Story by: Jennifer Strange
It’s 10 a.m. on opening day of Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s 75th season. In less than 12 hours, Angus Bowmer Theatre will be filled with an expectant audience awaiting the world’s first-ever glimpse of Artistic Director Bill Rauch’s version of “Hamlet.”
The theater is chilly and dark as wildly-attired stagehands move about with ant-like precision and purpose. Clad in motorcycle boots, jeans and earrings, Stage Operations Manager Thomas Curtis watches from the third row with an exacting eye; his shaved head, generously inked forearms and salt and pepper goatee reveal a nature he calls “part coach, part tyrant.”
His booming voice fills the theater: “The fact of the matter is tonight’s opening night and they want everything working perfectly and we’re going to get it done but it’s going to be crazy.”
Curtis brings a bottle of Coke to his lips then bounds quickly to the stage. He checks an automated pocket door as it slides out and stops perpendicular to the exterior wall of the “Castle of Elsinore.” This is where Hamlet’s mother, Gertrude the Queen of Denmark, lives with her new husband, Claudius (Hamlet’s uncle and the bane of his existence). Modern security cameras and intermittent spirals of razor wire line the castle wall, foreshadowing Rauch’s signature blend of classic and contemporary.
“Nobody else in the country is doing what we’re doing here,” Curtis says, returning to his perch. “At the peak of the season, I’ll have about 30 stagehands and we’ll be doing five sets a day and the set changes have to get faster and faster.”
Curtis has been growing his loyal and able crew since he came to OSF 10 years ago. Strength and service are emphasized; the former requires thorough fitness testing—potential stagehands go through the same rigorous tests used to qualify firefighters. The latter is more of an attitude.
“Fact is, these are service jobs and we’re pretty much the bottom of the pile—we serve everyone,” says Curtis. “We don’t screw around and we don’t do late. You can tell me, ‘Sorry I’m late, Boss’ twice. The third time, I’m not your boss anymore. Once you have that figured out, it works just fine.”
Raised in New York City, Curtis was never very far from the stage. In his early twenties, he found himself hanging around a theater with a girlfriend who acted. One day, a crew member didn’t show up and he stepped in.
“I just did it. I don’t get scared, I don’t get nervous and those are common threads for theater people,” Curtis says. “No matter where you’re working in the theater, if you get nervous, you’re screwed.”
His first taste of OSF was in the 1980s when he spent a brief stint working backstage. Then it was onto the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass., where he started as a welder and became a foreman. “After that, I bumped around a lot working with touring companies, but I got drunk and burnt out,” he growls.
By then, Curtis had a wife and three kids. “It wasn’t so good for them to have a drunk, really busy dad, so I moved the family to Oregon.” He’d always stayed in touch with OSF Production Manager Tom Knapp, who brought him back on board.
“It’s been good,” says Curtis, barreling backstage to check on the props. “It’s a hard place to work—it’s demanding and I’m on call every minute. I actually wear a cell phone around my neck when I’m mowing the lawn.” He pauses mid-stride. “Actually, I’m sort of a prisoner here. But, hell, I’m getting paid to work with really, really quick, articulate, smart, funny people at the top of their field. How much does that not suck?!”
Backstage, Curtis confers briefly with stagehand Jason T. Jolly while a woman shouts, “Can someone give me a hand and get this coffin in here?”
Jolly’s job is to oversee the prop box for “Hamlet.” “Jason’s World,” as it’s called, includes a table set with carefully labeled champagne flutes, hardback books, a wad of Euros, three machine guns and other seemingly random items. A three-foot-tall, fake cake stands nearby.
“It’s got a spot in it where we put real cake for the play,” says Jolly, who lives in Ashland and is starting his fourth season at OSF. “I’ve got to make sure the props get where they belong and it can be a real rush back here.”
Stagehand Carl Benion pulls Curtis to a set of carpeted stairs, which the ghost of Hamlet’s father uses during his nighttime visits. “Carl is the checkout person on the show,” says Curtis. “If something goes wrong, he calls me. Or I call him if I need something.”
Past the stairs, around a luxurious bed dressed in white linens and set with a breakfast tray (Gertrude’s morning snack) and beyond a vertical maze of stage weights is a staircase that leads under the stage. This is where Curtis has his office. Wired to a speaker, he listens to the show and waits for calls from Benion.
On the way to his office, Curtis passes self-proclaimed “theater gypsy” Gwen Turos. Turos has been an OSF stage manager for 12 years. “This is a total dream job,” she says. “We’re a department of 11 and there are two of us on every show—we sit with the director and communicate their needs to the others. It’s like the hub of a wagon wheel.”
One of the wheel’s spokes is Dylan Farrell. As theater technologist, Farrell writes much of the software used to run the festival’s computerized systems. “OSF has invested close to a quarter-million dollars in motor control over the past 10 years; for the theater industry, that’s unheard of,” he says. “We have animation and a motion control package beyond what any other theater uses.”
Curtis has his cell phone to his ear and looks ready to launch. In a flash, he’s sprinted up the stairs, crossed the courtyard and enters the New Theatre. His boss, Tom Knapp, has called him to help make sure a black light soffit is level above the set of “Well,” which opens the next day.
Technical Director William S. Tiesi, unassuming in a plaid shirt and longish brown hair, surveys the process and the heavily-adorned stage.
“We’re setting up for a technical rehearsal,” he says, stepping between members of a cleaning crew who are polishing seats in preparation for opening weekend. “This set gets replaced with ‘Ruined’ and will be removed in July. It’ll be dismantled and lowered in three minutes to the storage area below.”
Clearly impressed with this technological feat, Tiesi is anxious to show off the storage area. Accessed by foot through several long hallways and stairways, the area is kept behind glass. A freight elevator raises and lowers sets to and from the bi-level basement. It is currently being used to stage the “Ruined” set. A jungle is being manufactured along one side and intricate plywood structures cover the floors.
“That’s almost $5,000 in fake plants,” says Tiesi, clipboard in hand. “We source materials from all over—from distributors, from home, from recycle centers and even landfills. Most of the sets get built at the shop on 4th Street and are brought here for staging.”
Curtis is ready to head back to Elsinore. He’s pulsing with adrenaline as the clock ticks closer to curtain time. “By the way,” he mentions, “it’s my 51st birthday.”
Wow! Curtis is turning 51 as he starts his 10th season on the opening night of the 75th anniversary of the world-renowned Oregon Shakespeare Festival. That seems noteworthy.
“Birthdays are for kids,” he snarls, a devilish smile curling his lips as he re-enters the land of Hamlet. “This is as good a place as any to celebrate.”
Thomas Curtis eyes Ophelia’s coffin, carefully balanced on an elevator that will rise to the stage in just a few hours. There’s still a lot to do. “Yes,” he says, “I belong here, I think.”
To be or not to be at OSF this season? What a silly question! To find out how Hamlet fares, go to www.osfashland.org and buy a ticket.
Oregon Shakespeare Festival15 S. Pioneer St., Ashland541-482-2111www.osfashland.org
| Next > |
|---|