Stage Illusions.—Many of the peculiar effects which are produced upon the stage, imitating moonlight, sunlight, thunder, wind, rain, and other natural phenomena, are a puzzle to those outside of the business. How such realistic representations of these things as are often witnessed upon the stage can be made is a question that often enters the mind of the spectator, and is seldom answered in a satisfactory manner. It is always the ambition of scene painters and stage carpenters to devise improved methods of imitating these things, and hence the stage may be said to try to hold the mirror up to nature in a material as well as a moral sense. Years of experience have tended to bring these imitations to a high state of excellence; but the limits do not yet seem to be reached, and new contrivances are continually appearing. The electric light is not yet used, but as its pale blueish tint would be serviceable in particular effects, stage machinists are now deliberating how it can best be employed. All of the operations mentioned, together with some which will be described, are classed under the general term, “stage effects.” Authors, in writing plays, are always on the look-out for an opportunity to produce a telling effect. The amount of work bestowed upon their production in a theatre is simply astonishing to those unacquainted with that mysterious realm known as “behind the scenes.”
Thunder is a common stage effect, and is used with great advantage in many plays. In former days it was produced by shaking a large piece of sheet iron immediately above the prompter’s desk. This contrivance produced a good imitation of sharp, rattling thunder, but failed to give the dull roar which is always heard in storms. A contrivance for this purpose was soon invented. A heavy box frame is made, and over it is tightly drawn a calf skin. Upon this the prompter operates with a stick, one end of which is padded and covered with chamois skin. A flash of lightning, produced with magnesium, and a sharp crack of the sheet iron, followed by a long decreasing roll upon the “thunder drum,” produce an effect which is startlingly realistic. Travelling companies are compelled to be satisfied with the sheet iron alone; and the tragedian who enters a theatre provided with a complete thunder apparatus always is happy to think that his battle with the elements in “King Lear” will be worth fighting.
The rain machine in large theatres is a fixture placed high up in the “flies.” A cylinder is made of “half-inch” wood. It is usually 5 ft. in circumference, and 4 ft. in length. Upon the inside are placed rows of small wooden teeth. A lot of dried peas is placed in the cylinder, a rope belt is run around one end of it and down to the prompter’s desk, and it is ready for a drenching shower. By turning the cylinder, the peas roll down between the teeth, and the noise produced by them makes a good imitation of rain falling upon a roof. A sudden pull of the rope, accompanied by a gust on the “wind machine,” gives the sound of the sweep of a blast of wind during a storm. Travelling companies often meet with theatres where there is no rain machine. A sufficiently good one, however, is easily produced. A common child’s hoop is obtained, and a sheet of heavy brown paper is pasted upon it after the manner of a circus rider’s balloon. A handful of birdshot is placed upon the paper. The “machine” is canted from one side to the other, and the shot rolls around the paper, producing a fairly good rain effect.
Wind is an item that is very useful in heightening the effect of stage storms. It is often dispensed with in theatres where strict attention is not paid to details, but not without a loss of “realism.” It has, moreover, a great influence over the feelings of spectators. The blind Louise in the “Two Orphans” is much more pitied when the audience can hear the pitiless blast that makes her shiver. Hence in every large theatre the wind machine plays an important part. It is not a stationary apparatus, but can be moved to any quarter of the compass from which it is desired that wind should blow. In the last act of “Ours,” every time the door of the hut opens snow flies in and a shriek of wind is heard. The wind machine in that instance is placed just outside the door, and the property man works it, while his assistant amuses himself by trying to throw his paper snow down Lord Shendryn’s back. The wind machine is constructed in this manner: A heavy frame is made, in which is set a cylinder provided with paddles and resembling very much the stern wheels seen on Ohio River towboats. Across the top of this cylinder is stretched as tightly as possible a piece of heavy gros-grain silk. This silk remains stationary while the wheel is turned by a crank. The rapid passage of the paddles across the surface of the silk produces the noise of wind. Often travelling companies are in theatres where there is no wind machine. Then the property man groans audibly and proceeds to do what, in theatrical parlance, is called “faking” the wind. He selects a heavy piece of gas hose, called by stage gasmen “flexible,” and, finding a quiet corner where there is sufficient space to swing a cat without danger—to the cat—he whirls it around his head with the greatest possible rapidity. This method produces very satisfactory results—to every one but the property man. He is a long-suffering person; but the extraction of wind from “flexible” causes him to find life tedious.
Every one has heard the startling crash that is produced when the hero kicks the villain through a four-inch oaken door. One would think that not only the door but the villain must be completely shattered. This noise is produced by the crash machine, one of the oldest implements of imitation still used on the stage. It is similar to the wind machine in construction. A wheel with paddles set at an angle of about forty-five degrees to the radii is the main part of the machine. Upon the top of the wheel one end of a stout piece of wood is pressed down by fastening the other end to a portion of the framework. When the wheel is turned, the slats passing under the stationary piece produce a rattling crash. The principle of the machine is illustrated by the small boy who runs a stick along a paling fence and is gratified by introducing into the world an additional morsel of hubbub.
