| INTRODUCTION TO THEATRE |
Please CUT AND PASTE only what you need on to a word document;
otherwise, you will end up printing this whole page.
INTRODUCTION TO THEATRE 2011-2012
This course is designed to introduce students to the beauty and power of live theatre. We will focus primarily on the performing aspects of theatre--acting exercises, textual analysis, scene study, improvisation techniques, stage blocking, direction and live performance--with some attention to the academic and literary aspects of theatre--stage terminology influential figures, important movements, classic plays. Students will read, see, discuss, compare, analyze, and perform scenes and monologues from plays, paying attention to characterization, setting, plot, conflict and theme. They will work as a class and in small groups on monologues, short scenes from traditional and modern classics, and contemporary 10-minute plays, many of which will be performed both in class and for other students in the school. In addition, they will write reflective essays and essays that will demonstrate higher-order thinking skills.
The students will also write and develop short plays on their own for the annual Pegasus Young Playwrights Contest, a contest that offers a full production of four winning plays. Actors from Pegasus will visit us at school to introduce the basic elements of drama and perform scenes from some recent award-winning student plays. In the last four years our school has had four finalists and one winner.
We will also be working with the award winning TimeLine Theater Company. Actors from the plays we will attend there will come to the school to do scene studies with us. Last year students in the class played opposite the stars of the show in scenes from the current productions and were deeply impressed by the experience. This is our third year with Timeline. The year before last we saw two award-winning plays--Not Enough Air and The History Boys. Last year we saw a pair of masterpieces--All My Sons and Master Harold and the Boys. This year we hope to see Frost/ Nixon and an acknowledged American masterpiece that takes place in Chicago--The Front Page.
We will have opportunities to see plays at other theaters on our own as well at a reduced rate. In the last year students in my classes have gone to see Mouse in a Jar, The Pillowman, The Informer, Inherit the Whole, and Suicide, Inc.
Chicago is the greatest theater city in America. There are 200 theater companies here, most of them doing daring and exciting work. I hope the experience the students have in the class will encourage them to participate in this community. Two recent graduates of the class are now studying theater as their major in college. I'd like to think this course is what energized them to purse this difficult and rewarding art.
The class will be conducted in a friendly, serious, supportive and professional manner, with the understanding that drama is not only one of the oldest of art forms, but also one of this most emotionally demanding, with actors putting themselves at constant risk in order to find deeper truths. That said, I do expect students to show up on time ready to play, work and discover and to not disturb the class in any way.
It is our goal at the end of this school year that students should have both a wider and deeper appreciation of theatre and a physical and verbal self-confidence that will help them succeed in the adult world.
A BRIEF NOTE ON GRADING:
You can quantify many things in life but the beauty of art is not one of them. To give a Rodin sculpture a 74 and a Matisse painting an 83 is absurd. You cannot say that Marlon Brando’s performance in A Streetcar Named Desire is 3 points better than Vivian Leigh’s performance in the same play. Martin Scorsese’s direction in Goodfellas is not an A; Clint Eastwood’s direction in Letters from Iwo Jima is not an A-.
Acting and directing--which will be the primary focuses of the class--are about choices. Period. In the making the choice the actor and director may discover new and exciting routes or dead-end canyons. But what is important is that the student actors and directors make a choice. And then another one. And then another one. And then another one. And then another one. Their goal should be to constantly discover the character they are playing or the scene they are directing. “Does she walk with a limp? Has she just been laid off? Would she touch her earlobe when she’s embarrassed? Might she pause at a certain moment in the monologue? Could her voice tremble at the recollection of her dead father?” The same for directors: “Should he say the first line to himself, walk across to the table, pick up the knife, touch the blade, put the knife down, close the eyes and the then say the next two lines? Or should he…?” If students come prepared and on time, with the material memorized and try their best to make some interesting choices then I cannot but give them a 100 for that aspect of the class.
This does not mean that there won’t be other grades. Here is a short list of possible assessments to be repeated continually throughout the year.
· Have monologues memorized by a certain date
· Have dialogues memorized by a certain date
· Have reflective papers typed and handed in by a certain date
· Have a note book on acting with X amount of pages by a certain date
· Learn the vocabulary of theater by a certain date
· Write AP type essays in which you analyze themes in various plays.
This will be great year. Let’s begin.
Mr.Rychlewski
Sept 6, 2011
Please note: The show almost always goes on, and almost always on time. Theater people are probably the most punctual of all the professions. No one wants to be late and make the other actors, the director, the lighting person, the stage manager and even the producer.......................wait!
My point? Be on time! Those who are frequently late won't be allowed to participate in any serious way in the class. And they will jeopardize their chance to pass the course.
4.
actor: a person who performs in a play
backdrop: a large cloth (or paper) that is painted and hung as scenery
blackout: when all lights are simultaneously turned off to indicate the end of a
scene
blocking: a plan that indicates where an actor stands and moves
“Break a leg!”: a theatre expression meaning "Good luck!"
cast: the actors in a play
center stage: the middle portion of the stage floor
character: a person in a story that an actor plays
choreographer: a person who plans and teaches movements - like dances and fight
sequences - to actors
costume director: a person who designs and makes the costumes actors wear
cue: a signal that tells an actor when to speak or move
curtain call: actors gather on stage at the end of a performance to receive
applause
director: the person who interprets the play and provides direction to the
actors and designers
downstage: the area of the stage that is closest to the audience
dress rehearsal: the last rehearsal before a play opens with actors in full
costume
Foley artist: a person who creates sounds for film or theatre using a variety of
objects to enhance the sound effects
giving focus: an actor on stage does not move or talk so that audience attention
is drawn to another actor who is moving or talking
improvisation: a drama that is not scripted, but is made up as you go
lighting designer: a person who plans what lights are used and when they are
used to help create a setting
makeup designer: a person who makes actors faces resemble the characters they
are playing
mime: an actor who performs without words
monologue: a scene when only one actor speaks
offstage: the area of the stage that is not seen by an audience
onstage: the area of a stage where actors perform
pantomime: a story performed without words
producer: the person who arranges the financing of a play
prop: short for properties. Any object used by an actor.
proscenium: a decorative frame that arches around the stage's acting area
script: a play in written form
set: the acting area including props and scenery
set designer: the person who designs the scenery for a play
sound designer: the person who selects the music and sounds used in a play
stage crew: people who set up scenery and change it between scenes of a play
stage directions: instructions given to actors to tell them when and where to
move on stage
stage left: the area of stage that is on the actor's left
stage manager: the person who makes sure a performance runs as planned
stage right: the area of stage that is on the actor's right
taking focus: the actor speaks confidently and makes intentional movements in a
way that gets the audience's attention
upstage: the back of the stage or the area that is the farthest away from the
audience
EMOTIONS
First of all, NO ONE, not even the best actors, can summon emotions "at will".
They can often portray emotions easily; in the best, most talented actors,
their own emotions are always very close to the surface - in fact, many actors,
when not on stage, have to work to surpress their very volatile and accessible
emotions. So, for those uniquely gifted actors, they are able to, when properly
prepared and in the moment, expose their own emotions within the context of the
play.
Not everyone has the natural ability to access their own emotions so easily. It
is something that may need years of work - and is one of the reasons why acting
is not anywhere near as easy as people seem to think it is.
How to access those emotions? First, be aware of them. Think about yourself.
What triggers certain emotions in yourself? Anger, pain, frustration, joy,
silliness, fear, and all the others. How do each of them feel? Can you think
of an incident in your life that made you feel that way? How did your body
react when you felt that emotion? What did your face and body do? Did you pull
away? Did your mouth go dry? What else?
There are a number of ways to access emotion.
The first is by "remembering" a specific emotional incident in
your life which will trigger that response, and then transfer that reaction to
your character. This is the base of "The Method"'s "emotional memory"
technique. However, it is NOT something that I recommend for several reasons.
First of all, going INSIDE yourself takes you OUTSIDE the world of the play,
which is never a good idea when you are trying to stay in the moment. Secondly,
we don't want YOUR emotions exactly, we want the character's emotions, and you
want to react in character, not as yourself. And finally, it is too easy, if
you open yourself to these very personal, very intimate, very intense emotions,
to get carried away and not be able to get out of them, and on stage you need to
be in control.
2) The second way to access emotions is through physical actions - studying your
own physical reactions to various emotions and using those physical actions to
trigger the appropriate emotions. So... I can often bring myself to the edge of
tears by using my mouth, tongue and throat to partly trigger a yawn, which
brings tears to my eyes. Sometimes this type of thing can work for you, but
again, it is emotion generated from OUTSIDE the play, and that is a weakness.
3) The third, and most valuable, method is to use the content of the play to
trigger the emotions you need. Or rather, to allow yourself to immerse yourself
in the character and in the circumstances of the play, to be fully "in the
moment" and let the character's emotion arise in you naturally in reaction to
the character's experiences.
The best way to do this is to fully understand your character. Really study
him. And do it in the first person - "I" am, "I" want, etc. As soon as you can
do an autobiography of your character... ask the important questions and answer
them - who am I? where and when do I live? what is my life like? am I happy
with my life and if not, why not and what would I want my life to be? who else
is part of my life and what is my relationship with them? what do I like, who do
I love and who do I hate? what do I want - in my life, in the play, in each
scene, in each moment? Explore your character's life, his relationships, his
childhood, his family, his circumstances, the world he lives in. Get to know
him and the people he deals with as well as you know yourself and the world you
live in.
Where do you find this information? In the script - in the things he says, in
the things other characters say about him, in how the playwright describes him
and his actions in the stage directions; and in your own imagination. If
something isn't written in the script, invent it. As long as it doesn't
contradict what is written in the play, as long it makes sense in the context of
the character's words, relationships and actions, then it doesn't matter what it
is as long as it works for you and the play. Let yourself go - use your own
experiences and emotions to develop a character that has part of you in him.
The final character is an amalgam of what the playwright has written, what the
director has envisioned, and what you have created. When you truly know the
character and have incorporated him into you and you into him, then you will be
able to react "as" him in the context of the scenes you are acting.
Then, finally, let yourself be "in the moment". You understand the character,
you know who "you" are and how you feel about the people you are with and what
is happening to you. Now you need to focus; to use your concentration to "be"
in that world, to react "as" the character, to use your imagination to make that
world on the stage, for that moment, more real than the "real" world. Let
yourself go; relax; let yourself be the character and simply react to what is
happening to you.
Basically, that's it. It's not easy. In fact, it's very hard. It takes
practice and experience for many people to be able to do that with any kind of
ease. But once you get the hang of it, you'll find that it becomes easier and
easier to do. It's the letting go that's hard. And the work it takes to get to
the point of knowing the character well enough to do that, and of knowing
yourself well enough to recognize it, and trusting yourself enough to be able to
let go, to break through the barriers we all build to protect ourselves, and let
the emotions come. That's what acting is all about.
+ choices
A monologue is any dramatic performance by a single actor portraying a character and performed to an audience. Actors use monologues as audition pieces, as showcase performances in their own right, or just to refine their acting skills. No matter why you are preparing a monologue, the following tips will help to ensure that you give your best performance:
A monologue is any dramatic performance by a single actor portraying a character and performed to an audience. Actors use monologues as audition pieces, as showcase performances in their own right, or just to refine their acting skills. No matter why you are preparing a monologue, the following tips will help to ensure that you give your best performance:
1. Find a truth. There is no single truth, every individual connects with a piece of writing in a different way, but you do need some connection. If a particular monologue doesn't 'speak' to you, if it doesn't say something to you, then pick a different one. No matter how technically proficient you are, an audience will immediately sense when there is no truth in your performance.
2. Be heard. There are very few things that an audience will not forgive -- if you fall over, or if you forget a line, they'll forgive you. BUT… if they can't hear you, it doesn't matter how good the other aspects of your performance, they will not forgive you. Clarity and audibility above all else.
3. Choose for your audience. Select a monologue that is appropriate for your audience in terms of length and type of material. Many a good actor has been sunk by poor choices.
4. Play to your strengths. Select a monologue that will show your strengths as an actor or will display certain skills. Showcase yourself. This is particularly important if you are preparing a piece for an audition. Don't select a piece that shows off your comic skills if you're auditioning to play Oedipus.
5. Make it a complete performance. Each monologue is a performance, and each performance should have structure and shape. You're on display from the moment you walk into the performance space until you leave it. Always say a few words about the context, no matter how well known the piece you are performing. Always make it clear when your performance is ended.
6. Dig deep. The deeper you go into a piece, the more discoveries you will make and the richer your final performance will be. Sometimes you can keep making discoveries in a piece of writing over a period of weeks, months or even years. So, be prepared -- start working on a variety of pieces well before you need them. Don't be frightened by the idea that you might become 'over rehearsed' -- there is no such thing.
7. Keep it simple. Though your performance should be deep, it should also be compact. Don't overload a short piece and try to show off too many things at once. This applies to trying to convey too many aspects of the character and/or overloading your performance with too many quirks, props or gimmicks.
8. Be in the moment. This is the key to all good performance, not just monologues. It has to appear newly minted, as if your words are spontaneous and not well rehearsed.
9. Learn from feedback. When you're working on a piece, invite as much feedback as you can get. Learn how to critically assess this feedback and to learn from the useful bits. You should be learning all the time and using feedback is one of the most efficient ways of learning.
10. Have fun. The most important thing of all. If you're enjoying the experience, enjoying the performance, then so will your audience. It's hard work to polish the performance of even the shortest speech, but there's nothing like the sense of achievement that it can bring. Have fun, enjoy it, because if you don't, then what's the point?
1) MISREADINGS: Female teacher can’t reach jaded, cynical female student.
2) HAPPY MUG: Two sisters discuss the struggles of young motherhood.
3) KAT AND ELIZA: Troubled relationship of two sisters, one expecting.
4) NIGHTSWIM: Teen-age girls, mid-night swim, budding sexuality, fear.
5) WATERBABIES: Strange baby aquatic teacher and possible woman client.
6) AFTER: To-be-married journalist visits Disney romance junk-yard with fairy.
7) BEAUTY: Accountant nerd and sexy knockout switch bodies via a genie.
8) OFF THE RACK: Nazi clothes organizer blitzes weight-anxious client.
9) SO TELL ME ABOUT THIS GUY: Funny girl-girl talk; new date may be bi.
1) GUYS: College slackers at McDonald’s discuss sex, check out cute chick
2) EXECUTIVE DANCE: Male executive dance party to move up corporate ladder
3) 40-MINUTE FINISH: Food store slackers mop and muse over death in store
4) TRYING TO FIND CHINATOWN: Asian street musician confronts white Asian adoptee.
5) WOOZEY WOO!: Two guys discuss how to slip a woman a Mickey.
6) DRIVE ANGRY: Two punks cruise and argue about one’s cancer before they shoot at cars.
7) GAME THEORY: Two yuppie corporate types negotiate a cross-the-line game.
1) THE BLUE ROOM: Dream-evocation of a sailor and the woman he loved and left.
2) CREEP: Uptight woman has weird encounter with inventive slacker guy at party.
3) AFTER YOU: Ex-lovers examine feelings as he finally gets to shave her legs.
4) THE INDIVIDUALITY OF STREETLAMPS: Ex-lovers on her porch. He’s getting married; she has a crush on a 11 year-old student.
5) THE DIVINE FALLACY: Visionary novelist visits photographer, reveals her stigmata, stuns him.
6) CARNALITY: Separated couple admit their sexual feelings for each other while talking about their kid’s schooling
7) PRECIPICE: Mountaineer girl and nerdy date face dangerous choice at crossroads on a mountain descent.
8) LIFT AND BANG: Man returns to his ex-lover’s kitchen, tries to seduce her.
9) WHAT I CAME FOR: Tipsy woman tries to connect with Irish bartender.
10) HISS: Emotions vacillate for a couple who discover a snake in the laundry room.
11) SCHEHERAZADE: Girl and man on cruise ship invent stories and argue their believability.
12) SATURDAY NIGHT: A couple faces conflict over different friendship networks and life style choices on a Saturday night.
13) JOAN OF ARKANSAS: Two students writing research papers about prisoners try to adjust to a bird trapped in the library.
MAN OR WOMAN
1) TAPE: Celestial attendant prepares dead person for hearing all the lies of their life.
1) SINGLETON, THE MEDAL WINNER: Civil War. Dying and delirious soldier awaits medal in hospital with disillusioned surgeon.
2) TANGO DELTA: Reflective secret service agent guarding president from sniper attack with two laconic colleagues.
3) SEEING THE LIGHT: Three men discuss seriousness of overhead red light appearing. Suggestion of some nuclear warning.
1) EATING OUT: Three women recite soliloquies on eating disorders, food obsessions.
2) THE OFFICE: Two bored customer reps bitch about life and job while a third watches.
3) HEADS: Three co-eds argue what to do when nerdy guy is found to be filthy rich.
4) SUNDAY GO TO MEETIN’: Narrow rural girls mock new Jewish girl in town.
5) BROKEN HEARTS: Woman who died and girl who got her heart in “waiting” area between life and death.
6) BODY TALK: Three women speak of their relationship to their body images.
1) LYNETTE HAS BEAUTIFUL SKIN: Girl connects with the male friend of her immature boyfriend at a pizza parlor.
2) KEEPER: Victim of sick gossiper gets revenge in theatre lobby while box office girl watches.
3) LAWYERS, GUNS AND MONEY: Three educated twenty-somethings discuss the idea of creating a gun pyramid scheme.
4) HARD-BOILDED: Bad feelings simmer among two male corporate lawyers when their female colleague gets promoted.
5) EYE-TO-EYE: Man and woman play stare-down game for check after first date.
6) DOWNTOWN: Three jaded people-watchers in a club are revealed as wait staff.
7) ELECTRIC ROSES: Wife beater’s monologue interspersed with wife and friend at bus station as she leaves town the morning he is to get out of prison.
8) MEDIAN: Self-destructive man is followed to highway median strip by friends.
9) COVER: Friend is asked to lie to male buddy’s wife about his affair.
TWO WOMEN AND ONE MAN
1) DANCING WITH THE DEVIL: 28 year-old woman remembers a rape when she was 24.
2) UNDER LUBIANKA SQUARE: Naďve American woman is confronted by Russian woman selling cosmetics in a metro station in Moscow
3) BREAKING THE CHAIN: A women questions “luck” when a neighbor couple win a series of contests and lotteries.
4) NIGHT VISITS: Doctor and patient connect over death of doctor’s wife.
5) ONE HUNDRED WOMEN: Gay women tries to come to terms with her love for her straight roommate and her ambivalence over roommate’s boy friend.
6) LONLEY: Lonely younger sister struggles with her feeling as she visits living room of her sister and her brother-in-law.
7) LUNCHTIME: Two women talk problems at lunch when a man sits down near them to listen.
8) THE HOUR OF LAMPS: Young man suck in the past confronts his two sisters.
9) THE SIN EATER: Older sister of an apparently dead girl invites a Sin-Eater to eat off the dead girl’s chest, and finds he had had a crush on her.
10) GAVE HER THE EYE: Man meets female co-worker in bar and reveals to her that is eye, which pops out, is electronic. A woman watches from a distance.
11) LOVE POEM # 98: Impressionistic dream piece where man vacillates between wife and hooker, who are possibly the same person.
1) ARABIAN NIGHTS: a banal exchange between a customer and a salesperson in a small exotic shop is rendered magical through the words of an interpreter.
New Times Roman or Courier are the standard font formats. Size 12
Title of play or act/scene number are centered at the top in size 14 bold
Stage directions that begin a play or act/scene are centered in italics
Names of all characters go in the middle of the page are are in caps
What the characters say goes directly on the line below starting on the left margin
Then a line is skipped and the next character's name is typed...etc
Smaller stage directions are inserted inside the text. Ex: (softly) (drops the ball)
Larger stage directions go on their own line either between the lines of dialogue of one character (single space) or between two characters speaking (double space) Ex: Mary crosses to the dresser, opens the drawer, pulls out a gun and checks if it's loaded.
If it is not clear who a person is talking to indicate as a smaller stage direction
Larger stage directions start 1/4 from the left margin.
