You're the director... YOU figure it out

The BBQ Pit
1

Today I got yelled at. Several times. Because I don’t have the magical solution to several of the problems plaguing our show.

We have a trapdoor in the center of the stage. Access through this trapdoor is achieved through an elevator. A manual elevator. A manual elevator with about 200 lbs of counterweight attached to it. A manual elevator with about 200 lbs of counterweight attached to it that (and here’s the important part) I have to operate.

So, O Great Director, when you tell me that I have to bring this elevator up and down “so fast the audience doesn’t notice it” (which means I have to do it in about three seconds), don’t yell at me when the stress on the winch causes it to snap. I told you that we needed two other crewmen to handle the counterweight. I told you, “What you’re asking for just isn’t possible by myself.” What did you say, O Great Director? You shook your head, smiled that sickeningly arrogant “I know what I’m doing, you don’t” smile, and said, “Yes, you can.”

So I tried. I nearly pulled my arms out of my sockets (fuck, 200 lbs is a lot of weight), but I tried. Then the winch handle lost its grip, and began to spin freely. Forgive me, O Great Director, for not being capable of instantly being able to solve a problem that I was never instructed about in the first place.

So you came down to the elevator… you actually came off your throne, O Great Director, where you gaze upon us insignificant mortals. You came down to the pit (the orchestra pit, behind which the elevator is located) to see what the trouble was. You fiddle with the winch, just like I did, to know avail. You showed that you were just as clueless about the problem as I was. Then you yelled at me.

Thank you oh-so-fucking much, Your Majesty. Thank you for allowing your pride and ego to overflow your miniscule amount of patience. Thank you for the privilege of being treated like shit. I’m tired, I’m sore, I’ve just put in 12-hour days three times in a row this week, and gee gosh, gee golly, darned if I wasn’t stressed enough. So thank you oh-so-fucking-much for getting stomped beneath your boot.

Despite your assholicness, O Great Director, I managed to figure it out. I fixed the winch, and informed you of the manner in which to avoid similar problems in the future. And, in gratitude for this, what do I get? A simple “thank you” would be nice. Oh, hell, I’ll settle for you just saying nothing and walking away. But no. I’m not that lucky. As you turn away, I hear the mother of all sighs, and you, our Great Director, mumble, “Let’s try not to screw up anymore, okay?”

Gee. Thanks.

Then, we had to figure out how to get a crapload of smoke to pump up through the trapdoor at an appropriate time. Our first few attempts resulted in the majority of the smoke pouring back down into the hallway where the elevator is located. This is a small hallway. A small hallway which quickly became filled with thick, oily, sickly-sweet-smelling smoke. Forgive me, O Great Director, for coughing a little.

I’m sorry, O Great Director, for not being capable of magically forcing the smoke to pump up through the hole. As Scotty would say: “I cannae violate the laws of physics, cap’n!” The hallway is small, and a steady stream of air is going through it. The theatre above is large, and hot. I can’t force a low-pressure area to flow into a high-pressure area. Isaac Newton would agree with me. So don’t yell at me for not performing miracles, O Great Director.

You then began asking me how to get the smoke through the hole. My first idea? A fan. “Blow the smoke through the hole,” I said. “We’ll take one of the smaller ones from the tornado scene, run it down here - there’s enough time - and blow it through the hole.” Our first attempt was marginally successful… it resulted in about half the smoke being blown through the hole. “No… no… no, that’s not good enough,” you said. I apologized. We fiddled with different fan positions, stronger and weaker settings on the breeze level, but it wasn’t good enough for you.

“Jeez, you guys, why do I even have you around for?”

Gee. Thanks.

There’s a reason you’re called the “director”, O Great Director. You’re the one who’s supposed to have figured out how to pull off all these technical designs. You’re the one who’s supposed to have thought of these things weeks in advance. You’re the one who kept assuring us you had things under control.

In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re short on crew. We have five people to work a set that you designed for ten. For weeks, and weeks, and weeks, you complained on end about not having enough crewmen. You treated your existing crew (meager though it may be) like shit because, somehow, in your twisted mind, it was our fault. Except that you forgot that there were four people - all veterans of theatre tech, and all damn good at what they do - who volunteered to work the show. THEY VOLUNTEERED. And you turned them down. Why? Because you don’t get along with them personally.

So thank you, O Great Director, for screwing your crew over to appease your pride and ego. Thank you, O Great Director, for treating us like shit because you have five people doing the work of ten. Thank you, O Great Director, for yelling at me because I couldn’t figure out in five minutes that which you had five weeks to work on.

I’ve counted it up, and I have over 2,000 pounds of material to move around during the course of a single showing of the play. That’s a ton… literally. Each night. Granted, it’s stretched out over an hour and a half, but that’s still a lot of weight. I’ve agreed to it, O Great Director, but kindly, please try not to add to the troubles on my shoulders.

Thank you, O Great Director. I’ll see you tomorrow for another 12-hour day.

2

So quit.

