There’s a long tradition among actors called corpsing – laughing when you shouldn’t. Sometimes things go wrong in a live performance and it can lead to unintentional hilarity. I remember performing in an Agatha Christie play where I had to pick up a glass of wine, have a sip or two and later place it down. For some reason, it was one of those picnic glasses with a detachable bottom. The inevitable happened and when I took a sip, I noticed I was holding only the glass and the stem. What to do? I don’t think anyone else in the cast knew but maybe the audience did. I fretted for a while wondering what to do, until I just laid it on its side on a table. The solution is not to pretend it hasn’t happened – it has. I performed in a play where the door kept swinging open so before the next performance the stage management packed the lock with extra wood. The result was that when I tried to enter, the door wouldn’t budge. It was completely stuck and somehow, I had to get on. My solution was to enter through the French windows which got a laugh and then another when I said “You seem to have a problem with that door.”
Some actors like to play tricks, especially in a long-running play when all sorts of in-jokes develop. I remember an actor who took himself desperately seriously. One of us, not me I hasten to add, had to shake hands with him and when he did, he managed to squeeze a raw sausage into the handshake. The look on the actor’s face was priceless as he considered what was happening to him and what he was going to do about it. It was a joy to behold. Other actors love to add a stage weight to a suitcase so that picking it up involves a major effort of strength. “The Play That Goes Wrong” built a whole evening on the disasters that can befall a production.
By tradition the final matinee of a play’s run can have moments of unexpected corpsing, in-jokes, and attempts to put you off your stride might come along. The worst I heard was in a modern dress production of Julius Caesar. The actor in question was a Roman citizen who had to be so persuaded by Mark Anthony that he roared his approval. This performance was in Newcastle and the actor had a plan. He came to his roar and he ripped open his shirt to reveal on his chest the words “Shop at Binns” a popular store at the time.
He was shown the door.
I suppose it keeps you awake on stage in a long run but it all seems a bit self-indulgent. If I’ve paid my money, I don’t want to see a bunch of actors having a good time at my expense. For that reason, I think subtle humour is cleverer. It doesn’t spoil the play for the audience but it keeps the actors engaged with each other.
