At its simplest, you need lighting on a stage so that the actors can move without bumping into the furniture, and the audience can watch them do it. More subtly, lighting is part of the whole language of theatre, along with movement, sound, silence, words, images, objects, bodies. It defines space and shape, is part of the rhythm and pace of performance, it provides colour and texture and atmosphere. It helps to create and express the environment and the meaning of the play. Or it would do, in the hands of an expert. So maybe not a good idea to leave it to rank amateurs such as myself.
Each play has particular needs and challenges, for lighting as for all aspects of design. For "Sexual Perversity in Chicago", the particular consideration is, above all, the many locations. The action moves from bar to flat, office to museum, classroom to beach. Director and designer have to make decisions about how to evoke these locations and their shifting moods without slowing down the rhythm of the play. Every piece of furniture has to be moved physically. A lighting state, on the other hand, can be changed seamlessly, redirecting the audience’s attention and creating a shift in atmosphere, from indoors to out, from warm to cold, night to day, and the speed of the change can be controlled. There is an interesting dichotomy here, between the fluid abstraction of light and sound, and the very physical real-time presence of actors, props and furniture. The relationship between them is the stuff of interesting design.
How does the above-mentioned rank amateur learn about lighting, in the absence of sound training? Much the same way as we all learn in a company such as ours: trial and error, reading, observation. If you’re in the theatre and there is a dull area on stage, you can look up and trace the lighting to its source, and speculate on the decisions to angle it a particular way or use a particular colour gel, and go back to the effect produced. (You can also drool with envy at the motorised, computerised lanterns that can change colour, change direction, change level, change pattern – all at the click of a mouse – and which would no doubt cost us 10 years rent.)
I could conclude with the sciency bit – except that I know little of it. The trial and error process leaves one short of technical terminology. I do however know the basic difference between a fresnel and a profile (the former is a lantern that casts a wide diffuse light that can be roughly shaped with barn doors, the latter gives a sharper beam that can be focused to give a clean edge.) I know that there are dozens of different gels for controlling the colour and diffuseness of the light, and that the apparently minimal difference between, say, English Rose and Rosy Amber can change your scene from cosy front room to brothel.
The range of colour of lighting gels is as rich as a painter’s palette, and as hard to master effectively. It is a complex and fascinating subject that I would love to learn more about. I hope that tonight at least, actors can see their way round the furniture.
Jacquie Penrose
Whilst Lighting Design requires artistic panache, the Lighting Operator is very much the domain of the anoraked techy! It would be nice to think that one could just press a button at the start of the play, leave it on "automatic pilot" whilst retiring to the bar, and return to put the house lights up after the final curtain... but it’s a bit more complex than that!
The designer will work with the director to establish a lighting plan, i.e. the various lighting requirements needed to suit the mood and action within each scene (or part of a scene, as the lighting often changes within a scene).
The designer can connect lights into any (sometimes all!) of 80 sockets ranged above and around the stage. These carefully numbered sockets are connected to the lighting box (at the rear of the gallery... give us a wave as you leave!) where they can be combined in up to 24 channels. Each channel therefore provides a pool (or pools) of light to a certain part (or parts) of the stage.
Next is the laborious, but essential, task of programming the lighting console. Each channel can be set from very, very dim (1%) to "full beam" (100%), and several channels can be grouped together into a single lighting cue.
Each lighting change, whether subtle or significantly different, needs to be programmed in sequence. Instant ("snap") changes can be achieved by turning off one set of lights and turning on the next set at precisely the same split second. More often, however, the mood of the play requires a slower change (or "fade").
A "fade out" is done by fading down one set over a short period of time, for example 3 seconds, then fading up the new set, perhaps over 5 seconds.
A "cross-fade" is achieved by doing both the fade down and the fade up simultaneously over the same period, say 4 seconds. Comedies and fast action plays often use "snap" changes – dramas and romances usually use "fades"... watch out for the difference in future plays!
Whilst programming the sequence, we must not forget the periods of inaction – when the stage crew need to move scenery. This is usually programmed in as "workers"... just enough light for the crew to see what they are doing without damaging the set, themselves or our cherished audience!
Next, the operator needs to establish a "cue list". The cue for changing to the next lighting sequence could be a word, an action, an actor entering or leaving the set, the merest gesture, a sound effect, almost anything. All these need to be carefully identified and highlighted, usually on a copy of the script, so that the operator can, effectively, become part of the cast and action.
Whilst some of the Lighting Designer and Operator’s work can be planned on paper in advance, the vast majority of work is done at the Technical Rehearsal, a couple of days before opening night. There is much fine tuning and not a little colourful language! Then there may be one or two dress rehearsals – these are as important for the operator as for the cast and director.
"Do things ever go wrong?" I hear you ask. They certainly do! My first ever venture into the lighting box was for "Racing Demon". About 75 cues were programmed into the console, augmented by about 20 manual (late decision!) overrides – a severe baptism of fire! On about the third cue, the wrong lights came up. I panicked! I pressed the forward programme button again... still wrong. Again – wrong! Try going backwards &ndash 1 step, 2 steps, 3 steps... all wrong! Where are those floodlights for the garden scene??! I pressed the button one more time and plunged the stage into complete darkness just as an actor, soldering bravely on, delivered the highly inappropriate line "Lionel, how good to see you again". I threw on every light in the house and the scene, and performance, completed without further mishap. During the interval I discovered that the fuse had blown on the floodlights, which, thankfully, were only needed in that second scene. (Mental note: learn how to identify a blown fuse... and how to change it!)
However, if the lighting designer and operator have done their jobs properly, the lighting should complement, enhance and support the action and acting... so much so that you probably won’t even notice it – although you might now that you have read this!
Derek Callam