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The Power of Pre-Show Pow-Wows
By Flip Kobler
Flip Kobler began his performing career as an actor before morphing into a writer. Flip and his wife, Cindy Marcus, run Showdown Stage Company and Showdown Theater Academy in Valencia, California. Pioneer Drama Service is pleased to offer several plays and musicals by this dynamic duo.
As a director moments away from opening a show, your most important job is to pull your cast together. You have lots of heads in lots of different spaces. Some have been here for hours getting into make-up and costume; others arrive late. Some are hungry; some are too nervous to eat. Someone is worried about whether Aunt Petunia is in the audience; someone else is texting her boyfriend. It’s up to you to pull them together and focus all those brains on one single task: the show.
We conduct a pre-show “pow-wow” that has become tradition for us. We’ll even announce throughout the pre-show prep, “Ten minutes to curtain, five minutes to pow-wow.” Our casts know they have to be ready, costumed, made up, haired AND cell phone free by pow-wow time.
So what do you say to inspire them? Well, that’s up to you. Only you know your cast and the journey that’s taken them this far. It will be different for every show. Some of what we do is always the same; other parts change depending on the cast.
Whatever direction you decide to go, do NOT open this time up for discussion. Never say, “Does anyone have anything they’d like to say?” Somebody always will, which means that somebody else has to have their say, and pretty soon it’s a support group. Now is not the time for that. In this moment, the group needs a leader, and that’s you. Think of yourself as the coach in the locker room at halftime. This is your “win one for the Gipper” moment.
Cindy’s and my tradition always includes gathering in a circle with everybody holding hands. Everybody. The house crew, the guys running lights, the costumer, janitor, obnoxious stage mom hovering in the corner. Everybody is part of this energy circle. We have them close their eyes and feel the power in the room. It’s palpable.
At this point, with their eyes still closed, I love to have them remember the journey that’s taken them to opening night. Ask them to remember auditions. How did it feel? Were they scared? Nervous? Did they ever think they couldn’t do this? Most young actors are terrified of singing in public. Some have never been onstage before. There are always some who didn’t think they could do it. I usually give a speech that goes something like this:
“You didn’t think you could do it, but here you are. I want you to remember this moment. When you’re onstage and you get that laugh, that applause, and when the curtain closes and the audience loves you, remember this feeling. File it away in your brain. Six weeks ago you didn’t think you could do this. What else do you think you can’t do? Hmm? For the rest of your life, you will now know that those thoughts are wrong. You can’t ask that girl out? Nonsense. You’ve already done what you couldn’t do. You can’t apply to that college? Wrong. You’ve already done what couldn’t be done. Whatever it is, for the rest of your life, you know that can’t isn’t true. Forever more your life is changed because you’re doing now what you thought you couldn’t do. Hold that feeling.”
By saying something like this, I get all those brains thinking beyond tonight. Beyond forgetting lines or missing a cue. It inspires them to realize all these weeks of work mean something that won’t be gone by this time next week.
Another great technique that my wife Cindy uses is to get those minds off of themselves. Remind your cast that tonight isn’t about them anymore. It’s about the audience. Make your cast part of something bigger than themselves. Ask them to do this performance for the audience. But not the whole audience. Oh no, that’s too vague. Ask them to imagine one single person in the audience tonight and do the show for them and them alone. This works wonders. A performer may not be able to bring the house down, but they can sure make Mom or Dad or Aunt Petunia proud.
A different idea is to ask them to do it for each other. A cast is usually pretty tight by this point (backstage drama not withstanding), and performers will be willing to give to each other if not themselves. Remind them to be in the moment for their fellow actors. To pick up cues so their friend can look good. It’s amazing how much an actor will give and sacrifice if it’s to help a buddy.
We always wrap up our pow-wows by having everybody put their hands in the center. We have a countdown, then scream the name of the show followed by “rocks.” It’s astounding how much energy comes out of those few words. Even if the audience overhears the sonic boom, they are a forgiving bunch. And they’ll love the energy they know is coming.
Whatever direction you take with your pow-wow, follow these guidelines:
- Keep it under five minutes. Your intention is to inspire, not lecture.
- Keep it fun, but hit some ideas that carry beyond just the show. Fill them with images that will carry beyond the next two hours and strike.
- Appeal to their selfless side. Don’t actually do it for the Gipper. Do it for somebody real, here and now, whether it’s somebody special in the audience or their best friend in the cast.
- End with a bang. A chant, a song, a scream.
- However you end, make sure curtain is less than three minutes away. Don’t let all that good “amping up” wither away with a long delay.
- Above all, be honest. Be personal. Make these five minutes a celebration of the road you’ve walked together and a promise for all the paths into tomorrow.
You rock.