Three dots indicates a very brief hesitation or pause, a second or two
Italics indicated that a particular word or series of words are to be emphasized.
The word "Beat" is inserted when there is a dramatic shift. Something big is happening
EXAMPLE
ACT I
JOHN stands in a school yard at twilight. Downstage left is a fence and downstage right a basketball net. Up-stage there is the brick wall of the school with a strike zone-painted on it. It is summer, so there is the suggestion of trees. He holds a large blown-up balloon, double the size of a basketball. LINDA enters.
LINDA
Hey John. What's happening?
JOHN
Not much.
LINDA
I like your balloon.
(JOHN begins to let the air out.)
Oh! Don't do that!
JOHN
(disgusted) Why not?
LINDA
Cause a balloon should have air in it. A balloon without air is like (snaps her fingers trying to remember) a day without sunshine.
JOHN
(long disbelieving stare) Right.
(TOM enters wearing a football uniform.)
TOM
Hey! ...Have you guys seen my football?
JOHN
Here! Use this.
(JOHN releases the balloon. It flies around and lands on the ground.)
(screams) Fumble!
(Beat)
TOM
You are out of your mind, John.
LINDA
...(To TOM) He knows.
SOME IDEAS FOR WRITING PLAYS (from Mr. Rychlewski)
1. Not too much exposition unless it’s designed to get/change something
2. Objects are important, use them and track them
3. Silences are okay. Even long ones if the moment calls for it
4. Sounds off stage are important for mood, memory and dramatic action
5. Let characters speak about someone who is there as if they’re not there
6. Intermediary roles important. Some characters are negotiators
7. Dramatic action off-stage that that pulls characters there can be effective
8. Put small talk before a big moment
9. “What do you do there?” Remark on mysterious places off-stage.
10. Conflicts between two characters on how to solve problems of the third
11. Something big is coming and they’re waiting for it is always compelling
12. What to do with a gift, money, a secret can created a big conflict
13. Who controls a space? Who challenges for it?
14. How badly does somebody want something? What are the limits?
15. Someone pursuing the revelation of a secret is always interesting
16. How someone feels the world looks at them is key to building character
17. Misunderstanding of a word can create a big conflict
18. Characters get so absorbed with something they’re not even listening
19. Sometimes a word can trigger a memory
20. Superior vs. inferior status. Who stands? Who sits? Who turns their back?
21. Sometimes a quiet hides a volcano. Show it
22. Watching a character lower their expectations step-by-step is powerful
23. Create a story that defines a life and use it as the big speech
24. Use a character that is looking for a past that can’t be recaptured
25. Hard decisions really engage an audience
26. Dream/dead/fantasy characters are fine and can be used effectively
27. A reaction shot at the moment of truth can be written in stage directions
28. Think about physical distance between characters in dramatic moments
29. Create characters that can rationalize anything
30. Know what just happened before all this. The world before the play
31. Small talk can hide an elephant under the rug
32. Use stage directions sparingly for maximum effect
33. When it’s time for direct talk, let the characters talk direct
34. Sometimes characters talk in code. Figure out the code
35. Always think about the subtext. What is NOT said is equally important
Use these for the two movies we saw.
Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.
Voltaire
Doubt grows with knowledge.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent
are full of doubt.
Bertrand Russell
I respect faith, but doubt is what gives you an education.
Wilson Mizner
How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
Alexander Pope
The greatest obstacle to being heroic is the doubt whether one may not be going
to prove one's self a fool; the truest heroism is to resist the doubt; and the
profoundest wisdom, to know when it ought to be resisted, and when it be obeyed.
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Doubt is the brother of shame.
Erik Erikson
Faith and doubt cannot exist in the same mind at the same time, for one will
dispel the other.
Thomas S. Monson
We work n the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have. Our doubt is our
passion and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.
Henry James
One must always hope when one is desperate, and doubt when one hopes.
Gustave Flaubert
The deplorable mania of doubt exhausts me. I doubt about everything, even my
doubts.
Gustave Flaubert
Action and faith enslave thought, both of them in order not be troubled or
inconvenienced by reflection, criticism, and doubt.
Henri Frederic Amiel
Doubt, it seems to me, is the central condition of a human being in the
twentieth century.
Salman Rushdie
I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening; I drank and
danced all night with doubt and found her a virgin in the morning.
Aleister Crowley
# 101 COOKIES by KATHY COUDLE KING 305 words
SHELIA: Beauty? Where did I learn about beauty? Where does every girl learn? From magazines, of course. My big sister
has piles of them in her bedroom. She hates for me to mess with her stuff, but whenever she’s not around, I sneak into her
room. I’d take out the neat pile she keeps by her bed. Carefully, so she wouldn’t even know I’d touch them. I’d flip the shiny
pages, breathe in the perfume scent, staring at all the faces of the models, memorizing the way they smiled, or didn’t, the way
they pouted, they way they leaned casually against a car –- or a guy. I studied the way they wore their makeup. The colors of
their lipstick, and their hairstyles. I studies them and I learned. Wanna know what I learned? (Pause) I learned they all look alike!
They have the same shape nose, eyes. Even the shapes of their heads are the same. They’re all the same height, same weight.
Just like Barbie dolls, where they say it’s Latina Barbie in the book, but it’s really just white Barbie dipped in a tanning color
with brown eyes and hair. They change the wig, duh. That’s like the girls in magazines. They’re all the same. After a while I
couldn’t tell which magazines I’d looked at and which ones I hadn’t. See, they give you this recipe for how to be beautiful.
Buy this, wear your hair this way, dress that way – but the recipe is the kind you use cookie cutters, so every cookie comes out
exactly the same. No – (looking for the word) --variety. No surprises. That’s what I learned from the beauty magazine. And me?
I’m nobody’s cookie. Not your cupcake, not your honey, not your little pumpkin, sweetie pie. I’m not cookie. But I’ll sell you
some. How many cases you wanna buy?
# 102 FEMONOLOGUES (MISSY) by JILL MORLEY 231 words
MISSY: Earl? Earl? Did you fix the carburetor yet? I’m hungry. Well, why not? Ok. Ok. Smoke your cigarette. Figure it out.
I can’t wait till we get to Vegas, Earl. I heard the restaurants are open twenty-four hours and every meal is two ninety-nine!
Sometimes one ninety-nine. And that included drinks. Alcoholic beverages! Yeah, beers. Beers too! You’ll get you beers,
Earl. But, I’m gonna drink those Pink Lady’s with them pretty umbrellas stickin’ out, like the celebrities. I can too. Sebastian
Shoemaker says I look like Rita Hayworth. So what! He can see real good with his other one. Would ya look at that cloud.
It looks like a giant slot machine. I’ll bet it’s a sign. Oh, my god, Earl, we’re gonna be rich! Oh, I can’t wait. Know what I’m
gonna go? I’m gonna buy buckets of marigolds and plant’em all around our trailer. Won’t it look nice. What do you mean,
“Better’n that? What’s better’n livin’ on a bed of gold? Somethin’ nobody can take from ya. I could look at ‘em every day
to remind me how rich I am. Water’em, smell’em. Feel their soft petals –watch ‘em grow … A Jaguar? Yeah, that would be
good, too. But how can ya think about Jaguars when you can’t even fix a carburetor on a Maverick? Are you done with yer
cigarette, Earl? Earl?? I’m hungry.
# 103 THESE ARE REAL by LOUISE ROZETT 377 words
ACTRESS: (Enters with statuette and index card.) Ladies and gentlemen. I – God, this is incredible! (Reading off card) I cannot thank you enough for this! It is such an honor to be recognized by the Academy! There are so many people to thank. So many. Of course, my wonderful parents and husband and sons. And my director and fellow actors, and all the people who had faith in me to keep sending me back to rehab. (She looks up from her card to the audience.) But, actually – you know what There are a few individuals who really deserve this statuette more than I do, and I’d like to personally recognize them. (She throws the card over her shoulder.) I’d like to thank all those boys out there who never realized just how special I am, and who told me no one would marry me. And, of course, the girls in high school gym class who called me “hairy hiney” when I came out of the shower or “big butt” when I couldn’t finished an aerobic class. If it weren’t for all of you, I never would have pushed myself as hard as I did to get to this point, just so I could stand at this podium and show you exactly what you missed out on. Let’s take a moment to evaluate, shall we? What have you done with your lives? What are you doing … right now? Hmmmmm? You’re watching me, on screen in front of the entire world, and you are praying, praying that
I’ll say “thanks: to our home town, or mention our high school. Because you want people to know that I know you Well, here’s a sweet little news flash. I don’t even remember your names. I wouldn’t know you if I hit you with my limo. Who’s laughing now, baby? Huh? (She holds up the statuette, victory style.) Who’s got the pretty golden statuette? Who’s the big movie star? Me. It’s me (She taunts and threatens with it) And my life is great! And as great as it looks like it is! (She regains her composure) And I have you to thank for that. All your insults and cruelties, all the times you stood me up or ditched me, all the way you tried to make yourself feel more important by hurting me. I would’ trade a minute of that for all the Academy Awards in the world. Because you, in your bitter smallness, helped make who I am today. And I…love…me. Finally. And these…are real. Thank you.
# 104 NICE TIE by RICH ORLOFF 295 words
WOMAN: Can you buy me a drink, you ask. Oh, I don’t know. First you buy me a drink. And then you ask me for my phone number. And I figure what the hell, so I give it to you. If you don’t call me, I’m disappointed. If you do cal me, we go out, and either I don’t like you or I like you and you don’t like me. And I’m disappointed. Or we do like each other. And we got out some more, and things become pretty wonderful – great passion, revealing conversations. Compatible neuroses – but I discover I want more than you can give. And I’m disappointed. Or we stay with it, and we get closer and closer and more dependent on each other, which gives us the strength to go through periods of mutual doubts. And things said in anger that we’ll pretend to forget but which will come up again during the post-natal depression I’ll have after the birth of our first child. If we get married, that is, and Lord knows how many friends I’ll lose because they like me but they’re just not comfortable around you. After our second date, the unresolved conflicts we buried for the sake of our marriage will propel you into a torrid affair, either with someone you work with, or. God forbid, one of my few friends who is comfortable around you. I’ll try to forgive you, eventually, by which point both our children will be in intensive therapy. The divorce will be ugly, expensive, and I’ll never be able to trust me again, those
who aren’t frightened off by my sagging features and two sadomasochistic children. The kids’ll blame me, of course, and I’ll die alone. …I think I’ll pass on the drink.
# 105 THE DEATH OF A MINOR by Paula Cizmar 392 words
MARY ALICE: It’s what I really want to do, Jack, I can’t just sit and watch. All my life…I watched. I watched my daddy until he finally couldn’t take it any more and
JACK: I don’t know. I don’t know.
MARY ALICE: I gotta do this. I gotta …Let me tell you. You see, one day my brother and about ten of the boys from his class went out explorin’ in the caverns one day, ‘bout a mile from where we were livin’. Jack. Listen. There were in there a few hours—guess they wanted to go way back in the cave to see where it would take them. There was a flash thunderstorm and it started to flood. Well, they got divers down there…and the TV cameras came from the city…and it kept rain’n off and on. My mama dragged my dad out to the cave…and all the rest of us. We all sat there, with the other families, sat there, lined up on the hillside, lookin’ down into the flooded pit, the TV cameras takin’ our pictures…we sat there…watchin’…waitin’…watchin’…and every time they came back with nuthin’. …My mama just sat there. Sat there. And then she started…couldn’t help herself. I know, but she started with that look…accusin’ my daddy with her eyes. If we didn’t have to live in that place, none of this woulda happened…that’s what the look said…this is your fault…I wish it was you in that cave and not--…look at you…can’t do nothin’…can’t even get my boy outa the cave……it was just flashin’ outa her eyes. Finally, my daddy couldn’t take it anymore. He ran down the hill, started rippin’ his clothes off and jumped into the water before anybody could stop him. She didn’t want anyone to stop him. She just watched. He tried getting’ into that cave about a dozen times…finally they talked him into tyin’ a rope around himself and he kept trying’…tried about an hour…she never changed her expression. My brother died in that cave. Took the bodies out about a week later. After the rains died down. And the water dried up. My daddy came into my room after he saw my brother at the funeral parlor. Said…I love you Mary Alice. Said, I love you. You be happy. You can find it anywhere you want it. And he left. See?
# 106 HENRY VI, part III by William Shakeaspeare. 368 words
QUEEN MARGARET:
Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
That wraoght at mountains with outstretched arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
What! was it you that would be England's king?
Was't you that revelled in our parliament,
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas poor York! But that I hae thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad;
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport:
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.
A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him:
Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.
[Putting a paper crown on his head]
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair,
And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
And will you pale your head in Henry's glory,
And rob his temples of the diadem,
Now in his life, against your holy oath?
O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable!
Off with the crown, and with the crown his head;
And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead
# 107 BUNNY’S LAST NIGHT IN LIMBO by Peter Petralia 334 words
SISTER: I love l-i-p-s-t-i-c-k. All kinds. I’ve got ten shades of red and five browns. “I have a color to match my every mood.” I got that from a Revlon commercial. Do you know the one I mean? It’s with Lynda Carter. You know. Wonder woman? She’s in the swimming pool? Never mind. I can’t imagine the world without lipstick…it’s be pretty boring. I’d lose my favorite snack treat. (She puts lipstick on and then bites a chunk of it. Then she puts it in her pocket and she chews the bite she took.) L-i-p-s-t-i-c-k is the world’s most overlooked source for nutrition. It’s packed full of healthy stuff like vitamins and oils. It goes on smooth and digests right away. Mmmmmm. Mary Margaret says l-i-p-s-t-i-c-k is made out of bat poop, but I don’t believe her. She doesn’t know anything about beauty anyway. Her mom won’t even let her wear l-i-p-s-t-i-c-k. My mom thinks beautify is important. That’s why she is so pretty. She lets me wear make-up because she wants me to be pretty too. I’m glad cause being pretty is fun…and important. I’m good at it, aren’t I? I get all the boys to look at me. “My lipstick makes me look…kissable.” That’s Maybelline. The boys in Mrs. Harper’s class can’t stop staring when I come in. I don’t blame them. The other day in the playground I kissed a boy. He wasn’t that good at it. I had to hold him down. He was chicken. He said he never kissed a girl before so I asked if he had ever kissed a boy and then he bit my lip. I got really mad so I told everyone that he liked boys. He’s dumb anyway. Everybody made fun of him. He’s a fag, I’m sure. (She takes out the lipstick again to take another bite. But it’s empty—no more lipstick in the tube. She sticks her tongue in the tube, trying to lick out every last bit.) Hmmpf. I’m gonna have to get some more. I think I want Tragic Diva this time, from Union Decay. It tastes better than Maybelline. I think because it costs more. They put special things in it that make it good…and it stays on longer. I hope it’s not bat poop. That Mary Margaret is crazy. They wouldn’t put bat poop in there.
# 108 REMEMBERIN’ STUFF by Eleanor Harder 307 words
MAXINE: Well, let’s see. (to Group and audience) Well, uh…I remember that from the time I was real little, I always wanted a baby of my own. And when I was sixteen I got pregnant, and now I’ve got one. (Short uncomfortable pause, then she continues) And I remember thinkin’ that if I had a baby, I’d always have somebody to love and somebody who’d love me. Because nobody else had. Not really, you know? And then I—I thought everyone would look up to me, think I was special because I had a kid. (Sighs.) Well, I have a kid now, and yeah, I love him and all, and I guess he loves me. But I don’t know, it sure isn’t the way I thought it was gonna be. I mean, like the cute cuddly little puppy I had once? Not. Man, I didn’t know a baby was so much work! And I worry when he grows up he might not love me anymore, y’know? I mean, some kids don’t. (Shakes head) There’s so much stuff to worry about! Like when he’s sick and screams all night, and his daddy—hmph! He never comes around or helps or anything. Don’t even know where he is now. And I don’t know how I’m gonna manage alone. But hey. (Motions toward BABY) It’s not his fault. He’s just a little baby. And I do love him. I really do. It’s just—well, I remember thinkin’ that havin’ a kid would make everything all right. Y’know. Change everything, but it didn’t make everything all right. But (Shrugs) you know, maybe nothing’ ever does. Make things right, I mean. (Baby cries. To Baby) All right, all right, I’m comin’. (Goes to car seat and picks up baby, then turns to group) Hey, I gotta go. See you guys around – (Shrugs) sometime. Huh?
# 109 SHIVAREE by William Mastrosimone 420 words
SHIVAREE: Well, sport, you can dance for dance and get a flat rate, or you can dance for tips and get what you get. Like after dancing’ at the Hyatt last night, seven sheiks from Dubai approach me and said they was thrown’ some high brow shindig up in their suite, would I grace their company with the dance, salam alekim, the whole bit, and I says, Hell ya, and I walks in and it looks like a sheet sale. All kinds of Mideastern folk jabberin’ and the musicians go big for some Guazi tune and I let loose my stuff. I do veil work where I put myself in this envelope like a little chrysalis in a gossamer cocoon listen’ to the beat of my heart, and then I break out with hip shimmie and shoulder rolls and belly flutters; mad swirls, Byzantine smiles and half closed eyes, and my hands are cobras slitherin’ on air, hoods open and I’m Little Egypt, Theodora, Neferrtiti, and Salome, all in one skin, and these before me was Soloman and Herod and Caesar and Tutankhamen shoutin’ “Ayawah, Shiaree, Ayawah,” which roughly means, Go for it, little darlin’—and this young sheik he’s clappin’ his hands to my zills, and he rolls up this hundred dollar bill and tries to slip it in my clothes, which makes me stop dancin’, which make the musicians stop, and there’s this hush when I fling that hundred dollar bill on the rug, and it gets so quiet you hear a rat tip-toe on cotton, and I says, Look here, sucker, I’m a dancer, and I’m moved by Ishtar, Aphrodite, Venus, Isis, Astarte, and Rickie Lee Jones, all them sultry ladies of the east. I am the goddess of the feathery foot, and I only take orders from the moon. Direct. I have turned dives into temples, cadavers into foot stompers, drunks into believers, and Tuesday night into Sunday morning’ gospel time, and I don’t take tips. It ain’t proper to tip a goddess. And I starts to leave in a huff, and the young sheik come to ‘pologize, asks me to Arabia, he would take o’ everything, and then I know he’s talking about the even more ancient horizontal dance of the harem girl, and I say, Tell me, sheik, you got biscuits and gravy over there? And he says, What’s biscuits and gravy? And I walked out sayin’, See there sheik, you’re living a deprived life, --and that’s my story, bub, now where’s the wine.
# 110 THE FACE IN THE MIRROR by Phil Zwerling 261 words
BECCA: She’s good. She was dead stoned. She never saw the witch. ..I seen her, I’m the one scared to shit. I’m the one needs the shrink. (She slumps into the chair.) I saw her. I saw the old witch. Ugly. She was ugly than you…and that ugly. I seen death. I ain’r scared of you or Big Donna. I seen death in her eyes. I seen death. In the mirror. The cracked one in the shitter. She was there! Lookin’ at us. Lil Shirley hit the bag first and I held her when she lay back. I could hear you all startin’ to make noice in here but it was nice and peaceful where we was. Then I looked up. The mirror was cloudy. Like smoke, you know? At first I couldn’t make anything out. Then this face…this ugly face…grew in the mirror. She was slive, I could see her skin, and she was crying, but her eyes was dead…like a fish after you cut off the heard. (Beat.) But it wasn’t no fish. …Her hair was long and messed up like she didn’t have no comb and the wind had blew it all around and she didn’t care. Her clothes was black. Black short, black dress, black robe. Black everything…and long black fingernails, but her skin was white, really white. She didn’t say nothing, but I knew she came cause tomorrow’s the Day of the Dead, and she lookin for her children. Her dead children. She came to take me…or L‘il Shirley…or both of us. (Thinking) She was crying, though. Crying and sad .. (Beat) and dead.
