NWC #17- "Puke
Pinter- anti-theatrical sustains" DUE Nov 18th at 8am
This CHALLENGE is on
Anti-theatrical energy, which I define here as a Fascist act.
http://theatricalaesthete.tumblr.com/post/48063949593/anti-theatrical-action-once-revolutionary-now
Pinter is extremely
anti-theatrical, stringing along dramatic action (not the same as theatrical
action/energy) in a fascistic anti-theatrical environment... until the end,
where he does a negative theatrical act.
Okay! so now you're saying
"what the hell man just give me the challenge!"
*CHALLENGE*- Write an
anti-theatrical play with one negative theatrical action at the end
(unsustainable actions producing a negative response from the audience).
Examples: A mother making
out with her child. A person puking in another's open mouth. A ripping or
tearing of something we have come to regard as precious.
At the start of the play,
feel the audience wishing you'd give them more.
Set them up to care about things, but do nothing with them. Feel the
glee of hating them, hating yourself, and hating your characters.
Hate this play.
Hate it!
And then go for it- make
the worst possible feeling you can in the audience based on the given
circumstances that you've established
Congrats. You're Pinter.
(I honestly don't have the
energy to hate the audience, my characters or the play right now. I'm all hated out. I'm going to keep working on the
monologue...)
MONOLOGUE MADNESS
(DRAFT 1, part 3)
GREG
My
grandparents were an example of the ideal, happy marriage until the day my
grandfather died of a heart attack at 72.
My
grandma outlived him by over thirty years.
Never
met another man.
Never
went looking, as far as I can tell.
She'd
landed one of the good ones. Guess she
figured someone doesn't get that lucky twice.
She
missed him, she dreamed about him. For
years she would get sick right around the anniversary of the day he died.
But
she lived a long and happy life all the same.
Outlived
her brain power by just a couple of years.
Made it to 100 years old, looked around, figured that was enough, and
about a month later, she was gone.
My
dad's 88 years old. Two years ago he had
a stroke. Put him in a nursing
home. He was already experiencing
dementia, some memory loss, confusion.
The stroke just accelerated it.
But
it's a great facility. The staff loves
him, he loves them, he appreciates how lucky he is to get a good level of
care. My stepmom visits with him every
day. She misses him, being in their home
alone without him. Their partnership
continues.
People
find a way to deal with what life gives them.
Other
people have it a lot worse than us.
But
perspective is hard to hang on to sometimes, I guess.
From
a distance, from where I was, outside of it -
You
looked like you had it all.
Husband. House.
Good neighborhood.
Sort
of surprised you never got a dog.
Would
a dog have helped somehow?
The
two of you created elaborate Halloween installations that all the kids marveled
at.
You
were part of a community.
And
you were always doing civil rights work - which I guess can be depressing a lot
of the time, but the victories must be really sweet, when they come.
In
the middle of all that - all those connections - all those things grounding you
here - giving your life scope and meaning - somehow you got untethered from all
of it and you were alone.
And
that was the only solution?
You
were smart, funny, surrounded by love and respect.
If you couldn't find a way
to stay afloat, what chance do the rest of us have?
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