why
break a leg?

VERSION 3 - 1992, London, England (UK)

For four years in England I hosted and starred in a weekly prime time TV variety show with my name on it, "The Ronn Lucas Show." It was the brainchild of the noted ‘light entertainment’ Thames TV producer John Fisher; himself a superb aficionado of variety and novelty acts from around the world. I was, for less than half a decade, an American Ed Sullivan to the Brits.
         It was a real high-point for me, and a most marvelous time in my life. I had ‘way more’ than my 15 minutes of fame, at least in the United Kingdom! I also had more fun than I should have been allowed; because I had an entire first class television studio to satisfy my creative needs. Everything that I could conceive, Thames TV made happen. I had for my exclusive use, a prop department, that could produce anything within a day’s notice. I had a wardrobe department where special costumes for me, or the puppets, were never a problem. I had some terrific writers, a chauffeur driven car, and a big country house. I also had the most amazing puppetry expert and ventriloquism historian that I've ever met, in the person of one Geoff Felix.
         Geoff Felix was originally hired to be my back-up puppeteer for those supposed wacky scenes we never ended up writing, where Billy or Scorch were supposed to do something odd or funny behind my back. Geoff didn't get to puppeteer as much as we intended, but his job evolved, more importantly for me, into that of an advisor, confidante, and creative problem solver. I must say, Geoff is a masterful puppeteer, and he was woefully underused in my show. He’s been in demand on several TV series throughout Europe involving puppetry, and he’s manipulated movie creatures, as well as worked for the Muppets at their UK facilities. But, Geoff is perhaps best known by ME over our four years of working together, for three important things:

         1) As if he's not busy enough, Geoff hand crafts and lovingly duplicates papier-mache ‘figures’ (‘dummies’ to the non-vent) in the style of the ones once sold at London's famed Davenport Magic Shop (the figures originally made by Ensell). These vent ‘dolls’, as the Brits call them, are ultra light and possess doeskin leather skillfully blended around the mouth, so that no lines show when the jaw goes up and down. Watching one of these while talking is amazing. They are so human that it's elegantly eerie. Geoff actually custom-made one of his Ensell replicas for me. I asked if he could customize the controls to my specs - a task he swore he'd never repeat again, because it made constructing the internal mechanisms much more difficult than he'd anticipated. Still, I am fond and grateful for my Brit ‘doll’ and have used him many times, (most recently was this year when I was a guest ventriloquist on the American cable drama ‘Silk Stalkings’).

        2) Geoff is very well-versed and educated on the vocal mechanics of ventriloquism and voice control. I learned from Geoff, for instance, how the distant voice is mechanically produced. I already knew how to do it by the sound of it, of course, but I didn't know what exact biomechanics were actually involved until Geoff explained it to me. He's brilliant like that.

        3) Finally, and most important to the purpose of this article, it was Geoff Felix who solved for me, once and for all, the mystery as to where “break a leg” originated. Geoff told me that from his research into the traditions of English theater, he had discovered that during the time of the first Queen Elizabeth and William Shakespeare, there existed many touring repertory companies of theatrical players. Each company had a Lead Player that was in charge of the night’s performance. At the close of each show, the Lead Player would traditionally take center stage and lead the other actors in a group bow to the crowd. If the applause and appreciation by the audience continued, then the Lead Player would lead the performers in a second, more effusive and elaborately timed bow. If, by this third time, the audience still roared and sustained its approval, then the Lead Player would take one step towards the audience, and oblige them with the dramatic ‘broken leg’ bow (meaning to bend one leg, but not both). As the other actors continued to bow in unison from their waists, the Lead Player, slightly downstage of his merry group, would open his arms outward to indicate his fellow actors on either side of him. He would bow his head, and then, while keeping his legs fairly close together, would lower himself as far as he could go bending just one knee; and at the same time he would smoothly slide the other still-straight leg towards the audience before him, pushing that toe forward along the floor. This kind of bow is balletic. It requires some balancing skill and is not easy. However, the solemn and honorific nature of it was not lost on Elizabethans. To wish actors of that day to “break a leg” was a wish for them to perform so wonderfully that the very special ‘broken leg’ bow would have to be used in thanking the responsive crowd.
     
In closing , it is my belief that of all the three versions of “break a leg” I've discovered, this Elizabethan "broken leg" bow is the one that makes the most sense to me. But who knows? There may be another explanation floating around out there somewhere.


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