# 111 HAMLET by William Shakespeare 276 words
HAMLET:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
# 112 AS YOU LIKE IT by William Shakespeare 204 words
JACQUES:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
# 113 SANS-CULOTTES IN THE PROMISED LAND
by KIRSTEN GREENIDGE 473 words
LENA: The
principal was my sweetheart: so I got my diploma: I wasn’t one of those dropouts
that smoke behind the Walmart. I found my way. I’m not stupid. I pay attention.
I had a teacher who was real into words, real into saying words the right way.
I paid close attention to every little thing she said, and it worked: I don’t
sound like one of those people on the TV. Who can’t put a sentence together,
can’t hardly talk: I’m not stupid. I keep up with everything. Even my bills.
Each bill I get I send to my grandmother in Fort Worth. Over the phone she tells
me how to make out my checks. The only problem right now is that washing
machine. Greta’s going to be walking around in rags if I don’t tell them about
me soon. People usually understand after I explain, after I tell them that
letters don’t work for me. Letters twist around before my head gets a chance to
figure them out. People usually understand but sometimes, sometime they don’t.
That’s…that’s what happened at my last place. The mother there would write me
things. I was really good at figuring them out except for this one time, my last
time, I wasn’t so good. It was a birthday party. I was supposed to take her two
girls to this birthday party. She wrote the directions on this piece of paper.
Easy, I though, I just get the bog one to read it, say my eyes hurt, or I forgot
my glasses. I got a whole list of things I can say. And I can drive okay but
directions, when they’re on paper like that, are no good. So I stay calm. I
drive around a little. I wait. I drive a little more, then I make a joke: I say,
“Hey, make yourself useful.” I give a little laugh, too, to go with the joke.
But the big one, the ugly one with the big teeth says “No.” Just
“No” flat out like that. She says it’s not her job, it’s mine. She says it’s
what he mother pays me good money for. So I ask the little one, I don’t get
huffy. I just ask the little one of she can read. But. She can’t. So I drive.
Around and around til’ they both fall asleep, Big teeth and her sister. Useless.
I drive thinking maybe I’ll see a house with balloons. But I don’t. Next day the
agency calls. They say don’t go to work today. They say I get one more chance
before they have to let me go. This is my one more chance but that Carrmel’s
creeping around spying on me and the mother keeps writing me notes. How am I
supposed to keep my job if she writes me notes?
# 114 NIGHT TRAIN TO BOLINA by NILO CRUZ 444 words
(Daytime: CLARE sits on a chair. SISTER NORA stands behind her braiding her hair. CLARE is braiding TALITA’S hair, who is kneeling in front of her.)
SISTER NORA: There used to be a time when the needs of this place were fulfilled, and children like you spent the whole day in classrooms, learning how to read and write. Now there is not enough of us and this place is falling apart. Everything smells of mold. As when things become moldy and moth eater. There used to be a time when this building was airy and sanitary, becaue we had time to scrub our walls and floors. We had time to maintain our gardens, to cut down the branches from our trees and let in the fresh air. And in the summertime we used to throw buckets of water on the floor, flooding the mission up to our ankles, so the tiles could retain the cool moisture and sooth the heat. Our walls were painted and there were no leaks on our roofs. …Then things changed. No missionaries wanted to come here to work. And others left frightened of the danger. Afraid of getting killed or lost in our jungles, to end of mangled or mutilated by guerillas or soldiers. So now if the alms box needs to be painted, we take a brush and paint it. All you children have to help us. If there is no one to mend the altar cloths, we take a needle and thread and mend them. Do you know how to sew, Clara?
CLARA: No.
SISTER NORA: Ill teach you. You know how to sweep and dust?
CLARA: Yes.
SISTER NORA: Good. You can sweep and dust the parish. Take a broom and duster from the room next to the vestry. Talita, you take her there and show her where they’re kept. Show he how to sweep under the prayer stools. To get underneath the stools with a broom. Dirt accumulates down there. And show he how to polish the pulpit and the altar rails. The altar cloths are washed on Mondays. The candles are also changes on that day. I like to change them on Monday’s, because Mondays are dull and somber. New candles brighten up the church and bring clarity. When you clean the saints use soap and water. Not too much soap or you get too much foam. Them it will take you forever to rinse them. Make sure you dry them well with the cloth I set aside for them. Talita will show you. You know, that’s one thing I always like doing, washing the saints and angels. I like to bath them as if they were my children. Clear their ear and elbows real good, as I would do a baby. And talk to them. They like it when you talk to them. They like to listen.
# 201 THE MEAN REDS by Mark Scharf 473 words
MIKE: The only good thing about this birthday is that I don’t have to put up with ny in-laws. Hell, now that I think about it, my life won’t be infected by those people at all. I won’t mix my drunken, whining fruitcake soon-to-be-ex mother-in-law who passed her neurotic genes down to my soon-to-be-ex-wife. And I sure won’t miss Rose’s nasty. Fat, manipulative bitch of a sister and her foul family either. Every time they come over her I have to look myself in the bathroom so I won’t kill one of them. They think I have a weak bladder. I just can’t stand to be in the same house with them for more than ten minutes. You met them. How could you forget? That doofus looking moron of a husband with a voice like a demented cartoon, “Uhhh, how’re you doing’, Sport?” The guy is bald straight up the middle, so he grows these three hairs from the side of his head out about four feet and he curls them all together across his bad spot in a spiral pattern and shellacs them down on his head with about four cans of hairspray. His bald spot is all shinny from the hair spray and it shines through these use pinwheels of stiff hair. He’s about six foot four and spastic—he walks inot the house and BAM! “Ohhhh, I’m sorry? Did I do that? Yuck. Yuck, yuck, yuck.” …Yeah they’re charming all right. Rose’s sister is about three feet shorter than he r husband and about three feet wider. All she cares about is money and looking down her nose at everybody else. She thinks her children are these perfect beautiful angels when she’s got them as screwed up as she is. They gave me the flu last winter. The little nasty mucus machines are always sick. They’re like little walking petri dishes of disease who get my kids sick every single time they come over here. And they look like a combination of r worst features of their parents. They boy looks like Moe of the Three Stooges and is about a bright. The girl is a nasty butterball with a face like Alfred E. Neuman on the cover of Mad magazine. They’re not children. They’re evil infectious trolls. I could never eat a piece of my own birthday cake ‘cause I had to let one of them help me blow out the candles and they spit all over the cake. And as least one of the hem would find a way to sneeze on it. …Hate can be a very good thing, Mary Jo. There are some things that you should hate, that you need to hate like the Nazis, and cancer—and my wife and her nasty family. A nice, healthy hate.
# 202 CUBAN OPERATOR, PLEASE by Adrian Rodriguez 266 words
ABEL: (very peacefully) This is my favorite picture of my father. It’s a picture of him in a baseball uniform with some of his teammates. Only one thing made him look like the man that was so far away. (pause) He loved baseball. …The man in the picture, the man my father used to be before having to abandon everything, was known as “El Americano,” the American. He must be 16 years old in this picture. Starting pitcher of the Estrellas de Collante, a semi-professional team financed by the private hospital at Collante. The man is this picture was a semi-professional baseball player. He looks proud, smug, cocky, confident. He once tole me that his team had traveled to a local; town named Fomento for a game. He was going to pitch since it was an imports=ant game and he was the best pitcher on the squad.. Before the game they were invited to have breakfast at a local restaurant and as he was eating he noticed a group of young women asking one of his teammates who El Americano was. They wanted to see the famous picture who overpowered his opponents with speed. When he was pointed out, one of the young women remarked, surprised: Aquel flaco es el Americano? That skinning guy over there’s the American? Utter disbelief. That a 105-pound 16-year old boy with enormous ears was expected to go to the majors to play with the Americans? Yes, he was, and he pitched a shutout game that afternoon to prove it. He would soon be in Havana playing with the Americans. I could see it on his eyes.
# 203 ANTIGONE by Sophocles 341 words
TEIRESIAS: Mark me now Creon. For I say that you stand of fate’s thin edge. You will know when you hear the signs my art has disclosed. For lately, as I took my place in my ancient seat of augury, where all the birds of the air gather about me, I heard strange things. They were screaming with feverish rage, their usual clear notes were a frightful jargon, and I knew they were rending each other murderously with their talons; the whit of their wings told an angry tale. …Straightaway, these things filling me with fear, I kindled fire upon an altar, with due ceremony, and laid a sacrifice among the fire, but moister came oozing out of the bones and flesh trickled upon the embers, making them smoke and sputter. Then the gall burst and scattered ij the air, and the steaming thighs lay bared of the fat that had wrapped them. And I tell you, it is you deeds that have brought a sickness to the state. For the altars of our city and the altars of our hearths have been polluted, one and all, by birds and dogs who have fed on that outrages corpse that was the some of Oedipus. It is for this reason that the gods refused prayer and sacrifice at our hands, and will not consume the meat offering with flame. Nor does any gird give a clear sign by it’s shrill cry, for they have tasted the fatness of a slain man’s blood. ..Think, then on these things, my son. All men are liable to err, but he shows wisdom and earns blessings who heals the ills of his errors caused. Be not too stubborn, too still a will is folly. Yield to the dead, I counsel you, and do not stab the failed. What prowess is it to slay the slain anew? I have sough your welfare; it is for your good I speak. And it should be a pleasant things to hear a good counselor when he counsels for your own good.
# 204
THE HOUSE OF RAMON IGLESIA by Jose Rivera 351 words
JAVIER: Charlie, I love you guys, you know I do. It’s just “our people” I don’t know about. I don’t even know what “our people” even means. It is some mass of Latin Americans on Eighth Avenues? Is it all the Puerto Ricans hanging out on Avenue D? Christ, it’s so weird! Whenever I see some old Puerto Rican stumbling around drunk, acting like a fool, I think of Dad. If I see a bunch of guys with their numb-chucks and radios, I think of our cousins. I mean, I know exactly how these people think. What they like and dislike, what they need…and something in me feels like I got to help them…and I will someday…but for now, I just want to be as far away as possible.
CHARLIE: That’s mixed up, Javier.
JAVIER: Charlie, it’s just me. Too any things got in between me and them.
CHARLIE: Like what?
JAVIER: Oh Charlie, like…I don’t know…all the times Dad brought a live pig home and slaughtered it in the backyard the way he used to go in Puerto Rico. And lucky me gets to hold the bucket to catch the blood I’d eat later that night in blood sausages…
CHARLIE: I love blood sausages.
JAVIER: (Beat.) There was my Christmas at drunk, crazy Uncle Wilfred’s who beat the living shit out of his son, cousin Javier, that day. I’ll never forget Javier crying, twisting around the floor, bleeding and vomiting all over the Christmas nativity thing, a little plastic doodad the Department of Welfare had given to them (Beat.) Or my first sexual flight to heaven. Another cousin, I won’t tell you which, Charlie, the shock would kill you. She stalked into my bed one night, I was ten, she was curious, I faked sleeping, she found her way into my pants. I was scared and quiet; she was very warm. Or my second sexual flight. Another cousin, a male, who crawled into the bathtub I was innocently bathing in—he pushed me face down into the water—I was eleven, Charlie--I almost drowned--terrified--I was ripped the way you rip up paper—then I was blasted from here to God.
# 205 THE MISER by Moliere 415 words
HARPAGON:
from the garden, rushing in without his hat, and crying_--
Thieves! thieves! assassins! murder! Justice, just heavens! I am undone; I am murdered; they have cut my throat; they have stolen my money! Who can it be? What has become of him? Where is he? Where is he hiding himself? What shall I do to find him? Where shall I run? Where
shall I not run? Is he not here? Who is this? Stop! (To himself, sees his own shadow, taking hold of his own arm) Give me back my money, wretch.... Ah...! it is myself.... My mind is wandering, and I know not where I am, who I am, and what I am doing. (Falls to his knees) Alas! my poor money! my poor money! My dearest friend, they have bereaved me of thee; and since thou art
gone, I have lost my support, my consolation, and my joy. All is ended for me, and I have nothing more to do in the world! Without thee it is impossible for me to live. It is all over with me; I can bear it no longer. (lies down) I am dying; I am dead; I am buried. Is there nobody who will call me from the dead, by restoring my dear money to me, or by telling me who has taken it? (Rising to his knees) Ah! what is it you say? It is no one. (stands) Whoever has committed the deed must have watched carefully for his opportunity, and must have chosen the very moment when I was talking with my miscreant of a son. (Takes his hat and cane) I must go. I will demand justice, and have the whole of my house put to the torture--my maids and my valets, my son, my daughter, and myself too. What a crowd of people are assembled here! Everyone seems to be my thief. I see no one who does not rouse suspicion in me. Ha! what are they speaking of there? Of him who stole my money? What noise is that up yonder? Is it my thief who is there? (Kneels and addresses the audience) For pity's sake, if you know anything of my thief, I beseech you to tell me. Is he hiding there among you? They all look at me and laugh. (stands) We shall see that they all have a share in the robbery. Quick! magistrates, police, provosts, judges, racks, gibbets, and executioners. I will hang everybody, and if I do not find my money, I will hang myself afterwards.
# 206 HUCKLEBERRY FINN by Mark Twain 429 words
HUCK: I was full of trouble, full as I could be; and didn't know what to do. At last I had an idea; and I says, I'll go and write the letter- and then see if I can pray. Why, it was astonishing, the way I felt as light as a feather, right straight off, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece of paper and a pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:
Miss Watson your runaway nigger Jim is down here two mile below Pikesville and Mr. Phelps has got him and he will give him up for the reward if you send. HUCK FINN
I felt good and all washed clean of sin for the first time I had ever felt so in my life, and I knowed I could pray now. But I didn't do it straight off, but laid the paper down and set there thinking- thinking how good it was all this happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking over our trip down the river; and I see Jim before me, all the time; in the day, and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a floating along, talking, and singing, and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, stead of calling me, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him agin in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such-like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me, and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was; and at last I struck the time I saved him by telling the men we had smallpox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the only one he's got now; and then I happened to look around, and see that paper.
It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:
"All right, then, I'll go to hell"- and tore it up.
# 207 DUST by Carrie Louise Nutt 327 words
EVAN: Me and Frankie, we’ve known each other since we were little kids. Probably 6, 7. Something like that. We were in grade school. I stepped on her heels cause I…I thought she was cute. She punch me, broke my nose. I bled all over. My pants, my shirt, the floor. That was how we met. She has a way of making you hold on when you know it’s gonna kill you. One time, years ago, this was before…before. …Anyway we decided to get drunk and go swimming. So we drove down the valley, winding our way between the long grass and pine trees, til’ we hit this bend, where the river widens. Every summer, this is where people go. It’s called Driller’s Pool. We parked the car. Rolled the windows down. Lit up. Drank beer after beer, just talking. Not hating each other. She had her feet up on the dash. Leaving footprints on the window, even though I told her not to. She always did what she did cause she wanted. Didn’t matter what you said. There was so much then, you know. Life was good and it was simple. It was enough to just be barefoot in the dirt with a Bud. Anyway, we got nice and toasty, made our way to the water and were standing on the last couple of steps, Then I said something about her ass. Something mean-spirited probably. I don’t know. I laughed. She didn’t say nothing. WE climbed into the water, and before I knew it, she was on top of me, pressing my head under. Holding me like that. And I was drowning. Got a mouthful of water in my lungs. Couldn’t breathe. I was hitting her and pulling, but she wouldn’t let go. I nearly passed out ‘fore she let me up. And still she didn’t say nothing. Just climbed out. Walked back to the car. Stripped, wrapped herself in a towel and finished the case.
# 208 SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH /by Tennessee Williams. 430 words
BOSS: Tomorrow, tomorrow morning, when the big after-Easter sales commence in the stores—I’m gonna send you in town with a motorcycle escort, straight to the Maison Blanche. When you arrive at the store, I want you to go directly to the office of Mr. Harvey C. Petrie and tell him to give you unlimited credit there. Then go down and outfit yourself as if you was—buyin’ a trousseau to marry the Prince of Monaco. …Purchase a full wardrobe, includin’ furs. Keep ‘em in storage until winter, Gown? Three, four, five, the most lavish. Slippers? Hell, pairs and pairs of ‘em. Not one hat—but a dozen. I made a pile of dough on a deal involvin’ the sale of rights to oil under water here lately, and baby I want you by buy a piece of jewelry. Now about that, you better tell Harvey to call me up. Or better still, maybe miss Lucy had better help you select it. She’s wise a backhouse rat when it comes to a stone, that’s for sure. …Now where’s I buy that clip that I gave you mama? D’you remember the clip I bought your mama? Last thing I gave your mama before she died. …I know’d she was dying’ when I bought her that clip, and I bought that clip for fifteen thousand dollars mainly to make her think she was gonna get well.. …When I pined it one her on the nightgown she was wearing, that poor thing started crying. She said, for God’s sake , Boss, what does a dying woman want with such a big diamond? I said to hey, honey look at the price tag on it. See them five figures, that one and that five and them three aughts on there? Now honey, make sense, I told her. If you was dying, if there was any chance of it, would I invest fifteen grand in a diamond clip to pin on the neck of a shroud? Ha Haha. That made the old lady laugh. And she sat up as bright as a little bird in that bed with the diamond clip on, receiving callers all day, and laughing and chatting with them, with that diamond clip on inside and she died before midnight, with that diamond clip on her. And not till the very last minute did she belive that the diamonds wasn’t a proof that she wasn’t dying.
(He moves to terrace, takes off robe and starts to put in tuxedo coat.)
HEAVENLY: Did you bury her with is?
BOSS: Bury her with it? Hell, no I took it back to the jewelry store in the moring.
# 209 DANNY & THE DEEP BLUE SEA by John Patrick Shanley 276 words
DANNY: I think I killed a guy last night.
ROBERTA: How?
DANNY: I beat him up.
ROBETA: Well, that’s not killing a guy.
DANNY: I don’t know.
ROBERTA: What Happened?
DANNY: I was at a party. A guy named Skull. Everybody was getting fucked up. Somebdoy said there was some guys outside. I went out. There were these two guys from another neighborhood out there. I asked them what they were doin’ there. They knew somebody. One of ‘em was a big guy. Real drink. He said they wanted to go, but something about twenty dollars. I told him to give me the twenty dollars. I told him to give me the twenty dollars, but he didn’t have it. I started hitting him. But when I hit him, it never seemed to be hard, you know? I hit him a lot on the chest and face but it didn’t seem to do nothing. I had him over a car hood. His friend wanted to take him away. I said okay. They started to go down the block. And they started to fight. So I ran after them. I hit on the little guy for a minute, then I started working on the big guy again. Everybody just watched. I hit him as hard as I could for about ten minutes. It never seemed enough. Then I looked at his face. …His teeth were all broken. He fell down. I stomped on his fuckin’ chest and heard something break. I grabbed him under the arms and pushed him over a little fence. Into somebody’s driveway. Somebody pointed to some guy and said he had the twenty dollars. I kicked him in the nuts. He went right off the ground. Then I left.
