The Play's the Thing

by John Collins

To originate, or not to originate, that is the question;
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the abuse and bastardization of outrageous language,
Or to read books against a sea of ignorami,
And by learning, end them?

Hammy, Act III, Scene I

* * *

Ah, the theatre! What grand tradition: to walk the stately boards in London; to caper about under the lights of Broadway; to prance through scenes as a sprightly Puck in Stratford. To proudly come out and proclaim, as was always suspected, "I am a thespian!" (No, not like Ellen … though I suppose she does act, too.)

The theatre is rich with history, and has been with us for as long as humans have had the urge to live as someone else, if only for a brief moment. And, of course, along the way the theatre has gained its own idiosyncratic speech and darling little sayings, a few of which we'll explore in this installment of … Origins, the Play!

* * *

Act I, Scene I

The play opens on a darkened stage, with a single spotlight illuminating the narrator, Origins Guy, standing downstage centre. He is a tall, stately fellow, immediately commanding attention, dressed in finery reminiscent of Godly raiment. When he speaks, it is with an understated, unpretentious, yet compelling timbre. He is awesome to look upon. He is also the author. And director.

Origins Guy:

Come closer, good people, for I have a story,
A tale that tells of the moment of glory,
The time for which actors and actresses beg,
The moment they're told, "Hey, you're on … break a leg."

Now "hmmm", you might say, why would they wish such harm
On a person portraying a role with such charm,
Do they secretly hate him or her, you might think,
Or does that young Prospero make dressing rooms stink?

But it's not body odour, or closet revenge,
It's actually luck that they wish for their friend,
Look yonder, and you will be able to gauge,
What is meant when they say "break a leg" on the stage.

Origins Guy gestures to stage left, and drifts out of the spotlight. Stage left illuminates and we see and hear a young actor as he receives a thunderous ovation after what was likely a rousing performance as Ophelia (all the female roles were played by males in days of old, you see). He stands facing his audience, bowing in the traditional style, right leg bent at the knee and behind, and left leg extended straight in front, bearing the weight of his bow.

Ophelia:

Thank you, oh thank you. (Tears of joy trickle down his smooth face as the ovation continues unabated.) Oh, please. (More bowing, deeper and deeper, leg extended, as the audience raves.)

The bowing continues, the cheering continues. More bowing. More cheering. Never has such an ovation been witnessed in all the years of the theatre, and still it continues. Our young Ophelia, by now exhausted from the bowing, makes one final, dramatic bow, leg extended way out in front. As the full weight of our Ophelia comes down on his leg (and, truth be told, Ophelia could have shed a few pounds), we hear a resounding "snap".

Ophelia:

Ouch.

The lights dim on that side of the stage, and the spotlight resumes on Origins Guy.

Origins Guy:

So you see, our young actor's sweet leg truly broke,
But he wouldn't want otherwise, could he have spoke,
For the length of applause was the reason, you see,
And so actors today say "I wish it were me".

But now we'll move on, lest we run out of space,
And the editors throw back these words in my face,
Let's go on to discover why they never say,
In the theatre, the name of "The Scottish Play".

There's a play, you see, penned by the most famous bard,
And it's name starts with "M", come on, it's not that hard,
But if the name's spoken aloud in the wings,
A play will be plagued with all manner of things.

But why, you might ask, should the merest of mention
Cause such consternation, such thorny contention?
The reason, it seems, for all of the glitches,
Is owing to words spoke by three little witches.

Again, Origins Guy gestures left and fades from view. At stage left, lights reveal William Shakespeare arguing with a wizened old fellow on the edge of a forest.

Shakespeare:	But I tell you, crone, I need this scene with the witches to be authentic! My career as a playwright will be in the privy lest the audience connect with one of my plays with something more than a rotten tomato. I need a real spell that the audience will believe, or my play "Macbeth" will be doomed!
Crone:	Ah, young bard, your quest is folly. Should you find what you seek, your words will live on in infamy, mark me, now! Stop it, you fool, what are you doing?
Shakespeare:	(Putting away his quill.) Marking you now, as you requested. Please go on.
Crone:	For that little quip, I will tell you what you seek, and a pox on you. Go yonder into the woods, and find ye there three witches. Don't let them see you, lest you finish in their stewpot, but harken carefully to their words. What they speak will be the true incantation you seek.

Fade out stage left, spotlight back on Origins Guy.

Origins Guy:

So you see, our young bard put within his new play
The very incantation he heard them say,
And since it was black, the magic within,
You can't say the name on the stage, it's a sin.

And now I can see, by the nodding of heads,
That my audience must hasten off to their beds.
So a final reminder I give you this day,
Say just what you think, but think through what you say.

Lights fade, audience shuffles out, bewildered.

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