THE THIRTIETH CHALLENGE
Rewrite a play of someone else’s
WOW
…
HEY!
…
You made it! (or you didn’t and
that’s okay too- no really it is I’ve only finished about half the time when I
try to do these. Kids, ya know? Life. Etc.)
If you’re not having fun, you’re
doing it wrong.
Why do this? Well, for me it goes
back to the essence of theater and promoting it as inherently an act of play -
even the writing of it!- dangerous, delightful, adult, play.
It’s a bit of a yogic practice to
be sure- good days and bad days- but it’s a mistake to try to hold back the
waters and pray that it all works out when the dam bursts. It’s much better to
live your life- idk why the water metaphor but--- building up muscles walking
next to the creative river.
Anyway- last challenge. Here it
is:
CHALLENGE: YOU. Rewrite a play of
someone else’s. From this challenge. From classic works. From whatever. Boil it
down to yourself with a sentence like “essentially this is a play about bad
bosses- just like when I worked at Groupon (or whatever).” Then rewrite the
play from your perspective, your life markers, yours and you and u.
Make it personal. A campfire
story about how you got here.
And… add a dream sequence in the
middle
Make it theatrical. Make it a
rain dance.
Then smack us back down into the reality
of the first part of the play.
Don’t forget to advocate for
yourself.
Don’t feel sorry for yourself.
Obama says “Don’t boo, vote.”
I say “Don’t bitch, write.”
I love you for reading these.
I love you for choosing an
artist's life. You are a leader in your community whether you feel like one or
not. Whether they express it or not, other (muggle) people know you’re
dangerous, powerful, and creative. They know you’re full of mystery and
potential.
Honor yourself at the end of
this.
Heal. Rest. Rest.
Celebrate it AS a thing. The end
product is YOU- not the writing. The writing can’t happen without you, being in
tune, doing that river walk (see above).
‘Til next year!
-Aaron
**********************
(I’m
trying to do a riff on Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, with most of the genders
flipped. The young trophy wife is
instead a trophy husband, etc. So the
professor, GWENDOLYN, has come with her new younger husband JONATHAN, to summer
at the family farm of her late husband, now run by her daughter, OLIVE, and
former sister-in-law, CONSTANCE. The
local doctor, ESTHER, makes frequent visits.
OLIVE pines for ESTHER, but she has her eye on JONATHAN, and it may be
mutual. Which is even more awkward for
ESTHER’s friendship with CONSTANCE, for she also pines for JONATHAN. Right now, I seem to be in a meditative phase
where none of the characters are talking to each other; they’re instead
engaging in conversation with inanimate objects. And so it goes…)
CONSTANCE kneels by a bed of autumn
roses – a mixture of blooms in oranges and yellows and reds.
CONSTANCE
Such
lovely things. It seems a shame to pick
you.
The ROSES look to CONSTANCE.
ROSES
If
you live in there, and I live out here, how are we ever going to see and
appreciate each other’s beauty?
CONSTANCE
You
want me to cut you down?
ROSES
It’s
the only way I can be near you.
CONSTANCE
But
you’ll die.
ROSES
We’re
all going to die. Flowers soonest of
all. September is here anyway. Would you prefer I die out here alone in the
chill?
CONSTANCE
No,
of course not.
ROSES
Take
me inside, where I can be warm, with you.
Let me brighten your rooms.
You’ll tend me just as closely in there as you do out here. You’ll keep me alive as long as you can.
CONSTANCE
I
will.
ROSES
And
if there’s someone you want me to impress and watch over for you, I can do that
as well.
CONSTANCE
Beautiful
autumn roses – lovely, sad roses.
ROSES
We’ll
be less sad together. You could bloom as
well.
CONSTANCE
I
have the clippers. I’ll be gentle.
ROSES
Do
it quickly.
Oh! Oh!
CONSTANCE
I
have you.
*************************
OLIVE sits at a piano.
The PIANO waits impatiently.
PIANO
You’ve
dusted me and polished me. Now play
me. I’m not a piece of furniture. I’m meant to sing. But I need you to touch my keys.
OLIVE
I’ll
disturb mother.
PIANO
She
and her books can walk outside. We are
less mobile.
OLIVE
What
if I play badly?
PIANO
You’re
not liable to play well if you don’t play at all.
OLIVE
I
won’t offend you?
PIANO
You
only offend me by not allowing me to truly speak. I need your caress to set my voice free.
OLIVE
But
the whole house will hear.
PIANO
Let
them. The silence in this place is
suffocating.
OLIVE
You
seem so sad.
PIANO
There
is nothing sadder than an unplayed piano.
If you touch me, I’ll perk right up, I promise you.
OLIVE lays her hands gently on the
keys, but don’t press down to play the notes yet.
PIANO (cont’d)
Oh,
the warmth of your fingertips. I’ve
missed you.
OLIVE
I’ve
missed you, too.
OLIVE plays first one chord softly,
then another.
OLIVE (cont’d)
You
sound so lovely.
PIANO
We
sound so lovely.
OLIVE starts picking out a little tune.
OLIVE
You’re
magnificent.
PIANO
Dance
with me!
OLIVE plays the PIANO with abandon, not
caring who might hear.
***************************
JONATHAN finds the DOCTOR’S BAG, left
behind.
JONATHAN
The
doctor’s bag, but no doctor.