# 210 CORPS VALUES by Brendon Bates 647 words
CASEY: GO ON! You wanted to take a look, take a look (He turns around. His back is covered with scars.) These are noy magnesium burns. There never was a car bomb. My C. O. claimed it to be so I wouldn’t be …(chokes up.) …I was having a smoke with my best friend, Badger. In Falluja. We finally secured the area. The city was in ruin, quiet, motionless. We fought for three days straight. We hadn’t slept in four. We were leaning against a truck, happy to be alive. It was early morning and we just finished eating a can of peaches. He was telling me about his grandmother’s Swedish pancakes and then, BANG, his skull exploded and my face was covered with his blood. I couldn’t see anything for a few seconds. I heard two more shots. I heard my squad members taking cover. I quickly whipped the blood from my eyes and I saw this old woman changing at me, holding an AK-47. IO don’t know where she came from or how she got a hold of that rifle, but she looked like an angry grizzly bear dressed in rags. She pointed the rifle at me. I froze.. She had the drop on me. I thought, this is it. And then I heard a few clicks. It was empty., So, I grabbed my rifle and changed at her. I cross-checked her to the ground. Knocked the wind out of her. I grabbed her weapon and threw it behind me. I point my rifle at her and I told he not to move. Then I heard someone say, Badger is dead. And something came over me—I don’t know what. I didn’t care who this woman was; she killed Barger—my best friend. my brother. So, I walked over to the truck while she laid on the ground, gasping for air. I grabbed a five-gallon jerry can out of the back, opened it, walked back over to her, and dumped the whole thing on her hear, covering her in gas. Everyone watched me do it. The told Private Brady to hand me his book of matches. He did. Without hesitation. I took it from him, opened it, struck a match, and threw it on her. She went up so quick. Like a brush fire in a high wind. She let out this scream that pierced my ears; it shook my whole body. That scream…it was the same scream I heard when I killed that young boy. It was his mother. Her scream woke something inside of me and,. All of a sudden. I was seeing this 50-year old woman burning alive right in front of me, rolling around on the ground. And I realize what I had done. And I wanted to save her. I wanted to ear her pain. I should’ve just shot her, put her out of her misery, but—for some reason—I thought I could put out the flames and save her. Si I hurled myself into her, hoping to smother the flames. That’s when I caught fire. My men saved me before and serious damage was done, but not before the flames left their mark. …Don’t look at me like you never seen shit like this before. You’ve seen it. You lived through Vietnam—Vietnam—and you still let this stupid fucking war happen again? Why didn’t you take a stand? How could just let it happen? Did you ;learn nothing? What does it take to get this fuckin' world to do what is right?!?!? We just keep passing down out sins. From one generation to the next (Points to himself) Well, it stops here! I will not pass these scars down to my son. I don’t care WHAT IT TAKES! I will bear these burns all the way to my fucking grace and they will decay into the fucking dirt… (Grabs his shirt off the floor. He struggles to slide it over his burns.)
# 211 NEW YORK by David Rimmer 384 words
CAREGIVER: So I get to the office. There’s a manic depressive, two paranoid schizophrenics, a delusional, a denial, a psychotic episode, two unresolved Oedipal complexes, father and son—an anal retentive, an anal explosive, an anal compulsive, and an anal confused. Post-traumatic stree disorder—big on that now. A little syndrome, a little deficit, a little this, a little that. Just another day at the office. …Dream, fantasies—low self-esteem, high penis envy, fear of phobia. Obsessive-compulsive disorder, compulsive-obsessive disorder, rejection, projection, protection, confection, which direction? “Help! I need help! Help!” So do I! Jeeze! D’You have any idea> …Nightmare, hallucinations, fear of interpersonal relationships, a partridge in appear tree. A guy who keeps asking, “Do babies get boners?” Do baies get boners?” The acid flashback that never neds—take a lick’ and keeps in tickin’! Triskadeskaphobia—fear of Triscuits (I swear gesture) The screaming meemees—Nature-Nurture! Nurture-Nature! Yin yank, walla walla bing bang! …Yes, babies get boners! ...I have a dream where you go back to college and you don’t know the course and you take the final exam? Except I go back to med school. I know the course, I ace the final exam, I take everybody in the classes final exam, I go before all the teacher’s review boards and I ace then—and I end up ruling the word but I have to abdicate because of insomnia. If I could get some sleep I could have that other dream that I like so much, the one where the ham sandwich eats me, Jexx, who do you go to when you get burned out? And who does her go to? And him and him and him and her and her and her, all the way down to the last guy--and who does her go to? Me? ..Cause that’s scary. I haven’t messed up my job…yet. I’m fine, aren’t I? I’m fine. You know what I need? More patients. You know any? I had a girlfriend somewhere along the line. Infantile sexuality. God, Id kill for some infantile sexuality now. (Sad and tired) Grief. Despair, Loss. Loneliness. Fear. Anxiety. The shakes. Just an old-fashioned case of the blues. Whatever you call it, they go tit. Tommy, Jenny, Rashid, Miguel, Heather, Dov, Angie, Guiiseppe. Bob. Fred. Tasha, Kelly, Mr. Winters. (takes a breath) And that was Tuesday. Before lunch.
# 212 RICHARD III by Shakespeare 306 words
GLOUCESTER:
Now
is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comes.
# 213 BLACK THANG by Ato Essandoh 214 pages
JEROME: There is one thing I have to warm you about, my brother. One very important thing that, as you embark on this new frontier of dating, you will find lacking. One thing that cannot be duplicated, cannot be replaced, cannot be approximated, or facsimilated. That one thing my bother…is the Ass. White women don’t have it. They may think they have it. They may act like they have it. But they don’t have it. They just don’t. It’s that law of nature. The amount of Ass, or the Ass Content per say, is directly proportional to the concentration of the pigmentation in the skin. Therefore sisters have a high Ass Content. White girls and other pigmentally challenged females have a low Ass Content. It’s just the way it is. Can’t do nothing about it. As a result, you will experience what I like to call A. W. …Ass Withdrawal. A. W. is a painful ordeal, my brother, and you maybe have thoughts of going back, but you must work it through because in the end, remember, it’s for the best. Your case is particularly critical because you’re going straight from sisietsr to white girls. See, I did me a couple of Puerto Ricans in order to ease the transition. You know what I’m saying?
# 214 SULLIVAN BALLOU’S LETTER 449 words
July the 14th, 1861
Washington DC
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me - perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness,
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night…always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.
Sullivan
SPIRITUAL ADVICE
1. Be physically fit. Acting uses the whole body.
2. Love people of all kinds. They have their story and it should fascinate you. Be aware that they are human and no human is perfect. You may think, “this character is an idiot!” We’ll he doesn’t think he is.
3. Respect the story that you are helping to portray. Don’t try to change it. Be it. You’re not creating the story; you’re helping to tell it. Don’t paraphrase and don’t omit.
4. Remember that you are but one of a larger group. Cooperation is the essence of theater and this includes co-operation with the audience.
5. Don’t act the character; be the character and share the character’s feelings…though some people say this method--“be it”—is the self-induction of a delusional state.
6. If it didn’t go well, forget it, leave it on stage. Tomorrow is another day.
7. The greatest performances are seldom noticed because they do not draw attention to themselves.
8. It doesn’t matter how you say the lines. What matters is what you mean. What comes from the heart goes to the heart.
9. The audience only perceives what the actor wants to do to the other actor.
10. The beginning of wisdom is the phrase, “I don’t understand.”
11. The person with attention directed outward becomes various and provocative. The person endeavoring to become various and provocative is stolid and unmoving.
12. With any part you play, there is a certain amount of yourself in it. There has to be, otherwise it's just not acting. It's lying
TECHNICAL ADVICE
1. Lean forward and lower your voice when you want to become intimate with the audience.
2. Make eye contact. You’re talking directly to them, not being someone in front of them.
3. Don’t make eye contact, find a point out in space and play that.
4. Keep your eyes up. You eyes are what the audience came to see.
5. Always gesture with the upstage hand; it opens one out to the audience.
6. Never stand either parallel or perpendicular to the downstage lip. This renders the body dead and flat-footed.
7. Stand and move at an angle; angles are powerful.
8. Take the scene off with you. You are still in it until you are out of sight of the audience.
9. Don’t move when other actors have speeches, unless it’s in the stage directions. You will be pulling the audience away from the other character’s big moment.
10. Keep your arms and hands as still as you can, so when you do gesture it matters.
11. Don’t “over pause.” Pick up the pace. The audience didn’t pay you watch you think.
12. SPEAK UP!
13. Hit the final consonant in your speech
14. When you start your phrase, speak out. Commit yourself to what you are saying.
15. Don’t destroy a laugh by moving any part of your body, or by exiting or entering while the laugh is going on.
16. When you get a laugh, relax, don’t stiffen. Any movement will usually kill the laugh.
17. Never walk in on another actor’s line.
18. You don’t need to laugh or cry; that’s the audience’s job. If you laugh, they won’t; if you cry, they won’t.
19. Find a simple action for each scene and then do your best to accomplish that action.
20. Carve up the big tasks into small tasks and perform these small tasks.
21. Take the audience’s focus at the right moment with pitch, gesture, pause, stillness…etc Discover that moment.
22. Can you find something to do while you talk? Something that adds and doesn’t subtract?
23. Generally you should raise the energy level at the top of the new beat.
24. Define the stakes in the scene and then see if you can raise them with intensity and/or energy
25. There is no fast without slow, no sound without silence.
26. You can buy a pause by strongly emphasizing the previous line.
27. Don’t play too many moments “big.” You’ll kill the audience’s belief.
28. Act for the other actors, not yourself. Give them what they need in a scene.
29. You have to not only know your lines but your attitude as you say them.
30. Find the build--where a series of lines build over one another--and work it.
31. Be in control of your body and make your gestures crisp, sharp, neat and defined
32. Make a gesture that makes a point; no more, no less.
33. Rehearse close to the decibel level you intend on the stage
34. Increase articulation and slow down and you’ll usually increase the decibel level.
35. Identify the key moment where the focus shifts and makes sure that “lands.” This could mean: sit/stand, speak quickly./speak slowly, damn up emotions/let them flow
36. When your dialogue overlaps with another actor, try to find the key moment when the other needs to be heard and lower your voice a little. But don’t overdo it.
37. Good posture is essential. Be poised, ready, proud, confident.
38. Point both your feet at the actor you are playing against and trust your profile.
39. Invest objects with meaning that moves the play forward: Ex--a letter you have read
40. Try to sit down while looking at the other actors, be graceful about it.
41. Stillness frames and delivers movement, even the smallest
42. Can you find the long pause where everything is at stake?
43. Before the big final line pause a moment to frame it, maybe find a sound to go with it.
44. When the pace is a rapid back and forth, find a small second to pause somewhere. It allows a sense of spontaneity and though process.
45. Speak quickly about being bored. Speak slowly about being fast. Experiment with speed.
46. Don’t drop your energy at the end of the line. Clear final consonants
47. Listen to what this person wants of you that moment, Make your reaction real then and there.
48. Talk is jazz. Quick, medium, slow; loud, medium, soft; long, short, long…etc. Play it!
49. The scene does not exist in your or your partner. It exists between you. Constantly adjust.
50. Allow real emotion to grow bit by bit and the audience will believe the big moment.
DRAMA / PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT / NAME _____________________
Every day: 1 point for on time, 1 point for bringing your 3 ring-binder,
2 points for professional conduct during class. Totals are due every other Monday.
Multiply your two weeks by 2.5. Ex: 30 = 75
Quarter 1
|
Week |
Monday |
Tuesday |
Wednesday |
Thursday |
Friday |
Total |
|
9/6 |
4 |
4 |
4 |
|
|
|
|
9/12 |
|
|
|
|
|
G |
|
9/19 |
|
|
|
|
4 |
|
|
9/26 |
|
|
|
|
4 |
G |
|
10/3 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10/10 |
4 |
|
|
|
|
G |
|
10/17 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10/24 |
|
|
|
|
4 |
G |
|
10/31 |
|
|
4 |
|
|
|
|
11/7 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Quarter 2
|
Week |
Monday |
Tuesday |
Wednesday |
Thursday |
Friday |
Total |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A Walk in the Woods
Lee Blessing
Final Rehearsal Script
CHARACTERS
ANYA BOTVINNIK…57 A Career soviet diplomat
JOHN HONEYMAN…45 An American negotiator
A pleasant woods on the outskirts of Geneva
A WALK IN THE WOODS
ACT ONE
SCENE ONE
A mountain slope on the outskirts of Geneva. Late summer. A sunny morning. The path is well kept, but rustic. It leads to a wooden bench in a little clearing. The overall effect is light, airy, idyllic. Botivinnik and Honeyman enter. They wear suits- conservative but stylish.
BOTVINNIK.
(With a very slight accent) …So I told him- this was your reporter, you understand, a network reporter- I told him when Brezhnev was in power, he always began Politiburo meetings by saying, “The survival of the Soviet Union depends on the total annihilation of America.”
HONEYMAN.
(With a smile.) You told him that?
BOTVINNIK.
How was I to know he’d believe it? He actually filled that report with his network. It was nearly broadcast. But, finally someone had the sense to ask him, “Who told you that? Audrey Botvinnik?” (Laughs slightly) And they cancelled it. They know I make jokes, That reporter now I think is covering restaurants. (Looks around). Do you like this place? Shall we sit?
HONEYMAN.
Do you think we should stop?
BOTVINNIK.
Why not?
HONEYMAN.
Well…we spoke of this as a walk in the woods.
BOTVINNIK.
We are walking, we are sitting, we are walking again…
HONEYMAN
. But the reporters…
BOTVINNIK.
Reporters expect us when they see us. They love for us not to be on time. Much speculation. More column inches. (Pats the bench.) Come. Sit down.
HONEYMAN.
All right. (They sit.)
BOTVINNIK.
Fine, fine, fine. Now we are sitting. This is good. (A pause. They stare at the trees.) The trees are lovely in the late summer here. So full. You came at a good time.
HONEYMAN.
It’s beautiful.
BOTVINNIK.
Have you been to Switzerland before?
HONEYMAN.
No.
BOTVINNIK.
Well, you must enjoy the lake, the mountain trails and…so on and so forth.
HONEYMAN.
I will. Thank you.
BOTVINNIK.
Mr. McIntyre loved the trails. He was very fond of hiking.
HONEYMAN.
Yes, I know.
BOTVINNIK.
He told you?
HONEYMAN.
Yes.
BOTVINNIK.
How is he doing, Mr. McIntyre?
HONEYMAN.
Very well. He’s with a law firm now in New York.
BOTVINNIK.
Really? He’s not back at the Arms Control Agency?
HONEYMAN.
No. He…thought he’d try the private sector again.
BOTVINNIK.
(With sudden enthusiasm, poking Honeyman lightly in the ribs.) Ah- the private sector! Wonderful thing you Americans have. To think- a refuge from government service. (Botvinnik stares out at the woods, smiling, Honeyman regards her with surprise.) Ah, McIntyre. They come and they go, eh?
HONEYMAN.
Does that bother you?
BOTVINNIK.
(Smiling.) Not when someone as pleasant as you is sent to replace him.
HONEYMAN.
Thank you very much.
BOTVINNIK.
You are very welcome.
HONEYMAN.
(Smiling.)We’re beginning to sound like a pair of diplomats.
BOTVINNIK.
We are a pair of diplomats.
HONEYMAN.
Well – negotiators.
BOTVINNIK.
And negotiators, of course.
HONEYMAN.
I mean, that is our primary function.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes.
HONEYMAN.
Diplomacy comes second, in a sense. It’s really someone else’s job.
BOTVINNIK.
If you insist.
HONEYMAN.
I don’t insist. I’m just trying to be clear, that’s all.
BOTVINNIK.
You are clear. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Tell me- why have we taken a walk in the woods?
BOTVINNIK.
What do you mean?
HONEYMAN.
I mean why. Does your government have something to communicate to us about our new proposal, or…?
BOTVINNIK.
No, no, no, no – nothing like that. There are many ways to discuss a proposal. We don’t have to come out here.
HONEYMAN.
It’s a very good proposal.
BOTVINNIK.
I know it is.
HONEYMAN.
Very good.
BOTVINNIK.
Absolutely. On my side, we are all in disarray, believe me. But that’s not why we’re here. Today, I only want you to see the woods.
HONEYMAN.
To see the woods?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. And talk. Simply. Man to man. Muschino s muschinoi Da?
HONEYMAN.
Man to man.
BOTVINNIK
The woods are very useful. For months we will be trading proposals across a table. Here, there is no table. We can relax, ignore things. Talk about trees, lakes, whatever.
HONEYMAN.
I see. (A beat.) The reporters’ll be disappointed.
BOTVINNIK.
Why?
HONEYMAN.
They think we’re out here getting all the real work done. (Botvinnik gives a short, good natured laugh. A beat.) So…you’re not interested in doing any work out here.
BOTVINNIK.
What do you call work? Only what we do at the table? This is valuable too.
HONEYMAN.
What? Sunning ourselves on a bench?
BOTVINNIK.
(Studying him.) Tell me- do you plan to be a very formal negotiator?
HONEYMAN.
Should I be?
BOTVINNIK.
No- please. Anything but formal. It was the one thing I didn’t like about McIntyre. We negotiated for two years, and he never changed his position.
HONEYMAN.
The American position changed…
BOTVINNIK.
No no- his position. Sitting there, at the table. He always sat straight up. For two years he never relaxed. He felt it gave him a moral advantage. It didn’t. He looked like a dog waiting for his supper.
HONEYMAN.
(Smiling.) I’ll tell him that.
BOTVINNIK.
Would you? It’s the one thing I think he should change. Formality allows many things, but it does not allow friendship.
HONEYMAN.
I think formality…
BOTVINNIK.
Formality is simply anger with its hair combed. I could never make a friend out of McIntyre. It was a great disappointment. Two years he sat there: one meter away. Over a hundred sessions. We never became friends. After all, what does that say about me?
HONEYMAN.
Is it good, do you think, for arms negotiators to become friends?
BOTVINNIK.
Someone has to.
HONEYMAN.
But is that, strictly speaking, our job? (Botvinnik regards Honeyman, then looks away.)
BOTVINNIK.
Perhaps it isn’t. (A beat.) You’ll like the trees here. They are very neutral.
HONEYMAN.
(More concessional.) I’m only saying, perhaps two disinterested and …more formal parties can do a better job negotiating.
BOTVINNIK.
Tell me- what do you think of the nose on the face of the Reuters correspondent?
HONEYMAN.
The Reuters…? Why do you…?
BOTVINNIK.
Quick! What do you think?
HONEYMAN.
It’s very large.
BOTVINNIK.
It is enormous! I can’t look at anything else in press conferences. You wait. You’ll stare like I do.
HONEYMAN.
Ms.Botvinnik…
BOTVINNIK.
Oh, please- Anya.
HONEYMAN.
Anya?
BOTVINNIK.
Anastasiya, if you like. Perhaps I could call you Johnny?
HONEYMAN.
John would be fine. Anya, I appreciate your desire to become friends. Indeed, in many of my former negotiations I did become friends with those on the other side. After a successful settlement, not before.
BOTVINNIK.
I see.
HONEYMAN.
I think it’s important for us both to remember that there are issues here.
BOTVINNIK.
Of course.
HONEYMAN.
Which must be resolved.
BOTVINNIK.
Certainly.
HONEYMAN.
Making friends is a fine thing, but not on someone else’s time, so to speak. Do you follow me?
BOTVINNIK.
Oh, yes.
HONEYMAN.
When I took this post, it was to bring something new here. A new formula. A breakthrough.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes, yes. A breakthrough.
HONEYMAN.
A plan I personally helped develop for more than a year.
BOTVINNIK.
Wonderful! Welcome! A new man with a new plan. (Honeyman stares a moment at him.)
HONEYMAN.
I didn’t have to come here, you know. I could’ve stayed safe behind my desk in Washington. Someone more like McIntyre could’ve been chosen. But, since I have a firsthand knowledge of this proposal, and since I myself have a strong record as a negotiator…
BOTVINNIK.
At a lower level.
HONEYMAN.
…at a lower level, I have been asked to work this one through. I have a lot to offer, Anya. I know these issues. They haven’t just sent me to enunciate policy. I’m here to get something done. I hope you’ll want to help me.
BOTVINNIK.
Whatever I can contribute to the spirit of things…
HONEYMAN.
I don’t want the spirit of an agreement. I want an agreement. An honest one- fair to both sides.
BOTVINNIK.
I see. Well, who knows? As friends we will certainly…
HONEYMAN.
No, no – listen.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes?
HONEYMAN.
What I’m saying about friendship is that it takes us away from the central point.
BOTVINNIK.
Which is?
HONEYMAN.
Commitment. Mutual commitment to the hard work of negotiating a treaty. We need to find our rewards there – in difficult problems, worked on together and solved together. That’s the sort of personal relationship I’m seeking here. That’s what I would like. (A beat.) Anya? How do you feel about what I’m saying?
BOTVINNIK.
Well…
HONEYMAN.
I’d really like to know.
BOTVINNIK.
Would you?
HONEYMAN.
Very much.
BOTVINNIK.
