THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, August 29, 1996 TAG: 9608290062
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY LARRY BONKO, TELEVISION COLUMNIST
LENGTH: 146 lines
WE ARE SITTING on bleachers in a Warner Bros. soundstage in Burbank, Calif., near Hollywood. We are the laughers, clappers and foot stompers.
We are the studio audience attending the taping of episode No. 2 in the fourth season of the Fox sitcom ``Living Single,'' which begins tonight at 8:30.
The summer of reruns is over on Fox. ``New York Undercover'' is also back with new shows tonight at 9.
There are some things you should know about being part of a studio audience at the taping of a network sitcom.
It's work.
The actors rehearse. So does the studio audience.
It requires patience.
You're lucky if taping a 22- to 24- minute sitcom takes less than three hours.
Roger S.H. Schulman, one of the executive producers on ``Living Single,'' says he has seen old, established shows with well-traveled actors wrap up a taping in 90 minutes.
He has also been involved in tapings that have gone on to 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning.
``Living Single'' falls somewhere in between.
We in the studio audience were bused to the Warner Bros. Ranch complex at Hollywood Way and Oak Street in Burbank at 6:30 p.m. for a 7 p.m. taping which started almost on time. They wrapped well before midnight.
I suspect the reason for such a brisk pace was because it was the second taping of the day. A dress rehearsal went before the three cameras at 3 p.m.
Schulman and his colleagues - Yvette Lee Bowser, Jacque Edmonds, Bill Fuller, Jim Pond and Chuck Tatham - take the best of both tapings and meld them into the sitcom that is delivered to the network.
Sometimes the studio audience arrives with the expectation that they'll see a half-hour sitcom taped in 30 minutes.
``It doesn't work that way,'' said Schulman.
Long before the actors, director, camera operators, dolly grip - I'll explain who that is later - appear on the soundstage with the high ceilings, the studio audience is brought in to be thawed out and warmed up by Lewis Dix Jr., a nightclub comic in a baseball cap with the Nike slash on it.
He is our instructor.
``You'll be seeing the actors run through each scene twice.''
He is our conductor.
``All together now. Let's make some noise!''
He is our policeman.
``Turn off all digital pagers and beepers BEFORE the taping begins. Don't repeat the actors' dialogue out loud.''
He is our entertainer during the time it takes for cast and crew to move from set to set, shot to shot, scene to scene.
``I grew up in a neighborhood that was so tough, the area code was 911.'' Rimshot, please.
He is also our coach.
``When they do the scene a second time, try to laugh and applaud in the same places so they can match sound to tape in the editing process.''
Is he kidding? How can I remember exactly how and for how long I laughed 30 minutes ago?
There are six microphones suspended over the heads of the studio audience to catch the applause. There are just as many monitors.
As a member of the studio audience, you learn early on that the best way to watch a TV show being taped is on those monitors or TV screens. Any seat in the bleachers is a bad seat.
The view of the audience into the ``bullpen,'' which is what Dix calls the area where the show is taped, is obstructed by cameras, booms and many bodies including the dolly grip. The grip makes sure the cables leading from the camera do not tangle or trip people.
And for that, the dolly grip is paid a nice union wage.
Dix's timing is perfect. Just before taping begins, he has whipped the studio audience into the kind of frenzy you see in the seats of a Washington Redskins' home game.
At that point, the soundstage is quiet except for a voice coming from down in the ``bullpen.''
``We're rolling, everyone. . . Five, four, three, two, one.''
And then the first scene unfolds. Kim Coles as Synclaire James is about to be engaged to the character (Overton Wakefield Jones) played by John Henton.
It's a brief scene as Synclaire and Overton snuggle. ``Lay your lips on your daddy.''
It isn't flawless. Coles blew her line.
They do it again.
Take Two is perfect.
That's how it goes as the actors move in and out of four sets which form the background for several storylines on ``Living Single.''
Lawyer Maxine Shaw (played by Erika Alexander) runs for alderman. There's the engagement party with champagne and balloons arranged by the prop department. And there's the plan to merge Khadijah James' Flavor magazine with a large conglomerate.
Queen Latifah plays the magazine's founder. Others in the cast include Kim Fields Freeman and T.C. Carson. ``I knew from the moment this show and cast were put together, it was going to work,'' said Coles in an earlier interview.
She was so right.
Living Single'' will soon tape its 100th episode. Up ahead is a syndication deal that will likely make its cast millionaires. After ``New York Undercover,'' it is the show most watched by black Americans.
With all these riches, is it any wonder the cast never complains about working long hours, enduring countless retakes or ``pick-ups,'' as they are called in television, and the waiting for writers to give them new pages of the script? When the rewrites or directors' notes come, Coles slumps into a chair on the set and studies the blue and pink pages while popping gum.
How relaxed she is.
Just to make sure the audience knows who plays what character in the cast, the actors come forward before the taping to take bows - curtain calls in reverse.
During the breaks, Debrah Denson, who looks after the makeup on ``Living Single,'' steps on the set to apply a little powder here, a little blush there. The tools of her trade are in a pouch around her waist.
By the final taping, the hard work and heavy lifting (writing the script, casting supporting players, selecting the makeup and wardrobe, camera blocking and rehearsing) has been done.
For this episode, titled ``Ride the Maverick,'' it takes 30 minutes to tape a couple of scenes that will flash across the TV screen in seconds. Taping a TV show is stop and go, stop and go. Mostly stop.
Because it is stop, go and stop, warm-up guy Dix works hard to keep the audience focused.
When the tape is not rolling, the studio audience is washed over with music to keep its energy flowing. LOUD music. ``Feel the groove?'' asks Dix, now doing rap. He goes on for hours.
After spending hours watching the taping, I was struck by the size of the operation, the large number of people it takes.
``Producing a weekly network television show involves many people and millions of dollars,'' said Schulman. ``It's a big business. When a TV show is canceled, it's not an exaggeration to say a business died.''
The pulse of ``Living Single'' is quite strong, thank you. It was a buddy show before ``Friends'' came along to make buddy shows the rage on TV.
``The cast is African-American, and the show does have an African-American flavor to it. But the characters get involved in situations that are universal and familiar to all,'' said creator and co-executive producer Bowser.
``The beauty of this show is that people of all colors and from all walks in life come up to me and say it's their favorite show. I believe that's why we stay on the air.''
The taping of show No. 2 of season No. 4 on four sets before three cameras and with two microphone booms dangling above the actors like birds in flight in Burbank is about to end. This is a disciplined cast. They don't flub many lines in the final taping.
But there is always one more ``pick-up'' to tape.
``We're rolling, everyone.
``Five, four, three, two, one.''
Taking part in a TV show being taped - even from a seat in the bleachers - is exhausting. They should pay people to be in the audience. And they should feed us. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by Warner Bros. Television
Fox's "Living Single" is taped at the Warner Bros. Ranch complex in
Burbank. by CNB