You gotta get a gimmick

Ken Haller as Herbie, Deborah Sharn as Mama Rose,
and Sabra Sellers as Louise/Gypsy Rose Lee
in Gypsy at Stray Dog Theatre. Photo by John Lamb

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What makes a theatre group “professional”? Is it the quality of its productions? The amount it pays actors and designers? Its use of union (Actors Equity) personnel in its casts? The kind of facility where it presents its shows? Or maybe some combination of all of those?

These kinds of questions have led to some lively and even fractious discussions over the years (the latter kind often coming after a few drinks at O’Connell’s), especially when the Kevin Kline Awards were still around and still trying to define “professional” for everyone. The demise of the Klines seems to have cooled things down a bit, but the questions linger on.

Seeing the sold-out opening night production of Gypsy at Stray Dog Theatre (the show runs through April 20th), I was reminded of a couple of measurements of a group’s professionalism that might not be as obvious: the depth of its talent pool and the ingenuity with which it handles the unexpected.

Widely regarded as one of the best musicals of the late 20th century, Gypsy presents some real challenges to smaller companies. The cast is large, to begin with. Even with some actors playing multiple roles, you wind up with nearly two dozen performers, including children. In a less professional company, this inevitably means that someone—probably in a small part—is going to suck. Not here. Even the minor roles were filled with seasoned and polished actors. That’s what I mean by a deep talent pool.

Not every audience member will necessarily be consciously aware of it, but that’s the kind of thing that says “professional.”

Gypsy also makes demands on a company’s costume designer and staff. They not only need to come up with a lot of different outfits, they need to produce some fairly specialized costumes that you can’t just rent. The four strippers in the second act showstopper “You Gotta Get a Gimmick”, for example, each need elaborate, character-specific costumes.

On opening night the costume for Electra, which is supposed to light up on cue, refused to do so. Worse yet, as the company’s Electra, Paula Stoff Dean, was putting it on, the batteries began to heat up and start smoking. Panic ensued backstage. Finally, with only ten minutes to go before her entrance, Ms. Dean hit upon the idea of using flashlights to light up her costume. The resulting dance number looked so polished that many of us assumed it had been a deliberate choice.

That ability to not only mitigate a potential disaster but to turn it into an entertaining bit as well is another indicator of a theatre group’s professionalism.

That point, I think, is that there are many ways to measure how professional a company is. How do you define professionalism in theatre? Leave a comment and let everybody know.