Theater Jokes

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Theatrical Structure:


Producer-
Leaps tall buildings in a single bound.
Is more powerful than a locomotive.
Is faster than a speeding bullet.
Walks on water.
Gives policy to God.


Director-
Leaps short buildings in a single bound.
Is more powerful than a switch engine.
Is just as fast as a speeding bullet.
Walks on water if the sea is calm.
Talks with God.


Playwright-
Leaps short buildings with a running start.
Is almost as powerful as a switch engine.
Is faster than a speeding BB.
Swims well.
Is occasionally addressed by God.


Actor-
Makes high marks on the wall when trying to leap
 buildings.
Is run over by locomotives.
Can sometimes handle a gun without inflicting
 self-injury.
Dog paddles.
Talks to animals.


Chorus Member-
Falls over doorsteps when trying to enter
 buildings.
Says "Look at the choo-choo."
Wets himself with a water pistol.
Plays in mud puddles.
Mumbles to himself.


Stage Manager-
Lifts buildings and walks under them.
Kicks locomotives off the track.
Catches speeding bullets in his teeth and eats
 them.
Freezes water with a single glance.
*IS* God.


Theatrical Logic:


In is down, down is front. Out is up, up is back.
Off is out, on is in. And of course, left is
right and right is left. A drop shouldn't and a
'block and fall' does neither. A prop doesn't and
a cove has no water. Tripping is OK. A running
crew rarely gets anywhere . A purchase line buys
you nothing. A trap will not catch anything. A
gridiron has nothing to do with football. Strike
is work (in fact, a lot of work). And a green
room, thank God, usually isn't. Now that you're
fully versed in theatrical terms, break a leg.
But not really.


Principles For The Actor:


*Do not listen to your fellow actors (it will
only throw you). *Hold for all laughs - if you
don't get them, repeat line louder (face front if
necessary, or laugh at it yourself). *Tension
gets results. Emotion is like an orange, you must
squeeze it to get the juice. *A performance, like
concrete, should be molded, then set. *Your first
responsibility as an actor is to find the light.
*Do not look at your partner - you may not see
what you want. *Always be specific, point to what
you are talking about. *If a line isn't working
for you, change it. *Cultivate an attitude of
hostility. (NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY) *Stage
managers are not actors - ignore them. *Never be
afraid of ad-libbing, to get attention. *Mistakes
are never your fault. *Always find something to
bitch about, no matter how small or
insignificant. *Never arrive on time. *Never
carry make-up; someone will always have what you
need. *Help stage managers keep alert by not
signing in. *Never help understudies - why should
they steal your business? *Help your fellow
actors by giving notes whenever you feel it's
necessary. If they ignore you, report them to the
stage manager. *Whenever possible, give them
notes immediately before they go on - it will be
fresher that way. *Speak your lines as if the
audience had difficulty understanding the
language. *Keep other performers on their toes by
making fun of their performance. *Play the
reality - be aware of the audience. *The key
advantage is surprise - don't let actors know
what you're going to do. *The difference between
amateur and pro is that the pro does exactly the
same thing for money. *Create your character -
find your own costume. *Never change anything
that's working, no matter how wrong or phony it
may seem. *When in doubt about an ad-lib, go
"Whoo!" *Even if a piece of shtick doesn't work,
keep using it.


Signs You've Been In The Theater Too Much:


Your weekend consists of Monday, and only Monday.
"Q" is not just a letter. National holidays that
fall on Monday seem pointless to you. You know
more than one theory for the origin of the name
"green room." You can only read from a light that
is blue. You consider the red part of the
stoplight the "standby." You can't remember what
daylight looks like. You feel naked without your
keys attached to your belt loop, or your belt
without your Maglite, Leatherman, and Gerber. You
know tie-line has several uses - shoelaces,
belts, ponytail holders... 95% of your wardrobe
is black. You watch the Super Bowl, waiting for
intermission, not half-time. You tell more
stories of what went wrong on shows you've done
than what went smoothly. You start wondering what
it feels like to be a prop. You know anything can
be fixed with duct tape, Mortite, sculpter-coat,
a sharpie, tie-line, and a safety pin. Your diet
consists of fast food or microwaved food. Your
Halloween costume in some way utilizes running
blacks and gaff tape. Varying your diet means
ordering the #2 instead of the #3, or eating with
your left hand instead of your right. You
understand the jokes in Forbidden Broadway. You
insist on spelling "theatre" with an "re" - not
an "er". People recognize you by the sound of
your keys jingling down the hallway. Going to a
restaurant means ordering and sitting down in
McDonald's rather than the drive-thru. You'd
heard of Mandy Patinkin before he was on Chicago
Hope. "Practical," "drop," and "flat" are nouns.
Instead of saying that you're leaving, you say
you're "exiting." At home, you "strike" your
dishes to the kitchen. If someone asks you what
time it is, you respond with something like,
"Half hour 'til half hour."


