No one ever asked me.

At one point, all the Dead End boys jump in at once, which is where the stress on the container can come in. They all do cannonballs and dive, and that's a lot of force to be smashed against. That's when we all hold our breath and run downstairs to see if it's all holding together.

At one point, all the Dead End boys jump in at once, which is where the stress on the container can come in, ... They all do cannonballs and dive, and that's a lot of force to be smashed against. That's when we all hold our breath and run downstairs to see if it's all holding together.

[In the original production of Sidney Kingsley's 1932 play,] They just jumped into the orchestra pit, put baby oil on themselves and called it water, ... Obviously, today we have much better resources. You want to see the splash, but you don't want to see the water. You want it to be a surprise to the audience and not reality. Reality is kind of not very magical.

They just jumped into the orchestra pit, put baby oil on themselves and called it water. Obviously, today we have much better resources. You want to see the splash, but you don't want to see the water. You want it to be a surprise to the audience and not reality. Reality is kind of not very magical.

[The sets are big: The apartment houses lining the Manhattan street set stand between 46 and 48 feet tall. They're so tall that the lights couldn't be hung with conventional Genie lifts that reach 40 feet. Instead, a track had to be hung from the ceiling grid, 58 feet up.] We fly a man up to the track, ... and there's a little seat and he can push himself along the track and focus the lights.