: I had a tray of goblets to give out to guests which he would then "fill" from a large (empty) jug. I'd attended the Dallas Opera several times in the past so had a passing familiarity with and liking for some opera. My first had been a rather disappointing Aida featuring two sopranos and a tenor who looked like anything but svelte Egyptians - the tenor *might* have been a very young Pavarotti, but now after nearly sixty years I can't be sure. To me the sets, costumes, and performances seemed ponderous - I was in no way qualified to judge the music or singing! Despite the disappointment, when Dallas Opera announced they were going to mount the entire cycle of Richard Wagner's Ring das Nibelungen I determined to force myself to see it all. I'd already endured a production of Tristan und Isolde featuring Jon Vickers in the lead, at the conclusion of which I told everyone I felt like one of the original Dead-End Kids. Stupidly, the DO started with Die Walkurie and over the next several years finally completed the entire cycle, which I'm proud to say I saw through to the end! As members of the cast we were able to watch either performances or rehearsals of the operas we were in, so following our little bit in act one I returned to wardrobe, got out of my costume and makeup, and on opening night sat in the audience and watched Rigoletto to its end!
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jamesn
Junior Member
Posts: 99
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Post by jamesn on Aug 19, 2016 18:33:55 GMT
The final opera Gordon and I were in for Dallas Opera's 1986 season was La Sonambula (The Sleepwalking Girl) and once again we were the only supers in the show. The storyline concerned a mysterious stranger who comes to a small Alpine village and encounters a sleepwalker who he naturally falls in love with. We portrayed the valets of the stranger which involved carrying a large two-handled trunk that was his principal luggage in the first scene; later I helped him on with a smoking jacket as he sang an aria about love. I was supposed to then clear out so the sleepwalker of the title - now fully awake - entered his room, not for an assignation; but rather seeking information. Of course, nobody other than the audience was intended to know about this meeting, but unfortunately the local teacher who was nominally in charge of the supers was too busy making eyes with the men in the chorus to pay proper attention to what we were doing! I tried to get directions from him as to exactly what my cue was to exit, but all he did was rattle off some musical cue I couldn't make head nor tail of. Fortunately, most performances came off alright - except for one when I was still in the room when said lady entered! All I could do was gravely bow and make my exit, messing up the entrance of a soprano who I think was Frederica von Stade! Whether this marked my downfall as a super or not I never found out; but La Sonambula was my final appearance on the opera stage! I have referred before to the exaggerated stage makeup used; here are a couple more photos of Gordon and I in the dressing room during Andrea Chenier, in one of which I'm busily applying my makeup. This time he's costumed as a member of the Revolutionary Convention that governed France during the days of the Terror. In the final photo, this is the makeup applied by the professional for La Sonambula also showing a bit of the valet costume I wore. Photographs like this are made in order that the makeup artists can match it from performance to performance - once the production was over I was able to keep the photo as a souvenir. Next time, I'll describe my duties as armorer on two different productions of Puccini's Tosca.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2016 19:25:59 GMT
I referred in my introduction to myself a little about this, but will take the opportunity to tell about it in more detail here. I like to tell other fans, especially of supposed "opera singer" Jackie Evancho, that I'm probably one of her few long-time fans ever to have been onstage in an opera, not once but several times - even though I can't sing a note! The autumn of 1986 I was between jobs and looking for work, having no luck, when while driving around I heard on the local Dallas, Texas, city-owned classical radio station, WRR, that the Dallas Opera was needing extras for their upcoming season! (These jobs are traditionally known as spear carriers even though I don't remember that expression actually being used at any time.) This shouldn't in any way be confused with being a real job, since it was by necessity temporary and paid the munificent sum of $5 per performance - and nothing at all for the rehearsals! Nevertheless, I thought it would take my mind off my problem and provide an interesting experience, so I went for it. the first opera in the season was the French Revolutionary drama and spectacle Andrea Chenier, and since this is one of my very favorite historical periods it was the one that initially interested me. Extras aren't members of the chorus nor are they required to do anything like singing, so I was a natural for the job! This was intended to have a very large cast of soldiers, sans-culottes revolutionaries, members of the Assembly, etc.; but I was fortunate to be able to be a soldier of the Garde Nationalle the entire time. The rented uniforms were very nice and authentic - except of course for the velcro closures up the front of the tunics! They weren't quite "right" for the period of the French Revolution and I suspect they were probably intended for productions of La Fille du Regiment (Daughter of the Regiment) or some such instead. The hats were, however, quite atrocious, looking like souvenir garbage "tricornes" from Colonial Williamsburg! Having little to lose, I furtively re-blocked mine into a proper ca. 1789 bicorne; at some point, another of the extras asked me why my hat didn't look like the others, a question I dodged! I'm a gun collector, a fact I'll discuss at length later, and I also hated the silly wooden rifles they had to represent muskets, but could do little about them; until the two Sunday afternoon matinee performances, that is! Not everyone could participate, so these were somewhat pared-down productions, and there were only two soldiers. I brought from home two original French Revolutionary muskets for us to carry and my partner said he didn't want to ever use one again - they were each about 10 pounds instead of the light and flimsy all-wood fakes rented by the company! We mere extras had to apply our own makeup - in the photos below you can see the garish job I did, which was on purpose: stage makeup for this type production is grossly exaggerated, as one of my later photos done by a professional will show. In the first photo I'm posed backstage with one of my period muskets beside the tumbril or manure cart used to carry condemned victims like the title character poet Andrea Chenier to the guillotine. In the second, I'm in the green room with one of the extras portraying a Revolutionary woman; her wild hair is a wig. Next time Rigoletto and La Sonambula!
