The Strand Bookstore. A grid of contained chaos, designed for easy navigation and astonishment. Enter and instantly the layout makes sense, that which can be seen projecting that which cannot. From just one viewable sector is created a whole city of book-streets, each walled by climbing buildings of pages, all planned around an unavoidable and supposedly microcosmic display of focused attention, laminated words, and must-see attractions – that invariably turns out to be so much ephemeral light and sound.
Display Table, it reads on the largest sign of them all, a useless sign, really, because who does not know why these books have been gathered there? A paradoxical place if one ever existed, inextricable from its hometown and yet unrepresentative to the last recommendation (that ends, of course, in a single exclamation mark suggestive of profuseness nonetheless). Why are we drawn and repulsed by these places? Understand this trap, understand its capacity for exposure, a single word simultaneously contradictory. Tap fingers on its glossiness in a faintly disdainful manner, laugh enthusiastically, shuffle, or – it doesn’t matter; under a microscope, all natural behaviors become only interchangeable acts.
Aisles. Is it any wonder, then, that we flee to the alleys like Schrödinger’s cats, shaken and fiercely protective of a single letter, I? Like cemeteries but unlike graves, the lonely aisles are populated only with conclusive specters, people who have chosen, arranged, dressed, pared, and only then said, this is what I am, and then given themselves up completely to our purview, heedless of our capacity for distortion. These, after all, are the solitary tyrannies of book-writers and book-readers; a word written according to one understanding, unchangeable, and a word read according to one understanding, unchangeable, the same word meaning to bridge and meaning to divide. Why do we go to the aisles in The Strand? To seek the common understanding, clearly labeled, of ghosts, and therefore to be alone among friends. When someone asks you, “Did you like it?”, you will understand that mingling of communion and possessiveness. Why else do we really say, “Yes, I liked it”, except to keep our feelings to ourselves? Why else do we keep asking, “Yes! Didn’t you like the part where… and the part where… and the part where…”, except to eventually say, “Well, I…”?
Clear plastic passports, however, always beckon people to them. In The Strand they hang from the necks of employees, but they hang, too, like auras around groups of people, intangible but unmistakable, betrayed by a shared look, a simultaneous smile at objects meaningless to others. People alone in the aisles look longingly on, but what they crave is not the immediate companionship; what they crave is the history. The Strand employees must know this. When they laugh at something that happened yesterday, when they remember that time, an impenetrable barrier flows out from them, and the employee pass becomes a passport to lands impassable to foreigners, similar to those that hang around friends, but with one difference – these are graspable items, achievable, attainable. They are not dependent on the blind groping of likes and dislikes that constitute the messy morasses of relationships; they are in’s designed to be in’s.
Black and white photos, adorning the stairways. Are they not the ultimate goal of all relationships? They prove a common history for those within them (Man. How long ago was this?...). They shut out outsiders (Where did you guys take this?...). They permit us our solitude in our individual remembrances of the events they portray (No! It was like this…). They exist between reality and artificiality (Now, act natural…). But most importantly, they project entire pasts and futures. Neither may exist, but where lies the difference between knowledge and existence?
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Play: Leaving
ROBERT and LILY are sitting at a café table. He seems slightly dazed, while her hands are fidgeting with a white and glass-lidded box.
LILY
Please, try to understand what it’s like since I’ve been back… Imagine sitting at a table with your friends and everyone’s talking and you smile but you don’t understand and suddenly it seems as if the air itself is filled with noise, and all you want to do is to stop smiling, and walk away so you can breathe without taking in the noise…
Robert shakes his head, and Lily stops fiddling with the box. She leans forward, her hands helpless.
LILY
And then you made this, and you made dinner, and you tried, you tried so hard, and all I could think about was how lost you were, and all I could feel was… pity…
Robert stares at her like a bewildered child. Lily reaches out to hold his hand, but he jerks away.
