What makes a good set and does it really add value to a performance?
I love it when you go to see a show expecting the singing to be mind blowing or the actors to dazzle, but to your surprise and delight, another exceptional being is unexpectedly transformed before your eyes.
A good mate went to see the new production of Anastasia at the Lyric Theatre in Sydney. She has always adored the tale and the impressive music. She commented that the cast were perfection, giving their all and telling the gorgeous story with passion.
But one thing let her down.
The set.
Having paid a chunk for a ticket and parking, and travelled the two hours for her piece of professional theatre, she said the projected images, no matter how polished, didn’t cut it. She expected more. She wanted big, breathtaking and beautiful like the story deserved.
She was left a little lost.
I think for big ticket prices there is a big set expectation. But does a set really add to a performance?
There are certain shows that remain with you for a long time, not just because of the fabulous music or magical story. When we think back to them, it’s the set that comes to mind first, before anything else. No-one can think of Phantom without the chandelier, or Beauty and the Beast without the provincial town or the castle.
They are like limbs attached.
Since the 90s, sets have definitely changed. Projection and lighting can be very clever and have high impact.
In The Dictionary of Lost Words the set literally told the story - a simple projector on stage used by the actors in unfathomable ways morphed as both creator and creature, weaving us into the narrative, at times breathless for more.
The depth of three scrims, sharp shadowing and nightmarish screams of The Woman in Black exposed the set as a fiend. A wretch willing us to leap in our seats and shiver in anticipation.
The fast, interchangeable brightness of Back to the Future was something to behold. Finishing with a flying DeLorean that beamed audiences across decades, the set was a galvanizing machine with a mad scientist at the switch.
But big isn’t always necessarily better.
It’s all in the alchemy.
Even in a one woman show, the set is valuable.
I saw Justine Clarke become Julia Gillard in the play Julia.
Now, Justine could have performed that piece on an empty stage and we would have listened and felt. But in those final moments something inexplicable was brought to life.
After two hours of grueling monologue, the mirrors surrounding her became crowds of faces - young people of a future world of equity and tolerance all singing. Justine faced them, finally placing on the familiar ginger hair and blue jacket. At the crescendo, the lights tilted, the projection stalled and all eyes were on the actor.
This was it.
The set was electric, seeking both vengeance and acceptance.
And the actor syncopated. She knew. We had been prepared. Her voice, posture, tone and lilt had evolved. No longer Justine, Julia delivered.
The actor and the set had become one.
Sets matter.
They should nurture and foster the play and actors.
I love moving seamlessly through scenes where there are no walls to limit. I adore plays with levels and moving parts. Where the crew do magic with pulleys and levers, slamming doors in the dark and smashing windows where there’s really no glass.
I love a set that compliments the actors. A set that can be manipulated by lighting, where props enliven the actors’ abilities rather than an all encompassing set that bounds with its three walls and two doors.
When the unnatural is turned natural via the imagination, the audience really do relish it.
But it must be done well.
The science behind a good set is in making a man, not a monster.
A set should never abandon or reject the story, isolating audiences so they feel betrayed.
I completely understand how my friend must have felt. A favourite show left lifeless in her memory forever. And I guess it’s something she will have to accept - that not all creatures are built whole.
But the fact that she recognised the missing parts is really her reward.
As an actor and director herself, she will renew her designs, tailoring future sets into benevolent beings, rather than fallen angels.
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