Cecil Henry Bullivant

Tableaux may be divided into two important classes—the portrayal of abstract qualities, which usually includes motionless figures posed in sustained attitudes, and historic and romantic groups, in which the actor is allowed some occupation.

The Hero.

The Martyr.

The first class is most difficult of successful achievement. In it, the whole gamut of emotions common to mankind may be symbolized, and in these attitude and gesture are governed by the mind, which should be revealed in every muscle, curve, and limb of the human frame.

Strength, courage, fidelity, chivalry, purity, and honesty should be posed in such a manner that the simple grandeur and dignity of these attributes cannot be mistaken. The hero, the martyr, the ascetic, the fanatic have each a commonly recognized type and pose.

The shrinking form of the coward—he who fears all things greater than himself—must bear the stamp of the puny soul unveiled. The eye of the hypocrite, the cunning, the evil and degraded, is as different from the gaze of the pure of heart as the muddy, stagnant pool is different from the wide, blue expanse of salt sea—the air of a foul room from the breath inhaled beneath the open sky.

And in the same way that grand music is expressive of all human emotions, and as welcome to the ear as the song of birds, so form and color, attitude and character, in living pictures are potent emblems of the strength and weakness of complex humanity.

The figure that is to symbolize Hope must possess that wondrous attribute in herself, otherwise no trickery of dress or limelight can make her anything but a caricature of the spirit of optimism.

So that, in order to portray virtues and vices as they are, the stage manager’s craft reaches beyond superficial knowledge. Psychology and intuition are even more important to him than experience regarding blending of colors, arrangement of lights and grouping of forms, for the human mind is the keynote in which his music is revealed, the touchstone of his secret, the mystic spirit dominating the symmetry of gesture.

In the choice of individuals, personal character is weighty—pink and white flesh tints, however perfectly blended in a face, do not stand for Patience, Charity, or Sympathy unless the heart behind is pulsed on the pivot-springs of these virtues, for the experienced eye of the spectator probes beyond paint and attitude, and knows perfectly well whether these virtues are rightly embodied or merely distorted mimicry.

Therefore the stage manager of tableaux vivants, before all else, needs penetration in recognizing and choosing exponents suitable to interpret the abstract conditions he is anxious to depict, and it is only when his choice is made that the training, grouping, and scenic effects need be considered.

Tableaux vivants are in character not unlike a symphony. The theme in both is important. In the latter, the interweaving of other parts enhances the beauty of the dominating strain, as in the former, where harmonizing colors and stage effects, important as they are, remain ever subordinate to the principal conception aspired.

Of course, in the training of subjects, it is very necessary that one attitude should be maintained by each figure and remain unbroken from the lift to the fall of the curtain, and this without rigidity of body, unless the characteristic is typified in rigid lines; but even more important is the necessity that the mind should not waver nor the features change to an expression not in harmony with the attribute typified.

Hope does not frown or smile, and all nervous twitching is absent from the tranquil face and figure of Serenity. Courage shows a lofty brow and steady eye—the shoulders are squared resolutely, but not aggressively.

Mercy, Pity, Love, Gentleness, Sweetness, and Charity are most perfectly imaged by women, who naturally possess these virtues; Dignity, Determination, Steadfastness, and Chivalry by men. But the stage manager need not limit himself by any conventions in this particular, for it sometimes happens that a woman’s face and form breathe characteristics usually found in certain types of manhood, while a man’s countenance may be eloquent of the gentle virtues typical of womanhood.

The thoughts of each character must be concentrated on the part undertaken, and the onlookers absolutely forgotten. As far as possible the actors should forget that there is a certain amount of strain in the immovable pose, otherwise limbs will twitch and the balance and pose be in peril. With sufficient practice it will not be difficult to remain in the attitude fixed upon for the few minutes after the curtain is lifted. It is only at first that the limbs, either through inexperience or nervousness, prove rebellious. The impersonators should not be afraid to breathe regularly, for this prevents artificial rigidity.

Figures should not be crowded together. A small stage, such as would be used in a drawing-room, requires a picture in proportion. The dresses and lights should blend harmoniously with the background and frame.

Staging

Fig. 1 depicts the lighting arrangement at back of frame. The guard-wires, running from side to side, are to prevent the possibility of dresses catching fire. The footlights usually consist of ordinary night-lights with illumination glass covers. Behind these are tin shades for reflectors. Electric light, if available, can be substituted for oil lamps as shown. In the same sketch a curtain-raising apparatus also appears. Two persons should be chosen for its manipulation, and be always stationed in such a position that they can draw and divide the curtain at the given signal.

Every separate production is timed by the stage manager or some other reliable person, and the duration of each should be exact. Three, or at the most four, minutes are ample time for the audience to take in the details of the picture, and the instant the curtain is drawn another group is arranged, the actors being perfectly familiar with the position and pose they are to take, going to their places without confusion or disorder.

