Safe Practice
By Armand Thomas, KÀ Stage Manager
Every show has its dangers; the bigger the risk, the greater the need for vigilance. In a one-man show, you can bet the bar stool is checked for splinters and the microphone stand won't tip on stage. At KÀ, security matters take on a slightly wider range.
Emergency procedures are a vital part of life on every production. Stage hands rehearse safety and rescue scenarios as diligently as artists train for acts. The essential difference, of course, is that technicians practice their maneuvers with the hope they are never performed in front of an audience - a hope that inevitably turns futile.
KÀ is arguably the most complex technical show ever, anywhere. But all the preventative measures and safety checks in the world won't guard against something going awry. It's the nature of the beast. When all runs smoothly, KÀ is as safe as tumbling into a bag of cotton. And admittedly, most technical glitches are mainly cosmetic, more regrettable than hazardous: they break the magic and jolt the esthetic sense. But that's small change compared to other situations which have the potential of shattering more than just dreams.
Ideally, once every two weeks or so, the technical crew - usually lead by the Rigging department and physiotherapists - gathers in the theatre to conduct a mock rescue session in a featured act. It's silly to think every single possible mishap can be simulated: KÀ is replete with moving stages, flying winches and deep holes. The idea is to focus on specific conditions that establish protocols and procedures which could then be adapted to similar requirements in other situations during the show. It's as laborious as it is essential, because if there exists a coined mantra at Cirque, it is that safety always comes first.
Being a young show just out of creation, we are still discovering better ways to do things, and also more ways of getting stuck in sticky predicaments. In early January, we had a good scare during a performance when the artist understudying the Twin Sister role - in just her 6th show - was struck by an emerging peg in the act called Climb. These 2-foot steel pegs jut out of an inclined deck at 19 feet per second - that's in a blink of an eye - to simulate the appearance of arrows hitting the surface.
The artist was moving up the slope in a flush of adrenaline when, unaware of her proximity to the imbedded peg or the cue being called at that moment, it shot up and struck her in the thigh.
From the calling booth, I sit a fair distance from the stage, but immediately I knew by the way she flinched that she was in pain. I shared the information over headset so as prepare the crew of a possible change in the act, and the physiotherapist of a probable injury on our hands. But, surprisingly, she remained on the deck and performed her usual track, albeit more gingerly. On cue, she climbed inside the deck through a porthole on the side of the monolith, at which point the deck becomes a spinning island over the abyss, no exit possible except for choreographed falls into the airbags below. This was not an option for her. She was marooned. As the Climb ended and transitioned into the Blizzard act, the deck becomes a sheer vertical wall for the next two acts, lasting about 15 minutes; no one inside can exit before it has lowered into the basement. This was a predicament we had not yet pondered.
While the show continued, unbeknownst to the audience, the artist writhed in pain inside the deck while the riggers with her attempted to both perform their cues and attend to her needs. Oh, what we don't do for entertainment! Several alternatives were hotly discussed on headset: dropping rappel lines from the grid, lowering the deck prematurely to extract her, and very seriously, bringing the show to a halt. The latter would have meant skipping over a series of acts, with the upshot of possibly scuttling the entire performance.
I would have had no hesitation stopping the show had that been truly the best option. And it was tempting to do so. Every time the rigger would relay an update from inside the deck, we could all hear her wailing in the background. It was most unsettling. But it soon became apparent (given the setup already in place in the basement and the fact that she had found a relatively comfortable position inside the deck) that we had best just push on as normal; getting her out any other way seemed been more taxing and less expedient.
In the end, thankfully, the injury turned out to be no more than a severe bruise. She recuperated fully over a few days and has returned to the show. In retrospect, she would have been wise to leave the deck after getting injured, an easy exit along the boardwalk that leads to the off-stage wings. The storyline might have been somewhat warped, but no real matter. Instead, her first impulse was to not disrupt the flow of the show and, by unfortunate consequence, gave us all yet another important thing to think about and prevent from recurring.