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2016 19:28:45 GMT
Andrea Chenier's large cast of extras - or supers for the term supernumerary, as we were called here - disappeared in the following productions; however, myself and Gordon Curvan were retained for the next two productions, Verdi's classic Rigoletto and La Sonambula. Gordon was a good bit older than me, retired, and a veteran of several years of this foolishness which he enjoyed a great deal. I suppose I was kept because I must've at least appeared stable and reliable! This time we were the only supers in the cast, and we were limited to about five minutes' worth of action during the opening scene, set at a ball or party. We were pages whose sole function was to pass among the crowd of chorus members who were the guests at the affair. Short though our little bit was, it was still necessary to appear in full costume and stage makeup. In the pictures below, Gordon and I are in the supers dressing room; I have yet to don my page boy wig! The next two show us aping the performing of our routine: I had a tray of goblets to give out to guests which he would then "fill" from a large (empty) jug. I'd attended the Dallas Opera several times in the past so had a passing familiarity with and liking for some opera. My first had been a rather disappointing Aida featuring two sopranos and a tenor who looked like anything but svelte Egyptians - the tenor *might* have been a very young Pavarotti, but now after nearly sixty years I can't be sure. To me the sets, costumes, and performances seemed ponderous - I was in no way qualified to judge the music or singing! Despite the disappointment, when Dallas Opera announced they were going to mount the entire cycle of Richard Wagner's Ring das Nibelungen I determined to force myself to see it all. I'd already endured a production of Tristan und Isolde featuring Jon Vickers in the lead, at the conclusion of which I told everyone I felt like one of the original Dead-End Kids. Stupidly, the DO started with Die Walkurie and over the next several years finally completed the entire cycle, which I'm proud to say I saw through to the end! As members of the cast we were able to watch either performances or rehearsals of the operas we were in, so following our little bit in act one I returned to wardrobe, got out of my costume and makeup, and on opening night sat in the audience and watched Rigoletto to its end!
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2016 19:30:43 GMT
The final opera Gordon and I were in for Dallas Opera's 1986 season was La Sonambula (The Sleepwalking Girl) and once again we were the only supers in the show. The storyline concerned a mysterious stranger who comes to a small Alpine village and encounters a sleepwalker who he naturally falls in love with. We portrayed the valets of the stranger which involved carrying a large two-handled trunk that was his principal luggage in the first scene; later I helped him on with a smoking jacket as he sang an aria about love. I was supposed to then clear out so the sleepwalker of the title - now fully awake - entered his room, not for an assignation; but rather seeking information. Of course, nobody other than the audience was intended to know about this meeting, but unfortunately the local teacher who was nominally in charge of the supers was too busy making eyes with the men in the chorus to pay proper attention to what we were doing! I tried to get directions from him as to exactly what my cue was to exit, but all he did was rattle off some musical cue I couldn't make head nor tail of. Fortunately, most performances came off alright - except for one when I was still in the room when said lady entered! All I could do was gravely bow and make my exit, messing up the entrance of a soprano who I think was Frederica von Stade! Whether this marked my downfall as a super or not I never found out; but La Sonambula was my final appearance on the opera stage! I have referred before to the exaggerated stage makeup used; here are a couple more photos of Gordon and I in the dressing room during Andrea Chenier, in one of which I'm busily applying my makeup. This time he's costumed as a member of the Revolutionary Convention that governed France during the days of the Terror. In the final photo, this is the makeup applied by the professional for La Sonambula also showing a bit of the valet costume I wore. Photographs like this are made in order that the makeup artists can match it from performance to performance - once the production was over I was able to keep the photo as a souvenir. Next time, I'll describe my duties as armorer on two different productions of Puccini's Tosca.