There is nothing that can be so well counterfeited on the stage as moonlight scenery. And yet there is nothing which requires more work. The artist begins the task by painting a moonlight scene. In daylight such a scene is a ghastly sight. It is done in cold greys and greens, in which Prussian blue and burnt umber play an important part, and the lights are put in with white slightly tinged with emerald green. The strong moonlight of the foreground is produced by a calcium light thrown through a green glass. The fainter light upon the scenery at the back of the stage is obtained from “green mediums,” a row of Argand burners with green chimneys. These are placed upon the stage just in front of the main scene, and are “masked in” from the view of the audience a “ground piece.” A row of them is often suspended from the “flies,” in order to light the top of the scene. This upper row is masked in by “sky borders.” Thus a soft green light is thrown over the entire distance, while its source does not meet the view of the spectator. A usual feature of stage moonlight scenes is water, because it affords an opportunity for the introduction of the “ripple”—a charmingly natural stage effect. The main scene in a moonlight view is always painted on a “drop”—that is, a scene made like the curtain let down between the acts. The position of the moon being determined, immediately under it, beginning at the horizon, a number of small irregular holes is cut in the drop. These are then covered on the back with muslin and painted over on the front to match the rest of the water. Behind these holes is placed an endless towel, about 8 ft. in height, running around two cylinders, one at the top and one at the bottom. The lower cylinder has a crank by which the towel is turned. In this towel is cut a number of holes similar to those cut in the drop. A strong gas burner is placed between the two sides of the towel. When the machine is turned the flashing of the light from the passing holes in the towel through the stationary ones in the drop produce a fine ripple. It is always better to turn the towel so that the holes pass upward, as that helps to make the mimic wavelets seem to dance up toward the sky. Instead of a towel a large tin cylinder has been used, but it is cumbersome and noisy. It is necessary to turn this towel with great steadiness, otherwise the ripples will go by fits and starts, and entirely lose their natural appearance. Stars are easily put into the sky. Each twinkling orb consists of a spangle hung upon a pin bent into a double hook. The slightest motion of the drop causes these stars to shake and the flashing of the light upon them produces the twinkle.
One of the most beautiful effects produced upon the stage is the change from day to night or from night to day. Of these the former is the more striking, and a description of it will serve to explain the principle of both. In order to produce the proper effect the back drop is made nearly double the height of the usual scenes. The upper half of it is painted to represent a sunset sky, and the lower half to represent moonlight. It is hung so that the upper half alone is visible. The scenery of the distance is then painted upon a separate piece, which is “profiled”; that is, the irregular line of the horizon made by trees, mountains, or houses, is sharply cut out with a circular saw. This piece is placed immediately in front of the sky drop. A few feet further in front is hung what is known as a cut gauze drop. This has sides and top of canvas painted as the case requires; while the centre is filled with fine gauze, which lends an aerial effect to the distance. Red “mediums” are employed to give a soft, sunset glow to the scene. At the proper moment, the back drop is very slowly and steadily hauled up, while the red “mediums” are slowly turned off and green ones turned on. The moon is made in the night half of the sky drop, and rises with it. When it rises above the distant horizon the green “mediums” are turned on to their full power and the green calcium light is brought into play. The effect of this change, when carefully managed, is always very beautiful, and is sure to draw forth applause from the audience.
Moonrise, in a scene where there is no change from daylight to darkness, is often produced with a muslin drop and a “moon box.” The muslin drop is painted to represent the sky, the clouds being painted on strips of canvas cut in the required shape and sewn on. The moon is made with a box on one side of which a circular hole is cut. Over this hole is pasted a piece of white muslin. A couple of wires serve to draw the moon upward. Of course the white illuminated circle shows plainly through the muslin sky, but disappears when passing behind the canvas clouds. By having another piece of muslin painted red and imperceptibly fading to white, placed at the back of the drop in the moon’s path, the orb of night can be made to appear red at the horizon and gradually change to pale yellow as it sails slowly upward. Floating clouds are easily imitated by hanging in front of the sky drop a gauze drop upon which are sewn muslin or canvas clouds, and moving the whole slowly.
An ocean of heaving waters is made in this way: Each bounding wave is cut out separately. The first row is set up with a distance of three or four feet between each billow; and the second row is set so as to show in the openings left by the first. Small boys furnish the motive power. The waves are rocked back and forth, not from side to side; and the effect is very good. The noise of water rolling upon a beach is well imitated in a simple manner. A box of light wood is lined with tin. By putting two or three ounces of bird-shot into this and causing it to roll around, the desired sound is produced.