Backstage Theatre Quotes

A fire broke out backstage in a theatre. The clown came out to warn the public; they thought it was a joke and applauded. He repeated it; the acclaim was even greater. I think that's just how the world will come to an end: to general applause from wits who believe it's a joke.

Backstage was chaos distilled into a very small space.

Going on stage always felt like being shot out of a cannon. My stomach would tighten as I got closer to the backstage area. You wondered why you put yourself through all the stress. Then BOOM! You're on, adrenalin pumping, and thinking: "THIS is why I do it!

A fire broke out backstage in a theatre. The clown came out to warn the public; they thought it was a joke and applauded. He repeated it; the acclaim was even greater. I think that’s just how the world will come to an end: to general applause from wits who believe it’s a joke. —Søren Kierkegaard, Either/Or, part 1

As Violet and Klaus Baudelaire stood, still in their nightgown and pajamas, backstage at Count Olaf’s theater, they were of two minds, a phrase which here means “they felt two different ways at the same time.” On one hand, they were of course filled with dread. … On the other hand, however, they were fascinated, as they had never been backstage at a theatrical production and there was so much to see.

They call it the theatre of war for a reason. Nearly all wars are manipulated or arranged. The people who die and suffer are mostly the extras in the production. Those are the soldiers and the citizens. While the main players, the main actors, secretly meet backstage sipping champagne.

Diego Repertory Theatre, which was in its first year. I fell in with that group, at first helping backstage and then getting cast in plays. It eventually became one of San Diego’s premier theater

Crazy for You opens backstage at the Zangler Theatre, New York, where Bobby, desperate to break into showbusiness, performs an impromptu audition for the great impresario Bella Zangler. This is not a ‘book number’ – that’s to say, the music is not an expression of character or plot point arising from the dialogue, the defining convention of musical theatre. Instead, more prosaically, it’s a real number, a ‘prop number’: Bobby is backstage and doing the song for Zangler. So it’s sparely orchestrated – little more than a rehearsal piano and some support; it’s one chorus; and its tap-break ends with Bobby stamping on Zangler’s foot. This is grim reality: Bobby is expelled from the theatre. Outside, he makes a decision, and sings ‘I Can’t Be Bothered Now’ – the second song, but the real opening number: the first ‘book number’ in the show. There is an automobile onstage (it’s the 1930s) and, as Bobby opens the door, one showgirl, pretty in pink, steps out, then another, and another, and more and more, far more than could fit in any motor car; finally, Bobby raises the hood of the vehicle and the last chorine emerges. The audience leans back, reassured and content: Susan Stroman’s fizzy, inventive choreography has told them that what’s about to follow is romantic fantasy. More to the point, it’s true to the character of the song, and the choice of song is true to Bobby’s character and the engine of the drama: My bonds and shares May fall downstairs Who cares? Who cares? I’m dancing and I Can’t Be Bothered Now … This lyric captures the philosophy of Ira Gershwin’s entire oeuvre – which is important: the show is a celebration of Gershwin. But it’s also an exact expression of Bobby’s feelings and the reason why he heads to Dead Rock, Arkansas. So the number does everything it should: it defines the principal’s motivation; it kick-starts the plot; and it communicates the spirit of the score and the staging. Audiences don’t reason it out like that; we just eat it up. But that’s why.

In the theatre of life, there were endless plays. What was the fortune or the misfortune of a puny man in the grand order of its things? The day would give way to night, and sun to the moon and stars. Leaves would fall and sprout again. The breeze would blow through the trees, clouds would sail through the skies, and the tide would come and go. Rain and mist, drought and flood, spring and autumn, winter and summer-all would appear and return backstage, again and again. Life would follow death and death would shadow life. Why care for a man-giant or dwarf, noble or evil, high or low? The concert of life goes on and on.

You shout out stuff from shows. Like some sort of Musical Theatre Tourette's.