In a succession of group-pictures different groups of actors are necessary, for it is impossible for the same persons to change their costumes in the minute or so that intervenes before the succeeding spectacle.

Where the number of players amounts to fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five, the number of tableaux arranged upon can be divided between them, and the productions, consisting of from two to five figures, arranged in such a way that during group A’s tableaux group B is ready in the wings and takes the stage the instant group A disappears through a different exit to the dressing-room. Next, group C takes group B’s place in the wings, and so on with all the groups. In this way each has a few minutes in which to change.

Confusion and fussing will be prevented by each group knowing exactly their manner and mode of entrance. Some plan, which renders it impossible for group A leaving the stage to collide with group B in the wings, must be fixed upon. Because the tableaux take place in a strange drawing-room, where there is not much accommodation possible behind the platform, and few entrances and exits, is no adequate excuse for any bungling or confusion.

However limited the space, the stage manager and his company should hit upon some plan that makes for order and precision. To do this, the performers should come early to rehearse entrances and exits, and then memorize them, for any mistake behind the scene, even if of so slight a character that it does not retard the productions, is apt to disturb the nerves of the players, and rob them of their necessary calm.

There should be no laughing or talking, for sounds easily penetrate through a drawing-room, and not only disturb the audience, but draw from their task the attention of the group occupying the stage.

The stage manager, who feels unable to represent abstract qualities perfectly, would do well to avoid them altogether.

It may happen that his actors include a few who are absolutely raw material where tableaux are concerned, and upon such occasions he should always have a few studies in his repertoire in which motionless poses are not necessary.

Penelope and Ulysses

For example, a pretty novice, sitting at a spinning-wheel, weaving imaginary threads from a spindle of flax, will do very well as Penelope, spinning her endless garment during the absence of Ulysses. In a simple white or colored gown, with her hair falling over her shoulders, and her head bent slightly over the wheel, she makes a pleasing picture.

Cinderella, seated on the floor, gazing into the cinders, with her hands clasped round her knees, is another quite easily adopted attitude.

Another pretty scene, acted over the spinning-wheel, is the Lady of Shalott, weaving “a magic web with colors gay,” and peering from time to time at the mirror above her, which reflects “the highway near, winding down to Camelot.”

In this tableau the facial expression is wholly different from that which dominates Penelope’s features. Penelope’s labor is inspired by stratagem, to keep her unwelcome suitors at bay. Her soul is steeped in a patience so melancholy that it verges on despair, whereas the Lady of Shalott “weaves by night and day,” because she believes she is chained to her task by an awful power. If she pauses a moment, a curse will fall upon her. Her eyes, therefore, are wild with fear, her face contorted, her fingers pluck the threads feverishly, and there is none of Penelope’s listlessness in her wild agonized concentration.

History and fiction teem with incidents that can be easily translated into groups, wherein an absolutely motionless attitude is not required.

The three witches in “Macbeth,” in their cone-shaped hats, tattered rags, and disheveled hair, their wild, evil prophecy, seared in the deep lines of their withered faces, haunched on the ground conspiring together.

Guinevere, prone on the convent floor of “the holy house at Almesbury”; King Arthur, fully armed, and stained with battle, bending over her in agonized tenderness, pity, and shame; and many other examples, which will easily be found by the stage manager, ambitious to exhibit pictures more unique than those usually adopted.

Stage “Props”

The materials used for characters need not be expensive or difficult to procure. Cheap sateens, muslins, velveteens, gold paper pasted over cardboard and large buttons, glass diamonds and emeralds, tinsel and silver braid, bright-colored ribbons from the remnant basket, discarded shoes and stockings, transformed by cheap dyes, vari-colored beads, imitation ermines, tin swords and armor—all these are useful and effective beneath the lime-light.

Backgrounds may be arranged by means of curtains draped over the walls in colors that blend or contrast harmoniously as desired with the tableau produced. Properties, such as old wine flagons, lamps, &c., may be fashioned by means of cardboard, cut in the necessary shape, gummed together, and covered with gold or silver paper.

Fancy dress magazines and illustrated histories will reveal many secrets to the stage manager. Better still, a visit to a museum, when he is in doubt about the shape and period of some article he requires, and observation of the properties utilized in historic or Shakespearean plays will well repay time and trouble spent. Duplicates in lead, wood, or tin of almost any old article can be fashioned well enough to answer his purpose.

When a large group of figures is to be arranged, light wooden ladders, placed in a semicircle, and covered with some appropriate color, make easy and adaptable tiers, on each step of which a figure is posed, or an arrangement of tiers for back-stage grouping can be made as shown in Fig. 2.

The most expensive aids in the stage manager’s paraphernalia—and these, alas, there is no overcoming—are the supply of the lime-light and the loan of the wigs. But in this direction he should not be too ambitious, contenting himself at the start with a moderate outfit in accordance with his means and inexperience.