LILY
I’m sorry… I look at you and everyone else along this street and all I want is to see the people I knew, but I can’t, I can’t help it. I want to run, I want to go up to people and shake them and ask them why they’ve changed, but I can’t, because they’ll ask questions, and I’ll tell them where I’ve been, and what I’ve been doing, and all those words will only take them even further away… Please, try to understand what I’m saying…
A moment hangs in the air, caught, but suddenly Robert stands and walks away.
LILY
Please, try to understand what it’s like since I’ve been back… Imagine sitting at a table with your friends and everyone’s talking and you smile but you don’t understand and suddenly it seems as if the air itself is filled with noise, and all you want to do is to stop smiling, and walk away so you can breathe without taking in the noise…
Robert shakes his head, and Lily stops fiddling with the box. She leans forward, her hands helpless.
LILY
And then you made this, and you made dinner, and you tried, you tried so hard, and all I could think about was how lost you were, and all I could feel was… pity…
Robert stares at her like a bewildered child. Lily reaches out to hold his hand, but he jerks away.
LILY
I’m sorry… I look at you and everyone else along this street and all I want is to see the people I knew, but I can’t, I can’t help it. I want to run, I want to go up to people and shake them and ask them why they’ve changed, but I can’t, because they’ll ask questions, and I’ll tell them where I’ve been, and what I’ve been doing, and all those words will only take them even further away… Please, try to understand what I’m saying…
A moment hangs in the air, caught, but suddenly Robert stands and walks away.
Screenplay: Disordered
FADE IN:
INT. BATHROOM – NIGHT
The storm of a SHOWER suddenly lessens to a trickle, as a curtain of smoky mist slowly dissipates, revealing the wet face of GRACE GELLAR (30) in front of a cream wall washed in warm orange light. She bows her head as a hand appears, covers her face, and sweeps upwards and across her scalp to brush water from her hair. The hand disappears, and her eyes open. She stares straight for a moment, but a door suddenly SLAMS.
INT. CONFINEMENT ROOM – DAY.
Grace’s face, still staring straight, on a field of fluorescent and sterile white. In
the dark irises of her eyes we can see a small figure, lab-coated in white and carrying a tray. The eyes dart left and right, before focusing on the figure again, who has remained motionless throughout. But now the figure, BILLY MORROW (25), takes a step towards her eyes.
BILLY
Grace?
The eyes close for a moment. When they open, Billy is still in them. He grows more distinct as he moves closer to her. When he is right before her, he kneels and lays the tray down. He reaches out a hand, but Grace flinches and tries to swat his hand away. Billy grabs her arm as she struggles and tries to break away.
BILLY
Grace. Grace! Stop it. Stop that!
Grace gradually stops struggling, and remains motionless, almost catatonic. Billy stares at her for a moment, waiting, before he turns to pull the tray a little closer to them.
GRACE
Billy?
Billy turns back to her, with a look of relief. Grace shakes her head.
GRACE
Billy… Billy Morrow…
Billy takes a container of jello and spoons a small amount. Grace’s face is scrunched up in recollection.
GRACE
William Robert Morrow. Graduated Yale – Yale? Harvard? Yale medical school.
Billy proffers the spoon of jello to Grace invitingly. Grace stares at the spoon. She suddenly looks around again, her head jerking this way and that. Billy tenses.
INT. BATHROOM – NIGHT
The storm of a SHOWER suddenly lessens to a trickle, as a curtain of smoky mist slowly dissipates, revealing the wet face of GRACE GELLAR (30) in front of a cream wall washed in warm orange light. She bows her head as a hand appears, covers her face, and sweeps upwards and across her scalp to brush water from her hair. The hand disappears, and her eyes open. She stares straight for a moment, but a door suddenly SLAMS.
INT. CONFINEMENT ROOM – DAY.
Grace’s face, still staring straight, on a field of fluorescent and sterile white. In
the dark irises of her eyes we can see a small figure, lab-coated in white and carrying a tray. The eyes dart left and right, before focusing on the figure again, who has remained motionless throughout. But now the figure, BILLY MORROW (25), takes a step towards her eyes.
