"Puccini Under"
A play by Barry Martin. Copyright by the author May 24, 2011.(This version was presented in a staged reading in Napa, CA in April 2012.)
Translation of relevant portion of “In quelle trine
morbide” from Manon Lescaut by Giacomo Puccini
“In those soft lace curtains in the guilded alcove, there
is a silence,
a cold fatal silence, a chill which turns me to ice!
And I, who was used to the voluptuous caress
of burning lips and passionate arms, now have something quite different!
a cold fatal silence, a chill which turns me to ice!
And I, who was used to the voluptuous caress
of burning lips and passionate arms, now have something quite different!
Now my humble dwelling, you come back to me
gay, secluded, white,as a sweet dream of peace and love”
gay, secluded, white,as a sweet dream of peace and love”
Translation of relevant portion of “Nessun Dorma” from
Turandot by Giacomo Puccini
“Nobody shall sleep!... Nobody shall sleep!
Even you, o Princess, in your cold room, watch the stars,
that tremble with love and with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me, my name no one shall
know...
No!...No!... On your mouth I will tell it when the light
shines.
And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you
mine!...
(No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.)
Vanish, o night! Set, stars! Set, stars!
At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!”
(Author's note: This is a play performed by three
actors. The character of The Writer/Jerry/David remains consistent throughout,
while the actors playing The Director/Scott/Jeeves and The
Actress/Vanessa/Vanessa/Etc shift in and out of several roles as indicated. The
first portion of the play should be played without acknowledgment of the
audience, as if it is an audition/rehearsal in an empty theatre. The words in
parentheses and italicized are the actual stage directions. Words in the
Actresses' speeches that are in parentheses but not italicized are spoken. In
the middle portion, Jeeves and The Actress address the audience directly in a
dual monologue. The final portion is a mixture of the two. There should be
broad theatricality in some places and simple naturalism in others. The two
pieces by Puccini are essential to the play. The pop song referred to by The
Actress can be whatever is current, familiar and irritating.)
Characters
The Actress/Vanessa, 30s
The Director/Scott/Jeeves, 30s or 40s
The Writer/Jerry/David, 40s
Setting
A stage as it appears between productions. There may be
flats, platforms, miscellaneous furniture pieces scattered around appearing to
be randomly placed. There is traditional work light center stage.
The time
The past and the present
(“In
quelle trine morbide” in Italian, plays for a bit. An actress walks on alone.
There is the feeling of an audition. The music continues as she begins to speak
passionately.)
ACTRESS
Sometimes I just need to get it all out, just let it all
flow for awhile and tap the untapped let
my thoughts flow and let go of what I’ve been holding in and set my mind free
and then I am angry angry angry over losing her, still angry and hurt
and sad and I still don’t get it and I am afraid I never will and I will always
be angry and sad and hurt over her, that there is no other option because I’ve
tried and tried to forgive and to not care and to let go and to replace her and
there’s just no solace, no peace, no respite, no end to nursing my wounds, no
washing the bitterness from my mouth, even though I know it’s all my own fault,
that I tried too hard, held too close, wouldn’t or couldn’t be what she wanted
me to be or needed me to be, got my ego all wrapped up in it and just wanted to
be the winner, and so I know it’s my fault and it was a dead end from day one
anyway, but the pain is the same no matter how I try to think it, I just feel
it, and sometimes I need to get it all out and so I –
DIRECTOR
(From the
wings as he walks onto the stage.)
Okay, let’s hold it there, thank you.
(Turning to
the back of the house, shielding his eyes from the light.)
Jerry, not sure where you’re going with this but it’s not
working for me.
WRITER
(From
the back of the house)
Um…that’s not part of it. That’s not –
DIRECTOR
What’s not part of it?
WRITER
None of that is part of it.
DIRECTOR
(Hard to hear each
other over the music.) Some of it
is what of it?
WRITER
(To himself, about the
music. ) Why is that Puccini playing under?
DIRECTOR
Kill the music. (It
ends abruptly.) You were saying?
WRITER
I said that’s not part of it. What she read.
DIRECTOR
She read from your script. The words that are in your script
that you wrote.
WRITER
Not that part, that part is not part of it. The part
she did is not part of it. (The director and the actress exchange a
look.) It’s just something I do to get started. It’s not part of the
script.
DIRECTOR
Well, where does it start then, you’ve got kind of a mess
here.
WRITER
Next page, Vanessa’s monologue?
DIRECTOR
(To the actress)
Do you know where he is, sweetheart?
ACTRESS
Yes, I worked on that part, too.
WRITER
That’s where it
starts.
DIRECTOR
Ok, then sweetheart let’s hear it. (He moves to the side
of the stage.) Lights up.
ACTRESS
(She gathers herself for a brief moment,
then in a very different style and trying
to meld it all together...)
Long hours I sat in front of my mirror today, combing out my
hair, thinking about him. (“In quelle trine morbide” fades in again.)
All we had together those impossible weeks together – the walks in the rain,
the quiet nights abounding with the questions in our minds, haunted by what
might be and what can’t be. (This sounds like it’s from Gone with the Wind.
Why? Why?) (Pause) I just don't know.
Another day. I start my day like any other. As I brush my hair I think of the
meaninglessness that is this moment, this brush in my hand, my hand, my hair,
my life. All meaningless. Then, in the quiet part of my mind I think that it is
all about him, and I must have him again. (And what is this shit? Strindberg
now? Why? Why? Why?) (Pause, then to the
audience.) This is a story you just have to hear to believe, ok? So I’m
just going to tell you the story without a whole bunch of “actory-y” stuff,
just you and me and the story of how it all went wrong. So, the way it got
started –
`
WRITER
(To the director)
Scott, can we stop there?
DIRECTOR
Hold it, sweetheart.
WRITER
(To the actress) Yeah,
um….hi.
ACTRESS
(Drops the character. Eager to please) Hi !
