Behind the scenes: engineering london's most breathtaking stage spectacles

The air in London’s theatre workshops is thick with the scent of sawdust, wax, and a relentless ambition to conjure illusions. From the shimmering depths of Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ mirrored chandelier to the sudden, dazzling explosion of a disco floor, crafting these unforgettable moments demands a marriage of artistry and brutal engineering.

A delicate dance of precision

Take, for instance, the colossal chandelier dominating Marianne Elliott’s production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses at the National Theatre – a structure nearly five metres wide, dwarfing the Lyttelton stage itself. Forty skilled craftspeople toiled for weeks, suspending 144 electric candles, each lovingly coated in melted wax to mimic genuine flickering flames. The challenge wasn’t merely building a spectacular object; it was achieving an illusion of weightlessness, a haunting presence that hangs suspended above the stage.

Janet Williamson, the National’s senior construction draughtsperson, confesses, “It’s about knowing how things connect, born from actually making them. The trick is translating that knowledge to paper, capturing the nuances that vanish when you’re staring at a screen. A millimetre out, and it’s instantly noticeable.”

Unexpected inspiration

The team’s ingenuity extended far beyond conventional techniques. Kate John, head of production workshops, recalls the unlikely inspiration that sparked the chandelier’s design: “We were looking at Terry’s Chocolate Orange. The idea of slicing it upwards just didn’t feel right. We needed a segmented structure, like a layered orange, to create stability.”

Williamson adds, “We drew inspiration from Florence’s Duomo – a massive dome constructed in segments. It’s a tried and tested method, a way to distribute the load effectively.”

More than just a floor

Meanwhile, at the Harold Pinter theatre, designer Hildegard Bechtler’s vision for Romeo & Juliet involved a bed – not just any bed, but a multifaceted object that served as a tomb, a marriage bed, and even the stage itself. Initially, a multitude of chairs were planned, but the design quickly distilled into this stark, dominant presence.

“We simplified, simplified,” Bechtler explains. “But the bed remained. It's a stage within a stage, a way to heighten the drama. The lighting, the shadows – everything is amplified by its presence.”

A moment of release

The final seconds of the play culminate in a sudden burst of colour as the hidden disco floor reveals itself, a moment of exhilarating release orchestrated by scenic artist Cass Kirchner and her team. “We wanted to capture the girls' power,” Kirchner says, “and to have that raw energy enhanced by a sudden, dramatic shift in the environment – it's profoundly satisfying.”

The joy of the unknown

These projects, from the National’s chandelier to the Royal Court’s authentic set, represent a constant push into the unknown.