Community Theatre, Prop Guns, and the Responsibility We Share

by Chris Peterson

Community theatre is very good at figuring things out. Someone needs a Victorian sofa, and suddenly a cast member’s aunt has one in a garage. A set needs a wall, and three people appear with plywood, screws, and confidence they may or may not have earned. That scrappy problem-solving is part of the charm.

But some things should not be figured out casually, and prop firearms are one of them.

The second a gun enters a production, even a fake one, the room has to change. It cannot be treated like a letter opener, a suitcase, or a chair someone found on Facebook Marketplace. A firearm onstage carries real risk, real emotion, and real responsibility. Good intentions do not make it safe.

I was once in a production of All My Sons where the gun was never even seen by the audience. It was used offstage for a sound cue, handled by one designated person, and treated with a level of care that made it clear nobody was improvising. There was training. There was a plan. There was no “just this once.”

That was not overkill. That was the bare minimum.

Most theatres are not reckless. Most are run by people who care deeply about their casts and crews. But caring is not the same as being trained. Saying “we’ve done this before” is not a safety plan. And labeling something a prop does not magically remove the danger.

If your production includes any kind of firearm, visible or not, you need qualified help. You need clear responsibility. You need rules everyone follows, even during tech week, when people are tired, rushed, and pretending they are fine. Especially then.

And if you cannot get the right expertise, rethink the choice. Use sound. Use lighting. Change the blocking. Let the moment happen offstage. Audiences do not need realism at the expense of safety. They need to understand the story.

What worries me most is not malice. It is casualness. It is the idea that nothing bad has happened before, so nothing bad will happen now. That is not how safety works.

Asking for professional help is not dramatic. It is leadership. It tells your cast and crew that their bodies matter more than an effect.

No scene, no cue, no moment is worth someone getting hurt.