***


Two stage managers, nearing the ends of their
careers, were discussing the likelihood of there
being some form of theatrical endeavor in the
hereafter. The first consulted a friendly medium.
Later, the following exchange took place between
the two stage managers:


SM1: "I have some good news and some bad news.
The good news is that there is a wonderful
theater in heaven - well equipped, spacious,
plenty of wing space. In fact, there's a show
opening tomorrow night."


SM2: "That's wonderful! So what's the bad news?"


SM1: "You're calling the show."


***


An old stage manager arrived at the Pearly Gates.
As a reward for years of patience, discretion,
and endeavor, St. Peter granted him a single
wish.


"I've never seen a perfect blackout - can that be
arranged?" he asked.


St. Peter snapped his fingers, and the darkness
descended. There was not a hint of spill from
worklights or prompt corner. There was total
silence, not a whisper, not a footstep, not a pin
drop - just complete silence and total darkness.
It lasted 18 seconds.


When the lights came up again, St. Peter was gone
and the Pearly Gates had been struck.


***


Q: Why don't stage managers get breaks?


A: Because it's too hard to re-train them.


Q: How many pencils does a stage manager have?


A: One. He can draw another one out of his hair
if he loses it.


***


Q: How many actors does it take to change a light
bulb?


A: None. Complain to the director at notes.


Q: How many directors does it take to change a
light bulb?


A: None. Give a note to the stage manager to fix
it!


Q: How many stage managers does it take to change
a light bulb?


A: None. Pull the technical director off a set
installation to deal with it.


Q: How many technical directors does it take to
change a light bulb?


A: None. Call the master electrician at home to
fix it.


Q: How many master electricians does it take to
change a light bulb?


A: We don't change bulbs, only halogen lamps.
It's a props problem.


Q: How many props masters does it take to change
a light bulb?


A: Light bulb?! When did they even get a lamp?


Q: How many theater critics does it take to screw
in a light bulb?


A: All of them - one to be highly critical of the
design elements, one to express contempt for the
glow of the lamp, one to lambast the
interpretation of wattage used, one to critique
the performance of the bulb itself, one to recall
superb light bulbs of past seasons and lament how
this one fails to measure up, and all to join in
the refrain, reflecting on how they could build a
better light bulb in their sleep.


Q: How many theater students does it take to
screw in a light bulb?


A: Erm, what's the deadline? I may need an
extension.


Q: How many audience members does it take to
change a light bulb?


A: Three. One to do it, one child to cry and
another to say, "ROSE, HE'S CHANGING THE LIGHT
BULB."


Q: How many interns does it take to change a
light bulb?


A: It doesn't matter, because you'll have to do
it again, anyway.


Q: How many directors does it take to change a
light bulb?


A: 4... no, make that 3... on second thought 4...
well, better make it 5, just to be safe.


Q: How many assistant directors does it take to
change a light bulb?


A: One. But s/he has to check with the director
first to make sure he wants the bulb there.


Q: How many producers does it take to change a
light bulb?


A: None. Why do we need another light bulb?


Q: How many stage managers does it take to change
a light bulb?


A1: I DON'T CARE!!! JUST DO IT!!!


A2: None. Where's IATSE?


A3: It's on my list... it's on my list...


Q: How many IATSE guys does it take to change a
light bulb?


A1: One, once he puts down the donut and coffee.


A2: Twenty-five, and a minimum of four hours. You
got a @!%#& problem with that?


Q: How many electricians does it take to change a
light bulb?


A: LAMP! It's called a LAMP, you idiot!


Q: How many lighting designers does it take to
change a light bulb?


A: None. Where's my assistant?


Q: How many technicians does it take to screw in
a light bulb?


A: Two, if they can find a lamp big enough and
figure out how to get inside it.


Q: How many actors does it take to change a light
bulb?


A1: None. "Doesn't the stage manager do that?"


A2: None. They can never find their light.


***


During a transatlantic flight, the Pope is busily
working on a crossword puzzle. However, he gets
stuck in the middle, so he turns to a
playwright sitting in the next seat and says,
"Excuse me, but do you know a four-letter word
meaning 'woman' which ends in U-N-T?"


The playwright scratches his head, thinks for a
minute, and replies, "Aunt. A-U-N-T."