Very well. I feel… (She leans close to Honeyman.)
HONEYMAN.
Yes?
BOTVINNIK.
You have a string on your suit.
HONEYMAN.
A string? A thread, you mean?
BOTVINNIK.
A thread, yes. Here. (Botvinnik plucks it off.) So. Now you look fine. What shall we talk about?
HONEYMAN.
You’re changing the subject.
BOTVINNIK.
I am?
HONEYMAN.
Yes.
BOTVINNIK.
Really? I’m sorry. What was it pleases?
HONEYMAN.
I was told you like changing the subject.
BOTVINNIK.
Not at all. That’s a very nice suit by the way.
HONEYMAN.
Mr. McIntyre said it’s your favorite ploy.
BOTVINNIK.
I never use ploys. Is it Italian?
HONEYMAN.
English.
BOTVINNIK.
Really? Everything I have is Italian.
HONEYMAN.
Are we done talking about this now?
BOTVINNIK.
About what?
HONEYMAN.
About suits.
BOTVINNIK.
If you like.
HONEYMAN.
Yes, I do like. Thank you. (A beat.) So, will you answer my question.
BOTVINNIK.
What question?
HONEYMAN.
My question about whether or not you agree that we shouldn’t be friends.
BOTVINNIK.
Was that the subject? Before? That I changed?
HONEYMAN.
Yes, it was.
BOTVINNIK.
Ah. Well, my answer is of course that I agree with you.
HONEYMAN.
You agree?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes.
HONEYMAN.
That we shouldn’t be friends?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes.
HONEYMAN.
That’s not what you said before.
BOTVINNIK.
But then I didn’t know your view. Now I do, and I want to agree with you.
HONEYMAN.
You want to agree with me.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes.
HONEYMAN.
Why?
BOTVINNIK.
Because you are my friend.
HONEYMAN.
I can’t be your friend. That’s my whole position.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. And I agree.
HONEYMAN.
You can’t agree.
BOTVINNIK.
But I do.
HONEYMAN.
You’re contradicting yourself.
BOTVINNIK.
I know. But I will go to any length to keep a friend. (A beat. They stare at each other.)
HONEYMAN.
I was told you liked to contradict yourself.
BOTVINNIK.
Will you pardon me a moment? (Botvinnik takes out a small, plastic eyedropper, places drops in her eyes.)
HONEYMAN.
Is something wrong with your eyes?
BOTVINNIK.
Hm? No, no. They become very dry, that’s all. It is most uncomfortable. I’m sorry.
HONEYMAN.
Are you seeing a doctor?
BOTVINNIK.
Several of them. Over the last month or two. Swiss doctors. It is nothing.
HONEYMAN.
What do they say?
BOTVINNIK.
Do you want this for your files?
HONEYMAN.
I was only…
BOTVINNIK.
I will tell you. They tell me I have Sjogren’s syndrome.
HONEYMAN.
Sjogren’s syndrome? What’s that mean?
BOTVINNIK.
It means I have dry eyes.
HONEYMAN.
That’s all?
BOTVINNIK.
That’s all. Dry eyes, dry nose, dry mouth. Whatever should be wet is dry.
HONEYMAN.
What can they do for it?
BOTVINNIK.
Nothing. They told me to eat wet food. They gave me artificial tears. “Live with it,” they said. “Klee did.”
HONEYMAN.
Klee?
BOTVINNIK.
Paul Klee. The Swiss artist. He too, apparently, had this problem. The doctors took great pride in telling me. Imagine- having national pride in a disease. (Putting the eyedrops away.) I’m sorry for the delay. That was not a ploy, however- only a sickness. What were we discussing?
HONEYMAN.
Perhaps we should be getting back. If you don’t feel well…
BOTVINNIK.
No, no, no- I’m fine.
HONEYMAN.
Still, it’s probably time.
BOTVINNIK.
We just got here. Don’t you like it?
HONEYMAN.
I like it, fine. It’s just that I’d prefer…
BOTVINNIK.
A table. Yes, I know.
HONEYMAN.
No, not a table. What’s said over it. I need some seriousness. I think we owe our governments that much, don’t you?
BOTVINNIK.
Do you like me?
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Answer my question.
HONEYMAN.
I’m not going to answer your question, I’m going back now. (He starts out.)
BOTVINNIK.
Without me? (Honeyman hesitates.) What would the reporters think of that? We leave together, return separately? Significant rumors. (Honeyman stares at Botvinnik, returns.) So tell me- aren’t you embarrassed to be an American?
HONEYMAN.
No.
BOTVINNIK.
I am. To be Russian, I mean.
HONEYMAN.
Why?
BOTVINNIK.
Look at us: Americans and Russians. The world’s great powers – the world’s great fools. Year after year we sit here, among the mountaintops. We talk about our weapons- so many of them. Weapons on land, in the sea, in the air, in space. Too many. “Let’s get rid of some,” we say, “before there’s an accident.” We talk so seriously, we calculate, we make proposals. And we nearly always fail. It’s embarrassing. The best we can do is take away a few missiles once in awhile for show. Beyond that, nothing. If the world was not terrified of us, it would laugh.
HONEYMAN.
That may be, but…
BOTVINNIK.
Why are we failing? I ask myself this. For years we have been here. We keep failing.
HONEYMAN.
I think the reasons are…
BOTVINNIK.
(With sudden conviction.) I know the reason! I have finally discovered who is to blame. Would you like to know?
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
It is not America. It is not the Soviet Union. Ask me who is to blame.
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Ask me. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Who, Anya? Who is to blame?
BOTVINNIK.
Switzerland.
HONEYMAN.
I’m going.
BOTVINNIK.
No, John- listen. Let me explain. Then we can go.
HONEYMAN.
You’re being ridiculous.
BOTVINNIK.
Not if you listen. Switzerland has two things only: mountains and peace. Thousands of mountains, centuries of peace. Peaceful trees, peaceful lakes, peaceful people. You can’t invade it – too many mountains. Besides, there’s nothing here. Only trees and Swiss people. So, what does mankind use Switzerland for? Peace conferences.
HONEYMAN.
Anya.
BOTVINNIK.
But what happens? We sit across the table and look very grave, and talk and debate and argue about imminent world destruction. Then we leave the table, go outside, and what do we see? Rich, happy, peaceful people. Unharmed buildings, no barricades, no rifles, not even littering. We breathe air that hasn’t known a war in centuries. Suddenly, things look better. Why agree to a treaty now? We’ll wait. I tell you, my friend, the real problem is Switzerland itself.
HONEYMAN.
Do you always joke about these matters?
BOTVINNIK.
Who is joking? We should put the table at the bottom of a missile silo. Then we would negotiate. I have seriously suggested this to my superiors.
HONEYMAN.
And what did they say?
BOTVINNIK.
They said to stop joking. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
May I ask you a personal question?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course.
HONEYMAN.
Why, in heaven’s name, haven’t you been replaced? (Botvinnik laughs.)
BOTVINNIK.
Mr. McIntyre also asked me this question.
HONEYMAN.
What’s the answer?
BOTVINNIK.
(After a slight hesitation, smiling.) You have done your research, I presume. Perhaps you should tell me. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
You’re a very good negotiator. That’s why they keep you. You can say “no” longer than other people. You can say it with a frown, you can say it with a smile. You can say no and still be so charming, we’ll think you said yes. You dress well, you speak English well, you’re good with the media. Most of all, you know how to take orders- at least when it really counts. And the orders are nearly always the same: say no, and look good doing it. They keep you here because you give them something special. Not just a man who says no, but a personality.
BOTVINNIK.
Is that how I am seen? How very flattering.
HONEYMAN.
I’ve done other research. Want to hear?
BOTVINNIK.
Certainly. I love to hear about me.
HONEYMAN.
In your private conversations you are…less dependable. It’s believed your leaders worry quite a bit over your congeniality towards Westerners. You have a penchant for changing the subject, you contradict yourself, you deliberately misunderstand things. Your behavior is sometimes seen as childish.
BOTVINNIK.
Childish?
HONEYMAN.
Mr. McIntyre wasn’t sure if you were in complete control of these conversational gambits. He wondered if they weren’t genuine liabilities that would grow worse with time and destroy your effectiveness. But do you know what I think? You know what my personal opinion is?
BOTVINNIK.
What?
HONEYMAN.
That you are in full control of what you’re doing, both formally and informally. That the very word effectiveness in your mind means obstruction. That you- and perhaps your country- are fundamentally dedicated to not finding a significant agreement.
BOTVINNIK.
You are very blunt. But, this is refreshing. Please- go on. You’re doing so well.
HONEYMAN.
I’m not the only one in my country with this opinion. The fact is, I was appointed for this job precisely because it was the thought only someone of my special talents could work with you at all.
BOTVINNIK.
Special talents? Yes, I must admit, we were very impressed when you were chosen: a man with no experience in Geneva…
HONEYMAN.
I had experience elsewhere.
BOTVINNIK.
At a lower level.
HONEYMAN.
And was effective.
BOTVINNIK.
A man who speaks only English.
HONEYMAN.
I speak technical Russian.
BOTVINNIK.
No one “speaks” technical Russian. It’s like saying “I speak Algebra.” A man who…
HONEYMAN.
You’re ignoring one positive.
BOTVINNIK.
There’s a positive?
HONEYMAN.
I’m an extremely effective negotiator. That doesn’t mean I say no well. It means I say yes well. At the right time. When the right work has been done. When I negotiate. I find an agreement.
BOTVINNIK.
So you think we will agree, eh? Eventually?
HONEYMAN.
Yes. We will.
BOTVINNIK.
Perhaps you are right. But tell me something- even if we do agree, do you think it will matter? (Rising, taking a deep breath, exhaling briskly.) Do you like the mountain air? I don’t. I come from Leningrad. Sea air. That is air you can feel- it has weight. This air is too thin, too sterile.
HONEYMAN.
Too healthy, you mean.
BOTVINNIK.
Only oxygen. It’s not enough. You know, I have breathed the air in many places…
HONEYMAN.
(Rising.) Anya. I’m not interested in the air you have breathed. I’m interested in creating an agreement. Nothing else. And yes. I do believe it’s going to matter. I think you’ll be surprised, in fact, how much it does matter. Now, I’m going to go back. Not because I feel defeated, or hopeless. I’m going back because I feel we’ve done as much as we can do today, and tomorrow – over a table- we’ll do more. And I’m going whether you come along or not.
BOTVINNIK.
I would love to go now. I’m glad you have suggested it. (Honeyman stops, turns back.)
HONEYMAN.
Do we understand each other?
BOTVINNIK.
What do you mean?
HONEYMAN.
Do we understand each other? I want to feel this conversation has served a purpose.
BOTVINNIK.
Really? Why?
HONEYMAN.
Because all conversations should.
BOTVINNIK.
They should?
HONEYMAN.
Yes, they should. Do we understand each other?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course we do. We are friends.
HONEYMAN.
No, we are not friends.
BOTVINNIK.
We’re becoming friends.
HONEYMAN.
We’re not becoming friends.
BOTVINNIK.
Of course we are.
HONEYMAN.
Anya, we’ve just…do you know what they call you? In the American Delegation? The Crab. Not because you’re mean or irritable. Because you never go in a straight line.
BOTVINNIK.
(Pointing at Honeyman’s shoes.) Are those Italian shoes?
HONEYMAN.
Don’t talk about my shoes.
BOTVINNIK.
They are Italian.
HONEYMAN.
They’re French…
BOTVINNIK.
French shoes? Who would buy French shoes? I can get you good Italian…
HONEYMAN.
I’m happy with the shoes I have, thank you!!
BOTVINNIK.
You know, you have great personal charm. You are much warmer than McIntyre.
HONEYMAN.
(With a short, frustrated sigh.) I am much more persistent than McIntyre. I’m here to make a treaty with you, not a friendship. You can behave as erratically as you like. My offer stands. Work with me. Please.
BOTVINNIK.
(With apparent disapproval.) Where do you get your ties?
HONEYMAN.
(Starting out.) I’m going.
BOTVINNIK.
(Following.) This is wonderful! We are doing so well together. When should we take another walk?
HONEYMAN.
(Stopping.) Never.
BOTVINNIK.
Never? Are you sure, my friend?
HONEYMAN.
(Exiting.) I’m sure!
BOTVINNIK.
(Staring at the bench.) Very well- whatever you say. After all, we are here to agree. (Honeyman reappears, stares at Botvinnik. Botvinnik gestures graciously and follows him out. Lights fade on the empty clearing.)
END OF ACT ONE, SCENE ONE
SCENE TWO
The same scene. Noon, two months later. It is fall. Botvinnik sits on the bench. Honeyman paces, speaking heatedly, but not without control. Botvinnik on the other hand, is quite relaxed.
HONEYMAN.
…and believe me, the State department is not going to be patient with this. We made this proposal months ago. Since then you’ve done nothing but argue over details.
BOTVINNIK.
We are making a careful examination…
HONEYMAN.
You’re stalling! You’re using a tiny point to hold up a major agreement.
BOTVINNIK.
Tiny to you…
HONEYMAN.
Tiny. To anyone. Do you want to know what the President thinks? (Botvinnik shrugs acquiescently.) He’s called me twice this week. He flew me home last week. “What’s wrong with Botvinnik?” he asks, “Has she said no so many times she’s forgotten how to say yes?” (Botvinnik laughs) Well? Have you?
BOTVINNIK.
You have an amusing President. I hope he does well in the election.
HONEYMAN.
Whether we wins or loses will have no effect on our proposal.
BOTVINNIK.
(Brushing leaves off the bench.) Perhaps. Come, sit down. Relax.
HONEYMAN.
You’re purposely holding off, aren’t you?
BOTVINNIK.
Well…
HONEYMAN.
The more time you waste trying for a slight advantage from our elections, the colder this proposal gets.
BOTVINNIK.
So don’t have so many elections. Look how bright the leaves are! I’m glad you asked me to take this walk. You said we would never do it again, but here we are.
HONEYMAN.
You’re not going to exploit our political process.
BOTVINNIK.
Your political process exploits itself. So does ours. How does your side act when our leaders are old and sick? Do you rush into negotiations? No, you wait. You should wait.
HONEYMAN.
So when do we negotiate agreements? When there isn’t a president up for election? When there isn’t a Soviet leader in bad health? How often is that?
BOTVINNIK.
Now and then.
HONEYMAN.
Now and then? You want to discuss the life or death of this planet now and then?
BOTVINNIK.
You think it should be more often?
HONEYMAN.
Anya, this is our best proposal to date. The President’s dedicated himself to the image of a peacemaker. He wants to do some lasting work. You should take advantage of that.
BOTVINNIK.
I’m as sorry for the delay as you. But you must understand. Our leaders are naturally careful. The experience of the war for us was…
HONEYMAN.
That was forty years ago!
BOTVINNIK.
But still…
HONEYMAN.
But nothing. It’s a dead issue. Your country has made a state religion out of what’s essentially smugness. “No one suffered the way we suffered. Twenty million died.”
BOTVINNIK.
Twenty million did die.
HONEYMAN.
Eighty million died. All over the world. Everybody suffered. The Soviet government has no more right than anyone else to preach absolutes because of it.
BOTVINNIK.
This is marvelous. I was pleased when you suggested a walk, but to find such emotion. This is very wonderful. Thank you.
HONEYMAN.
Don’t digress.
BOTVINNIK.
I’m sorry.
HONEYMAN.
My point is, any past horror, any breakdown of civilization can be used for decades thereafter by an unscrupulous government to frighten a population into impotence and obedience.
BOTVINNIK.
And that is what we have done?
HONEYMAN.
Yes. It is. (Botvinnik smiles, un-insulted.) Aren’t you going to disagree?
BOTVINNIK.
Maybe later. Go on- please.
HONEYMAN.
So…anyway. I feel the excuse that your leaders are overcautious because of the experience of World War II is a cynical, self-serving and manipulative…lie. An outdated lie at that. (His tone has grown softer before Botvinnik’s open, un-offended gaze.) And I wish you wouldn’t do it anymore.
BOTVINNIK.
Very well. In our private conversation, I will not speak of it again.
HONEYMAN.
Well…fine. Thank you.
BOTVINNIK.
Don’t mention it.
HONEYMAN.
You know, I don’t think your government appreciates the…
BOTVINNIK.
(Holding up a bright yellow leaf.) Tell me, what kind of leaf is this?
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Just what kind? Please.
HONEYMAN.
That’s a linden.
BOTVINNIK.
Linden. Very nice. Botany- that’s your hobby. I remember from our reports on you. (Twirling the leaf.) Yellow as sunlight, eh? Do you have these in Wisconsin?
HONEYMAN.
(Sighing.) Yes. We call it basswood.
BOTVINNIK.
Basswood? Like the fish?
HONEYMAN.
I don’t know. Anya, I may have been a little harsh just now, but…
BOTVINNIK.
It is my great regret I have never visited your country.
HONEYMAN.
Thank you. All I was trying to say was…
BOTVINNIK.
Your home city. What is it- Wausau? (This she pronounces poorly – something like: Vah-sow.)
HONEYMAN.
Wausau.
BOTVINNIK.
(Nodding, as though their pronunciations match.) Vah-sow.
HONEYMAN.
No. No, Wau-sau. Wausau, Wisconsin. Anya, if I was harsh, it’s only because…
BOTVINNIK.
(Pronouncing it, but no better.) Vah-sow.
HOENYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
I think I have it now: Vah sow.
HONEYMAN.
(Angily.) Wausau! It’s Wausau! You can say it, you speak English perfectly!
BOTVINNIK.
I’m only trying to…
HONEYMAN.
You’re only trying to irritate me! I can see that! But why?! Do you feel it gives you the upper hand? It doesn’t. If these talks fail, we both look bad. You realize that, don’t you?
BOTVINNIK.
I have failed before.
HONEYMAN.
I haven’t. (A beat.) What about this tiny point? When can we expect movement from your side?
BOTVINNIK.
After your election.
HONEYMAN.
That’s five weeks from now.
BOTVINNIK.
We can only go so fast. We have hawks and doves, just like you. Sometimes the hawks eat a few doves.
HONEYMAN.
This is ludicrous. The President won’t accept this.
BOTVINNIK.
He’ll have no choice.
HONEYMAN.
What if we force the matter?
BOTVINNIK.
You could lose the whole proposal.
HONEYMAN.
Of course you have to say that.
BOTVINNIK.
(With a tone of complete frankness.) You’ll lose the proposal. (Honeyman walks away from Botvinnik, kicks at the ground angrily.) A frustrating business, yes?
HONEYMAN.
Quiet, please.
BOTVINNIK.
You’re upset. Perhaps you would like to be alone. I can go back now. Excuse me. (Botvinnik starts out.)
HONEYMAN.
Anya.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes?
HONEYMAN.
If we go back so soon the reporters might think we’re in trouble on this.
BOTVINNIK.
We are in trouble on this.
HONEYMAN.
There’s not reason for them to think so.
BOTVINNIK.
I thought you believed in freedom of the press.
HONEYMAN.
Don’t be cute. Come back and sit down.
BOTVINNIK.
(Returning to the bench.) What shall we talk about?
HONEYMAN.
We don’t have to talk about anything. We just have to wait here a decent amount of time.
BOTVINNIK.
Ah. (Honeyman sits beside him. The two stare out in different directions for a long moment.) How are we doing?
HONEYMAN.
You could use your influence, you know. They listen to you about these things.
BOTVINNIK.
Not always.
HONEYMAN.
Sometimes. So why not talk to them?
BOTVINNIK.
It can be risky. It could put me out of fashion with the leadership.
HONEYMAN.
Out of fashion?
BOTVINNIK.
It’s not an insignificant risk. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Could anything induce you to take that risk?
BOTVINNIK.
(Her face lighting up expectantly.) Is this a bribe?
HONEYMAN.
No.
BOTVINNIK.
Too bad. I never accept bribes, but I love to know what’s being offered.
HONEYMAN.
I mean, is there anything we can do to convince you to help? That’s all I mean.
BOTVINNIK.
What can the Americans do? To make me want to take chances with my career?
HONEYMAN.
