TARA BRADYgoes backstage at the Abbey Theatre to watch make-up artist Val Sherlock at work

THEY ARE ONLY one day into Pygmalion's run at the Abbey Theatre but make-up artist Val Sherlock and leading lady Charlie Murphy have their elaborate ornamentations timed to perfection.

“There’s one nine-minute break in the play that’s tough going,” explains Murphy. “I’m dunked in a bath onstage so I get out soaking wet, take off the wet wig, fix the hair underneath into a decent style, dress into two costumes, take off all my dirt, reapply make-up and get back on stage.”

“And she has to make it up the stairs and back down again,” adds Sherlock. “Nine minutes sounds like a long time but it isn’t when you’re trying to achieve something like that.”

Downstairs they’re checking sound levels. Philip Stewart’s score erupts across the dressing-room speakers yet fails to distract the team from the business of un-beautifying.

“She’s almost dishevelled enough,” says Sherlock. “We’re getting there. It has to be right. With theatre we show the audience what we want them to see. First impressions count. If they see you as glamorous or battered looking that’s how they’ll continue to see you. They’ll stop looking for clues and accept it. The audience’s first introduction to Eliza has to be messy.”

It’s a tall order. Charlie Murphy is dainty and prepossessing. It’s time to bring on the Eliza Doolittle wig. “It’s such a transformation,” says Murphy, as the weave with the Brillo Pad wave lands on her head. “It’s a huge leap in terms of getting into character.”

That, says Sherlock, is precisely what a good wig ought to do. He takes a delicate blonde wisp from the collection, and holds it out for inspection.

“We made this one for Susannah [de Wrixon],” says Sherlock. “Now Susannah is playing the mother and she is far, far too young for the role. But put this on and she immediately looks like a refined, older woman. That’s part of the transformation. A good wig will do some of the work for the actor. They put it on and they immediately feel like someone else.”

For all the warpaint and boxes of tricks laid out in the dressing room, it’s the wigs in the corner that command the most attention. Composed of human hair sewn into a fine needlepoint mesh, each one represents 40 or 50 hours of labour. Sherlock swears it’s therapeutic but it’s a tricky business. These particular wigs, created especially for the production, will each be unpicked at the front when the production comes to the end of its run.

“The front of a wig deteriorates fast so you just have to remove it before it goes into storage,” says Sherlock. “It’s usually easier to make one specifically for the show than to alter one we have. It’s one of those areas of the business that has become easier over the 20 years I’ve been doing this. Years ago, trying to buy hair for wigs was nigh on impossible. You had to order it from London and Germany. Now you can walk into any accessories store.”

Comparable advances in theatre lighting have similarly revolutionised the panstick sector. “It’s all moved on,” says Sherlock. “What we do is close to film and TV at this stage in terms of effect. We don’t need anything heavy looking. Charlie could walk out on to the street after the show without taking any of the make-up off.”

Almost a century after George Bernard Shaw's most cherished play premiered in Vienna, Pygmalionhas finally made it into the Abbey. The new production – directed by Annabelle Comyn and starring Risteárd Cooper as Professor Higgins – is something of a historic occasion and will not be lacking in pomp and circumstance. Peter O'Brien's lavish costumes might well sell out the Abbey Theatre on their own accord.

“It’s a collaborative effort,” says Sherlock. “I’ve been working with Peter O’Brien and Annabelle, the director, for months breaking everything down into movements. The opening scenes are quite dark so you don’t get to see as many of Peter O’Brien’s fabulous costumes as you might like and you need a slightly more dramatic look to make an impact through the lighting.

“We have simpler hairpieces for quick changes. We have a shower cap under the wig. Murphy is onstage for almost every scene. We can’t afford to have her doing things backstage that are going to become an issue. The first time we do a full run-through I time everything so I know where everybody is when they come off stage.”

The clock watching is well worth the effort. Even Sherlock has to concede that he’s pretty impressed with the final results.

“If you take it on its own terms I’m just doing pretty hair and pretty faces,” he says. “But when I go down to the sound box and watch it up on stage and the costumes and the lights and everything come together, it’s visually spectacular.”

Doesn’t it ever break his heart getting out the cleanser when the curtain comes down?

“No,” he says. “I actually like coming back and doing it again. We start simplifying. A 15-minute hairstyle, after a few times, takes five minutes. It becomes mechanical.”

“That’s theatre,” adds Murphy. “We’re used to working with sand sculptures.”

Pygmalionis at the Abbey Theatre until June 11th