It's great fun seeing a theatrical production. You settle into your seat, peruse the program, and look forward to what awaits.

When the curtain opens, you see what we want you to see. As the show progresses, you think the director has the easiest job in the world. It's so simple, so easy, so effortless you begin to think, That's something I could do.

No. No, you can't. It's the director and production staff working together that give that illusion. Illusion is just part of the process. What most people aren't aware of is, behind that illusion, the real drama has already unfolded many times backstage--well, before the curtain rises for them.

There are more backstories behind the curtain than on stage, all of which have played out countless times.

The lead soloist, who up until dress rehearsal has always been pitch perfect and poised, has suddenly developed a case of "tonality unawareness" and remains mute and unmoving in her dressing room.

The producer has the filter of a Pall Mall, and it never occurs to her this might pose problems. With the subtlety of a brain surgeon wielding a Sawzall, the job gets done in spite of nonstop intimidation.

The director, a no-nonsense "it's all about the show" perfectionist with thirty laser-focused years of productions, is clueless that there's more to life than a script, a stage, and darkened theatres. As such, blinded by stage lights, he can't see that his life is inexorably slipping away.

His assistant director, a feisty 5'3" blonde, is a force to be reckoned with. She can handle a recalcitrant teamster with a look and a voice straight out of The Exorcist. She has the uncanny talent of being able to remember each cast member by name, no matter how large the cast. She can cut to the chase before anyone finds their keys. As a woman with pragmatic optimism, she can see voids in many areas she could fill even if her life experience is barely over her boss's work history.