WRITER
I’m sorry, what’s your name again?
ACTRESS
Vanessa.
WRITER
No, your name, not the character.
ACTRESS
Vanessa.
WRITER
Your name is Vanessa, and you’re auditioning for the role of
Vanessa?
ACTRESS
Just one reason I think I’m perfect for it! (Giggles)
WRITER
Yeah, well. Look – the parts that are in parentheses –
you’re not supposed to say them out loud.
ACTRESS
Oh, they’re stage directions?
WRITER
No, not directions, just thoughts.
ACTRESS
Oh! The inner thoughts of the character!
WRITER
No! My thoughts, they’re MY thoughts.
ACTRESS
What are your thoughts doing in Vanessa’s head?
WRITER
(Beginning to be frustrated.) It’s just, sometimes
when I’m writing I make little commentaries on it as I go. It’s just a way of
talking back to myself.
ACTRESS
Oh! Part of your
writing process! That is so interesting! (Giggles. Beat.) But how do the
actors know what to say and what not to say?
WRITER
I take them out! I take them out later! This is a first
draft, ok? Look, what I’m asking – Scott, can you have her read it without the
parts in parentheses? I’m sorry, I mean –
ACTRESS
(Gaily) Don’t be
sorry, there’s plenty of time to be sorry later!
WRITER
What does that mean?
ACTRESS
What does what mean?
WRITER
“There’s plenty of time to be sorry later.” What does that
mean?
ACTRESS
I just came out.
WRITER
Yes. Of course it did. Ok then.
DIRECTOR
From the –
WRITER
Yes, from there.
DIRECTOR
From the monologue then, sweetheart. And read it without the
parts in parentheses, alright?
ACTRESS
Of course! Sure! I’ll do it any way you want it.
DIRECTOR
Yes, I bet you would. Lights up.
ACTRESS
Long hours I sat in front of my mirror today, combing out my
hair, thinking about him. All we had together those impossible weeks together –
the walks in the rain, the quiet nights abounding with the questions in our
minds, haunted by what might be and what can’t be. (Pause) So right here you don’t
want me to say “This sounds like it’s from Gone with the Wind. Why? Why?”
right? I’m sorry, I just lost the – line, please?
DIRECTOR
“I just don't know.”
ACTRESS
I’m sorry, I was asking for the line.
DIRECTOR
That is the line. “I just don't know. Another day.”
ACTRESS
Oh! (Giggles.)
Yes, that is the line! “I just don't know. Another day.” Yes, yes. I know this
part.
DIRECTOR
And by the way you still have the script in your hand,
sweetheart.
ACTRESS
Oh, Jeez! I’m sorry, I am a little flustered, I’m sorry. All
this “what’s in parentheses and what’s not in parentheses” just threw me off
for a moment. But just for a moment! I’m ready now. (Brief pause.) I just don't know. Another day. I start my day like
any other. As I brush my hair I think of the meaninglessness that is this
moment, this brush in my hand, my hand, my hair, my life. All meaningless.
Then, in the quiet part of my mind I think that it is all about him, and I must
have him again. (And what is this shit? Strindberg now? Why? Why? Why?)
WRITER
No, excuse me, that is a part you are not supposed to say out loud.
ACTRESS
I’m so, so sorry…
WRITER
That is a parentheses part.
ACTRESS
Where does it – oh ---
WRITER
Maybe just scratch it out...?
ACTRESS
--- right before “And what is this shit? Strindberg now?”
that’s a parentheses there.
WRITER
Yes, yes.
ACTRESS
I’m sorry, I had a
salad at lunch and I got some dressing on the script I think. (She dabs at the script with a tissue. Then
coyly.) Give me just as sec to get undressed here.
DIRECTOR
Oh Jesus.
ACTRESS
Ok, now I am really, really ready.
DIRECTOR
Ok, sweetheart, take it from “All meaningless…”?
ACTRESS
All meaningless. Then, in the quiet part of my mind I think
that it is all about him, and I must have him again. (Her lips move very quickly as she mouths “And what is this shit?
Strindberg now? Why? Why? Why?”) This is a story you just have to hear to
believe, ok? So I’m just going to tell you the story without a whole bunch of
“actory-y” stuff going on, ok? Just you and me and the story of how it all went
wrong. So, the way it got started –
WRITER
Ok, please stop, just stop.
DIRECTOR
Stop, please, sweetheart.
WRITER
You can stop, too – Scott. Why did I name you Scott anyway?
DIRECTOR/SCOTT
(Differently, now
“Scott”) Same reason you made the character a stereotype, by which I mean,
no good reason. Or because you’re a dumbshit.
ACTRESS
(Differently, now “The
Actress”) Why did you make her out so stupid and slutty. Is that what you
think women are?
DIRECTOR/SCOTT
I mean, he's calling her “sweetheart”? Really? You use words
like that, you just force me to play it like a queen. Either that or Edward G.
Robinson. “Sweetheart, Sweetheart!”
WRITER
That would be Bogart, not Robinson...
ACTRESS
And why did you use the word “actress” in here. Is the
non-sexist word “actor” not adequate?
WRITER
Hold it, hold it, hold it. First, I do not deserve to be
called a dumbshit, thank you very much, and second, to indicate that the person
on the stage is a female - it’s not sexist to indicate someone’s gender, in a
script for a play.
ACTRESS
It’s a mindset, to identify me by my gender, not by my
abilities -
WRITER
I suppose I could write “acting person of no specific sex.”
ACTRESS
(A glance at “Scott”) That's telling, isn't it?
WRITER
What's telling?
ACTRESS
You said “sex.” I said “gender” and you said “sex.”
WRITER
Oh, please.
DIRECTOR/SCOTT
Somebody's horny.
ACTRESS
It always ends up about sex with you, doesn't it?
WRITER
Oh, come on, that’s facetious.
ACTRESS
Why don't you just call her “Actress Under 30” because
that's what you want isn't it?