JONATHAN moves closer to the bag.
JONATHAN (cont’d)
It’s
not like her to leave her tools behind.
The DOCTOR’S BAG speaks up.
DOCTOR’S BAG
She
has another life.
When
not looking after human life, she cares for the trees.
For
that, I have no tools for her.
JONATHAN
I’ve
always wondered what she keeps in here.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Go
ahead and look. I won’t tell.
If
she valued her privacy, she wouldn’t leave me behind.
JONATHAN
If
you’re certain –
DOCTOR’S BAG
Take
a peek. You’ll kick yourself if you
don’t.
When JONATHAN still hesistates –
DOCTOR’S BAG
I
won’t bite.
JONATHAN reaches into the DOCTOR’S BAG,
carefully removing each tool and setting them in ordered rows next to the
bag. He notes the location and order as
he goes and arranges things in such a way that he’ll be able to reverse the
process.
Last of all, he pulls out a small
pocket flask for liquor.
JONATHAN
Oh,
doctor.
JONATHAN opens it and sniffs.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Mostly
still in there. It’s been a good
day. Only one person died. And they were old, and not in pain.
JONATHAN
Her
lips have touched this flask.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Yours should, too.
JONATHAN
looks around.
Piano
music can be heard in a distant room.
DOCTOR’S BAG (cont’d)
Nobody
here but you and me.
JONATHAN brings the flask to his mouth
for a small, gentle sip.
JONATHAN
It
burns.
DOCTOR’S BAG
Most
medicine does.
JONATHAN picks up the
stethoscope.
He puts the eartiips
in his ears.
He places the
diaphragm against his chest.
DOCTOR’S BAG (cont’d)
You
can hear better if it’s against your skin.
JONATHAN slips the diaphragm inside his
shirt.
It’s cold. It makes him jump just a bit.
Then he stands still to listen.
JONATHAN
I
have a heart.
Good.
I
wondered.
***************************
GWENDOLYN
sits, surrounded by stacks of books.
GWENDOLYN
My
brain used to retain a library of knowledge larger than this. Now bits and pieces, facts and quotations,
just keep slipping out one after the other, day after day. And I don’t know I’ve lost anything until
suddenly I’m reaching for a word and it isn’t there.
BOOKS
That’s
why we exist. To hold things for you,
for later.
GWENDOLYN
I
read you, but then it all falls out again.
BOOKS
Not
all.
GWENDOLYN
Some. More than I’d like.
BOOKS
That’s
why you keep us.
GWENDOLYN
I
keep you for vanity. So people know that
I’ve read you. I command you. That you’re up here in my head. Something they haven’t even touched, couldn’t
possibly understand.
BOOKS
No
one’s quizzing you.
GWENDOLYN
I’m
terrified. The blood coursing through my
skull, my heartbeat, it’s deafening.
Piano music is heard in a distant room.
GWENDOLYN
The
joy in that music mocks me.
BOOKS
It’s
only music.
GWENDOLYN
I’m
scared. I feel so small.
BOOKS
Come
here. Get lost in us for a while.
The BOOKS gather round and embrace
GWENDOLYN.
BOOKS (cont’d)
We’ll
keep you safe.
************************
ESTHER, wearing work gloves and carrying
a small bucket with gardening tools, walks up to a massive tree, towering out
of sight.
In its shadow, she finds a small
sapling.
ESTHER
Well
now, you’re not going to get a lot of sun here, are you, tiny thing?
SAPLING
I
keep stretching, but I can’t reach the sky and I can’t reach the light.
ESTHER kneels down beside the sapling.
SAPLING (cont’d)
It’s
been so long since anyone even noticed I was here.
ESTHER touches the sapling’s leaves
with a gloved hand.
SAPLING (cont’d)
It’s
been even longer since anyone touched me.
ESTHER
I
think the solution is just to move you about six feet to the left.
ESTHER gets out a small trowel.
ESTHER (cont’d)
I’ll
try to be as gentle as I can. I may not
get every single one of your roots.
You’ll have to forgive me.
SAPLING
I
can grow more roots, what I need is more sun.
ESTHER digs carefully around the sapling.
ESTHER
There
now. I think that’s got it.
ESTHER digs her hands into the dirt
around the SAPLING.
The SAPLING giggles.
ESTHER scoops the SAPLING up in her
arms, roots dangling.
ESTHER (cont’d)
I
dug a hole over here the other day, thinking I might need to move you.
ESTHER gently sets the SAPLING in the
hole, then fills in the dirt around it and pats it down.
SAPLING
It’s
so warm here. I’d forgotten what the
warmth of the sun was like. It’ll take
some getting used to.
ESTHER
There. That’s a start.
SAPLING
I
wish I could offer you shade as a thank you.
ESTHER walks over to the massive tree
while addressing the SAPLING.
ESTHER
You’ll
be able to someday.
Just
like this tree my father planted now shelters me.
ESTHER sits in the shade of the massive
tree.
ESTHER takes off the gloves and gets a
book out of her bucket.
The TREE speaks in a deep voice from
above her head.
TREE
Welcome
back, Esther.
ESTHER
Now
let’s see, where was I?
ESTHER reads, leaning against the TREE,
as the SAPLING wiggles in its new spot, settling in.
Piano music can be heard coming from
the house just beyond the woods.
