THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
CHALLENGE
Expressionism
Flashbacks
Flashbacks are a
trope of the cinema…and generally bad writing.
Let’s do flashbacks!
What people REALLY
mean is that flashbacks are exposition mistaken for dramatic narrative. No
matter how much emotion you put in them, they are just pushing “pause” on the
main plot and giving context to the thing we’re supposed to care about. The
really annoying thing, is that if you’re already breaking Realism’s convention
of a uniform time and place to teleport somewhere else, why not also break
OTHER established norms and expectations/laws of physics (inherently theatrical)
if it helps to more powerfully and poetically EXPRESS the truth. =
expressionism.
Start with a generic
A/B scene that could really be about anything. I’ll include one below, expound
on it or write your own.
Use flashbacks as a
tool of expressionism to fill in the blanks. Provide context that make the
lines land with brutal specificity.
Start with an image
in each flashback. Don’t worry about staging practicalities right now. Clothing
can come on and off and on in a flash.
Add your own dialogue
in the flashbacks. Or don’t. Don’t tell me what to do. I didn’t.
Play with time (speed
up, slow down, reverse)
Play with scale (put
the audience in-between the lips of a single kiss - or racist epithet)
Make the invisible…
visible. (SHOW us sound- a heart beat- a clock tick- a train passing by)
Stay efficient and
theatrical. Say 1000 words with an image rather than speak 100.
Generic scene:
A: Hi
B: Hey
A: Hay’s for horses
B: What?
A: Sorry
B: That’s what I
thought
A: What? I was being
funny. I’m a funny pony.
B: Is this going how
you wanted it to go?
A: It’s not going
much of anywhere it seems
B: Sorry
A: You’re not though
B: I guess I’m not.
Are you?
A: I’m getting there.
I could get there. You?
B: I’m way past it.
A: Come back.
B: It doesn’t work
like that.
A: We’re just making
it up as we go
B: And that’s the
problem
A: Forget the past.
Live in the moment
B: I’m a planner.
A: Let’s plan on it
then
B: Get your calendar.
And…
A: And?
B: Make the first
entry, horsey.
***********************************
(I’m switching it up
again, grabbing another previous prompt I didn’t do yet instead, this time
reaching back to #9 – Repetition, below)
The Ninth Challenge
Repetition
I’m not a music
expert. Like I know enough to be inspired and feel things a little more than if
I didn’t know those things- so caveat on the below.
Numba nine. Numba
nine. Numba nine. The Beatles had Revolution 9 on The White Album- a sound
collage John Lennon said where he was trying to paint a picture of a revolution
using sound.
The Rolling Stones
would tune their guitars (like a banjo I believe) to have an open “drone
string” that played the same note no matter the chord (G).
Fundamentals: One of the “inherently theatrical”
energies that playwrights don’t usually have the guts to play with is
REPETITION. Repetition is inherently theatrical because of its tyranny. It’s
brutal. It’s dominant and restricting. It affects everything around it and make
us want to break free- to revolt.
When it ends, there
is relief and release. When it varies, we are drawn in.
Repetition is part of trance- part of “rain
dance”- part of transporting oneself from the mundane into another realm, a
better future, the distant past.
Structure: Write a personal monologue- a
biased, dogmatic, angry monologue. Do NOT walk the middle line. Irresponsibly
feed your worst desires to flatten and burn and rip up your opposition. There
is no justice, only victory. Use facts if you like, but lie about them. Don’t
look them up, that’s not what today is about. Use personal testimony if you
like, but exaggerate.
Then- ADD A DRONE CHORUS or tech element
that interrupts and interjects and interludes.
Make it compelling.
Make it a little girl
with a frilly dress holding flowers and asking you if you can play with her.
Make it a violin
Make it the sound of
traffic.
Make sure it makes
EMOTIVE sense in relationship to the other subjects on stage.
Probably you should
write in two columns but do whatchu want
Hasty example:
Today I want to talk
to you about my mother
(strong violin)
She used to play the
violin in public
(strong violin)
Before the accident
with the knife.
(violin trill)
I was just a boy
(strong violin)
and was disobeying
(strong violin)
Like usual
(violin trill)
********************
(This is dumb and petty and kinda stupid, but I'm posting it anyway.)
An
empty theater.
But
all the lights are on.
The
house lights, the work lights, the ghost light, and all the instruments in the
designer’s lighting plot are on, bright.
REUBEN
enters the empty stage, looks out into the empty audience.
A
disembodied VOICE comes over the sound system throughout the theater.
VOICE
15
minutes, please. 15 minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, fifteen!
REUBEN looks around the empty theater.
REUBEN (cont’d)
Yeah,
gotta be a metaphor in here somewhere.
REUBEN speaks to the empty
house.
REUBEN (cont’d)
I’m
not meeting enough gay men in theater.
How is that possible?
I
mean, I know I didn’t get the opera gene and the musical theater gene is barely
present in my DNA.
Another disembodied voice sings out
over the sound system to the accompaniment of a plaintive piano. (Kander & Ebb’s “I Don’t Care Much” from
Cabaret)
SINGING VOICE
I
don’t care much
Go
or stay
I
don’t care very much
Either
way
REUBEN
And
yet, here’s a show tune.
A chunk of the stage lights go out.
REUBEN
And
that can’t be a good sign.
Wasn’t
theater supposed to be our refuge? My
people. The gays. Isn’t theater the escape hatch?
Maybe
not, anymore. The new generations have
so many more options now.
VOICE
14
minutes, please. 14 minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, fourteen!
But
the new generation isn’t an issue. I’m
looking at my generation. I’m not
looking for someone half my age. I have
realistic expectations.