WRITER
This is really distracting from the –
ACTRESS
-- so you can easily toss me on the dumpheap by not writing
any decent roles for women over 30!
WRITER
What is going on here?
ACTRESS
You're supposed to know.
You're supposed to know.
WRITER
This is pointless.
ACTRESS
Is it?
WRITER
Ludicrous.
ACTRESS
Really?
WRITER
Of course it is. (Pause)
Are you over 30?
ACTRESS
And there you go.
WRITER
All I’m trying to do is –
ACTRESS
(Attacking) You fill your stories with young women,
empty-headed young women, and we play them, we stick our tits out and giggle
where you tell us to and give your play a little sex appeal, and then just a
few years go by, and it doesn’t matter how much you go to the gym, all of a
sudden there’s no decent part for you. You’re lost between the ingénue and the
cranky old lady because there’s nothing in between! And that is your fault, all
your fault. Don’t you owe us something? Don’t you owe us a few decent parts for
women of a certain age who have waggled their asses for you? And by the way –
“Give me just as sec to get undressed here” – that’s got to be the worst line
ever. Ok?
WRITER
This is not working. It’s going nowhere. It’s time for
everyone to exit stage right and don’t look back.
DIRECTOR/SCOTT
That’s convenient for you, isn’t it?
WRITER
I don’t want to hear it, “Scott.”
DIRECTOR/SCOTT
It’s your script.
(He begins
to exit stage right, stops, looks back.)
But don’t ever say I didn’t –
WRITER
Didn’t I say “don’t look back”?
DIRECTOR/SCOTTT
(A look. He exits.)
WRITER
(Looking at actress, deliberately A
considerable pause.)
She exits, stage right, without looking back.
ACTRESS
(After a look at him, she exits stage right
without looking back.)
WRITER
She didn’t even look back. Bitch.
(There is a long moment as the writer
observes the empty stage, then gathers himself and his things and walks onto
the stage with a laptop, notebook, coffee cup, etc, and locates a chair. A
heavy sigh.)
Well, now what?
(Pause. The writer writes.)
ACTRESS
(Rentering, changed. A
softer tone.) I think she comes back.
WRITER
Really?
ACTRESS
Yes, she comes back because there is unfinished business.
WRITER
I like the sound of that.
ACTRESS
She’s not done with him, no matter what she says.
WRITER
Yes.
ACTRESS
She misses him. She realizes what she’s lost. She wonders if
she’s made a mistake.
WRITER
Yes, yes…
ACTRESS
She knows it’s impossible but her heart says “I want him
back,” and she feels that not only in her heart but feels it in other
places, important places…
WRITER
Oh, yes….
ACTRESS
She feels it, she knows it, she wants it.
WRITER
Vanessa!
ACTRESS
So she comes back for more.
(Pause. She waits. He looks at her.)
WRITER
Keep going.
ACTRESS
You first.
WRITER
What?
ACTRESS
I’ll keep going if you keep going.
WRITER
I need you to keep going.
ACTRESS
You need me to say…?
You need me to say…?
WRITER
I’m not sure.
ACTRESS
What are you thinking?
WRITER
I’m thinking that, ok, it’s –
(He
resumes writing.)
SCOTT
(Re-entering,
speaking to the Actress, as the Writer gives way. More Puccini. “Nessun Dorma”)
Since when have you had this doubt in your mind? You said it
was over, and now –
ACTRESS
There’s no doubt in my mind, it’s certainty. I was wrong.
I’m sorry.
SCOTT
Sorry is such an easy word. So smoothly it spills from your
lips.
ACTRESS
But you know I mean it this time. It will all be different
now.
SCOTT
Will it? Will it be different?
ACTRESS
(Melodramatically)
Yes, yes, because I’ve learned so much now, and I know I was wrong, and I
should have stayed with you, always, because there was never a man more perfect
for me than you. Never more perfect in every way, just for me.
SCOTT
You expect me to believe that now? After all that’s
happened?
ACTRESS
You must, you must believe me! Everything depends on it!
SCOTT
You broke my heart, Vanessa. You broke my heart in a way
that can’t be fixed. And now you say –
ACTRESS
I say I was wrong, I was a fool – and I will mend your
broken heart, David.
SCOTT
Why, tell me why you’ve –
(Drop the character and
speaks to the writer as music fades out quickly)
David? I was Scott, wasn't I, David?
ACTRESS
(Softness
gone, speaks to the writer)
David? Weren't you Jerry? And now you're David?
SCOTT
Am I Scott here, or am I David, David?
ACTRESS
(To the audience) He was Jerry, wasn't he?
WRITER/DAVID
Scott, you are Scott. It doesn't matter! Keep going.
ACTRESS
(To the audience) Are you as confused as I am right
now?
WRITER
Please! Keep going!
SCOTT
All right, all right. (To
Actress)Can you give me that line again?
ACTRESS
Which one?
SCOTT
The one you say before the one I say.
ACTRESS
There are a lot of those, can you narrow it down?
SCOTT
You say something like “believe you me, it all depends.” And
then I say “you broke my heart” et cetera…
ACTRESS
Oh, yeah, right – “Believe you me, it all depends,” from
right there, ok…(Resumes the soft sincerity) ”Believe you me it all
depends.” (“Nessum Dorma” starts again.)
SCOTT
(Back
into the character as before)
You broke my heart, Vanessa. You broke my heart in a way
that can’t be fixed –
WRITER
Hold it a sec.
SCOTT
--And now you say –
WRITER
Hold it!
ACTRESS
I say I was wrong –
WRITER
Stop, ok?
ACTRESS
I will mend your broken heart, David.
WRITER
Enough!
ACTRESS
ACTRESS
Scott?
WRITER
Stop!
ACTRESS
Jerry??
WRITER
Enough, enough!
(Music ends
abruptly)
ACTRESS
(Drops
the character again)
Thank God, that was some turgid shit you were cranking out
there.
