'Stomp!' turns odd items into music for the ears

By Wayne Harada
Advertiser Entertainment Writer

Brooms and all manner of homely objects, such as garbage cans, hub caps and even matches, are used to make a cacophony in "Stomp!' the high-energy production that begins a run at the Hawai'i Theatre Tuesday. There's a special military ticket price for certain performances; see box on this page. Lois Greenfield

With a junkyard as their backdrop, the merry noise-makers of "Stomp!" strut their stuff and pound out great tunes. Photo courtesy of "Stomp!"

'STOMP!' Premieres at 8 p.m. Tuesday; continues 8 p.m. Wednesday-Thursday, and Dec. 25, 27-29, 31; at 3 and 7 p.m. Dec. 26 and Jan. 2; at 5 and 9 p.m. Dec. 30 and Jan. 1 Hawai'i Theatre $25-$50, with discounts for students, seniors and military; special military rate, $25, only for performances at 8 p.m. Dec. 25, 8 p.m. Dec. 31 and 5 and 9 p.m. Jan. 1 528-0506, hawaiitheatre.com

Even the kitchen sink.

And bananas ... which used to be a problem. But more on that later.

"I've been with the show for eight years, and propmaster for eight months," said Weaver, 42, by phone from Georgia.

At the time, he wasn't checking his usual list of sound- and noise-makers for the spectacle of motion and commotion. "I'm stage-managing 'Nutcracker,' " said Weaver. "But over the years, I've done every job on the crew — production manager, carpenter, lighting director and audio engineer."

As master of the do-hickeys that help create a cacophony — call it a contemporary symphony — of unusual sounds, Weaver said he's got quite a daunting task and a responsibility that's unending.

Take brooms, for example.

"The cast of eight breaks 30 brooms a week," he said. "I get the brooms shipped to me from England; they come in two pieces, head and poles, and I use three-part marine epoxy glue to put 'em together. And it takes 24 hours to dry."

The broom brigade requires that he has 20 at the ready, because there will be casualties along the way. "You can't have 100 sitting and waiting — space is a problem — so when we travel, the heads and the handles are separated, with the heads tucked into garbage cans."

Nine brooms are used in each show — each performer has one, and one performer requires two — "but if I don't have 20 ready to go, I get really nervous," he said.

The reality is that everything made out of wood will eventually break. "And I don't know when or where," said Weaver.

The show's basic set looks like an industrial junkyard, formed from four separate sections, each boasting a gamut of treasures that might wind up as trash. "The set is covered with hubcaps, fire extinguishers and car parts, and the way these parts are hit each week, some stuff gets beat into a pulp," said Weaver.

"So once every six months, I go junkyard shopping, often carrying drumsticks, and frequently with a cast member or two," he said. The mission? Tap, rap and sample the tones that come from hitting the drumsticks on discarded metal parts — and plastic, sometimes — that could be incorporated into the set and the show.

"Wheel rims, pipes and fire extinguishers always create great sounds," he said.

And yes, the show still has a kitchen sink. Well, four.

And lots of garbage can lids. "We go through a dozen or so in a week; they are smashed into each other on the floor," he said.

Latest addition to the production: metal chairs. Ordinary metal office chairs that fold.

Drumsticks?

"I get hard maple sticks; when you're beating them like crazy on metal things, they break," said Weaver.

The casualty count? A dozen pairs a week.

Matches?

For a simple moment in the show, matchboxes are "played," creating that singular shuffle sound. "We probably use a whole box a week — 24 boxes," said Weaver.

"One of the odd things we use are Perelli radiator hoses," said Weaver. "These are the pipes that are banged on the floor; to me, that's the most melodic piece in the show."

And they don't get melodic without effort. "The pipes have to be cut at the right angle at the right inch, to achieve the octave we need. Each performer has a hose; using a formula, we're able to duplicate as needed."

Steel drums, which the production calls "walkers," are a vital part of the show, too.

"We use three pairs of 55-gallon oil drums with ski bindings on top," said Weaver. "They are pretty durable, but they are struck and dented in; we rotate the ski bindings so the drums don't collapse. These drums tend to last three months, but we don't travel with spares. We plan ahead, though; if we need new barrels, we rotate the old ones out."

All the props normally fit in one 50-foot tractor-trailer rig when "Stomp!" is hauled across the highways and byways of North America.

For Hawai'i, as it was for a trek to South America, two shipping containers house all of the props and scenery required.

A gargantuan metal tool box, about 5 feet by 5 feet, is Weaver's ally, his backbone. Equipment to repair any damaged item is always at hand.

If adhesives fail, there's always gaffer or duct or electrical tape to mend broken parts.

"We also travel with giant totes and lockers that house everything from paper and garbage bags to harnesses, headlamps and ski boots."

Bananas, an unusual prop in the production, have also been a problem.

"I've been out of bananas before," said Weaver. "There's a point in the show where a guy reaches into a bag and pulls out a banana and starts peeling. (The point is made that you can even 'play' the skin.) Well, we've run out of bananas.

"I don't know if we really ran out, or somebody got hungry and ate one. All we need is one per show, so now that request is in our contract rider. The local promoter has to provide the bananas, saving me a shopping trip."

Weaver said it's fortunate that he's a good organizer and a stickler for convention. It also helps that he packs with efficiency; he handles props with similar ease.

"There is a right place and a wrong place for everything," said Weaver. "Theater load-ins may differ with each site, but we lay everything out, as much as possible, in the same manner wherever we go. I think I have obsessive-compulsive disorder, but it works for me and the show."

Formerly an actor, Weaver prefers the dark side of the footlights. "I think my natural place to be is backstage," he said. "I've been in theater since I was 8, since my parents were performers, and I helped with scenery. I haven't been on stage for 14 years; the last time was in 1990. This is where I belong."

Weaver said he shares a kinship with Andres Fernandez, the lone local lad who joined the company of performers in 1997. "I've done all five backstage jobs and he's played every role on stage, so he's my opposite in the show," said Weaver. "I can relate."

Reach Wayne Harada at 525-8067, wharada@honoluluadvertiser.com, or fax 525-8055.