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JØRN PEDERSEN - stayed the whole run from 2000 - 2003 (different roles)

Jørn Pedersen was originally an understudy for the role of the Phantom, but was needed as an alternate in 2002. He got to perform the title role 26 times (according to his web site). Other roles he performed were Firmin, Lefevre and Passarino. Jørn Pedersen has a lovely baryton voice with an operatic approach which suited the title role perfectly, but he was also hilarious as Firmin. I don't think there exist any (official) pictures of him as the Phantom, but I'll see what I can dig up...





Jørn pedersen has written a *wonderful* article about how it feels to perform the title role. Enjoy!



THE LAST PHANTOM MUST CLOSE AND SHUT LIGHTS
What conditions does the art have in a controlled technical environment, where a standarized team of brainwashed monkeys travels the world with ONE single purpose – to turn the artists into trained monkeys? A glimpse behind the mask of Jørn Pedersen, who were one of the four Phantoms at Det Ny Teater.

MASKEBAL…. HVILKET BROGET KARNEVAL…..
The hat is tilting. The mask is itching in my neck. The shoes are chafing. But it might work once more – it usually does. Up on the lift. The mask allows the tiniest field of vision, but here is the big score. Thank you Effi. The small truck lookalike lift with the soft back support is parked in position behind the grand staircase – the ”STAIRCASE!!!” – where the whole ensemble dances and sings in the opening of act 2. ”Maskebaaaal….”. There’s a jerk, and with an alarming speed, I am lifted up to the staircase’s upper level, covered by the tallest man in the cast. In with paunch and toes – if not, you’ll be squeezed between the staircase and the truck. But I didn’t – this time. Thank you, Allan.

WHEN THE SKULL IS CHATTING
Red Death makes his entry (without a safety net, and there’s three metres to the floor, so be sure to stand steady…). Everybody trembles in horror. Or rather, simulates horror, as they’ve been throught this scene at least 200 times before. Every night, except Monday, and twice at Saturdays, for a couple of years. Yes, the surprise is simulated, but entertaining. Maybe they’re visioning themselves doing this 200 more times?

Red Death poses, waits for the cue, and moves with stiff legs and in a choreographed way, with the score in hand and the death scull on head, down the stairs. Exaggerated jaw movements are assumed to chatt syncronized with the prerecorded tape which are heard in the auditorium – if it plays. It does. Boy, my voice is good tonight…. Even better, the hat sits where it should, and there ARE steps where I set my foot! Most promising. It is a grand evening. The score is flunged towards manager André, and he actually cathced it. I can see his face, which the audience cannot – luckilly…. But I keep a straight face (MY NOTE: he had actually written ”holdt masken” – held the mask – which means not to laugh. I found it difficult to translate). Red Death points at Christine, summons her and rips her necklace off.

In the hollow death mask eyes one can see a nervous pair of eyes starts to search the floor for white marks. It looks coincidental when Red Death stands on the floor, with the arms crossed – but the crossed arms gives a clue to the director. ”Boom” – smoke and mist, and he’s gone. Or rather, gone through the floor on yet another lift. Now we’re all the way down in the cellars, underneath the stage floor. Smack – the floor is closing above our heads. The hat fell of, but I got through alive this time too…. Competent technicians and a gentle dresser were awaiting me, and frees me from the cloak, the hat and other loose items. Must hurry – the next scene, the graveyard scene with all it’s technical equippment and effects, are next scene, and it requires a new costume.

Time: a random performance between 2000 and 2004. Place: Det Ny Teater. Role: Phantom in ”Phantom of the Opera”.

But before Red Death, the Phantom has appeared several times, and every time he has, in magical ways, enchanted Christine as well as the dazzled audience. Think of the scene where he and Christine, on a subterranial lake illuminated by thousands (105) of flickering lights (diodes), in moody mist (stage smoke) have gondoled their way to the big organ and ”Music of the Night”. Gondoled and gondoled….. Imitated a gondol would be a better description. Who wants to gondol when you stagger in a half boat on wheels, controlled by a female technician with a remote control from Toys’r’us? OK, so it’s not quite true that the remote control is from a toy store. But it’s true that we more than once have had to ”wade” our way to the lair, because the boat would not go where we wanted to go – or go at all…. It might be reasonable to walk on the water when you're Jesus, but not when you’re the Phantom. But a new remote control gave us less wade walks. Thank you, Tina.

