On stage, triumph and disaster are unhappy twins

Events like the troubled Dubai opera evening illustrate how close disaster can be to triumph, writes Michael Simkins.

Performances can often teeter between disaster and triumph. Cindy Ord / Getty Images

The adage that “the show must go on” was stretched to breaking point last weekend when an evening of ballet at the Dubai World Trade Centre descended into something more resembling a farce. The litany of mistakes included poor ticket sales, missing seats, a late start and the non-appearance of several advertised stars due to what were described as “unpredictable circumstances”. If so, their travails were as nothing to those endured by the poor audience, many of whom subsequently labelled the evening “a disaster”.

As a performer of 35 years standing, such tales provoke a shrug of resigned recognition rather than a gasp of surprise. As a breed we naturally tend to subscribe to the maxim that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong”, and we know from bitter experience that the gap between triumph and disaster is often wafer thin.

And little wonder at hastily-arranged one-offs such as this. A night of ballet may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but whenever ambitious shows are staged in venues not specifically designed for them, the chances of calamity striking are increased tenfold. For a start everything – lights, sound, scenery – has to be shipped in and configured in short order, often with little time to sort out any glitches. It only needs a flat tyre, a foggy runway or a short fuse – either electrical or spiritual – and things can quickly go pear-shaped.

I recall seeing a performance of Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker at a UK concert venue more used to staging rock concerts, at which it transpired that far from the specialised sprung wooden floor which the dancers had been promised, they were required to dance on a surface of hardboard laid on top of concrete. By the end of the performance the backstage area resembled a hospital ward rather than the wings of a theatre, and it came as no surprise to me when I heard of subsequent performances being cancelled.

And while it might seem good commercial sense to choose an auditorium that can accommodate 5,000 people rather than 500, staging complex live performances is very different from exhibitions and conferences.

In many modern venues the auditorium itself is a vast flat floor space, without tiers or raked seating (or, as here in Dubai, without any seating at all). Even if you import it yourself, only a tiny fraction of the audience will be guaranteed a good view of the action.

Multipurpose venues are often particularly prone to problems, as witnessed by a performance of Shakespeare in which I once appeared in a theatre sandwiched between a larger auditorium staging an Abba tribute show and another hosting a male voice choir (rarely has the play’s title, Love’s Labour’s Lost, seemed more appropriate).

And then there are the acoustics, another apparent problem with the Dubai Gala-Ballet event.

The old Victorian theatres that still thankfully proliferate here in the UK were mainly designed by geniuses who knew their trade, and who constructed their auditoriums out of plaster and wood, materials that amplify and resonate a performers voice so beautifully that you can whisper and still be heard at all points of the compass.

Glass and cement might make for impressive architecture, but are less forgiving to audibility, and simply sticking a mike on the performer and turning the volume up to 10 merely exacerbates the problem.

Indeed, in one modern theatre here in the UK anyone standing on stage can enjoy the dubious pleasure of listening to a crystal- clear echo of their own voice rebounding back at them from the rear wall of the auditorium a full second after they’ve spoken the actual words, even as the audience are craning forward to hear. It takes a certain sort of genius to design such a venue.

Still, never mind. The scenery may fall about our ears, the lights may fail, and the audience may fling cabbage stalks rather than bouquets: but whatever mayhem may befall us, you can be assured we’ll keep going – at least until the curtain falls. It is, after all, what we’re paid for …

Michael Simkins is an actor and writer in London

On Twitter: @michael_simkins