SCOTT
Not one of your better days, David.
WRITER
No, that is not why I stopped you. You were paraphrasing.
Badly.
SCOTT
I’m sure I had it right.
ACTRESS
I am always word perfect.
I am always word perfect.
WRITER
No, no, you were both barely in the ballpark there. The line
is “You must, you must believe me! Everything depends on it!”
ACTRESS
What did I say?
WRITER
I think it was something like, “Believe you me, it all
depends.”
ACTRESS
(To Scott) Didn’t
you say that was the cue line?
SCOTT
It’s something like that, yes! When you say the word
“depends” I start talking again, that’s all I know.
ACTRESS
You think only of yourself, don’t you, Scott? Typical. (She glares at Scott, and then at the
Writer. Her look draws Scott to glare at the writer, too. Unhappy beat.)
WRITER
What?? (Scott and The Actress roll their eyes.) Look,
let’s just step back a bit and see if we can get back into it.
ACTRESS
Fine with me.
Fine with me.
SCOTT
Fine with me.
WRITER
Fine.
SCOTT
Where from, Miss Word Perfect?
WRITER
Vanessa, from where you say, “Yes, yes, because I’ve learned
so much now.”
ACTRESS
That far back?
That far back?
WRITER
That’s where this moment starts, yes…
ACTRESS
All that lame shit again, seriously?
WRITER
Will you please just start there!
ACTRESS
Fine, whatever. (Takes
her time. Then listlessly as “Nessun Dorma” fades in again uncertainly.)Yes,
yes, because I’ve learned so much now, and I know I was wrong, and I should
have stayed with you, always, because there was never a man more perfect for me
than you. Never more perfect in every way, just for me.
SCOTT
You expect me to believe that now? After all that’s
happened?
ACTRESS
You must, you must believe me! It all depends! On it!
WRITER
(Sotto voce) Jesus.
SCOTT
You broke my heart, Vanessa. You broke my heart in a way
that can’t be fixed. And now you say –
ACTRESS
I say I was wrong, I was a fool – and I will mend your
broken heart, David.
SCOTT
She said “David” again.
WRITER
She said “it all depends” again, too.
ACTRESS
That is my line! That is the line you gave me!
That is my line! That is the line you gave me!
WRITER
No, it’s “You must, you must believe me! Everything depends
on it!”
ACTRESS
That’s what I said.
WRITER
(Frustrated) No!
You said “it all depends”! That it totally different from “Everything depends
on it”! “It all depends” means nothing really matters enough to make a choice –
like I ask you out to dinner for Friday night, and you say “it all depends.” Or
I ask you out to dinner and you say “Everything depends on it!” These are
distinctly different thoughts!
ACTRESS
Ok, I transposed a word, I still got the meaning across.
WRITER
(More frustrated.)
No, no ! That’s my POINT! You completely CHANGED the meaning!
ACTRESS
It’s easy to sit there and nitpick.
SCOTT
Do you need me at this point or should I --
WRITER
I’m talking about the meaning of the words! The meaning of
this play!
ACTRESS
The meaning of this play? That’s a good question. I usually think I’ve figured it out by now, but this one’s all over the place, what is the meaning of this play?
The meaning of this play? That’s a good question. I usually think I’ve figured it out by now, but this one’s all over the place, what is the meaning of this play?
WRITER
How do I know what it means until I’ve written it?
(Pause. ACTRESS and SCOTT exhange a
look. Pause. They begin to laugh.)
SCOTT
You can add “pretentious” to “turgid,” Vanessa.
ACTRESS
“I won’t know until I’ve written it”!! Ha!
SCOTT
The great auteur, creator of sacred words!
ACTRESS
He won’t know what it means AFTER he’s written it either!
Ha!
SCOTT
Each word a precious pearl to be worshiped through eternity!
ACTRESS
Throughout which this play goes unproduced! Ha!
WRITER
Sure, it’s easy for you. All your words are a gift to you.
ACTRESS
A gift? Where is the exchange counter? Can I get store
credit?
(More laughter between Scott and the
Actress.)
WRITER
Okay, look – great! This is great. This is really helping!
Thank you, so much.
SCOTT
Come on, come on, you’ve got to see the humor. You’re all
concerned about specific words and you don’t even have the meaning! It’s
hilarious!
(He and the actress have another laugh.)
ACTRESS
“You can add pretentious to turgid, Vanessa.” Oh God, that’s
precious!
WRITER
Fine, fine, fine. You’re telling me I need to go in a whole
new direction here…
SCOTT
He won’t know what it means until he wrote it! (More laughs.)
He won’t know what it means until he wrote it! (More laughs.)
WRITER
(Writing) “Scott exits.”
SCOTT
I need a smoke, give me five here.(Scott exits SR)
WRITER
(As Scott exits) It
is time for something completely different.
ACTRESS
Some completely different version of barfing up your guts
over this girl?
WRITER
No, completely different!
ACTRESS
Basting yourself in self-pity gravy?
WRITER
No!
ACTRESS
Uh huh.
WRITER
A total departure.
ACTRESS
Yeah.
WRITER
A new direction!
ACTRESS
As if.
WRITER
(Writing) “Vanes – The Actre-- (pointedly) the
acting person of non specific gender or age exits.”
ACTRESS
I need five myself. (She
exits SL)
WRITER
Here we go, new direction.
(A
beat. He closes his eyes, thinks, then begins to write.)
SCOTT/HURRICANE
(Entering. Now very
different, in an 1898 style.) My name is Leroy McMinn, but people know me
as Hurricane Bones Jeeves, the world’s boldest man.
ACTRESS
(Entering. Now very
different.) Leroy walked into my life in 1898.
SCOTT/HURRICAN
Never a challenge I didn’t match, never a contest I shrank
from, never a wager too burdensome to accept.
