Great Moments in Theatre: The Rooftops of Paris

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Lacking Ishmael's adventurous spirit and opportunities, I nevertheless like an occasional change of pace. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - I got interested in Theatre, got into a few plays, and took some acting classes.

My favorite teacher had a penchant for exercises intended to draw us out of our inhibitions and mannerisms. A particularly unpromising seeming one paired us up to interact with each other without speaking or touching. We started out on the stage of a medium sized theatre, seating perhaps 300. A notable feature was a sort of giant jungle gym, made of triangles about three feet on a side, built up from the sides of the theatre and extending over the audience and the apron of the stage, used for mounting lights and other miscellaneous purposes.

My partner for this exercise was a girl of about 20 - roughly half my age at the time - very tall and good looking, and, as it eventuated, rather strong and agile. An exercise of this sort is a bit hard to get into. Paired with a semi-stranger, not allowed to speak, among ten other similar couples, and watched over by a demanding teacher. We tried some patomime, we tried standing staring. We sat down and stared sitting down.

After a bit, my partner stood up, whipped off her leather jacket with a theatrical flourish, spun around, and flung it away, quite incidentally clipping me hard across the cheek with the metal zipper pull. At this point our exercise picked up considerable emotional intensity, with me pursuing slowly but grimly, and her easily dancing away.

She dodged behind one of the base columns of the jungle. I followed, and she dodged out the other side. We repeated, but hey, I used to play a little BBall, and this time as she tried to escape, I blocked. I blocked again on the other side.

At this point the crazy chick started climbing up the jungle gym. No honorable course was open for me but to follow. All the way up to the top of the theatre she climbed, followed by an idiotic old guy. Eventually I scrambled onto a catwalk, one of what turned out to be a maze of such running all about theatre, just below the ceiling.

It was dark. I could see about five feet in the gloom. She was more than five feet away. I caught my breath.

I looked down at the seats 30 or 40 feet below. I caught my breath again. It occurred to me that acrophobia was a survival instinct.

I slowly crawled about exploring the catwalks. It was dark as hell. Meanwhile, down below, the other pairs had run out of steam, but they couldn't see us on the catwalks in the gloom. Nobody else was doing anything, but our teacher, true to his directorial instincts, was not about to interrupt a moment of high (30 or 40 foot high)drama.

I couldn't see her anywhere. There were lots of catwalks. Fellow students down below were falling asleep. Eventually it occurred to me that she might have left the building. One of the catwalks led to the booth with the sound and light boards.

I found my way to the booth, entered it, and looked around, glad to be standing on solid looking floor. She still wasn't anywhere within the nearest five feet.

Feeling rather foolish, I went to the door of the booth and opened it.

Immediately I felt a great deal more foolish. A loud burglar alarm sounded. A security guard had to be summoned to turn it off. My partner now appeared from the catwalks.

Back on stage at the starting gate, the teacher eagerly cross-examined us about our emotions, reactions, and interactions. I was evasive and deliberately inarticulate. My partner said she imagined herself being pursued by the Phantom across the rooftops of Paris.

Or maybe she said "Fatman."