BILLY
Grace?
The eyes close for a moment. When they open, Billy is still in them. He grows more distinct as he moves closer to her. When he is right before her, he kneels and lays the tray down. He reaches out a hand, but Grace flinches and tries to swat his hand away. Billy grabs her arm as she struggles and tries to break away.
BILLY
Grace. Grace! Stop it. Stop that!
Grace gradually stops struggling, and remains motionless, almost catatonic. Billy stares at her for a moment, waiting, before he turns to pull the tray a little closer to them.
GRACE
Billy?
Billy turns back to her, with a look of relief. Grace shakes her head.
GRACE
Billy… Billy Morrow…
Billy takes a container of jello and spoons a small amount. Grace’s face is scrunched up in recollection.
GRACE
William Robert Morrow. Graduated Yale – Yale? Harvard? Yale medical school.
Billy proffers the spoon of jello to Grace invitingly. Grace stares at the spoon. She suddenly looks around again, her head jerking this way and that. Billy tenses.
Play: Distanced
Two roommates, ELIZABETH and NICA, are in their room. Books and files are strewn everywhere. Nica is reading, while Elizabeth is trying to decide where to mount a white and glass-lidded box on her crowded wall.
ELIZABETH
I can’t seem to find a place for this.
Elizabeth sits, the box in hand.
ELIZABETH
(to Nica) You liked her, right? Nicole? I know she was a little… quiet? But she’s not usually like that. (Nica shrugs) I mean, she’s really crazy. When we were in Cherry Hills, she’d flash random guys and dance on tables like she was smashed, only she never was, and she’d remember everything and laugh about it the next day. She was really crazy…
Elizabeth pauses, thinking.
ELIZABETH
Maybe she was just sick… (to Nica) Did she say anything to you? (Nica shakes her head) Right, of course… I did ask her at the train station when she gave this to me, but she said nothing was wrong. Maybe she just doesn’t like the city. I mean, I’m sure there are people who don’t, right? (pauses, nodding) Yeah… (pauses again) I should find some place to put this.
Elizabeth gets up and surveys her wall. She makes space for the box, but when she turns away it falls and the glass lid shatters.
ELIZABETH
I can’t seem to find a place for this.
Elizabeth sits, the box in hand.
ELIZABETH
(to Nica) You liked her, right? Nicole? I know she was a little… quiet? But she’s not usually like that. (Nica shrugs) I mean, she’s really crazy. When we were in Cherry Hills, she’d flash random guys and dance on tables like she was smashed, only she never was, and she’d remember everything and laugh about it the next day. She was really crazy…
Elizabeth pauses, thinking.
ELIZABETH
Maybe she was just sick… (to Nica) Did she say anything to you? (Nica shakes her head) Right, of course… I did ask her at the train station when she gave this to me, but she said nothing was wrong. Maybe she just doesn’t like the city. I mean, I’m sure there are people who don’t, right? (pauses, nodding) Yeah… (pauses again) I should find some place to put this.
Elizabeth gets up and surveys her wall. She makes space for the box, but when she turns away it falls and the glass lid shatters.
Screenplay: Ethan Frome
EXT. FIELD - DAWN
A vast tree strains towards the sky, framed against snow so white and reductive that all sense of depth is lost. Glimmering from everything is a pale and faintly purple light, the light of dawn that passes so easily for dusk.
A MURMUR of wind INTENSIFIES slowly, and the smaller and defenseless twigs of the
tree’s crown begin to shiver.
The twigs vibrate, fighting against the relentless wind, until, finally, a TWIG snaps.
It is borne on the currents of the wind. This solid twig drifts and circles in the air as it falls, tossed and turned like a wisp of fluff by an invisible force.
It finally settles on the ground. Only a moment passes, before it is obliterated by A HEAVY BOOT.
A bulk of clothes shaped like a person stands in the snow, the vast tree a short distance away. Only a sliver of face peeks out from underneath the layers, but it is enough to suggest that this figure is one of freezing femininity. This is MATTIE SILVER (23).
