A day behind the scenes at the National Theatre

It’s 9am, and the National Theatre has just opened, but already people are lining up for last-minute seats to tonight’s sold-out performance of Antony and Cleopatra, starring Ralph Fiennes, Sophie Okonedo and their sizzling chemistry. Tonight upwards of 2,000 people will descend on the three auditoriums — the small, flexible Dorfman, the proscenium-arch Lyttelton, and the Olivier, modelled on a Greek amphitheatre — in Denys Lasdun’s brutalist edifice on the South Bank.

Stage door manager Vincent Hawkins lets me in through the hallowed side entrance, over which he has presided for nearly 25 years. Everyone from Dame Judi Dench to Jonny Lee Miller has autographed his daily signing-in sheets. Bryan Cranston, star of Network, was a favourite: ‘He’d always spend 20 minutes signing for fans.’

In the Design Studio, three of the National’s producers — Fran Miller, Paul Handley and Tariq Rifaat — are looking at model sets for forthcoming productions.

‘We put on around 26 shows a year, so it’s endlessly fun but endlessly pressured,’ says Handley. ‘A few months ago, Miller was told the lead actor in Laura Wade’s play, Home, I’m Darling, had to leave half an hour before the house opened with a suspected blood clot. Artistic director Rufus Norris stepped in at the last minute. ‘It felt like a moment in theatre history,’ she says. ‘That’s the National for you, it’s a team effort.’

Down a corridor lined with props — including a Stalin-esque statue of actor Simon Russell Beale made for King Lear — I meet Lisa Burger, executive director. ‘A lot of my role is delivering the “national” part of the National Theatre,’ she explains. ‘We want to get the work to more audiences.’ Burger set up NT Live in 2009, which broadcasts stage performances to more than 2,500 screens in over 60 countries. She is also responsible for taking NT shows on the road. ‘Last year we spent 115 touring weeks for 10 productions in 36 cities around the UK,’ she says, looking impressively calm despite the whirlwind.

It’s almost lunchtime now, and props supervisors Eleanor Smith and Rebecca Johnston are working on some Styrofoam chicken wings for the West End transfer of the award-winning Nine Night. Food is often the trickiest item to make. ‘In Cleansed, someone was force-fed a box of chocolates every night,’ says Johnston. ‘We did lots of experiments and ended up coating grapes in sugar-free chocolate. For Pinocchio, I had to make a giant key that would be swallowed — I ended up making it from toast.’

George Cardwell, deputy director of enterprises, looks after the food, drink and retail offering. He’s the man who crafted the Mad As Hell cocktail served in the bar during the run of Network and stocked the shop with Lady Macbeth hand sanitiser (£8). He also has the tough job of choosing what brand of ice cream the National will sell 80,000 tubs of every year. ‘We try to tailor what we have on offer to different audiences, whether it’s a Follies-inspired afternoon tea or a Hadestown craft beer called A Drop For Orpheus,’ he says. ‘It’s those little touches that make the difference.’

Behind a door marked WHAM is Giuseppe Cannas, head of wigs, hair and make-up. His experienced technicians can knot a wig from scratch in only 42 hours (a junior can take up to three months). Each one requires 200g of hair, most of it human, which Cannas sources ethically. The WHAM stock cupboard is a joy to behold, with separate compartments for beards, mullets and bobs. The merkin drawer — sadly — was recently retired (although one was used in last year’s Salomé).

In the special-effects room, a technician is working on a latex prosthetic eye. Last year they made Aids lesions for Andrew Garfield in Angels in America, and full body burns for Kate Fleetwood in Ugly Lies The Bone. Next door, Carol Lingwood, head of costume, and her 46-strong team are still on a high from John Galliano (a former dresser at the National) giving costume teams a shout-out at the Evening Standard Theatre Awards. Today they are pattern cutting, dyeing, sewing... and taking the stuffing out of a toy sloth to make a backpack for a character in forthcoming show The Tell-Tale Heart. Through the labyrinthine backstage area, behind a red door marked ‘No Entry’,

I find Helen Stone, assistant stage manager, looking after a very demanding performer. He has a very specific rider, involving light and temperature controls, and a steady supply of dead mice. Larry is one of four milk snakes who play — spoiler alert — the asp Cleopatra takes to her breast. After letting me hold him (verdict: surprisingly shiny and smooth), Stone carefully locks him back in his tank. Apparently during the 1998 Helen Mirren and Alan Rickman production of the play, the snake went missing, and was later found in the armoury.

Down on the workshop floor, carpenters, metal workers and painters are putting the finishing touches to the set of The Tell-Tale Heart. Every set is built on-site from scratch, making the National one of the biggest factories in central London.