God knows I’ve worked with enough egomaniacal directors (theatrical, orchestral and choral) in my day who were sans clue - I feel your pain.

Esprix

3

No no, quiting just proves to the director that he was right. You’ve got to call him out on everythign you’ve said here.

[li]“Let’s try not to screw up anymore, okay?”[/li]Hey, listen, if you had taken my advice days ago when I first brought this to your attention, we wouldn’t have had this problem. I didn’t screw up…(you can choose whether or not to include the dangling “you did.”)

[li]“No… no… no, that’s not good enough,”[/li]Then maybe you should find some better equipment, eh?

[li]“Jeez, you guys, why do I even have you around for?”[/li]Because you obviously don’t have a clue to how to bring your wonderful, fanciful ideas to fruition and if it weren’t for peopel like us busting our ass, this whole thing would fall down around you head. So why don’t you show us a little (fucking) respect! (not a question or request, a demand)

IMO, that is.

4

I’ve been a volunteer techie for countless productions. The proper course of action when dealing with asshole directors is to covort with the actors and deliberately sabotage the show.

5

Whatever you do don’t work hard:) If he asks you to do something that you can’t do don’t bother even trying. Slack off whenever he isin’t looking. You should make yourself worth equal to how he treats you.

6

Quitting and slacking off would be excellent solutions in most cases, but there are a bunch of actors–most of whom have probably not been assholes to Spoofe–who are counting on him to help them put on a good show. They haven’t done anything to deserve losing their elevator/smoke machine/prop guy/flat mover. I’d go with thinksnow’s suggestions if I were in Spoofe’s place (which I have been–I’m a 15-year-veteran of community theater productions)

Trapdoor, smoke machine, tornado scene…sounds like you’re doing Wizard of Oz. Which means you probably have a gaggle of Munchkin brats running around this technical theater clusterfuck. I don’t envy you, man.

If you do decide to quit, putting pepper sauce in the smoke mix would be unethical. So you didn’t hear it from me.

7

I have a background (and an incredibly lucrative degree) in the arts, so I hear your pain.

I would contact the board. (The theater has a board, right? They all do, usually a bunch of local attorneys and wanna-be movers-and-shakers who get together and bewail their lack of finances without actually doing much about it.) Tell them what the director’s doing. Tell them the director’s unreasonable demands were directly responsible for damage to the facilities. Tell them the thing with the smoke is a health and possibly a fire hazard.

The director may be allowed to finish the show, but will be disinvited back for future productions. Doesn’t help you now, but you win in the long run.

(Of course, if the director is actually on the board, which occasionally happens with smaller outfits, you’re hosed. Sorry.)

And BTW, when I direct, I’m really, really friendly, and I don’t even have to think about my responsibility to show gratitude where it’s deserved; I just do it. Unfortunately for you, I’m not directing your show. :frowning:

8

I think I need more info here. Are you getting paid for this? Is it your primary job? Do you have course credits depending on this? Because if you’re a volunteer or just doing this for beer money, then there’s no excuse for not telling the director that being an asshole to the stagehands is not a good way to get them to show up on opening night.

9

Solutions: Quitting isn’t an option, unless I choose to also be an asshole. Neither is slacking off (hey, why should the people who are on stage suffer due to a technical difficulty?). Mouthing back to the director is an option, and has been used several times… luckily, we’ve yet to degrade to a shoutfest.

Since this is a theatre in a community college - a community college that is strapped for cash and can’t afford to hire new directors - trying to get him “disinvited” isn’t much of an option, either. And he is the president of the Performing Arts department.

Don’t get me wrong: He’s actually a nice guy… except when he’s doing a show. He has the nasty habit of yelling at the people he shouldn’t be yelling at. He yells at the people he knows can take the shit, rather than causing some theatre newbie to snap on the first day and quit. For example, our Dorothy and our Scarecrow (yes, it is The Wizard Of Oz… and, yes, I am ready to start shooting munchkins) are amazingly talented, and they have their shit together… unfortunately, our Tin Man and our Lion aren’t so hot. They fumble their lines and their blocking repeatedly. Rather than yell at them (I know these guys… they can’t take a verbal beating), he yells at the people who will just bounce right back from the criticism.

Today was our Tech Day, and I have just about lost all patience. Every time some new problem rose up, I just about snapped. At one point, in fact, I went out behind the theatre and just screamed my throat raw. I felt better afterwards.

We finish up the technical aspects tomorrow. As I post this, I am seriously considering bedtime, as I need to be awake at 9:00 or so to get to the theatre in time. Jeez… I am so hoping that we don’t need to do more on Sunday. I’ve been so mentally worn by all this that every little thing that never used to bug me is starting to. People with odd tones of voice or minor mannerisms. I nearly bitched a girl out because she was gnawing on the edge of a paper cup, for crying out loud. So if I give anyone on the Boards grief, I apologize beforehand. In fact, I’m going to avoid Great Debates for a while, lest I snap and give someone an undeserved flaming. Hell, I’d hate to lose posting privileges over a damn play.