ACTRESS
I was entertaining a friend in the House of Lords in Joplin,
Missouri, and suddenly there he was, and it was like a king had entered the
room.
SCOTT/JEEVES
How did I come to this rapturous stature, you ask? Well,
that’s the tale, now, isn’t it?
ACTRESS
The chatter subsided and all eyes turned his way, and the
gentlemen wore looks of admiration and the ladies wore looks of something else
and I heard them whispering, “It’s Jeeves, by God! It’s Hurricane Bones
Jeeves!”
SCOTT/JEEVES
Some say, as a swaddlin’ child I was stolen away by passing
gypsies and steeped in their dark and strange ways. Some say I was left in the
woods and raised by varmints, and came by my cunning ways from suckling at the
teat of the she-wolf. These stories may not be true.
ACTRESS
As they cleared a path to the bar. I saw as he approached
that he looked into the eyes of everyone he passed and he held their gaze until
they batted their eyes or turned away. Except for me. I never blinked.
SCOTT/JEEVES
For my own part, I have no remembrance of those early days.
In my own true mind I sprang fully formed into this world, a complete and
practical man fully fledged, not unlike the goddess Athena leaping forth from
the dome of great Zeus.
ACTRESS
Do you know that feeling when, so suddenly, someone walks into your life and you know you're life will never be the same again?
Do you know that feeling when, so suddenly, someone walks into your life and you know you're life will never be the same again?
SCOTT/JEEVES
But let us forget the past and live for today. I am a man of
games, you see, a man of opportunity. I am a man who will get on your insides
and know you better than you know yourself, and in the end, I will possess the
contents of your pocketbook and a piece of your soul. It’s as simple as that.
ACTRESS
It was as simple as that. (Beat) But nothing is ever
as simple as it seems, is it?
SCOTT/JEEVES
Perhaps I was born to be a wagering man – but a shaping
experience came in the bustling town of Granby, Missouri when I was but a
mooncalf of a boy, and a fellow by the name of Alexander Vanelli – I will never
forget that name – came upon me adjacent to the local pool hall. “I can fit
eight tomatoes inside my mouth,” he says to me. No introduction - just a simple
declarative statement he made to me. Eight tomatoes? I thought. Can’t be done,
but before I could open my mouth to speak he says “I’ll bet you two bits I can
do it.” Now keep in mind, this was a time when two bits was a fancy piece of
spending money for a boy of my tender years. But seeing the immutable logic of
my reasoning and the shower of riches about to befall me, I hastily agreed to
the proposition. “One condition only,” says he. “I get to pick which tomatoes.”
ACTRESS
He was a tall man but not a truly handsome one. Something a
little off center about his face. But my, oh my, a captivating man.
SCOTT/JEEVES
Ponder a tomato now, and picture it in your hand. Picture
one you just picked from the garden out in the side yard, warm from the sun and
dusty.
ACTRESS
The one eye cold and hard, the other full of fancy. The way his
hat dipped over that full-of-fancy eye.
SCOTT/JEEVES
Slice it up, chop it up, mash it up – it’s got a bit of
heft, it fills your hand no matter.
ACTRESS
He was crisp in every way, from the crease in his trousers
to the closeness of his shave, a meticulous man, from the tips of his shoes to
the tips of his gentle, clever fingers.
SCOTT/JEEVES
Put one, two into your mouth at once? At most, one or two.
Eight tomatoes fit inside one man’s mouth? It is a physical impossibility.
ACTRESS
He was known for his boldness and his fearless wagering and
every man held the desire to challenge him. His losses were large in number but
small in dollars, and the wins were just the opposite.
SCOTT/JEEVES
A few weeks passed and the early summer came on in the
Ozarks, the days growing longer and the nights more intriguing. One day marking
time outside the pool parlor I spied Vanelli a piece down the boulevard and he
sauntered my way looking up into the sky as if expecting pennies to come raining
down any moment.
ACTRESS
Leroy had learned a power over other men, the power of
making them lose their wits – and their dollars – betting again and again on
his outrageous and wondrous claims.
SCOTT/JEEVES
I called out “Here comes the tomato man!” and just as loudly
I proclaimed to my equally misguided fellows of the street, “Here's the man who
says he can fit eight tomatoes inside his mouth!” And they laughed and jeered,
and I went on to say “Are you ready to make good on that wager, sir?”
ACTRESS
And yet with me – and as I later learned, with many other
willing women – he had a power of an entirely different nature.
SCOTT/JEEVES
As he came closer I saw just a smidgen of surety in his
eyes, a discomforting surety, and the smallest glimmer of a smile playing on
his lips. And, as it says in the Bible, I was most suddenly sore afraid.
ACTRESS
When the music would play he would doff his hat and cross
the room, fixing me in his gaze, and never looking left or right he came closer,
and he would extend his hand, and say – I remember that very first time what he
said -
SCOTT/JEEVES
“Eight tomatoes,” he said. From his pockets he filled his
hands and turned them out to me. “Eight tomatoes,” he repeated and displayed
them and into his mouth he began to place them. Each bright green, and about
the size of a marble.
ACTRESS
“I'd like to dance with the prettiest girl in the room,” he
said, flashing that wild and playful right eye and that cool and calculating
left eye. Well, a girl had no choice.
SCOTT/JEEVES
Then like Demosthenes, with all eight inside his maw, he
spoke with remarkable clarity - “I believe you owe me two bits, young fella.”
ACTRESS
He danced like silk sheets, that man, his right hand strong
in the middle of my back. Not like the usual whisky-soaked rough man in the
House of Lords. A gentle command of the dance at every turn. Even a tested
woman was softened in his arms.
SCOTT/JEEVES
I learned a lesson that day.
ACTRESS
When the music and the wine had left me with no resources,
he took me to his room.
SCOTT/JEEVES
I learned a lesson and I saw my future.
ACTRESS
We made love seven times that night. I saw my future. (Beat) Or so I thought.