Yes.
BOTVINNIK.
Absolutely nothing. (Honeyman gives a short sigh of frustration.) Now ask me what you can do.
HONEYMAN.
You just said. We can’t…
BOTVINNIK.
No, no- you. John Honeyman. What can you do to get me to help. Ask me that. (Honeyman eyes her distrustfully.)
HONEYMAN.
What…um, what is there I can do?
BOTVINNIK.
Are you sure you want to know?
HONEYMAN.
Yes, I want to know.
BOTVINNIK.
Are you completely sure?
HONEYMAN.
Tell me. What can I do?
BOTVINNIK.
(Almost conspiratorial.) Be frivolous with me.
HONEYMAN.
Frivolous?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. Frivolous. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
What does…frivolous mean?
BOTVINNIK.
It’s your language.
HONEYMAN.
I know…
BOTVINNIK.
Don’t you know the word?
HONEYMAN.
Of course I know the word. It’s just that…
BOTVINNIK.
(Finishing his sentence for him.) A word may have many meanings.
HONEYMAN.
Exactly.
BOTVINNIK.
What do you think I mean? By frivolous. Do you think I mean playful? Impractical? (Honeyman stares at her cautiously.) Irrelevant? Unimportant? Superficial? (A beat.) With unbecoming levity? (Honeyman rises, moves off a step or two.) I am sorry. To me, frivolous means not serious.
HONEYMAN.
Not serious? That’s all? Just…not serious?
BOTVINNIK.
That’s all.
HONEYMAN.
You want to have a …frivolous conversation? (Botvinnik smiles.) And for that you’d be willing to try and influence your superiors? If I give you that? (Botvinnik nods.) Why?
BOTVINNIK.
Nothing else is interesting to me. Whenever I speak with Americans, they always ask, “What about war? What about Afghanistan? What about cruise missiles?” It is no longer interesting to me.
HONEYMAN.
But what about cruise missiles? (Botvinnik instantly holds up a hand in a silencing gesture.) Sorry.
BOTVINNIK.
I hear certain words- whether I say them or someone else says them- words like “détente,” “human rights.” “Star wars,” “Central American,” “readiness,” “early warning,” and I feel like I am falling away from the Earth. I can see the Earth – the entire planet, like I am a cosmonaut. And it is falling away from me. We are both simply…receding into the dark. Sometimes I spend entire conversations in this kind of darkness, while I am hearing words like “summit,” “test ban,” “emigration,” “strategic objectives.” It is almost as though the words are printed…on the dark walls…all around me. And the Earth is by then like a…fingertip, it is so far away. (A beat.) Does this ever happen to you?
HONEYMAN.
No.
BOTVINNIK.
Perhaps it will someday. In any case, you must forgive me. This does not happen at the table. There, I listen very carefully. There, I pretend we are discussing a different planet from Earth, and that helps very much.
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Receptions, dinner parties- that’s where it happens. I hear all those serious words: “lasers.” “mega deaths.” “acceptable losses” …Do you know what I am dying to hear an American talk about? Mickey Mouse. Cowboys. How to make a banjo…
HONEYMAN.
I don’t think…
BOTVINNIK.
Minnie Mouse. Anything that is not serious.
HONEYMAN.
I can’t talk about Minnie Mouse with you.
BOTVINNIK.
But that is my price. For helping you. For doing what I can.
HONEYMAN.
You want to be frivolous.
BOTVINNIK.
Very much. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
I’m disappointed by this. I thought you were more professional.
BOTVINNIK.
This is professional. This is how to survive as a professional.
HONEYMAN.
(Regards her skeptically, then with resolve.) Fine. Let’s survive then. Frivolously. What shall we talk about?
BOTVINNIK.
Whatever you like.
HONEYMAN.
You decide, it’s your idea.
BOTVINNIK.
Very well, let me see. Do you like Country and Western music?
HONEYMAN.
Honestly?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course honestly. Why hide anything? We’re being frivolous.
HONEYMAN.
Yes, I do like it.
BOTVINNIK.
Wonderful! So do I. It’s very anti-Soviet, but nothing is perfect. (A beat.) Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, eh?
HONEYMAN.
Yes.
BOTVINNIK.
Wonderful song. Very sad. It could have been Russian.
HONEYMAN.
Maybe.
BOTVINNIK.
Have you ever slept with a redhead?
HONEYMAN.
No.
BOTVINNIK.
Neither have I. It is a great regret. (A beat. They stare out.) You say something.
HONEYMAN.
Me?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes.
HONEYMAN.
What should I say?
BOTVINNIK.
Anything. Whatever is on your mind.
HONEYMAN.
Right. Well, um…sometimes I notice when we’re discussing space weapons technology…
BOTVINNIK.
No! No, no, no, no, no!
HONEYMAN.
I only meant when we’re discussing space weapons…
BOTVINNIK.
No! You are too serious.
HONEYMAN.
Even to mention it? On the way to something else?
BOTVINNIK.
Too Serious! (A beat. Botvinnik’s look is fierce.)
HONEYMAN.
I’m sorry.
BOTVINNIK.
No problem. Try again. Be trivial.
HONEYMAN.
Well…let’s see. OK, um- I hate brown suits.
BOTVINNIK.
And?
HONEYMAN.
And what?
BOTVINNIK.
You hate brown suits, and…?
HONEYMAN.
And nothing. I hate brown suits- that’s all. (Botvinnik is disappointed. She rises, walks away towards the edge of the trees.) What’s wrong? Isn’t that trivial enough?
BOTVINNIK.
There’s a difference between trivial and boring.
HONEYMAN.
That’s not boring.
BOTVINNIK.
Of course it is. (Mimicking Honeyman.) “I hate brown suits…’?
HONEYMAN.
It’s no more boring than you liking Willie Nelson.
BOTVINNIK.
It is.
HONEYMAN.
It is not.
BOTVINNIK.
You are just not good at this. Admit it.
HONEYMAN.
I can be as trivial as the next person. You never said I had to be trivial and entertaining at the same time.
BOTVINNIK.
It goes without saying.
HONEYMAN.
It does not.
BOTVINNIK.
Now you are just arguing with me.
HONEYMAN.
I’m not arguing.
BOTVINNIK.
You are.
HONEYMAN.
Kindly stop telling me what I am and am not doing! (Botvinnik is delighted.)
BOTVINNIK.
That was very good. Tell me another trivial thing.
HONEYMAN.
I can’t.
BOTVINNIK.
Of course you can. You must, if we are to have any fun.
HONEYMAN.
I am not having fun.
BOTVINNIK.
Be patient. If you stay here long enough, the only thing you’ll be able to enjoy is a totally meaningless conversation.
HONEYMAN.
Have you failed that much here? (A beat.) I’m sorry. I can’t be frivolous anymore.
BOTVINNIK.
(Throws her hands up in mock despair.) What can I do? He refuses to humor me. Such a small price, and he will not pay it. I’m beginning to miss Mr. McIntyre. (Botvinnik takes out her eyedrops.)
HONEYMAN.
All I know is considering who we are, and where we are, and what we have been sent here to do, it is literally wasting the world’s time for us to be anything but deadly serious with each other.
BOTVINNIK.
Wasting the world’s time. I like that.
HONEYMAN.
Don’t grade my phrasemaking, talk to me.
BOTVINNIK.
Seriously?
HONEYMAN.
Seriously.
BOTVINNIK.
(Considering this, then shaking her head.) Too boring.
HONEYMAN.
(As Botvinnik starts to put the eyedrops away.) You know, it’s a shame those tears of yours can’t be real.
BOTVINNIK.
(Dropping the bottle back into her pocket.) What if I talk seriously to you, and you don’t enjoy it?
HONEYMAN.
If it’s serious, I’ll enjoy it.
BOTVINNIK.
You will, eh?
HONEYMAN.
Yes.
BOTVINNIK.
Very well then. (With a sudden formality.) I will now present to you my serious thought on the subject of…let’s see…the character of the Russian and American people.
HONEYMAN.
I don’t think that’s…
BOTVINNIK.
That’s my topic. It is fundamental. Do you object?
HONEYMAN.
Not as long as you’re serious.
BOTVINNIK.
Deadly. (A beat. Honeyman nods.) Good. There is a great difference between Russians and Americans- yes or no?
HONEYMAN.
Well…yes, if you…
BOTVINNIK.
There is no difference. I will prove it. If the Russians and not the English had come to America, what would they have done?
HONEYMAN.
They would have…
BOTVINNIK.
They would have killed all the Indians and taken all the land. See? No difference. Americans and Russians are just the same. But their history is different. What is history? History is geography over time. The geography of America is oceans- therefore no nearby enemies. The geography of Russia is the opposite: flat, broad plains- open invitations to anyone who wants to attack. Mongols, French, Germans, Poles, Turks, Swedes – anyone. Do you agree with this? Of course you do- it is obviously true.
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Quiet, I am being serious. So, what is the history of America? Conquest without competition. What is the history of Russia? Conquest, because of competition. How best to be America? Make individual freedom your god. This allows you to attack on many fronts- all along your borders, in fact-and maintain the illusion that you are not attacking at all. You don’t even have to call your wars wars. You call them “settling the west.”
HOENYMAN.
That’s a gross misreading of…
BOTVINNIK.
Don’t interrupt. How best to be Russia then? Fight collectively. Know that you are trying to crush those around you. Make control your god, and channel the many wills of the people into one will. Only this will be effective. Only this will defeat your neighbors.
HONEYMAN.
I’m leaving now.
BOTVINNIK.
You can’t. This is what you wanted.
HONEYMAN.
I wanted a conversation.
BOTVINNIK.
(Pushing on.) So- what is the result of all this history and geography? Why are the Russians and Americans- people who have done the same thing: create and maintain empires- why are we now enemies to the death?
HONEYMAN.
We’re not enemies, we’re rival…
BOTVINNIK.
We are enemies! (A beat. Then softer.) Because Americans, who never had to confront themselves as conquerors, are still under the delusion that they are idealists. And Russians, who did have to confront themselves, are under the equally powerful delusion that they are realists. I’m speaking now of those in power. Common Americans and common Russians share a much simpler delusion: that they are peace-loving people.
HONEYMAN.
This is profoundly cynical.
BOTVINNIK.
Thank you. I like to be clear-eyed. (Quietly.) You cannot work at this job as long as I have without realizing that no one wants you to succeed. Not even the man on the street.
HONEYMAN.
How on earth can you think that?
BOTVINNIK.
Go to the street. Ask the man. Ask him, “Do you want to get rid of all nuclear weapons right now?” Of course, he will say yes. Then ask,”are you willing to give up your country’s power, prestige and predominance in the world?” He will say no. But the two questions are the same. Without nuclear weapons, our empires would no longer be empires. They would simply be countries among other countries.
HONEYMAN.
Powerful countries.
BOTVINNIK.
But not superpowers. We are too used to dominating, John. We will never give that up.
HONEYMAN.
There are other ways to be superpowers.
BOTVINNIK.
Without nuclear weapons, we will be nothing more than a rich, powerful Canada and an enormous Poland. (A beat.) There is a more important reason, as well.
HONEYMAN.
Which is?
BOTVINNIK.
The most exciting thing in the world is to know we can destroy the world. Like that. In a day. To know the bombs and the soldiers are in place. Their hands at the controls. The computers constantly running, monitoring, ready. We have never known such excitement. Alexander, Napoleon, Hitler would give up all of their conquests just to live in a world where such destruction is possible. Man has worked a long time for this. He is an animal who must fulfill every potential. Even the potential to kill himself. Even the potential to kill everything else.
HONEYMAN.
It’s simpleminded to say just because man can kill himself, that that’s what he’s going to do.
BOTVINNIK.
It is? Look at the money, time, and energy our governments put into making ready for war. What do we put into making ready for peace? You and me. That’s all.
HONEYMAN.
Governments have always armed themselves to the teeth, but mankind truly does hate war.
BOTVINNIK.
If mankind hated war, there would be millions of us and only two soldiers. (A beat.) Is this a serious enough conversation for you? Do you want to go on?
HONEYMAN.
Not really.
BOTVINNIK.
Perhaps we should go back then. (Botvinnik starts out.)
HONEYMAN.
Wait.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes?
HONEYMAN.
What will you do about helping us?
BOTVINNIK.
Nothing, of course.
HONEYMAN.
Why not? I met your condition. I talked about trivial things…
BOTVINNIK.
Brown suits? That was pitiful.
HONEYMAN.
I’ll try again.
BOTVINNIK.
You’re no good at it. You have no need for it.
HONEYMAN.
I’ll develop the need.
BOTVINNIK.
Over time, yes. But now it only makes you uncomfortable.
HONEYMAN.
Help us anyway.
BOTVINNIK.
Why should I?
HONEYMAN.
For the sake of peace.
BOTVINNIK.
What kind of peace? Peace where you dominate? Peace where we dominate?
HONEYMAN.
Peace where we share. You say man has to fulfill every potential- that he’s that kind of animal. But he has other potentials- not just destructiveness. Anya, man has the potential to become a whole new animal. One that trusts instead of fears. One that agrees when it makes sense to agree. That finds the way to live, because life has become for him- has finally become- a sacred thing.
BOTVINNIK.
Only a child could believe this.
HONEYMAN.
I believe it.
BOTVINNIK.
Good. You will always be young. (Botvinnik turns to go.)
HONEYMAN.
Anya! (Botvinnik stops.) Do you think it’s a virtue to have been here as long as you have? You think cynicism is some sort of glorious end product of your work here? You know, it’s just as possible that I’m the one who sees clearly, not you! Precisely because I haven’t been here- slowly going blind from my failures. (Softening his tone.) Anya, we have no choice. If we don’t believe in our ability to save ourselves, then everything dies. Everything. All through history, man has been able to love destruction and be excited by violence- because no matter what stupid, gaping terror he created it was always survivable. But no more. If we fail now, history itself will disappear. Time will stop. There won’t be any right way to think or feel, because there won’t be anyone here to have thoughts or feelings. There will be no here. (A beat.) Idealism is no longer a choice for mankind. It’s a necessity. We have to find whatever crumbs of pure good will exist in us. We have to feed whatever tiny inclination we have towards each other. We have to start with the bare fact that there are two of us here. At least. That underneath whatever motivations bring us here- hate, fear, gain, whatever- there is something that will, ultimately, save us.
BOTVINNIK.
What?
HONEYMAN.
Recognition. We look across the table and we see ourselves. (A beat.) Anya. Help me. (Botnivvik sits and removes a small stone from her shoe.)
BOTVINNIK.
Do you know what they think of initiative in my country?
HONEYMAN.
Even now? With the new openness?
BOTVINNIK.
Please.
HONEYMAN.
Your leaders respect your opinion.
BOTVINNIK.
Because I keep it to myself.
HONEYMAN.
Help me.
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
You owe it to yourself to push your leaders for an agreement.
BOTVINNIK.
Ridiculous.
HONEYMAN.
It’s not ridiculous. I push my leaders constantly. I’ve been arguing with the administration for weeks. The President is already sorry he appointed me.
BOTVINNIK.
So am I. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
The President’s considering making our proposal public.
BOTVINNIK.
He wouldn’t.
HONEYMAN.
I’ve told him not to, but…
BOTVINNIK.
That would end the proposal.
HONEYMAN.
I know.
BOTVINNIK.
We would have no choice but to reject it.
HONEYMAN.
I know, but that’s how strongly he feels. (A beat.) Plus, he’s worried about the election. He thinks it might enhance his position if he announced our…peace efforts.
BOTVINNIK.
So this is what from you? A threat?
HONEYMAN.
It’s not a threat. It’s a…
BOTVINNIK.
Promise?
HONEYMAN.
He needs a gesture. From you. Movement on something. Anything. Big, small- it doesn’t matter. Something that will give him faith.
BOTVINNIK.
He needs us to give him faith? Really! (She starts out.)
HONEYMAN.
I thought you wanted to be my friend.
BOTVINNIK.
(Stopping.) I am your friend.
HONEYMAN.
No, you’re not. Not unless you do this for me. I swear, Anya, if you don’t push for this- right now- you and I will never be friends. I’ll be stiffer and stuffier than anyone you’ve ever dealt with. I will out-McIntyre McIntyre.
BOTVINNIK.
This is not fair.
HONEYMAN.
It’s my price. For friendship. Will you pay it? (A beat. They stare at each other.)
BOTVINNIK.
All right. I will suggest that we not wait for the election. That we treat your proposal more seriously.
HONEYMAN.
Thank you.
BOTVINNIK.
That’s all I will do. Suggest it. Once. Lightly.
HONEYMAN.
Thank you very much.
BOTVINNIK.
Don’t mention it.
HONEYMAN.
You know, I think we’re beginning to get along.
BOTVINNIK.
You do, do you?
HONEYMAN.
Yes. I mean, here we are- agreeing on something.
BOTVINNIK.
You think you did it all by yourself, eh?
HONEYMAN.
Not by myself…
BOTVINNIK.
John Honeyman- the great convincer. Send him to Switzerland and peace will follow.
HONEYMAN.
I didn’t mean that.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes, you did. But think what you like. I’m helping you for one reason only: it might be entertaining.
HONEYMAN.
Entertaining?
BOTVINNIK.
But I doubt it. (Botvinnik turns to go.)
HONEYMAN.
Shall I go with you?
BOTVINNIK.
No. Since we are agreeing to do this, we should come back separately. It will confuse the reporters. (Botvinnik exits. A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
(Calling out.) Thank you!
BOTVINNIK.
(Off.) Don’t shout thank you in the woods!
HONEYMAN.
(Calling.) I’m sorry!
BOTVINNIK.
(Off.) Don’t shout I’m sorry! (Honeyman draws in breath to shout something else, then stops. Smiles.)
HONEYMAN.
(In a normal voice.) Then I won’t. (Lights fade on his smile.)
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
SCENE 1
(The same scene, late winter. A gloomy day. Early afternoon. Honeyman enters quickly, looking around. He wears a topcoat. Suddenly Botvinnik hurries on from the opposite direction. She seems to be chasing something- she looks here and there along the ground- ignoring Honeyman. Honeyman suddenly sees something in the woods and calls out.)
HONEYMAN.
That way! He’s over there!
BOTVINNIK.
(Off.) Where?!
HONEYMAN.
There! By that log! (Botvinnik rushes off in the direction Honeyman indicates.) No- the other side! Right underneath!
BOTVINNIK.
(Off.) You mean this…? Oh- damn! K chortu!
HONEYMAN.
What? Anya?
BOTVINNIK.
(Off.) He ran right by me! (We hear more rustling. Botvinnik appears.) He got away. (A little out of breath.) I am too old for this. I used to be able to catch them every time.
HONEYMAN.
You did? Alone?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course alone. You must catch a rabbit alone. Otherwise there is no challenge. If there was snow, I would have seen his tracks. I would have had him. (Botvinnik winces, holds her side.)
HONEYMAN.
Are you all right?
BOTVINNIK.
(Sitting on the bench.) It’s nothing. A muscle. (Suddenly taking note of Honeyman.) I’m sorry. Did this surprise you?
HONEYMAN.
A little.
BOTVINNIK.
I always try to catch rabbits. I used to, anyway. When I was a girl.
HONEYMAN.
You did? Why?
BOTVINNIK.
It was fun. I was very fast once. Really. I chased them all the time. It became a…reflex, yes? Whenever I was out walking, if I saw a rabbit- whoosh! Into the woods. And today, to come here, to see a rabbit on the bench- sitting here- I couldn’t help myself. You understand.
HONEYMAN.
Certainly.
BOTVINNIK.
I caught a lot of them. When I was young. Finally I stopped.
HONEYMAN.
Why?
BOTVINNIK.
The war came. We couldn’t leave Leningrad. I caught rats instead. For food. But that’s the war, and you do not wish me to mention the war, so I am sorry and I shut up, yes? (A beat.) It’s pretty out here, eh? This time of year. Away from that little room. Months and months in the same room. Negotiating.
HONEYMAN.
Don’t complain. You’ve had the last two weeks in Moscow.
BOTVINNIK.
