I started taking improv classes at the Hideout in 2001. Back then, there was a raised stage downstairs (different from the one there now), and the upstairs theatre was rotated, so that its stage was aligned length-wise across the room (if you walked in and turned right, you’d be facing it). At some point, the downstairs lost its stage (and a backstage bathroom), the upstairs rotated to where it is now, and two set pieces were built–a door and a window. They are permanent fixtures of the upstairs theatre.
There is something nice about not having to improvise everything. Sure, you can walk into a room through a mimed door, or even “knock” on it by classically stomping your foot for effect. But as the audience, we always see the person at the door before they come in. There’s no mystery to the entrance, only to what it will bring.
The me, a door is the ultimate symbol of mystery. What waits behind it? Who will enter next? Is someone listening through the crack? It’s the one and only set piece I knew I wanted for “Scene of the Crime”, the improvised murder mystery show currently playing in the Hideout’s downstairs theatre. But I knew we couldn’t just build a door permanently into the stage. Every run of shows the Hideout does these days is different and unique, and who’s to say they all want doors in them?
No, this door had to be portable. It had to be able to be, if needed, collapsed after every show and re-set before the next. On top of that, I had it in my head that it needed to be a double door. A bit more elegant, more classic than a standard door, the fact of its existence on stage would make it somewhat unusual for an improv show. It was bound to create intrigue.
So, the challenge: How do you make a double door that’s mobile? Well, you enlist the help of long-time improviser and engineer extraordinaire, Jay Michael.
Essentially, we built an 8-foot frame for a set of 4-foot double doors, then attached legs to the back. But because the door had to be mobile, the legs are comprised of a set of hinges: You can fold the floor leg up, and the diagonal strut to the side, thus collapsing the door into, essentially, a large square flat that could easily lean against a wall for storage, leaving a relatively small footprint on the space.
But how to keep the door standing? Yeah, you’ve got to weigh down the legs, but we’re talking about a pretty large, heavy door. That’s either a truckload of sand bags, screwing it into the stage itself, or what Jay and I devised: Clamping the legs to the back of the stage, and securing the top with safety straps.
Theoretically, the design and physics made sense. But one never knows until one does. And so with baited breath, we clamped our door in, locked down its straps, and gave it a whirl.
And now the cast gives it many a whirl every week in the show. Yes, the door is solid—and, as it turns out, we have yet to fold it up and store it. It will remain a permanent adornment to the stage through the end of the show’s run.
Which means you have until the end of June to see the “door of mystery” in use, a minor-engineering marvel, courtesy of the hard work of the talented Jay Michael. After that, who knows? It may… just… vanish!