Mattie crosses her gloved hands under her armpits as she trembles her way to the tree, her difficulty against the wind betraying a slip of a woman underneath the bulk.
She reaches the tree, and leans against it for a moment. Then she circles the tree, until it shields her against the bitter wind.
Mattie sits down, letting the vast tree support her back. A twig falls on her head, and then onto her lap. She takes it and throws it away.
Mattie looks around, clearly expecting someone.
EXT. FIELD - DAWN
A man behind a window pane buttons his coat. The window is set in a dark grey wall slowly being sieged by snow.
INT. BEDROOM - DAWN
ETHAN FROME (45), a hale man just past his prime, smooths his coat out against his
body beside the window as he looks out of it. The dirty light streaming through the grimy window illumes him, but the rest of the room, blocked from the light, is shadowy and hazy.
Outside, snow and sky divide the world, but thin wooden fingers poke up from the dividing line.
Ethan leaves the window. Grubby light floods in, revealing part of a cheerless room unsuited to light, and the corner of a bed.
Ethan opens a wardrobe quietly. He takes out another heavy coat with minimal sound, but there are suddenly LOUD BEDSPRING NOISES.
Ethan freezes instantly, but -
ZEENA
Ethan?
Ethan turns around, sheepish and guilty all at the same time.
ETHAN
Sorry.
Not knowing what else to say, Ethan puts on the second coat.
ZEENA FROME (39), dressed in a shapeless nightgown poked out by her gaunt frame, pushes herself up into a sitting position despite PROTESTING BEDSPRING NOISES.
Zeena stares fixedly at Ethan as he dresses. Ethan consciously evades her stare.
Zeena smooths Ethan’s rumpled side of the bed back and forth repeatedly in a grotesque mockery of seduction as she clears her throat.
Ethan looks and instantly looks away, but too late to hide his reaction.
Zeena’s angular hand freezes mid-smooth. Her face paralyzes in a stony expression, but her lips quiver ever so slightly.
Her hand, seemingly disconnected from the rest of her body, gathers up a fistful of bedsheet and twists, even as Ethan smooths out the second coat against his body.
A tense moment passes between husband and wife as Ethan brushes his coat one last time.
Ethan turns towards Zeena, who awkwardly pulls up the fistful of sheet to her chest as if to ward off the cold. She looks away with a clearly hurt expression.
Ethan braces himself, and goes to his wife. Seeing that she will not look at him, he bends over and kisses her head instead.
He turns to go, but Zeena catches his hand. Ethan turns around again. The two of them stare at each other. After an unbearable silence -
ETHAN (CONT'D)
I have to go. The workers -
Zeena’s face freezes. Ethan gently takes her hand from his wrist and touches it to his lips, but as he brings her hand down she reaches with her other hand and caresses his chin.
ZEENA
Stubble. You never shave closely enough.
Zeena lets her hand fall from his face and pulls her other hand from his hold. She sinks back into the bed.
Ethan fingers his chin. He looks at Zeena, who shrugs.
Ethan walks towards the connected bathroom, stops, looks briefly at Zeena, and continues walking.
Zeena watches with petty vindictiveness as Ethan enters the bathroom, turns on the light, and closes the bathroom door.
INT. BATHROOM - DAWN
Ethan tilts his head backwards, jerking it this way and that as he looks at his reflection in the mirror and fingers his chin.
After a while, he suddenly realizes how foolish he looks.
His hand falls slowly, as he tilts his head forwards again.
Ethan looks at himself in the mirror for a long searing moment.
His head falls forwards as his eyes close. An expression of pain and frustration tightens his face as his hands grip the bathroom counter.
BEDSPRING NOISES, MUFFLED.
Ethan looks up instantly. He looks at himself in the mirror one last time, and turns to open the door.
Framed by the doorway, Zeena stands with her arms hanging limply by her side. In one hand she holds an empty cup, and in the other a bottle of pills.