The pontiff looks embarrassed, and whispers,
"Got an eraser?"


***


STRESS REDUCTION TECHNIQUE FOR PLAYWRIGHTS:


Sit quietly and inhale deeply and slowly through
your nose. Exhale slowly. Picture yourself near a
stream. Birds are softly chirping in the crisp,
cool mountain air. Nothing can bother you here.
No one knows this secret place. The soothing
sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a
cascade of serenity. The water is clear. You
breathe deeply.


You can easily make out the face of the person
whose head you're holding under the water. Look.
It's the person who caused you all this stress in
the first place. What a pleasant surprise. You
let them up ... just for a quick breath ... then
ploop! ... back under they go.


Allow yourself as many deep breaths as you want.


There now ... feeling better?


***


What's the difference between God and a director?


God never pretended to be a director.


***


What's the difference between an actor and a
mutual fund?


Mutual funds eventually mature and make money.


***


A renowned research institution undertakes to
document the spatial-cognitive processes of
intellectuals in various professions. They
recruit an architect, a surgeon, and a prop
manager. They construct three isolation booths,
completely sealed off from external interactions
or stimuli. They place one guy in each booth, and
give each one a set of three perfectly-matched
steel balls, each about three inches in diameter.
They seal the booths, and return in one week.


The architect has constructed a
geometrically-perfect pyramid with the balls,
yielding insights into stress dynamics and
materials tension. The surgeon has placed the
balls in a formation that hints at the nature of
the unexplored regions of the human gene, solving
some fundamental questions involving genetics and
DNA.


When the prop manager's booth is opened, the
interior is a shambles and there are no balls to
be found. Upon inquiry, the guy says, "Okay,
okay. I admit I DID lose the first ball. But I
SWEAR I don't know what happened to the second
one, and besides, you only gave me two balls to
begin with!"


***


Sid Caesar, holding up repaired pants:


"Euripides?"


"Eumenides?"


***


A playwright walks into a restaurant with his
dog. The manager says, "Excuse me, sir. You can't
come in here with that animal."


The writer replies, "But I'm blind, and he's my
seeing-eye dog!"


The manager is taken aback: "You have a
Chihuahua for a seeing-eye dog?!"


The playwright says, "I have a Chihuahua for a
seeing-eye dog?"


***


An actress, a costumer and a stage manager found
an old bottle in a pile of junk backstage. The
actress rubbed it against her sleeve, and poof! A
genie appeared.


"You got me fair and square," the genie said. "So
you each get one wish."


"I want a world tour in a starring role," the
actress declared.


"Granted," said the genie, and poof! The actress
was off on her tour.


"I want a yacht and unlimited funds to cruise the
exotic ports of the world," wished the costumer.


"Granted," said the genie, and poof! The costumer
was off on his cruise.


The stage manager rubbed his chin, thought for a
minute and said, "I want them back after lunch."


***


A playwright is standing at a bar, and there's
no one else left in the place. "I've run out of
money," he says to the bartender. "How can I get
another drink?"


"Show me something interesting," the bartender
replies.


"OK - what do you think of this?" The writer
reaches into his pocket, and produces a mannequin
dressed in white tie and tails, with a tiny grand
piano and stool. "This is my twelve-inch
pianist," he says, setting the piano on the bar
and the mannequin on the tiny stool. "What do you
want him to play?"


"How about the Moonlight Sonata?" asks the
bartender. Immediately, the well-known tune
tinkles out from the tiny piano. "Fantastic!"
says the bartender. "Have a large whiskey on me.
How on earth did you find him?"


"Well," says the writer, "Last week, I helped an
old lady across the street and she rewarded me
with one wish, but..."


Interrupting him, the bartender says, "Let me
meet her, and I'll give you a whole bottle of
whiskey."


Next week, by chance, the writer meets the old
lady again. Promising her a drink or two, he
leads her to the bar. As the bartender plies her
with free drinks, he can't help noticing that
she's slightly deaf. "You've been so kind," she
says, "I'll grant you one wish."


At last, the bartender thinks, my chance has
come. "I'd like a million bucks, please," he
says.


"It shall be done," she says, sliding off her
stool and muttering an incantation. The writer
and the bartender lift her onto a bench.
Suddenly, there's a noise of squawking birds
outside the bar. Mystified, they open the front
door. As far as the eye can see, the street is
filled with ducks.


"What's all this?" the bartender says. "I asked
for a million BUCKS, not a million DUCKS!"


"I'm not surprised," says the writer. "You don't
think I asked for a twelve-inch pianist, do you?"