SCOTT/JEEVES
My lesson that day was in thinking I had taken control, when
in fact, I had given it away.
ACTRESS
I had given away my control.
SCOTT
JEEVES
I had agreed to terms
without understanding those terms.
ACTRESS
I had allowed myself to fall without understanding his
terms.
TOGETHER
I never let that happen again.
(Beat)
ACTRESS
He came around now and then. I never knew when I would see
him again.
SCOTT/JEEVES
My days were spent with cue sticks and playing cards and
little ivory cubes. Daytime was for training my hands and my mind – nighttime
was for reaping the rewards in close rooms filled with false bravado and fear.
ACTRESS
As time passed, other men came into my world. They came and
they went. Some of them I loved, some I did not. And always, I waited for
Leroy.
SCOTT/JEEVES
I learned the myriad ways to mark a deck, to know the value
of every card I dealt, to fill an unfillable straight with a magical fifth ace.
(He winks) A smart man makes his
own luck from time to time.
ACTRESS
He would be away for weeks, months at a time. I would hear
the men talking in the House of Lords, talking of this man they called
Hurricane, or Bones, or Jeeves.
SCOTT/JEEVES
As time passed, I became a master – if I may be so bold, and
I will – a master of what is known as the proposition wager. What I had
learned from Alexander Vanelli on the streets of Granby was that every man
wants to get a little something for nothing.
ACTRESS
Stories of outrageous claims, his monumental wagers – and
his equally monumental winnings. I knew they spoke of Leroy.
I learned to propose outrageously to create the prospect of
easy winnings – to make the mark believe
“There is no way to lose.” And then show him a way to lose.
ACTRESS
Leroy had the power to make you believe.
Leroy had the power to make you believe.
SCOTT/JEEVES
One crisp October day on the streets of Joplin, a group of
sporting men spoke of the shining new Connor Hotel across the street, standing
a full three stories tall. “Tallest building in town now,” they said. “Right up
into the clouds,” they said. “A marvel,” said I. “It's a far piece up to that
roof indeed. Do you think a fella could throw a rock up there?” I asked. The
bait was cast upon the water.
ACTRESS
Time passed, and night after night I longed for him to walk
through the door. Unfulfilled longing. Night after night.
SCOTT/JEEVES
Night,came and with it the conversation on the street was
forgotten in a sea of cheap lager – forgotten by the others, that is, for I
never touched the alcohol – and the topic of the rock and the roof of the
Connor Hotel surfaced once again. I boasted then, as a man would boast if he
had the Dutch courage - that the height of that roof was not so impressive after all, and that I was most
certain I could toss a rock up onto that third floor.
ACTRESS
I was on the third floor of the Connor Hotel one night, late
one night, and saw him down below, on the corner of the street, talking to a
group of drunken men, and then they were reaching into their pockets and I saw
the green of bills displayed, and the nodding of their heads as Leroy talked.
SCOTT/JEEVES
“Can't be done,” they said, “It would take a mighty throw.”
To which I protested “No, that height is easily reached!” I said. “For that matter,
I could toss a PUMPKIN up onto that roof!” “A pumpkin??” they hooted and they
laughed.
ACTRESS
There he was, on the street below me, knowing I was near,
but he never called on me that night.
SCOTT/JEEVES
“I can throw a pumpkin from this spot onto that roof,” I
said, “and I am willing to put my money on it.” This was an irresistible offer
– a can't lose proposition, they thought. (He winks.) Terms were
arranged and I made just one caveat – I would choose the date and time and I
would choose the pumpkin.
ACTRESS
The next night, in the wee hours I saw him again, walking to
the corner with a bucket, looking up past my window. I watched as he took off his coat and limbered up his arm,
like a pitcher preparing to take the mound.
SCOTT/JEEVES
At the time I was known on the ballfields from Fort Smith to
Ponca City. Some said none had more mustard on the ball than I, except for the
great Van Lingle Mungo. Many's the time I had pitched both ends of a
doubleheader on a sunny Saturday – and returned to do the same on Sunday. Apparently my new friends on the street had
never attended any of those games.
ACTRESS
He stood on the corner, peered up into the sky, reached back
and hurled a baseball up toward my window. At first I thought he was trying to
rap on my glass, but it disappeared above. And then another, and another, until
the bucket was empty. That was just the
first of many nights I saw him with his bucket on that corner. Never once did
he come knocking on my door.
SCOTT/JEEVES
Fall turned to winter and winter to spring. From time to
time, I would see my new friends at the pool hall and they would call out “Here
comes the pumpkin throwing man!” and they would laugh. “About ready to
consummate that wager?” they would shout. They laughed and laughed.
ACTRESS
I began to wonder where I had gone wrong with Leroy. I had
never known a man to turn away from me, once he had looked into my eyes.
SCOTT/JEEVES
One late June day I saw them there on the street and I said,
“Well, fellas, I'm regretting having made that wager with you all, but I
suppose, despite my doubts, that I'd best own up and give it a try. Say 3
o'clock tomorrow.” They smiled and laughed knowing they had a sure thing, and I
let them taunt me into doubling that wager, and then doubling it again. What
was I thinking? (He winks)
ACTRESS
What was I thinking letting a man get that far inside me?
SCOTT/JEEVES
A small crowd gathered at the appointed hour. I arrived
promptly at three. My “friends” were all smiles.
ACTRESS
Long hours I sat in front of my mirror, combing out my hair,
thinking about him. All we had together
– the walks in the rain, the quiet nights... (Suddenly this sounds
familiar. She shoots a look at the writer) ...abounding with the questions
in our minds, haunted by what might be and what can’t be.
SCOTT/JEEVES
I hung my hat on the carriage post and said, “Well, boys,
here we are. Does anyone happen to have a pumpkin?” They jeered and snickered
and reminded me that the terms of the wager stated that I would choose the
pumpkin to be thrown.
