The Understudy's Entrance
The wings of a 1,200-seat London West End theatre, seven minutes before curtain, where the lead actor's mic pack is still warm on a folding chair.
The star of a sold-out revival of Death of a Salesman just texted 'food poisoning, sorry' with a photo of a kebab shop bathroom floor. Double — who has been the understudy for nine months without a single performance — is being handed the mic pack by a stage manager whose hands are shaking. The problem: Double skipped every rehearsal this month to do an online poker tournament, and the director doesn't know that yet. Bust, who runs the light board, can see the 43 theatre critics seated in rows C through F.
“I have literally never been more ready for anything in my life. The lines are IN me, they're just filed under a different folder.”
“You told me last Tuesday you thought Willy Loman was 'the neighbor.' There are 43 critics out there and you don't know the protagonist's name.”
Double walked onstage with full confidence, called Willy Loman 'Bill' for the entire first act, and delivered the 'Attention must be paid' monologue as a freestyle about mortgage rates. The Guardian's one-star review used the phrase 'theatrical war crime' and a critic from The Telegraph was photographed openly weeping into her programme by intermission.
That was immersive theatre and in ten years people will call it groundbreaking.
I dimmed the lights to 40% by Act Two so the critics couldn't see each other leaving, and I'd do it again.