ZEENA
Doctor Hailey gave me these new pills. On account of my health.
She looks directly at him, but Ethan looks away, unable to meet her accusing eyes.
Zeena maintains her defiant gaze for an instant longer, but she too suddenly looks down, and her entire body sags.
After a moment -
ETHAN
I’m sorry, Zee -
ZEENA
Sorry ain’t never any good, Ethan Frome.
Zeena pushes past him into the bathroom. He stands in the threshold of the door, looking at her with a tortured expression as she fills her cup with water.
Without once looking at Ethan, Zeena uncaps the pill bottle, shakes out two pills, puts them on her tongue, swigs a mouthful of water, and throws back her head to swallow the pills.
Zeena caps the pill bottle.
She looks in the mirror for a moment, and then turns to look at Ethan.
Then, abruptly, she sweeps past him out of the bathroom, leaving the bedroom. As she leaves -
ZEENA (CONT'D)
You ain’t leaving without breakfast.
An obstinate expression sets in Ethan’s face. He braces his shoulders as if preparing for battle and goes after Zeena.
A vast tree strains towards the sky, framed against snow so white and reductive that all sense of depth is lost. Glimmering from everything is a pale and faintly purple light, the light of dawn that passes so easily for dusk.
A MURMUR of wind INTENSIFIES slowly, and the smaller and defenseless twigs of the
tree’s crown begin to shiver.
The twigs vibrate, fighting against the relentless wind, until, finally, a TWIG snaps.
It is borne on the currents of the wind. This solid twig drifts and circles in the air as it falls, tossed and turned like a wisp of fluff by an invisible force.
It finally settles on the ground. Only a moment passes, before it is obliterated by A HEAVY BOOT.
A bulk of clothes shaped like a person stands in the snow, the vast tree a short distance away. Only a sliver of face peeks out from underneath the layers, but it is enough to suggest that this figure is one of freezing femininity. This is MATTIE SILVER (23).
Mattie crosses her gloved hands under her armpits as she trembles her way to the tree, her difficulty against the wind betraying a slip of a woman underneath the bulk.
She reaches the tree, and leans against it for a moment. Then she circles the tree, until it shields her against the bitter wind.
Mattie sits down, letting the vast tree support her back. A twig falls on her head, and then onto her lap. She takes it and throws it away.
Mattie looks around, clearly expecting someone.
EXT. FIELD - DAWN
A man behind a window pane buttons his coat. The window is set in a dark grey wall slowly being sieged by snow.
INT. BEDROOM - DAWN
ETHAN FROME (45), a hale man just past his prime, smooths his coat out against his
body beside the window as he looks out of it. The dirty light streaming through the grimy window illumes him, but the rest of the room, blocked from the light, is shadowy and hazy.
Outside, snow and sky divide the world, but thin wooden fingers poke up from the dividing line.
Ethan leaves the window. Grubby light floods in, revealing part of a cheerless room unsuited to light, and the corner of a bed.
Ethan opens a wardrobe quietly. He takes out another heavy coat with minimal sound, but there are suddenly LOUD BEDSPRING NOISES.
Ethan freezes instantly, but -
ZEENA
Ethan?
Ethan turns around, sheepish and guilty all at the same time.
ETHAN
Sorry.
Not knowing what else to say, Ethan puts on the second coat.
ZEENA FROME (39), dressed in a shapeless nightgown poked out by her gaunt frame, pushes herself up into a sitting position despite PROTESTING BEDSPRING NOISES.
Zeena stares fixedly at Ethan as he dresses. Ethan consciously evades her stare.
Zeena smooths Ethan’s rumpled side of the bed back and forth repeatedly in a grotesque mockery of seduction as she clears her throat.
Ethan looks and instantly looks away, but too late to hide his reaction.
Zeena’s angular hand freezes mid-smooth. Her face paralyzes in a stony expression, but her lips quiver ever so slightly.
