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Happy Friday the 13th
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Superstitious? Theatre people are. I've always liked it. The archaic, often bizarre rituals of the theatre have always seemed comforting, somehow. I think it's because so much else can go wrong in a live performance it's nice to know that at least you're avoiding some ancient curse or doing your best to elevate your luck.
See how many of these you've heard about, and drop me a comment if you know of any I've missed -- I'd be interested to know.
1. The Curse of Macbeth. Pretty much everybody knows that you should never say the word Macbeth in a theater. Call it “The Scottish Play” and the title character “the Scottish Lord.” Don't quote lines from the play, either. It'll bring incredible bad luck. Supposedly, disaster did famously strike Constantine Stanislavski, Orson Welles and Charlton Heston during or just after productions of Macbeth. In New York in 1849 over thirty people were killed when a riot broke out during a performance of the play. And weirdly enough, purportedly Abraham Lincoln read it the night before he was assassinated.
However, if you do break this rule inside a theatre, there are various versions of an antidote, including but not limited to saying the words “Angels and ministers of grace defend us!” or another line from Hamlet, leaving the theatre, running around the building counterclockwise three times, swearing and knocking to be readmitted. Oh, and spitting over your right shoulder. Ew.
The whole Macbeth thing supposedly began in 1606, when the play was first performed. Audiences freaked out because they believed that the incantations in the play were actual communications with the powers of evil (i.e. our old friend Satan) and were therefore inviting catastrophe. Over the centuries, there does seem to have been an inordinate amount of bad luck in the form of physical injury as well as financial misfortune associated with it.
But pooh-poohers point to the fact that, uh, much of the play is performed in dim light and there are, um, SWORDS and other dangerous weapons used in furious battle scenes, making it somewhat, um, dangerous. Well, true. It's also true that in the days of touring companies if a troupe was insolvent (which often happened) adding a performance of Macbeth was a handy last-minute way to make a killing, as it were, at the box office. And in that situation the play was often under-rehearsed. Hmmm. Winging it in a battle scene in the dark with a broadsword while quoting iambic pentameter? Fabulous idea! Plus, if even that programming measure didn't save the company from financial disaster, they could always blame The Curse.
2. Don't whistle in a theatre. It brings bad luck, especially to the whistler. Why? This is cool: back in the day (like before cell phones), stage hands were out-of-work sailors (this was also before steamships) who, because of their shipboard training, could handle the ropes of a theatre's "fly system" with alacrity. They communicated with each other in a code of whistles. So if some genius is walking around backstage whistling a tune, he could easily find himself bashed in the head with a sandbag. (Some would say this might be a good thing.)
3. Never say good luck – say break a leg. This oddball phrase has a myriad of possible origins. For instance: in Shakespeare’s time, to break meant to bend. So bending your leg meant to take a lot of bows. There's also a popular belief in the genesis of the phrase being the 1865 assassination of Abraham Lincoln, when actor/assassin John Wilkes Booth leapt to the stage of Ford’s Theater after the murder, breaking his leg in the process. (This should bring luck? I don't buy it.)
Here's a more plausible one: in the days of early vaudeville, it was the practice for producers to book more performers than there was time for, since inadequately entertaining acts could be pulled from the stage during the show (get the hook!). The deal was that, even if you were booked, you didn't get paid unless you actually made it onstage. So the phrase “break a leg” meant breaking the sight-line of the “legs,” or curtains that lined the side of the stage. Hence, “Break a leg” means "hope you get out there and get paid." Hi diddly dee, huh? Those were the days.
Other possible origins are the ancient Greeks, who didn't applaud but stamped their feet instead. If they really loved it, somebody would break a leg. Ouch. Or the Elizabethans, who banged their chairs on the floor (those would not be the groundlings, who HAD no chairs) and in so doing might break a chair leg. Whatever, it's now an ironclad rule that that's what you say before a performance. But the French, always independent, say "Merde." I'm not going there.
4. On a non-performance night or if there is no production playing a theatre, never say it is “closed.” Always that it's “dark.” I can't find the source of this superstition, but it's understood that saying a theatre is closed will bring about the Black Plague, Puritans or embezzlement (all historically really really bad things for the theatre; go figure).
5. Never turn off the ghost light. Every theatre has one. It's a lone light -- usually a bare light bulb -- that is left onstage after everyone's gone. It’s there to guide the first and last person in and out. The myth is that it protects the theatre from lonely and resentful theatre spirits, who would wreak havoc if ever left completely in the dark.
6. This one I follow obsessively, even at home: never place shoes on chairs or tables. They say it's because on tour in the days of vaudeville, if you were fired the stage manager put your shoes on your chair or dressing table as a signal that it was time to clear out. If you were lucky, they put train fare in one of your shoes. Again, those were the days.
But wait, there's more!
Actors who wear blue and yellow together will forget their lines. (Really?)
Wearing green is unlucky.
Peacock feathers inside a theatre are incredibly unlucky.
Never use real flowers, mirrors or jewelry on stage.
Always apply makeup with a rabbit’s foot. Never clean your makeup box, and never use new makeup on opening night.
Always exit the dressing room left foot first.
Absolutely no knitting in the wings.
Never say the last line of a play before opening night. (Oops! THAT explains a lot.)
I think I'm ready for Saturday the 14th now. Stay safe.
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