How a play is produced/"Upstairs"
“Upstairs”
THE supreme court of appeal in a repertory theatre is made up of the secret trinity: the Director of the Theatre, the Dramatic Director, and the Administrator. Of this holy trinity it is usually the poor Dramatic Director who must walk the road to Calvary and be crucified from time to time.
The Director of the Theatre is a man who, for his past sins, has been condemned to be eternally annoyed. He is compelled to adjust all quarrels, complaints and questions of ability: storm when necessary; dry tears; haggle over any increase in salaries; and sign much-needed monetary advances. His power is great, but it is purely internal in character.
As far as the Administrator is concerned, his functions are, to a certain extent, unlimited and surrounded by secrecy.
These three almighty creatures spend their time in rooms furnished with carpets, easy-chairs and similar luxuries, which, however, are forced to flaunt themselves in fashionable drawing-rooms on the stage when needed.
There, higher authorities are succeeded by lesser authorities, whose titles begin with Co-Directors and Secretaries, and end with Assistants. The latter rattle telephones, and bang feverishly on typewriters, copying out rôles, letters and memoranda. It is just like an ordinary office, except that it is somewhat distracted; every one is in a fearful hurry; and every one is working like the devil. That is part of the whole game.
The rôle of the reader of plays is a very quiet one, and plays itself out in a little room hidden away in a corner somewhere. It is an oasis of peace, inducing a deep, almost refreshing lassitude in the feverish swirl of the theatrical factory. To this little room come the modest authors (the less modest ones lay direct siege to the Dramatic Director) bringing neatly copied plays, over the contents of which they “spread” themselves, return frequently, and by all means in their power try to discover when their play will be produced. The reader of plays, a peaceful and contemplative man, tells them that “it will come along in good time.” He is, however, taken seriously only by the dramatists. For the players are offhand with him, regarding him with justice, as something of a bookworm. As though the theatre of to-day had anything to do with literature!
The factotums of the theatre resemble the factotums of Ministries and newspaper offices: they are very literary, however, for at the beginning of the month they take the royalties round to the authors.
I seem to have mixed the artistic and administrative departments of the theatre together. And what, in fact, happens, is that the Director of the Theatre always says that he only works for artistic ends, while the reader of plays lays great stress on the economic importance of the box-office.
Now, however, let us descend lower.