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jamesn
Junior Member
Posts: 99
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Post by jamesn on Aug 27, 2016 16:33:38 GMT
Thanks to ben for the photo assist - that's much more what I had in mind!
To complete this topic, I'll add a bit about the two productions of Puccini's Tosca I worked on, one with the Dallas Opera and another with the Fort Worth (Texas) Opera. For a couple of years or more I worked on-and-off for a friend of mine who owned a shop selling military-related things like guns, swords, medals, insignia, uniforms, models, toys, etc., etc. While doing so, another friend who was big into Civil War reenacting - as was I - told me he had been approached by the Dallas Opera about providing guns for a production of Tosca. For those who may not be familiar with the story, a brief synopsis:
The title character, Floria Tosca, is a soprano singer in French Revolutionary-era Italy which was then a satellite of the Austrian Empire. She loves an artist named Cavaradossi who has been suspected of being a revolutionary, arrested, and tortured for information by the villain of the piece, Scarpia. Tosca goes to Scarpia and offers her favors in return for Cavaradossi's life, whereupon Scarpia writes out an order for a fake execution for the condemned man and gives it to a messenger to carry to the fortress prison where the artist is being held awaiting execution. When Scarpia turns to claim his "prize" he is rewarded by the thrust of a dagger Tosca has concealed in her dress. Tosca goes to the fortress to claim the "body" once the fake execution is carried out and waits while Cavaradossi is marched out into the courtyard, placed against the wall, and shot by a firing squad who then shoulder their muskets and march off. Tosca goes to retrieve her lover but finds him quite DEAD, since it seems Scarpia had played his own trick on her! As sounds of soldiers coming back to seize the now-discovered murderess are heard in the distance, Tosca rushes atop the wall and flings herself into the chasm!
Naturally, considering the action called for by the libretto, unlike Andrea Chenier, WORKING muskets were required! My friend was able to arrange to rent the company the requisite 8 they wanted, and helped me out by doing so with the proviso I was to be included to take care of them. For me, this meant loading and priming them with blank black powder charges; instructing the members of the chorus in handling and firing them; cleaning out the bores after each performance of the black powder fouling; and securing them until the next time in a locked closet. For this duty I received $200; this job is normally termed armorer, though I received no credit in the program. As I recall, there was something like 4, 5, or 6 performances over the space of two consecutive weekends.
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jamesn
Junior Member
Posts: 99
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Post by jamesn on Aug 27, 2016 17:04:58 GMT
A year or so passed and next time the subject came up, the rival neighboring Fort Worth Opera announced their own production of Tosca. I was still working part-time for my friend at The Militaria shop who was this time approached about providing arms; he was unable to do so, but referred them to me! They needed only six muskets for their slightly scaled-down production, and this time I was able to comply entirely on my own using pieces from my modest collection of eighteenth and nineteenth century military long arms. Once again the trusty flintlock period musket I'd used in Andrea Chenier made an appearance, plus a similar modern replica (both shown below) and another slightly later Napoleonic Belgian flintlock from 1815. I didn't have enough flintlocks, so used 3 Civil War-era percussion muskets dating between 1831 and 1852 to fill out the firing party. I arranged them so that as they marched onstage two-by-two, the flintlocks faced the audience; when they halted and turned to fire upstage, the flintlocks were "loaded" only with enough black powder to "puff" a nice cloud of it above their heads. (This happening is the genesis of the expression "A flash in the pan.") The 3 members of the party upstage had muskets that were CAPPED ONLY, so that when they fired there was nothing but a loud POP which was deflected back into the audience by the walls of the set. While I was outside the theater instructing the firing squad, we were visited by the tenor playing Cavaradossi who was very much interested in what was going on - it seems he had actually been SHOT (by wadding only, thank goodness!) during a previous production of Tosca. I assured him that even though none of my muskets were actually loaded, I had instructed the chorus members who made up the firing squad to aim PAST him, not AT him! Fortunately, everything came off as planned, leaving me not only with another $200 for my services as armorer, but another several hundred dollars in rental fees for the guns as well! Attachments:
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Post by Deleted on Aug 27, 2016 17:24:00 GMT
James' photo enlarged:
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