ACTRESS
(Now just saying words.) Another day. I start my day
like any other. As I brush my hair I think of...(She rolls her eyes, the
character falls away.) the meaninglessness that is this moment, this brush
in my hand, my hand, my hair, my life. (With emphasis, to the writer.) All
meaningless. (Beat. Disdainfully) Are you kidding me??
(The
writer glances at her, waves her off, waves Scott to keep going)
SCOTT/JEEVES
And so, at long last, the moment had arrived. In a clear
voice, strong enough to be heard by all gathered there, I then said –
ACTRESS
(To the writer) You are absolutely freaking
ridiculous.
SCOTT/JEEVES
(Lost now, drops the character) What? That's not -
ACTRESS
(To the writer) You're right back where you started!
You had something going -
SCOTT/JEEVES
Did you get some pages I don't have...?
WRITER
I still HAVE something going, stay on task here!
ACTRESS
You've wandered in a circle and you're right where you
started.
WRITER
I have not, stay out of it.
I have not, stay out of it.
ACTRESS
The next line was going to be “there was never a man more
perfect for me than you” wasn't it?
WRITER
(Scratching
something out and lying.)
No.
ACTRESS
And I thought for a moment you were getting somewhere.
SCOTT/JEEVES
I'm confused. (To the audience) Are you confused?
ACTRESS
You actually had a story going for a change, a story
– not just your relentless broken-hearted “lost the girl” bullshit -
WRITER
That's part of the story!
ACTRESS
It's every story for you!
WRITER
What is a story without love?
What is a story without love?
ACTRESS
There's no love left in you, it's only loss, and sadness,
and feeling sorry for yourself –
WRITER
Easy for you to say, from the other side -
ACTRESS
(Earnestly) Don't you think she feels it, too?
(A
long beat, they exchange a look)
SCOTT/JEEVES
What happened to the guy with the pumpkin?
WRITER
(Ignoring
him)
No, she doesn't feel it the way I do..
ACTRESS
That is so selfish – so YOU! To think your love is greater, more profound -
That is so selfish – so YOU! To think your love is greater, more profound -
WRITER
No one knows how I feel!
ACTRESS
– and you cast yourself as the victim every time, at the
mercy of the heartless woman.
SCOTT/JEEVES
What happened to the guy with the pumpkin??
WRITER
Not now, “Scott”! (To her) Maybe heartless is the
right word.
ACTRESS
(She turns sarcastic, challenging him) So you're
eating your liver over a woman who has no heart? What does that say about you?
WRITER
All right, I know she's not heartless –
ACTRESS
What does it say that you're stuck on this little fling -
What does it say that you're stuck on this little fling -
WRITER
It was not a fling!
ACTRESS
- this flash in the pan thing that meant more to you than it
meant to her.
WRITER
I can't believe that is true!
SCOTT/JEEVES
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GUY WITH THE PUMPKIN!!
WRITER
NOT NOW, SCOTT!
SCOTT/JEEVES
Arrrrrggghhhh! (He stomps off.)
ACTRESS
Think about it – it was nothing but a trifle.
Think about it – it was nothing but a trifle.
WRITER
Stop saying that.
ACTRESS
You screwed her, what – one time?
WRITER
What? No!
What? No!
ACTRESS
Twice then. And here you are pining -
WRITER
Three times, okay? I screwed her three times!
ACTRESS
Whoop-dee-doo!
WRITER
And I didn’t “screw her,” we made love! Okay? And it was three
times!
ACTRESS
Are you sure?
WRITER
Yes three times, a trinity of times!
ACTRESS
Jesus.
WRITER
Yes! The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, it was a
religious experience.
ACTRESS
You are so far gone I can't even hear you.
WRITER
(Intensely) I love her, okay?
(“Nessun
Dorma” begins to play, and swells...)
I love her with all my heart. Am I supposed to pretend
that's not true?
ACTRESS
You wallow in your denial of the reality.
WRITER
The reality is my love!
ACTRESS
It's over!
WRITER
I will always love her!
ACTRESS
She left you for another man!
WRITER
My love burns in my heart!
ACTRESS
She's GONE!!
(The
music stops abruptly. Long beat. Then quietly...)
She's gone, David.
(Beat)
And what's with the opera, why make your life an opera? All
the weeping, the moaning? Why not a pop song? Something cheery!
(Some
cloying teen love pop song plays. She dances to it a bit, quickly loses
interest.)
Well, maybe not that one.
WRITER
It's just – I can't -
I love her.
ACTRESS
Maybe, maybe you do. But you love your misery more.
WRITER
I want to be happy.
ACTRESS
(Pressing him) No, you don't. If you wanted to be
happy you'd accept things the way they are and move on.
WRITER
“Move on.” I hate the way people say that, like you're
browsing for socks.
ACTRESS
Move on means take what you've learned and find someone new.
WRITER
So superficial.
ACTRESS
Take your time with someone new, let love grow.
WRITER
I don't want to play that game, play that falsity again.
“Oh, I could learn to love her, I suppose, over time, if I try.” That's not real
love! Real love is a tidal wave! It overwhelms! I don't want to dip my toe into
love, I want to dive into the deep end!
ACTRESS
You did that, and you nearly drowned. And now you just tread
water.
WRITER
True love wins in the end. I believe that true love
prevails.
ACTRESS
What kind of chick lit are you reading these days? Get real.
WRITER
Love is all that matters!
ACTRESS
All right then (she takes on a cross-examination tone) – love – that's what it's all about?
WRITER
Yes, that's all that matters. Love endures, love cannot be
denied.
ACTRESS
What is love to you anyway? What does it mean?
WRITER
What?
ACTRESS
What is love to you? Define it.
WRITER
Love is – a person you think about the moment before you
fall asleep, and the moment you wake up.
ACTRESS
Okay....
WRITER
Love is caring about someone else more than you care about
yourself.