The funny thing is - and all the theatre veterans here will know this - it will all be worth it on Closing Night.

10

Been there; done that.

I too have had a Boss to whom truth and untruth is like Heaven and Hell to an atheist, interesting concepts but no basis in reality.
Your choices are:

  1. Create a paper trail
    where you memo Mr. Director his choices
    between his dreams and the reality.

  2. (My personal favorite,) you do your job to the best of your ability as you have been doing and watch Mr. Director go down in flames. (This may take a while.)

  3. Suicide is always a viable option.

11

And isn’t that always the way. Best, best, best of luck with this. And when he says something dumbassed like…

…say loudly “YOU DON’T, YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!” and walk. For best stress level (for the director, that is), this should be done about four minutes to curtain. Do it right, and you’ll see those veins popping out on his forehead.

I have to say, I’ve done acting, tech and direction. Acting and tech, I’ve dealt with assholes and with great people (when they’re assholes, I just think of how much fun it’s going to be when it comes to the speeches at the wrap party). When I’ve directed, I’ve tried not to be an asshole. The people on stage, the tech crew are volunteers for crysakes - they’re not getting paid, they want the show to rock as much as I do, if not more.

12

Well, yeah, but then you don’t get to join in when everyone sings “Ding-Dong, the witch is dead…”

(Guess which song we had to rehearse seven times today)

13

Pierce? Can I come see?
:slight_smile:

stoid

14

'Scuse me, Mr. Director sir. Would you mind standing on this mark here on the stage while we adjust the lighting. Oh, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, holding the rope. Oh, and Dorothy’s House dangling above you … No, it’s completely secure. Not to worry, Mr. Director sir. Say, those lights are awful bright. Why don’t you close your eyes for just a sec. OK. Great. Almost got it."

WHUUMP!

15

Sure. It starts Friday, July 20th, at 7:30 PM. It continues on through Saturday (same time), Sunday (at 2:00 PM), then goes on to next Friday and Saturday (at 7:30 PM) and Sunday (again at 2:00 PM). In my oh-so-humble opinion, it’s not the greatest show we’ve put on, but we have good talent and overall, it’s a solid show.

Just don’t shout out “SPOOFE!” in the middle of the performance. Chances are, I probably won’t hear you, and 90% of the cast doesn’t know me by that name anyway (hey, YOU try explaining what it means 40 times in the course of a week).

16

Your options aren’t that limited, really. You could draw blood and trash the play simply by calling OSHA. This person who attempts to call himself a Director is only the big turd in HIS little bowl. From what you posted, he’s in for it on several levels.

  1. The elevator has no deadstop safety. It is manually operated. That’s unsafe. It puts you, and the actors at risk.

  2. The smoke. You described it as “thick, oily, sickly-sweet-smelling smoke. " This sounds like older generation Bee Smoke machine materials, or perhaps VERY old Rosco Fog. The newer materials are lighter, travel in a more whispy fashion, and are not oil based. It also sounds a LOT like what they used to call an " oil cracker” smoke machine. It literally atomized corn oil, spewing out thick white smoke that left an oily- and therefore highly slippery and dangerous- film on the stage. None of these are acceptable, in terms of inhalation AND working surface impact. Again, OSHA will demolish him on the use of this material. Rosco now makes a variety of dry smokes that are very acceptable. While they smell funky, they don’t irritate. I know, I’m athsmatic and have dust-related allergies, and have done 18 hour shoots with very few breaks in stages filled with the new fog. It’s not a problem. Get some. Or, smoke cookies- which are harder to control sometimes, but render a fairly dry smoke. They might be a good fix here, since the area where you are working is supposed to stay smoke free, and you are required ( ahem ) to “force” the smoke up and out a chute, or so it seems. Smoke cookies burn fast and hot, and deliver a huge volume on short notice.

  3. Under crewed. If the materials that have to be moved are beyond the safety limitations of the number of personnel, then that in itself constitutes a safety violation.

That’s the upright Gummint approach. If this peckerhead is indeed the King from Yurtle The Turtle, ruler of all he sees, then he won’t listen to reason and cannot be threatened from within his power base.

Go outside his power base. OSHA, the local Dept. of Health ( the smoke effects ), etc. The Fire Department is always a jim-dandy resource, they are legally empowered to not only shut down the show, but demand that the smoke and other pyro effects be dismantled IMMEDIATELY.

If none of these appeal to you, then please at least get some friend to back you up on the elevator gag, and plays safe. I love teching, but hate lazy and dangerous production personnel. I once brought an entire Civil War re-enactment shoot to a halt because some putz who was NOT the Armorer handed a rifle to an actor, who mentioned to me, " I’ll be firing this towards you, but over your head, don’t worry". That pretty much iced THAT. I had the guy who had handed over the gun removed from set, and had a quick chat with the Armorer ( who was furious at this event, and a true and safe pro ).

Break a Leg :slight_smile:

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