You think they don’t have little rooms in Moscow? No, this is the best. To be outdoors. It improves concentration, I think. To get away. To sit quietly in the world.
HONEYMAN.
How was Moscow?
BOTVINNIK.
Hm?
HONEYMAN.
Moscow. How was it? You had some fairly important meetings there. I thought you asked me out here so you could fill me in.
BOTVINNIK.
(A bit distracted.) What? Oh…yes…yes…I did.
HONEYMAN.
So?
BOTVINNIK.
What?
HONEYMAN.
Fill me in.
BOTVINNIK.
You want to start right now?
HONEYMAN.
Why not?
BOTVINNIK.
It’s just that it’s so good to be here again. Among the trees. (A beat. Botvinnik stares off.)
HONEYMAN.
Is anything wrong?
BOTVINNIK.
Hm? No.
HONEYMAN.
You seem a little distracted.
BOTVINNIK.
(Sharply.) I am not. I am completely concentrated.
HONEYMAN.
It’s just that you seem…
BOTVINNIK.
How I seem is not important. How I am is important, yes?
HONEYMAN.
How are you?
BOTVINNIK.
(With sudden force, looking away from Honeyman.) I should have caught that rabbit! (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
When I was a girl, people were amazed at me. Amazed. So quick, they would say. She catches them with her bare hands. (A beat. Honeyman studies Botvinnik. Botvinnik catches his stare, tries to return it, then looks away.) When was the last time we were here?
HONEYMAN.
A month ago.
BOTVINNIK.
A month ago. What did we talk about?
HONEYMAN.
Modifying negotiation procedures, Soviet-American relations and Babe Ruth.
BOTVINNIK.
Ah! The Babe! The Sultan of Swat!
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Magnificent athlete. Larger than life.
HONEYMAN.
Would you mind if we don’t start with the frivolous side of things today?
BOTVINNIK.
You don’t want to?
HONEYMAN.
No.
BOTVINNIK.
Why not?
HONEYMAN.
Because you have news for me. You’ve been in Moscow. You’re back now. You have news. I want to hear it. (A beat.)
BOTVINNIK.
What if it’s not good news?
HONEYMAN.
I want to hear it. (A beat.) Your government rejected our proposal, didn’t they?
BOTVINNIK.
Not exactly.
HONEYMAN.
What do you mean?
BOTVINNIK.
They didn’t reject your proposal itself. They rejected what your President has turned the proposal into.
HONEYMAN.
Which is?
BOTVINNIK.
Which is – in their words- a cynical public relations scheme.
HONEYMAN.
It is not cynical…
BOTVINNIK.
It is. From the moment he announced it to the world.
HONEYMAN.
He had to announce it.
BOTVINNIK.
Why? When we had not agreed to it yet.
HONEYMAN.
You never agreed to anything! You accepted one small point, before our election, and since then- nothing, zero, no movement all winter. He couldn’t wait any longer.
BOTVINNIK.
You should have stopped him.
HONEYMAN.
I tried. I argued him out of going public on this three times in the past five months. You know that.
BOTVINNIK.
You should have argued again.
HONEYMAN.
I did. But I was running out of ammunition.
BOTVINNIK.
So. In one speech he destroys all the work we have done. Good. Fine. Why not?
HONEYMAN.
You were the ones who destroyed it. By delay.
BOTVINNIK.
Delay does not destroy agreements. One can always renew efforts. But to announce the proposal…
HONEYMAN.
He had the right.
BOTVINNIK.
He bears the responsibility!
HONEYMAN.
For what? For telling the world? Why’s that so terrible?
BOTVINNIK.
Don’t be ridiculous.
HONEYMAN.
No, tell me. Why is it so bad if the world knows what we’re discussing?
BOTVINNIK.
Because it makes us look like fools. If we accept your proposal now, what will the rest of the world say? “Ah, the Americans have finally thought of a clever plan. Thank God the unimaginative Russians have agreed.”
HONEYMAN.
The rest of the world, if they said anything, would say, “At last- two maniacs have had a moment of sanity.”
BOTVINNIK.
Yes, they would say that too, but first they would say it is an American peace, an American security.
HONEYMAN.
Who cares whose peace it is?
BOTVINNIK.
You do. You do not want a Russian peace. Two years ago we announced to the world a plan of our own- just as good as yours. And you rejected it.
HONEYMAN.
There were significant problems with that plan.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes, it was ours. Now please, John- stop pretending. You know neither of our countries can afford to be second in the quest for peace.
HONEYMAN.
What quest for peace? At this rate there is no quest for peace.
BOTVINNIK.
But there’s the quest for the appearance of the quest for peace. These are negotiations, John. There are rules. There are forms. You know them as well as I do. Your President knows them, too. When he announced the proposal, he knew we would have to reject it. (A beat. Honeyman expels a long sigh.)
HONEYMAN.
Why did your government delay so long? What was it about the proposal you objected to?
BOTVINNIK.
Why go into it?
HONEYMAN.
It’s our job. (A beat) Was it the total number of warheads?
BOTVINNIK.
John…
HONEYMAN.
Was it?
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
The percentage of land-based missiles?
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
Data exchange? On site inspections?
BOTVINNIK.
It’s useless to…
HONEYMAN.
I want to know. Cruise missile reductions? Mobile missile verification?
BOTVINNIK.
Not really.
HONEYMAN.
The testing moratorium? The research question?
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
BMD restrictions? The ASAT provisions?
BOTVINNIK.
It wasn’t any…
HONEYMAN.
C-cubed issues? SLBMs? MX?
BOTVINNIK.
No! Not MX or SLBMSs or SLCMs or SDI or FBS or CEP or SALT or START or any of it. We had no objections to anything in your proposal. You understand? Nothing. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Nothing?
BOTVINNIK.
Nothing. We liked the whole proposal.
HONEYMAN.
I don’t understand. You liked it?
BOTVINNIK.
Very much.
HONEYMAN.
Then why did you delay so long?
BOTVINNIK.
Because your proposal was…too good.
HONEYMAN.
Too good?
BOTVINNIK.
It could have led to real arms reductions. Serious ones.
HONEYMAN.
Don’t you want that?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course. But…also we are afraid of it.
HONEYMAN.
Why? It’s a treaty. We’ve made treaties before.
Look at those treaties, John. They aren’t treaties- they’re blueprints. We determine what weapons we’ll build in the next few years, then agree to let each other build them. We get rid of small systems so that we can keep bigger ones. We trade obsolete technology for state-of-the-art, we take weapons out of Europe so we can put up new ones in space. Then we say to the world, “See? We are capable of restraint. Here is a small step forward.” It is laughable.
HONEYMAN.
But it is a step forward. Every treaty is. Each time we come- stumbling- to some sort of an agreement, even if it’s self-serving, even if it’s flawed…that’s progress.
BOTVINNIK.
It is not progress to take a step and slide back three. Every ten years we wake up and say, “It is time to take the first step.” But meanwhile we have spent a decade creating bargaining chips- new weapons built expressly so they can be bargained away later. And what is the result? We build and get rid of bargaining chips. Nothing more. The real arsenals remain untouched. In fact, they grow.
HONEYMAN.
You’re right. Each year, each month, each day someone is proposing a new weapons system. Someone is securing a grant for more research, dreaming up a new technology that will do God-knows-what destruction- to our economies, if nothing else. How, knowing that, can we let any opportunity slip through our fingers? Especially this opportunity, this treaty, these comprehensive reductions. These real reductions.
BOTVINNIK.
I know, I know. But we have problems with reductions such as these.
HONEYMAN.
What are they?
BOTVINNIK.
We don’t trust you.
HONEYMAN.
You don’t trust us?
BOTVINNIK.
Do you trust us?
HONEYMAN.
Yes. Well- we try to. But whether we trust each other or not, the proposal has provisions. It has safeguards.
BOTVINNIK.
We don’t trust the safeguards.
HONEYMAN.
There are checks on the safeguards. Verifications.
BOTVINNIK.
We don’t trust them.
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Even if there were checks on the checks on the checks, we wouldn’t trust them.
HONEYMAN.
Why not?
BOTVINNIK.
Because we don’t trust you. Who knows what you are making right now that lies outside the proposal?
HONEYMAN.
We’re not making any…
BOTVINNIK.
Multiple warheads, Star Wars- these things come after treaties were signed, not before.
HONEYMAN.
We can control new technologies. Together.
BOTVINNIK.
Can we? How can you be sure of what’s going on in your own country right now? Do you think they tell you everything? Face it, John- you can’t even completely trust your side. And you want to trust ours?
HONEYMAN.
We can work…
BOTVINNIK.
Suppose we sign an agreement, and the next day you- or we- suddenly unveil a new weapon. What happens? Immediately, a new arms race.
HONEYMAN.
Even if you’re right- you’re not, but even if you were…
BOTVINNIK.
I am right. I am always right. And how do we appear to the rest of the world? As two warmongers who can’t keep a treaty. If however, we have never agreed to a treaty, then when a new technology comes along, we are simply two nations who are trying to make a treaty, but who must remain prepared for war. It creates a much better impression.
HONEYMAN.
Looking for peace, and purposely never finding it?
BOTVINNIK.
(Taking out her eyedrops, applying them.) It is better for everyone. Broken treaties make people too nervous, yes?
HONEYMAN.
So this makes your job and my job- what? Sort of a nuclear night light? Providing no real hope, just…
BOTVINNIK.
The appearance. Yes.
HONEYMAN.
This is what you truly think is preferable?
BOTVINNIK.
Not I. My leaders. Your leaders.
HONEYMAN.
How long do you- do they- think this is supposed to go on?
BOTVINNIK.
(Shrugging, putting away her eyedrops.) Until the world ends.
HONEYMAN.
Which could be tomorrow. Anya, it’s no argument to say we can’t negotiate because we don’t trust each other. That should be just what spurs us on: the need to develop better systems of trust- to combat each new weapons system, in turn. For every new weapons system, a new trust system.
BOTVINNIK.
I agree.
HONEYMAN.
You do? Well, good. Then if we…
BOTVINNIK.
The only problem is one of pace.
HONEYMAN.
Pace? What do you mean?
BOTVINNIK.
We are diplomats…
HONEYMAN.
Negotiators.
BOTVINNIK.
Negotiators. We work at a certain pace. We build trust. Genuine trust. It takes decades. In that time, weapon makers create two or three new waves of nuclear arms. Each new wave pushes us farther back. Who is ready to say, “Put these weapons on hold—Botvinnik and Honeyman almost trust each other”? Meanwhile, with each new wave, the warning time gets shorter. From an hour, to half an hour, twenty minutes, ten, five, four…finally to no warning at all. No chance to react. Missiles may fly over anytime. Who can stand the responsibility? In the end, we will not be consulted when war begins- not even our leaders will be. A computer will declare war on another computer- because the computer got nervous.
HONEYMAN.
And you and I will die here? In mid-sentence?
BOTVINNIK.
Right between the words “arms” and “control.” It is not that you and I are failing to make progress. It’s that those who build arms make so much progress.
HONEYMAN.
There has to be a way to formulate an agreement that takes this into account.
BOTVINNIK.
You want to take irrationality into account? Very good. I applaud this. But I warn you- no government has ever been rational, even about conventional weapons. You expect them to be rational about nuclear ones?
HONEYMAN.
Governments can learn to be rational.
BOTVINNIK.
Impossible. They are too irrational. All of them. And all of them are getting nuclear weapons. Once we only had to be rational in English and Russian. Now we must do it in Hebrew, Hindi, Afrikaans…These countries look to us to show the way- and what do we teach? Never go back. Never give up your nuclear threat. My friend, it is all irrationality.
HONEYMAN.
It’s not all irrationality…
BOTVINNIK.
(Cutting him off sharply.) What do you know about it?! I have been here for years. I’ve seen how it works! (An embarrassed pause. Honeyman stares at him.)
HONEYMAN.
You hate this more than I do, don’t you?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course not. It’s not a matter of hate.
HONEYMAN.
Sounded like hate to me.
BOTVINNIK.
I gave up hate long ago. I now only study these things.
HONEYMAN.
You study them pretty hard.
BOTVINNIK.
I have much experience.
HONEYMAN.
You have much anger- that’s what you have.
BOTVINNIK.
Anger is useless to a diplomat.
HONEYMAN.
Then why do you feel it?
BOTVINNIK.
I do not feel anger…
HONEYMAN.
Sounded like anger…
BOTVINNIK.
This is not anger! This is careful study! Nothing more! (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
I must be mistaken.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. You must.
HONEYMAN.
Well. I won’t accuse you anymore of being human.
BOTVINNIK.
Thank you. It is now time to talk about something besides negotiations.
HONEYMAN.
Are you sure? It’s just that if we’re both feeling this same…frustration, maybe we should find a way to…
BOTVINNIK.
When two people are dying of cancer, what do they discuss? Cancer? No. It’s bad taste. They talk about something else.
HONEYMAN.
Anya, we have a function here.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes, and now you know what it is! (A beat.) It is not always pleasant to discover what you were meant for. (Botvinnik moves away from him.)
HONEYMAN.
I’m sorry.
BOTVINNIK.
Sorry? For what? For baiting me? It’s your job. I’m glad to see you’re finally getting the hang of it. (A silence. Botvinnik stares off into the distance, Honeyman sits on the bench, pondering. When he speaks, his tone is thoughtful.)
HONEYMAN.
I think the answer lies in…resisting. Resisting irrationality.
BOTVINNIK.
No one can do that. The fear is too great. The temptation is too great.
HONEYMAN.
I did it. (Botvinnik regards him skeptically.) I did. Before coming here. They sent me on a tour. An overview, really. You know, spend a little time with the military, get a sense of how much we’ve invested, look over the hardware- hopefully fall in love with it.
BOTVINNIK.
And did you?
HONEYMAN.
I was touring ICBM sites in North Dakota. Just riding around, staring down into holes all day at these huge shiny…perfect things. These missiles.
BOTVINNIK.
And you fell in love?
HONEYMAN.
On our way back, we stopped for gas. We were in small town called Rugby- and right there next to the highway was a stone monument. It marked the exact geographical center of North America. The whole damn continent. This was the center.
BOTVINNIK.
Is it a significant place?
HONEYMAN.
It’s meaningless. It’s just endless, flat landscape. But we had put all these missiles there. Right in the dead, blank heart of the continent. In the center. In an emptiness. In our emptiness. (A beat.) And I liked it. It filled something up. I wanted there to be more missiles.
BOTVINNIK.
You are a very honest man.
HONEYMAN.
But I thought about it. I thought about it until I knew I could not afford that feeling. Ever again, in my life.
BOTVINNIK.
And what about honesty?
HONEYMAN.
Is it honest for an addict to use a drug, just because he wants it? Is it honest for us to have missiles because on some level we want missiles? No. we resist. We reason ourselves out of it.
BOTVINNIK.
Just as the addict “reasons” himself out of the drug?
HONEYMAN.
It can be done.
BOTVINNIK.
(Without conviction.) Certainly.
HONEYMAN.
I’ve done it. You’ve done it.
BOTVINNIK.
Perhaps. But who’s listening to us? No, the sad fact is, you and I are meant for nothing more than playing games in the woods.
HONEYMAN.
We are not meant for playing games in the woods.
BOTVINNIK.
We are. Thank goodness we are friends, yes? Or it would be intolerable.
HONEYMAN.
It is intolerable. And we’re not friends. My God, this isn’t a friendship. How can two people who have nothing to do be friends? They can’t even be people! I thought, when I came here, I was going to have some influence- that what I said or did was going to affect somebody, someplace. But obviously that’s not the case. Obviously I’m not here at all, right? And if I’m not here, God knows where you are. You’ve been a nonentity a lot longer than me. You’ve got the act down pat. You don’t want a friend, you want someone to be dead with! (A beat.) I wish, at least, that you had fought for this proposal.
BOTVINNIK.
I fought.
HONEYMAN.
I can imagine.
BOTVINNIK.
I fought. Even though I knew they would not accept it. Even though it was dangerous. I fought anyway.
HONEYMAN.
Oh you did, did you? Why?
BOTVINNIK.
Because I like you Whether I am dead or not. (A beat.) Besides, it was a good proposal. I will miss it. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
There’s something I’d like you to look over.
BOTVINNIK.
What is it? (Honeyman reaches into his coat pocket and produces a folded piece of paper.)
HONEYMAN.
The proposal. The very same proposal, with a few cosmetic changes, that’s all.
BOTVINNIK.
So?
HONEYMAN.
What if I can get the President to offer it again? Secretly. The same plan for an agreement- only with a new name, a few insignificant points altered to save face for both countries. Would your side be interested in that?
BOTVINNIK.
Who told you to do this?
HONEYMAN.
No one. It’s my own idea.
BOTVINNIK.
We can get in trouble for this.
HONEYMAN.
I don’t care. Do you?
BOTVINNIK.
You never give up, do you? (Botvinnik takes the paper, regards it, then points at something in it.) This is not an insignificant point.
HONEYMAN.
(Looking). What? Of course it is.
BOTVINNIK.
I do not think it is insignificant.
HONEYMAN.
Well, fine. Change it back then. The point is…
BOTVINNIK.
I don’t have a pen. (Honeyman furnishes her with a rather expensive looking pen.)
HONEYMAN.
(As Botvinnik makes occasional changes in the document.) The point is, we may still be able to salvage this plan. After all- what are we- facilitators, right? Our whole job is to help two giants come to grips with each other. If we can just… (Growing more nervous at the number of changes Botvinnik is making.) What are you changing now?
BOTVINNIK.
You’ll see.
HONEYMAN.
If we can just hold these ideas together, we might make some progress here. If I can get this to the President directly, before Defense and State pull their usual…Are you through?
BOTVINNIK.
Almost. (She finishes, starts to give the pen back, stops, looks at it.) Japanese. Very nice. (She gives the pen to Honeyman, regards the paper again. Honeyman controls his eagerness to look at it.) Do you want to see? (Honeyman quickly grabs the paper.)
HONEYMAN.
(Nodding as he reads.) OK…OK…That one’s OK…
BOTVINNIK.
Only OK? I think it’s very nice.
HONEYMAN.
It’s OK. It was better before.
BOTVINNIK.
Oh no, no, it was…(Honeyman holds up a hand. Botvinnik falls silent. Honeyman finishes, thinks a long moment. Botvinnik’s curiosity grows.) What do you think?
HONEYMAN.
(After a pause as much to himself as Botvinnik.) This would be all right. I think I could get the President’s approval for this. Will you take it to your side?
BOTVINNIK.
As your proposal?
HONEYMAN.
As anyone’s proposal. As nobody’s proposal.
BOTVINNIK.
But here it is. A paper, in our hands.
HONEYMAN.
A non-paper. No addresses, no signatures…just something that’s there…for both sides to examine. Privately.
BOTVINNIK.
I’m walking on eggs just now, at home.
HONEYMAN.
I realize that.
BOTVINNIK.
They think I’ve been awfully…active, this year. (A beat. Botvinnik thinks.) But I could try.
HONEYMAN.
Thank you. Well, we should get back, huh? (Botvinnik remains seated, holding the paper.)
BOTVINNIK.
Things have not gone smoothly for this proposal.
HONEYMAN.
We should get this into both languages before…
BOTVINNIK.
We’ve had a difficult time of it, haven’t we? Over this.
HONEYMAN.
Pretty difficult, yes. Come on, we can still…
BOTVINNIK.
I’m glad it’s been difficult. It allows you to feel something.
HONEYMAN.
What?
BOTVINNIK.
The disappointment. (Rising.) I think my leaders may accept this now.
HONEYMAN.
Good. That would be wonderful.
BOTVINNIK.
I think perhaps your side will reject it.
HONEYMAN.
Our own plan?
BOTVINNIK.
Nobody’s plan.
HONEYMAN.
Why should we?
BOTVINNIK.
You want rationality…? You and I only make recommendations. Our leaders must make decisions. Perhaps some decisions are too big to make.
HONEYMAN.
Someone has to make them.
BOTVINNIK.
Maybe you are right. Maybe your President will embrace this plan. All things are possible while we are still alive, yes?