Her hand, seemingly disconnected from the rest of her body, gathers up a fistful of bedsheet and twists, even as Ethan smooths out the second coat against his body.
A tense moment passes between husband and wife as Ethan brushes his coat one last time.
Ethan turns towards Zeena, who awkwardly pulls up the fistful of sheet to her chest as if to ward off the cold. She looks away with a clearly hurt expression.
Ethan braces himself, and goes to his wife. Seeing that she will not look at him, he bends over and kisses her head instead.
He turns to go, but Zeena catches his hand. Ethan turns around again. The two of them stare at each other. After an unbearable silence -
ETHAN (CONT'D)
I have to go. The workers -
Zeena’s face freezes. Ethan gently takes her hand from his wrist and touches it to his lips, but as he brings her hand down she reaches with her other hand and caresses his chin.
ZEENA
Stubble. You never shave closely enough.
Zeena lets her hand fall from his face and pulls her other hand from his hold. She sinks back into the bed.
Ethan fingers his chin. He looks at Zeena, who shrugs.
Ethan walks towards the connected bathroom, stops, looks briefly at Zeena, and continues walking.
Zeena watches with petty vindictiveness as Ethan enters the bathroom, turns on the light, and closes the bathroom door.
INT. BATHROOM - DAWN
Ethan tilts his head backwards, jerking it this way and that as he looks at his reflection in the mirror and fingers his chin.
After a while, he suddenly realizes how foolish he looks.
His hand falls slowly, as he tilts his head forwards again.
Ethan looks at himself in the mirror for a long searing moment.
His head falls forwards as his eyes close. An expression of pain and frustration tightens his face as his hands grip the bathroom counter.
BEDSPRING NOISES, MUFFLED.
Ethan looks up instantly. He looks at himself in the mirror one last time, and turns to open the door.
Framed by the doorway, Zeena stands with her arms hanging limply by her side. In one hand she holds an empty cup, and in the other a bottle of pills.
ZEENA
Doctor Hailey gave me these new pills. On account of my health.
She looks directly at him, but Ethan looks away, unable to meet her accusing eyes.
Zeena maintains her defiant gaze for an instant longer, but she too suddenly looks down, and her entire body sags.
After a moment -
ETHAN
I’m sorry, Zee -
ZEENA
Sorry ain’t never any good, Ethan Frome.
Zeena pushes past him into the bathroom. He stands in the threshold of the door, looking at her with a tortured expression as she fills her cup with water.
Without once looking at Ethan, Zeena uncaps the pill bottle, shakes out two pills, puts them on her tongue, swigs a mouthful of water, and throws back her head to swallow the pills.
Zeena caps the pill bottle.
She looks in the mirror for a moment, and then turns to look at Ethan.
Then, abruptly, she sweeps past him out of the bathroom, leaving the bedroom. As she leaves -
ZEENA (CONT'D)
You ain’t leaving without breakfast.
An obstinate expression sets in Ethan’s face. He braces his shoulders as if preparing for battle and goes after Zeena.
Screenplay: Family
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
JENNY (45) and RICHARD (49) FENG are sitting at the dining table with their three children, YEN (24), ZACK (21), and JADE (20).
Each member of the family eats in silence, and for a moment only the CLACK OF CHOPSTICKS can be heard as each person, with the exception of Richard, picks cautiously at the slew of shared dishes on the table.
Richard, on the other hand, is attacking the food with gusto and pride.
Yen, Zack, and Jade share sidelong glances as they negotiate the dishes, each one a ‘healthy’ twist on a traditional recipe, such as eggs scrambled with boiled tomatoes.
Jenny valiantly plows on in a show of support.
Richard plucks a piece of boiled chicken deftly with his chopsticks, and puts it on Jade’s bowl of rice. Jade smiles at Richard, and immediately takes a piece too, putting it in Zack’s bowl.
ZACK
Thanks.
RICHARD
(to Jade)
Eat more. So thin how to become Miss World?
JADE
(playfully)
Who says I want to be Miss World?