REMEMBER TO TURN ON THE ORGAN
”You’re to be the Phantom, Jørn – here’s two books; one slim and one big”. The slim one is the score. What about the thick one? Oh, that’s the technical manual…

Of course there’s not such a book, but it SHOULD be, because the Phantom’s many functions almost demands that one have a minor director degree. ”Remember to turn on the organ before you sing – and remember to turn it off again.”. ”Remember that the switch on the candle turns backwards, and please don’t aim ar Tomas (Ambt Kofod). That goes for the death skull in the graveyard scene as well. Peter (Jorde) almost hit a technician yesterday!”. ”Please don’t walk on the floor at the spots where the big candelabras comes up – no, not even when you’re running. The result can be nasty”. The list is endless…..

But are there not time for reflections for technician van Thomsen? Sure there are. But not in the most comfortable ways, although it’s warm and safe. At least warm…. I could mention the gliding ride on the angel, but it was the churchyard scene we talked about. Christine sings a heartbreaking musicalhit next to her father’s grave. But she’s not alone – oh no, she’s supervised by the omnipresent Phantom. Where he is? The cross, the cross…. Covered by the darkness, the Phantom is dressed in a dark cloak and fedora, armed with a death skull stick. But this frightening hero has to be packed into the cross by a technician, like a mother packs the bed linens around her child at night. With one big exception – it’s not a cosy bed, but a hollow cross high above the floor. The technician is there to make sure the Phantom is in place, covered by the cloak. She is then supposed to say ”Are you comfortable?”. If the reply is ”NOOOO!”, she knows that everything is OK and set. Thank you, Louise. And then, one stand there. One stand there a long time. What do you do inside a cross?

ARE THE WINGS OF CREATIVITY CLIPPED?
One can stand there and hum, to keep the voice warm and flexible. One can stand there and reflect about how it is to be a brick, a tiny brick, in such a big and technical show. Consider if it’s not limiting the creative developement than one self (for example) is to turn off and on the light. If it’s not mood breaking to be instructed to stand on a very exact spot to prevent falling through a trap door – or rather to MANAGE to fall through that trap door. Is it frustrating to be subdued all the technical limitations and all the instructions – not to mention has to lip sync ones own voice? Considering, considering….Uhm - no, not really. It’s actually not too big difference between an average opera performance and ”Phantom of the Opera”. Not when comparing the limitations. All theatre is about finding the spot light – or else you’re not being see. If you yourself has to turn on the light, or count 3-4 before you sing – what’s the big difference? The click-track, which the conductor sometimes conducts after, is probably the biggest limitation – but you get used to it. Even within a metronomic bar the artistic expression comes alive. We live, we surpress, we fight, we survive and we live again. When, where and what are always the elements we have to cope with – before we consider how.

What conditions does the art have in a controlled technical environment, where a standarized team of brainwashed monkeys travels the world with ONE single purpose – to turn the artists into trained monkeys? Where a resident director supervise the performance every night, and where the stream of yellow post-it notes on the mirror never stops? Feel, feel, think, think…. It actually can. Obviously. Thank you Susanne. The life and the art really comes alive when there’s limitations. The limitations makes the creativity flow out every night, through the cables, round the cogwheels, through the bars, over the orchestra pit and to the audience. And the audience is responcitive. There’s small nuances all the time which is perceived by the co-players as well as the audience. It’s different every time. Thank you, Andrew Lloyd-Webber.

Shoot! I was almost forgetting my cue… It’s time for the Phantom to emerge from the cross. 3-4… ”Wandering child…”. Down the two steps. Aim. ”Boom, flash, boom!!”. And remember to turn of the light when you leave.



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