ACTRESS
Dangerous, but okay, keep going.
WRITER
Love means never having to say -
ACTRESS
Don't even go there.
WRITER
Love is patient, love is kind, love does not envy or boast –
ACTRESS
No plagiarism, please, original thoughts.
WRITER
Love is – I would give up everything I have to be with her!
ACTRESS
Possessions or people? Possessions mean nothing.
WRITER
Everything!
Everything!
ACTRESS
That's unhealthy. Keep trying.
WRITER
Love is – the feeling that you would do anything to make her
happy.
ACTRESS
No one can make another person happy. Try again.
WRITER
Love is – I want her to be happy.
Love is – I want her to be happy.
ACTRESS
Ah hah!
WRITER
Love is the feel of her hand in mine, to see her smile.
ACTRESS
Getting colder.
WRITER
What?
ACTRESS
You approached it, then you veered off.
WRITER
Approached what?
ACTRESS
Something true.
WRITER
What, what did I say?
What, what did I say?
ACTRESS
“I want her to be happy.”
WRITER
Yes?
Yes?
ACTRESS
That was loving. That was about her. And then it was about you again – you want to hold her hand, you want to see her smile.
That was loving. That was about her. And then it was about you again – you want to hold her hand, you want to see her smile.
WRITER
What's wrong with that?
What's wrong with that?
ACTRESS
Nothing wrong with it, but it's not love, it's your need.
Nothing wrong with it, but it's not love, it's your need.
WRITER
But I – I just –
But I – I just –
ACTRESS
Can you love without possessing?
WRITER
What?
What?
ACTRESS
Think of something you love.
Think of something you love.
WRITER
What??
ACTRESS
The category is – famous places. Name one you love.
WRITER
Uh....well...Paris at night.
ACTRESS
Good. Now a painting.
WRITER
Um...Guernica.
ACTRESS
Fine. Music.
WRITER
Puccini.
ACTRESS
Obviously. Now – these things you love – do you possess them?
Obviously. Now – these things you love – do you possess them?
WRITER
No, of course not.
ACTRES
And do you love them any less?
And do you love them any less?
WRITER
No, but it's not the same –
ACTRESS
Why? Why is it not the same? Can you not love a person as you love a Picasso canvas, or “Nessun Dorma”? Unilateral love, fully committed love, without reservation or expectation? A love that gives and has purity, a transcendent love truly from the soul?
Why? Why is it not the same? Can you not love a person as you love a Picasso canvas, or “Nessun Dorma”? Unilateral love, fully committed love, without reservation or expectation? A love that gives and has purity, a transcendent love truly from the soul?
WRITER
But what about (He struggles for the word)– intimacy?
ACTRESS
Sex, you mean. You want to have sex with her.
WRITER
Well, yes!
ACTRESS
Sex is not love. Which has more meaning? Which is more
important?
WRITER
(He
makes a strangled, frustrated sound that says he knows the answer but doesn't
want to say it. )
But I know she would be happier with me!
ACTRESS
You don't know that, you wish for it. Wanting
it to be true doesn't make it true. People make choices. Sometimes you disagree
with those choices. The question is this - can you divide your love from your want
and your need?
(The
writer grasps for words but fails. A beat. She walks to him and strokes his
hair tenderly in silence, then exits. He rises and starts toward her point of exit
as if to follow, then stops, turns back. Gathers himself. A heavy sigh. He
picks up his pencil and prepare to write again.)
SCOTT/JEEVES
(Poking
his head out from the wings. Sheepishly.)
What happened to the guy with the ---
WRITER
Give me a second.
(Scott/Jeeves
withdraws for a moment, then re-enters and resumes the character as before as
the writer begins to write)
SCOTT/JEEVES
And so, at long last, the moment had arrived. In a clear
voice, strong enough to be heard by all gathered there, I then said – “Never
you mind, fellas, I have a pumpkin right here,” and I reached into my pocket
and held it out for all to see – a shining green pumpkin about the size of a
baseball. An hour or so before I had picked it myself and – though I did not
share this with the crowd – had bored a small hole and filled it with just
enough buckshot to make it about the weight of a baseball as well. Those who
had money on the line against me? Well, I watched their faces fall a bit as I
briefly limbered my arm and asked for a tad bit of room, and then I sighted my
target there on the rooftop as I had done many times before, took my windup,
and let 'er fly. The others tracked it in flight and there was a groan as it
cleared the roofline – but my eyes were fixed on a figure there in the window,
a figure I had seen those many nights from the street corner. I knew she had
watched me down below, and I knew she had wondered why I never came to her
door. (Beat) My ears were filled with the bleating of the fleeced.
“You've tricked us!” they said, and such, and as was the case many times
eventually one said he would not pay, then joined by another. “I believe,” I
said, as I pulled back my coat to show the handle of the pistol that settled
many such disagreements, “I have met the terms of the wager, and I'll have my
winnings now. “ Need I say that I collected on on the spot?
My pocket was fat with bills as I watched them wander away.
But my thoughts were there in that window above.
(He drops the braggadocio for
the first time, speaks simply and sincerely.)
I wanted to go to her, every night. I needed to be inside
her soft acceptance, her gentle, silent understanding. It was because of my
want and my need that I walked away.
I walked away. You see, I am a man of games, a man fixed on
winning, and in every exchange, I take more than I give. I knew she loved me –
loved me enough to look past my failings. But I loved her too much to do to her
what I knew I would do to her. So I walked away. I never saw her again. I loved
her chaste and from afar. Many women came and went from my life in the years
that followed, but I ever had only one true love. Each night I thought of her
the moment before sleep, and in the first moment of awakening. My Vanessa. I
wanted her to be happy.
(He and
the writer exchange a look, a nod, a salute, and Scott/Jeeves exits. The writer
watches him go, closes his writing pad, puts his pencil in his pocket, gathers
his things, takes a glance around, and exits.)
END
OF PLAY
