Tosca

(mini animation)

The last few weeks have been packed with the reprise of Tosca at the Dutch National Opera. I have been working off and on at the Dutch National Opera for years now and because I had been a swing for this production before, they asked me and my colleagues if we could do it again. It was a fun gig because it was an unusual one. Basically we had to stick our heads through a enormous, (and I do mean enormous) triptych, that was being pushed forward by remote controls like a giant toy car. It was entirely made out of wood, with scaffolding to be able to reach the 2nd and 3rd floor.

The choir around us would sing their bits (and do so brilliantly, the wooden structure enhancing the sound) while the opera singer Gevorg Hakobyan portrayed Scarpia would be cowering away from us. We would have to mime these bits as we were being raced forward at snails pace, with a quicker departure once we had nearly pushed Scarpia into the orchestra pit. This was quite terrifying as we had nothing to really hold on to, and the triptych itself sounded like a falling tree about to tip over at all times. We would then abandon mission and be driven backwards a bit faster. The whole ordeal took 4 minutes and 3 seconds. Well, Claartje, you might wonder, isn’t that a little specific? I know this because The Dutch National Opera put the whole thing on display when it had its first run, for promotional purposes and your eyeballs to feast upon:

The holes would sometimes be on average head height, but more often than not, we’d have to contort ourselfs like a snake woman. Sometimes the hole would be knee level, but the most extreme one for me, was the one at ankle level.

I had to basically hurl myself forward like a human rocket with people so close to me on both sides I couldn’t figure out where to place my arms any other way than straight next to my body like a diving seal. This wasn’t the only challenge that night. The woman I was replacing was in a spot on the painting that required a beard. A fancy opera one that needed glue to be stuck in place and quite a bit of make-up time.

The make-up they went for was chimney chique with a touch of Weimar Cabaret.

I might have never looked sexier.

Back to that beard. It would have made many a religion and cult very proud. I could hear their siren calls in the mirror, but the tactile sensation was that of one more suited in the nether regions of a 70’s porn classic and it pulled me right back through the reality of extreme itchyness. It was glued to the soul patch spot on my chin and stretched behind my ears with elastic bands.

A while later we were out of our dressing rooms and on stage in the triptych, waiting for stage management to hold a white sheet of paper into the light to quietly signal our upcoming departure with the Fake Painting Express. Once that piece of paper got shown, we all stuck our heads through the hole, and choir members all around me announced I had to push the beard through the hole. I did and while doing so, like a squirrel trying to store some very puby nuts, I could hear and feel a tiny tug, releasing the tuft of beard off my chin. I pushed my head up in a panic, which immediately caused the beard to hurl itself towards my forehead, like the face hugger in Alien. As we were already starting to reveal ourselves slowly to the audience I managed to pull it down just in time, to the place it should be. Frozen in rocket man pose, unable to hold onto the beard, I spent the entire ride in fear the cursed thing would swoop swoosh down like a feather in a pillow commercial, landing on Scarpia.

I figured this was slapstick enough for a mini animation, and since I had a grueling schedule and no time to begin with, I worked on it anyway for about half a century and that is why I love you all for supporting me! Your support helps me improve my art and animations step by step and most importantly buy me time to do so.

Disney is not quite burning through my voice mail yet, but I do hope you find it charming.