Undoubting Thomas: An unforgettable night recreating a masterpiece at Pageant of the Masters
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I knew, admittedly, little of Laguna Beach when I began covering the city some seven years ago.
Sports writers like me were asked to broaden our horizons in the face of the pandemic by covering local news amid a shutdown, and we obliged.
Community news proved its own teacher, providing a path to learning about the people and their passions, what brought them together and what provided an unshakable foundation amid changing times.
While health and safety protocols canceled or pushed many events to virtual settings in 2020, once restrictions loosened up, I attended the Pageant of the Masters for the first time.
The Laguna Beach city seal, which bears the words “Home of the Festival of Arts and Pageant of the Masters,” is indication enough of the esteemed event’s place in local lore.
It took one backstage visit to understand that it takes an army of volunteers to put on the living picture show, in which individuals pose in full costumes and makeup in the act of recreating famous artworks through a living performance on stage — otherwise known as “tableaux vivant.”
I was intrigued.
Many are, as evidenced by the nightly crowds that amass at the Irvine Bowl each year. It’s a favorite pastime of audiences to bring binoculars to discover which figures in a piece are portrayed by a person and which are two-dimensional painted figures.
We get a sneak peek at the makings of a tableaux vivant in a deconstructed set referred to as “The Builder,” and one piece in particular, Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper,” has closed out the show for 90 years.
In the years that followed my first exposure to the production, I hoped to get an insider’s perspective. At casting call events, I learned that, beyond one’s ability to stand still for 90 seconds, the most important assets to the show are participants’ availability and body measurements.
I imagine a few are surprised when their forehead is measured for the first time, but these things matter to the personnel backstage — the unsung heroes in the costume, headpiece and makeup departments, as well as to the set builders.
This year, it finally happened! On Aug. 12, I received a call from Stephanie Simpson, pageant casting director, inquiring about my availability to substitute for the next evening’s show. The role was not revealed.
I would have taken any part but, from the other side of the line, I was told it was for “The Last Supper.”
Excited? Of course. Nervous? How could I not be?
I was not informed which biblical figure I would portray until I came backstage the following evening. Early arrival, I felt, was essential to allow myself time to settle in. What I didn’t know was how much I would appreciate having a dozen other cast members to lean on (there are 13 roles — Jesus and the 12 apostles — in the famed piece).
As “The Last Supper” is the traditional closing act, I had plenty of time to work out any stage jitters. Luckily, my fellow cast members were an inviting group, joking around, telling stories and sharing refreshments on the green at the Festival of Arts. They sure knew how to make a guy feel comfortable in the face of uncertainty.
Our call time came more than an hour before we would take the stage. We shed our shirts, threw on our robes and went through the various stations of backstage preparations.
Again, I have to highlight the calming presence and conversational nature of the volunteers backstage, who made it feel like a trip to the barber shop, all while executing as diligently and routinely as a spider puts up and takes down its web.
During the evening, people funnel through this process, ready to bring a few dozen pieces of artwork to the stage. Take one look at the marble-white Abraham Lincoln talking to other cast members, and you will likely think you’re in a real-life version of “Night at the Museum.”
And if you hadn’t already met the cast of characters, you might not recognize them after the transformation.
You feel that you owe it to the group to bring your best. They deserve perfection, and so does the piece.
Up the stairs we went, onto a raised platform that would be wheeled into position. Fully costumed as the Apostle Thomas (coincidentally my middle name) I stood on a couple planks of wood — I can only assume I wasn’t the desired height — to the immediate left of Jesus himself.
I’m glad I studied the picture before going on stage. It all happened so suddenly. The platform went in motion, the backdrop for our painting came down directly behind us a few moments later, and I received a single instruction from a member of the stage crew: bring your thumb level with your nose.
On several occasions, I had heard narrator Richard Doyle provide the lead-in to the pieces in the show. From the stage, it was but a faint voice on the air. We struck our pose twice — first for a read on Andy Warhol’s 1986 silkscreen of “The Last Supper,” then for the original tempera and oil masterpiece.
On-stage lighting left us players blindly staring into the darkness of the crowd below, but when the orchestra finished its tune and the lights went down, we heard the applause and knew we had upheld a great tradition for one more night. High-fives all around.
Pageant director Diane Challis Davy posited this year that criteria vary for what constitutes “The Greatest of All Time,” the theme for this year’s show.
After several years of waiting, it was an unforgettable night, and while the GOAT designation remains up for debate, I no doubt bore witness to a great collaboration.