HONEYMAN.
He will embrace it. I’ll convince him.
BOTVINNIK.
Of course.
HONEYMAN.
You’ll see. I think you’ll be very surprised this time, Anya. Very surprised indeed. I can convince him.
BOTVINNIK.
(Holding the paper out to him.) Hope is a true miracle, is it not? (Honeyman takes the paper.)
HONEYMAN.
So is trust.
BOTVINNIK.
Well, it’s time to go back. It’s getting cold.
HONEYMAN.
Really? I hadn’t noticed.
BOTVINNIK.
(Smiling) Indeed. Come. It’s important to go back together today.
HONEYMAN.
Why?
BOTVINNIK.
Because we don’t often do that and the reporters will be confused. (They exit together. Lights fade to black.)
END OF ACT TWO, SCENE ONE
SCENE 2
(The same scene. Six weeks later- early spring. The woods are filled with warm, late-afternoon light. Spring flowers cover the area. Honeyman sits on the bench, staring straight ahead. Botvinnik is Upstage, bent over, picking flowers at the edge of the trees.)
BOTVINNIK.
This will be the last one. This will be the final, glorious touch, eh? (She straightens up, reveals a small bouquet of fresh-picked wildflowers.) It needed a little blue, don’t you think?
HONEYMAN.
(Without looking.) I suppose.
BOTVINNIK.
What is this flower called? This blue one?
HONEYMAN.
It’s called a flower.
BOTVINNIK.
No, no, no- what would a botanist call it? (Botvinnik places the bouquet in Honeyman’s lap. Honeyman looks down at it.)
HONEYMAN.
A flower.
BOTVINNIK.
No. If he had to designate it. For another scientist.
HONEYMAN.
A flower. (A beat. Botvinnik moves to look at the woods.)
BOTVINNIK.
The woods are filled with them. It’s very beautiful this time of year. Don’t you think?
HONEYMAN.
Aren’t you even a little bit angry? (Botvinnik smiles.)
BOTVINNIK.
I remember the first time my leaders said no to an agreement I had worked out. It was with Mr. McIntyre’s predecessor, Mr…
HONEYMAN.
Mr. Sand.
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. Mr. Sand. He and I worked a very long time on that one. We had such…large dreams. We were both new. Each of us was so eager, so…overjoyed at the creativity of our solutions. We marched out of this very woods and told the world. “A major arms reduction,” we said, “A path to sanity.” Of course, four weeks later our governments politely suggested we had overstepped our authority. “Go back to the table, work a little more,” they said. “And stay out of the woods.” (A beat.) This proposal didn’t do so badly. At least it was six weeks before your President…
HONEYMAN.
(More to himself than Botvinnik.) He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Don’t try so hard.” Don’t try so hard. (Honeyman throws the flowers to the ground.)
BOTVINNIK.
It was only a euphemism.
HONEYMAN.
For what?
BOTVINNIK.
For don’t try at all. (Botvinnik bends to pick up the flowers.) Really, you must control yourself. Switzerland has strict laws about littering.
HONEYMAN.
I know.
BOTVINNIK.
They are terribly compulsive about it. It can be quite risky to throw things…
HONEMYAN.
I know. I was almost arrested for it this morning.
BOTVINNIK.
You were? Really? Tell me about it.
HONEYMAN.
I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a pointless story.
BOTVINNIK.
Oh, please- tell me. An arrest in Switzerland. How wonderful.
HONEYMAN.
It was nothing. I threw a gum wrapper on the sidewalk. (Botvinnik gasps in mock horror.) Really there are more important things to talk about.
BOTVINNIK.
Not today. (Honeyman looks away from him.) Please. Let’s take advantage of this exquisite time when everything has broken down. Tell me your pointless story.
HONEYMAN.
Why?
BOTVINNIK.
It will be such a relief.
HONEYMAN.
For who?
BOTVINNIK.
For you. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
It was nothing. I threw this wrapper, and suddenly there was this very old man beside me, grabbing me. I thought he was a lunatic- he was yelling at me in German. Why did he yell in German? Do I dress like a German? (Botvinnik shrugs.) He was trying to make me stop. I speeded up- I didn’t know who he was.
BOTVINNIK.
He could have been a very old terrorist.
HONEYMAN.
Why am I telling this?
BOTVINNIK.
Because it is crucial. Go on.
HONEYMAN.
He yelled at me louder- in French this time. I stopped and stared at him. I didn’t say anything. I just stared. He kept right on yelling, only he switched to Italian. This went on for a solid minute- like I was his bad child- all in Italian. Finally I broke in. I said, “I don’t speak Italian,” and he went back to French.
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
Yes! I said, “I don’t speak French,” and he went back to German.
BOTVINNIK.
Really?
HONEYMAN.
Yes! So I yelled back at him: “I don’t speak French, German or Italian! I’m an American, damn it! What the hell do you want?!” And he turned and pointed at my gum wrapper. And then I saw he was a cop. He was a Swiss policeman.
BOTVINNIK.
Oh, dear.
HONEYMAN.
I didn’t notice at first. He had his hat in his hand, and he was so…old, that I…But there he was, in a uniform. He must’ve been going to his own retirement party.
BOTVINNIK.
Swiss police are very officious.
HONEYMAN.
And he tried to drag me back to this gum wrapper. He literally tried to drag me. I said, “Tell me what you want.” And he said, “Aufheben!” The paper. “Aufheben!”
BOTVINNIK.
Pick it up.
HONEYMAN.
Exactly.
BOTVINNIK.
And did you?
HONEYMAN.
No, I didn’t pick it up.
BOTVINNIK.
Really? Why not?
HONEYMAN.
Would you?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course.
HONEYMAN.
You’d let a little old man drag you back? A little old Swiss…joke of a policeman? With people watching?
BOTVINNIK.
Especially with people watching.
HONEYMAN.
Well, I didn’t. I pulled my arm away. I wanted to say, “Look- I spend all day, every day, working to prevent the total destruction of every living thing on this planet. The whole planet. Even Switzerland. I’m trying to preserve the last few precious days of life you may have coming to you. But I can’t do it if I’m not allowed to throw my gum wrappers on the sidewalk. Do you understand? It’s too much pressure! I can’t worry about everything!
BOTVINNIK.
But you didn’t say that.
HONEYMAN.
No. I said, “I’m a very important person.”
BOTVINNIK.
What did he say to you?
HONEYMAN.
“Aufheben!:
BOTVINNIK.
And you said?
HONEYMAN.
No! Then he tried to arrest me. He flashed his pitiful Swiss badge and put his hat on. By this time old people were stopping, looking at me and shaking their heads. As though the wrapper was a…dead infant or something. A couple of teenagers were standing there, laughing.
BOTVINNIK.
Congratulations! An international incident.
HONEYMAN.
Anyway, he tried to grab me again, and I…I don’t know why I did this, but I actually…pushed him.
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
I don’t know why I did it.
BOTVINNIK.
Did you hurt him?
HONEYMAN.
No, he didn’t even fall over. But the others- the people around us- they gasped. They literally gasped. The old cop stared at me like I was insane.
BOTVINNIK.
You were.
HONEYMAN.
So I quick pulled out my identification and held it open and said, “Diplomat.” And pointed to myself. And the cop just…shrank…from me. I took a step toward him and said, “Diplomat” again, and he just kept backing away. And the whole crowd backed away. I kept saying, “It’s all right- I’m a diplomat,” but the circle of people got wider and wider, and the cop turned and walked away from me as fast as he could. And everyone else did the same. Except the two teenagers. They just stared at me. Not like they expected me to do anything. Just…because I was the only thing left to look at. (A beat.) I’ve never behaved that way in public before.
BOTVINNIK.
You were having a bad day.
HONEYMAN.
I was not having a bad day! I was…I am turning into something here. Some kind of monster. Some kind of littering, old-man-pushing, diplomatic…monster. Some special, newly-created kind of…thing. (A beat. Quietly.) What are we doing here?
BOTVINNIK.
We are talking.
HONEYMAN.
No, I mean- what on Earth…are we doing?
BOTVINNIK.
The questions you ask are too large. Let me ask a smaller one. What is your favorite color?
HONEYMAN.
My favorite color?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. What is it?
HONEYMAN.
Why do you want to know that?
BOTVINNIK.
I have my reasons. Is it green? Red? Yellow?
HONEYMAN.
I don’t want to talk about this.
BOTVINNIK.
It’s a simple question. I’m sure we can handle it.
HONEYMAN.
Don’t mock me!
BOTVINNIK.
You’re offended.
HONEYMAN.
Yes, I’m offended, I’m disgusted, I’m…What are we doing here?!
BOTVINNIK.
My favorite color is blue.
HONEYMAN.
Stop talking about colors!!
BOTVINNIK.
I have to talk about colors!
HONEYMAN.
Why?!
BOTVINNIK.
I want to buy you a gift.
HONEYMAN.
We give each other gifts all the time. That’s what international negotiating teams do: sit down, stare at each other for a few months, exchange gifts and leave. (With a look at Botvinnik.) Why does your delegation want to give us gifts?
BOTVINNIK.
No, no. Not our delegation. Just me. I want to give you a gift. A tie, perhaps. In a color you like. Something you will be happy to have.
HONEYMAN.
Why?
BOTVINNIK.
Do I need a reason?
HONEYMAN.
Yes.
BOTVINNIK.
As a consolation prize, then. Because we will never achieve a treaty.
HONEYMAN.
We will achieve a treaty. Someday we will.
BOTVINNIK.
Very well, then- a victory prize. I want to give you a gift. What does it matter why?
HONEYMAN.
It could be the difference between honoring me and humiliating me.
BOTVINNIK.
What about blue? (Honeyman sighs.) Is blue your favorite?
HONEYMAN.
No, it’s not.
BOTVINNIK.
Brown?
HONEYMAN.
Nobody’s favorite color is brown.
BOTVINNIK.
Why do you make me guess? Tell me.
HONEYMAN.
My favorite color is orange.
BOTVINNIK.
Orange?
HONEYMAN.
Yes. Orange.
BOTVINNIK.
You expect me to buy you an orange tie?
HONEYMAN.
Don’t buy me a tie! I don’t want a tie!
BOTVINNIK.
All right. I won’t.
HONEYMAN.
Good! I can see why McIntyre left.
BOTVINNIK.
You think he left because of me.
HONEYMAN.
Who wouldn’t? No one can deal with you. You take serious things lightly, light things seriously, you waste months of time- and what’s worse, you never even try to be optimistic. Don’t you see how killing that is?
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
How can you be so negative?
BOTVINNIK.
You’re the one who doesn’t want a tie.
HONEYMAN.
I think you were made for this place. You were born to sit and stare at the world and say no.
BOTVINNIK.
Why, because I am Russian?
HONEYMAN.
Not because you’re…
BOTVINNIK.
That’s it, isn’t it? You think Russians are all alike. You think we train our children to say no at the dinner table. “Do you want your food?” “No!” “Something to drink?” “No!”
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
You think we like to say no. You think we train our backsides to sit for days without pain, yes?
HONEYMAN.
(Rising.) I’m gong back now, Anya.
BOTVINNIK.
No!
HONEYMAN.
Why not?!
BOTVINNIK.
I have something to tell you.
HONEYMAN.
What?
BOTVINNIK.
Guess.
HONEYMAN.
No!
BOTVINNIK.
You are so negative. Very well, I will tell you. I’m leaving. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
What?
BOTVINNIK.
I’m leaving. Bye-bye.
HONEYMAN.
You mean, you’re going back home for a week or two…?
BOTVINNIK.
No, I’m leaving.
HONEYMAN.
(Alarmed.) Your government’s pulling out the delegation?
BOTVINNIK.
No, no- listen to your language, John. They’re staying. I- Anastasiya L’vovna Botvinnik- I am leaving. For good. Good-bye. (Botvinnik extends her hand.)
HONEYMAN.
(Not taking it.) You’re leaving your post?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes.
HONEYMAN.
Why? We’re in the middle of negotiations.
BOTVINNIK.
I will be replaced. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
When are you leaving?
BOTVINNIK.
A week or two.
HONEYMAN.
A week…! How soon’ll you be replaced?
BOTVINNIK.
A month or two.
HONEYMAN.
Anya…!
BOTVINNIK.
Are you worried about delay? That is your job, delay. In all my years here it has been one, long delay. So tell me- do you have a favorite color besides orange? I would like to get you something.
HONEYMAN.
A farewell gift?
BOTVINNIK.
Yes. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Are they making you retire?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course not.
HONEYMAN.
Is it because you pushed for our proposal? Did you get in trouble with…
BOTVINNIK.
You Americans always think the same thing. Kremlin intrigue. Trips to Siberia. No, I merely intend to go home. It is time.
HONEYMAN.
Is it a medical problem?
BOTVINNIK.
No.
HONEYMAN.
It’s just that you’ve seemed more…distracted than usual. In the sessions.
BOTVINNIK.
Me? What about you? Pushing old men in the street.
HONEYMAN.
That was…
BOTVINNIK.
You don’t have to apologize. No- I have served for many years here by doing absolutely nothing. Now it is time for someone new to come and do absolutely nothing. In this way we achieve continuity of results. (Holds her hand out to shake again.) So. It has been very pleasurable with you. I thank you and say good-bye.
HONEYMAN.
(Not taking her hand.) Why are you leaving?
BOTVINNIK.
I told you. Shake.
HONEYMAN.
Why are you leaving?
BOTVINNIK.
There is no real reason. I am losing…concentration at the table- a little bit. My mind is beginning to wander…slightly…when I am there.
HONEYMAN.
To wander?
BOTVINNIK.
More and more. (A beat.)
HONEYMAN.
Why not take some time off? A week or two? Maybe that would…
BOTVINNIK.
That would do nothing. I am degenerating. It happens to everyone. Each day now I feel like I could say…anything. The worst thing. At the worst moment. It is an interesting feeling. It’s like my brain is drying up instead of my eyes. Work without hope is a dry thing. It is better, more realistic. But it is very dry. Will you miss me?
HONEYMAN.
Don’t go.
BOTVINNIK.
I have to.
HONEYMAN.
Rest a little. You can come back.
BOTVINNIK.
The decay is inevitable.
HONEYMAN.
It’s not inevitable. Don’t go. We’re working on something here, Anya.
BOTVINNIK.
On what?
HONEYMAN.
On something. My God- we’ve established a process, the two of us. If you’re replaced, that’s all gone.
BOTVINNIK.
No, it isn’t. The new person will…
HONEYMAN.
The new person will not be you. (A beat.)
BOTVINNIK.
You’re very flattering. But let me make a suggestion. If you are so unhappy that I am leaving, then why don’t you leave too?
HONEYMAN.
Don’t be ridiculous.
BOTVINNIK.
It’s not ridiculous. I go back to Leningrad, you go back to Vah-sow. We are both better off.
HONEYMAN.
In what way?
BOTVINNIK.
In every way. Listen to me- you’re a good negotiator. You’re smart, tough, charming. You can say no almost as well as me. They will keep you here a long time. And after long enough, you will be like I am now.
HONEYMAN.
You’re fine now.
BOTVINNIK.
I don’t even remember why I’m here. Leave when I do. Otherwise you will break down.
HONEYMAN.
I won’t.
BOTVINNIK.
This morning you were almost arrested.
HONEYMAN.
That was a freak accident.
BOTVINNIK.
You will have more of them.
HONEYMAN.
What if I do? What’s it matter, as long as I’m here, working?
BOTVINNIK.
Working for what? For progress? There is no progress here. Only the illusion. Every treaty we negotiated has been followed by an unprecedented arms buildup. Twenty-five years ago, we signed our first treaty. We had a few hundred warheads each. A few hundred. Today- thirteen treaties later- how many warheads do we have? Fifty thousand. If our leaders ever do accept real cuts, it will only be to gain political advantage. When the advantage disappears, the cuts will too. There will be new weapons building. There will always be new weapons building. (A beat.) So listen to me: you are still young. Why grow old in this way?
HONEYMAN.
Why should you care? You’re leaving.
BOTVINNIK.
I’m still your friend.
HONEYMAN.
Friends share hope! If you go home now, we will never have been friends. Do you understand? Will have been colleagues, associates, counterparts, fellow workers on the same problem. Representatives, delegates, instruments of policy- but never- never- friends.
BOTVINNIK.
(Softly.)I am your friend.
HONEYMAN.
Why?! What do I do for you that makes you feel like a friend to me? What? Is it that we do the same thing? Have the same job?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course not…
HONEYMAN.
Then what? I don’t think it’s that we tell the same jokes. I don’t think I tell any jokes at all, do I? I think I’m a pretty serious, stiff, even priggish type of person, wouldn’t you say?
BOTVINNIK.
At times.
HONEYMAN.
All the time! And yet you like me. You want to be my friend. Why is that, Anya? Do you want to get something from me? A bargaining advantage perhaps?
BOTVINNIK.
Of course not…
HONEYMAN.
You’re damn right, of course not- you don’t even remember why you’re here. So what is it? What’s the force that impels us towards each other? What is it we recognize in each other that makes us want to be friends? What is our special handicap as negotiators?
BOTVINNIK.
(Quietly.) A conscience.
HONEYMAN.
A conscience. Exactly. (A beat.) Do you think the next two people here will have a conscience? (A beat.)
BOTVINNIK.
I can’t stay. The process of replacing me has already begun. (A silence.) What will you do?
HONEYMAN.
Stay. Work with your replacement. Hope for progress, for good faith, for enough time. Hope that hope itself isn’t some…limitless desert we’re all trying to cross.
BOTVINNIK.
And if it is?
HONEYMAN.
I’ll die of hope.
BOTVINNIK.
I will always like you. You will always be my favorite.
HONEYMAN.
(Simply.) So what?
BOTVINNIK.
Perhaps it is time to go.
HONEYMAN.
Perhaps.
BOTVINNIK.
(Without moving.) So- we are going. I am very serious about the tie, you know. What do you say to red?
HONEYMAN.
I don’t want a tie.
BOTVINNIK.
Red is too political. Yellow? No, that stands for cowards, and you are too brave for your own good.
HONEYMAN.
Anya…
BOTVINNIK.
Blue? No blue is my favorite. It would be like forcing it on you.
HONEYMAN.
NO TIE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!! NO DAMN TIE! IF YOU EVER TRY TO GIVE ME A TIE, I’LL STUFF IT DOWN YOUR GODDAMN, FUCKING COMMUNIST THROAT! (A beat.) I’m sorry.
BOTVINNIK.
That’s all right.
HONEYMAN.
Sorry about “communists.”
BOTVINNIK.
No problem.
HONEYMAN.
You’re probably right. I’m probably crazy already.
BOTVINNIK.
Probably.
HONEYMAN.
But I’m staying. I have hope.
BOTVINNIK.
You are entitled. Do you feel all right?
HONEYMAN.
I’m fine.
BOTVINNIK.
Shall we sit for a while? (Honeyman moves in the bench, sits, Botvinnik sits next to him. They are silent for a moment.) This is very nice. Sitting here in nature. I can see why you like this. (Honeyman looks at Botvinnik with surprise, then out at the woods.)
HONEYMAN.
When I was young, I used to think if you ate a lot of wild things- you know, if you went to the woods and gathered things: blueberries, mushrooms, asparagus- I thought eating those things would somehow make you…wild. Not wild-behaving, just more a part of that world. I mean, you’d be in the woods and feel completely comfortable there. You’d be at home. (They stare at the woods.)
BOTVINNIK.
All these trees. One by one they will be chopped down, I think. And made into negotiating tables. The talks will go on for hundreds of years. If we are lucky. (A beat.) Our time together, John, has been a very great failure. (Honeyman nods.) But- a successful one. (A beat.) Shall we go back?
HONEYMAN.
Let’s stay awhile.
BOTVINNIK.
Really? Do you want to? What do you want to talk about?
HONEYMAN.
Nothing. (Botvinnik regards him, then looks into the woods and nods. Honeyman stares into the distance as well. Botvinnik takes out her eyedrops and carefully applies them. Lights fade to black.)
THE END