SINGING VOICE
Hearts
grow hard
On
a windy street
Another chunk of the stage lights go
out.
REUBEN
Audience
members, lovers and appreciators of theater, that would be fine. But it’s kind of hard to get enough quality
time to really get to know someone in passing, before or after a show – certainly
not during a performance. Actually being
in theater, collaborating, that seems to be the place to make contact, to
establish a relationship.
VOICE
13
minutes, please. 13 minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, thirteen!
But
there are so many straight people. Not
that I mind straight people. They’re
quite nice. Some of my best friends are
straight people. But they’re hardly
going to take me home when the cast party is over, if you know what I mean.
SINGING VOICE
Lips
grow cold
With
the rent to meet.
Another chunk of the stage lights go
out.
REUBEN
I
don’t think I’m closed off. I try not to
be closed off. But it’s hard to know your
place sometimes. To feel like you
belong.
VOICE
12
minutes, please. 12 minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, twelve!
As
a playwright. Your place as a playwright. To still belong in theater. Because technically they don’t need you. You can’t work with a dead actor or a dead
director, but you can work with a dead playwright. We need to write for theater to happen but we
don’t need to be present or even alive for theater to happen.
SINGING VOICE
So
if you kiss me
If
we touch
Warning’s
fair
I
don’t care
Very
much
Another chunk of the stage lights go
out.
The stage lights are now completely out.
REUBEN
And
some would argue you don’t even need a writer anymore. Actors and directors are doing their own
storytelling. So they need writers less
and less.
VOICE
11
minutes, please. 11 minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, eleven!
They
need someone with story crafting skills, sure, but a finished script is no
longer required in order to get started.
And the artists I admire most, need me the least.
SINGING VOICE
I
don’t care much
Go
or stay
Part of the work lights on stage go
out.
REUBEN
It’s
hard to hang on to your sense of self-esteem, your sense of place, when it
seems they need you less and less. And
the kind of stories I tell, the gay stories, society likes to think they need
those stories less and less. Certainly
people *in* theater are more ready to think all problems have been solved because
*their* problems have been solved.
SINGING VOICE
I
don’t care very much
Either
way
Another part of the work lights on
stage go out.
VOICE
Ten
minutes, please. Ten minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, ten!
I
mean, we’re not dying anymore, not in the numbers we used to. And because of the fights, we’re visible
now. We’re part of the culture. Not just the creators of culture. We’re in it.
We’re characters. We get to sing
and speak. Sometimes we’re even the
leads. So it’s easy to convince yourself
that everything’s fine.
SINGING VOICE
Words
sound false
When
your coat’s too thin
Another part of the work lights on
stage go out.
The work lights on stage are now
completely out.
REUBEN is illuminated only by the
single ghost light on stage, and the ambient light coming to the stage from the
house lights.
VOICE
Nine
minutes, please. Nine minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, nine!
But
I haven’t given up yet. I mean, it seems
more and more like a game of musical chairs where the music keeps playing but
everyone has gone and they’ve taken the chairs with them. And I’m here, standing.
SINGING VOICE
Feet
don’t waltz
When
the roof caves in.
Part of the house lights go out.
REUBEN
Going
online seems like the solution, but it also seems deeply sad. Because I haven’t given up. And it seems like most guys my age gave up a
long time ago. I have realistic
expectations but they’re still expectations.
I don’t think realistic expectations means settling. Right?
I mean, I need to be attracted to the person. I need to want to have sex with them, more
than once, repeatedly. I’m not seeing
that out there on display.
VOICE
Eight
minutes, please. Eight minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, eight!
Guys
my age look a *lot* older. Guys my age
look really run down. Guys my age are
not in shape. And again, I’m not looking
for gym rat/gym bunny shape, just, you know, not a blob. That would be a start. Where are the gay guys in theater?
SINGING VOICE
So
if you kiss me
Another, single, house light goes out.
REUBEN
I
want someone to hang out with and talk with, who also is gonna want to rip my
clothes off at the end of the night, and I want the feeling to be mutual. Again, not looking for someone half my
age. They don’t see me. As an older man, I’m completely sexless to them. Doesn’t even cross their minds. If I’m lucky, they might admire me for my
work. They might love me for my
mind. But as the character once said in
the comedy, Jeffrey: Don’t admire me, fuck me!
SINGING VOICE
If
we touch
Another, single, house light goes out.
VOICE
Seven
minutes, please. Seven minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, seven!
I
know this seems small and petty but I kind of don’t care. I’m lonely.
I’m searching. I haven’t given up
but I need a little hope here. And I guess
I also need a little help. But I don’t
know how to ask or who to ask. And I go
about my business. Hoping someone’ll
notice. But I’m starting to think I need
to be proactive, and yet I haven’t a clue how to start, where to start. Artistically smart. Socially stupid.
SINGING VOICE
Warning’s
fair
Another, single, house light goes out.
The house lights are all out now.
The only illumination for REUBEN now is
the ghost light.
REUBEN
My
lack of quality networking skills seems to be impacting my artistic life and
social life in equal measure. I need to
shake things up but it feels like I’m running out of time, with no plan.
VOICE
Six
minutes, please. Six minutes.
REUBEN
Thank
you, six!
You
know what? No. No thank you, six.
Why
are the lights going out as we get closer to curtain?
Why
is the window closing?
I’m
willing to do the work, I swear. But a target
rich environment would be useful. So
where are all the gay guys in theater?
SINGING VOICE
I
don’t care
Very
much
The ghost light goes out as the last of
the piano accompaniment peters out on the final notes.
REUBEN stands for a moment in the dark.
We can see the red EXIT sign at the
back of the stage
REUBEN walks to the back of the stage
and out the exit, a shaft out outside light dimly illuminating the empty
theater.
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