To bow or not to bow

At the theatre recently, venue and production redacted, I noticed at the end there were two kinds of bow going on.

One was a modest dip suggesting thanks for coming, goodnight. The other was a kind of open mouthed, arms akimbo thing which said darling I gave my all and so did you, dear audience.

At least there was no sign of that silent clapping, delivered first to the lighting box and then, ghastly of ghastlies, to us, the audience.

Look mate, you did your job, which was to deliver the show without bumping into the furniture, and we did ours, which was to stare at you doing it while hoping you’d remember your lines.

As a retired actor, I know that five minutes before the end of any play, however riveting, the minds of the audience, the cast and especially the sound and light guys is on car keys and/or the pub.

Was that a standing ovation? No, it was us getting our coats off the back of the seats.

Anyone who has seen the Natural Theatre shows based on the egotistical composer Scarlatti will remember there were endless encores, seemingly demanded by the adoring public but actually built into the plot.

Each character in the show performed a party piece or a cameo, involving a dazzling array of costume changes. The frantic scenes backstage would make a show in themselves!

My friend, a Naturals virgin, thought he’d timed his interval pint perfectly, but as usual the show went way beyond its advertised finish time.

I even had a sign saying ‘More!’ pinned to my back, engendering even greater heights of audience hysteria.

My pal, finding the call of nature finally overtaking his desire to see the umpteenth curtain call, made a frantic dash for the nearby fire exit.

Unfortunately, the front entrance, giving access to the facilities, was locked during shows for security reasons.

I don’t know how the story ended, but I imagine it was badly.

In Germany we found ourselves performing in a creaky old theatre.

The traditional footlights with their melting coloured gels were suspended over the orchestra pit and were completely dazzling if you ventured too far downstage.

As we swept forward for our second choreographed bow, one of our actor musicians disappeared off the end of the line, fell into the pit and broke his wrist.

Astonishingly, he completed the tour with one arm in plaster, playing along with his good right hand to a backing track of the left-hand notes. At show time in a Northern art centre, we waited nervously behind the set. And waited. Nobody turned up. Zero. The caretaker even came in to take some seats away for the jazz gig in the foyer, which was heaving.

We decided it would be dispiriting, if not sheer bad luck just to pack up and go, so we lined up across the stage in our costumes and bowed.

We then went into the auditorium, sat down and gave ourselves a polite round of applause.

We didn’t demand an encore.

Ralph Oswick was artistic director of Natural Theatre for 45 years and is now an active patron of Bath Comedy Festival