How a play is produced/The Supers
The Supers
WHEN the author introduces into his play the “People,” or the “Folk,” or a “Mob,” he generally imagines a great mass of individuals old and young, stout, broad-shouldered beings with big chests, thick necks, and powerful voices as the “People,” the “Folk,” or a “Mob” are usually supposed to be. But he is visibly disappointed when he sees on the stage a small handful of narrow-chested, more or less lean worms, with thin piping voices, who do not by any manner of means represent the real “proletariat” either in weight or substance. As a matter of fact they are poor students engaged at sixpence per night: and for sixpence one can hardly expect the poor beggars to be strong, broad-shouldered and sunburnt!
And because the producer is hissing from the wings: “For Heaven’s sake, move yourselves a bit!” they move themselves a bit, shake their bodies about, jostle each other in an endeavour to make one believe that they are really alive. True, there are also permanent supers who move about with a certain pride. Members of the technical staff also act as supers sometimes. Thus, you may see during the interval a Roman soldier carrying a bench on his head, or a French garçon screwing a loose bracket tight. The playing children in the crowd are usually the offspring of the theatrical folk.
If the piece is an elaborately mounted play, requiring a very large mob of people, then every one in the theatre is pressed into service: dressers, scene-shifters, property men, upholsterers, stage-managers, electricians and seamstresses; indeed, it is a wonder that the whole theatrical administration itself does not come on to the stage.
For making a noise one gets paid something extra.