ZACK
Yeah. It’ll all be over when she gets to the question and answer section anyway.
JADE
You shut up.
(to Richard)
I’m not going to be any Miss World.
RICHARD
If you don’t want to be Miss World what do you want to be?
JADE
Don’t know.
JENNY
She doesn’t want to be anything. All she wants is to laze around at home and watch T.V.
YEN
She wants to be an air stewardess.
Richard frowns at Jade.
RICHARD
Air stewardess?
ZACK
Don’t you have to be, like, of a certain height to become an air stewardess?
JADE
Ay, I got onto the cover of Cleo, okay? If they think I’m tall enough to be a model I don’t see why I’m not tall enough to serve drinks and fluff pillows on a plane.
RICHARD
Air stewardesses don’t earn a lot of money.
JADE
I’m not going to be an air stewardess forever. Just a few years.
RICHARD
What about university? You’re not going to university?
YEN
I think the university will still be there in a few years, Pa.
RICHARD
I’ll ask you what you think when you start paying for her education.
(to Jade)
Why don’t you go to a university here first? Look at your brothers. They’ll -
JADE
Have plenty of options when they get their degrees -
RICHARD
You can try flying afterwards if you like. Didn’t NUS already send you their brochure?
Jenny tries to put a piece of vegetable in Zack’s bowl, but he shakes his head.
JADE
Okay, but if I go to uni first can I stay in a hostel?
Zack smirks into his bowl as Jade kicks him under the table.
RICHARD
We’ll talk about that when you get into NUS.
JADE
Yeah, where have I heard that before.
Zack pushes his chair back with a SCRAPING SOUND and leaves the table with his bowl and utensils, going to the sink. He washes his bowl and utensils, and various cooking ware already in the sink.
JENNY
(to Zack)
Do you want some soup? Your father spent four hours boiling it.
ZACK
Save some for me. I’ll drink it later.
RICHARD
That means you can throw it away.
JENNY
Are you going out?
ZACK
Yeah. I’m going over to Janus’ place. I might be staying over.
RICHARD
Isn’t he the one in Beijing now?
ZACK
No, that’s Calvin. Janus is the one still doing National Service.
RICHARD
Is he the one that you stay over at every weekend?
JENNY
(quickly)
What time are you coming back tomorrow?
ZACK
I’ll be back for breakfast. I’ll buy some soya bean milk too.
JADE
I’m going out later too.
RICHARD
(to Yen)
Where are you going?
YEN
I’m not going anywhere. I think.
JENNY
(to Jade)
Where are you going?
JADE
Out.
RICHARD
Don’t talk to your mother like that.
JADE
What?
JENNY
Where are you going out to?
JADE
Don’t know. Haven’t decided yet.
RICHARD
What’s wrong with staying at home?
JADE
(gesturing to Zack with her chopsticks)
Why aren’t you asking him that?
JENNY
Because he doesn’t come home at 4 a.m. in the morning.
JADE
Yeah. He doesn’t come home at all. Why can’t I stay over at my friend’s place?
RICHARD
Because you’re a girl.
JADE
Pa, I love you, but sometimes you’re full of shit.
Jade pushes her chair out with a SCRAPING SOUND.
RICHARD
Sit down and finish your food.
Jade remains standing, and shovels the rice in her bowl into her mouth quickly. She shows the empty bowl to Richard, goes to the sink, and dumps her bowl and utensils in it for Zack to clean. As she walks by the table on her way to her room -
JENNY
And don’t think I don’t know you’re still smoking.
Jade exits the kitchen.
JENNY (CONT'D)
(to Richard)
I’m telling you, your daughter -
YEN
Ma, don’t.
Zack finishes, and wipes his hands on his shorts. He walks by the table on the way to his room, and exits the kitchen.
An awkward moment passes as Yen, Jenny, and Richard eat quietly, Richard now attacking the food with not so much gusto as with anger.
JENNY
(to Yen)
How’s work at the office?
YEN
It’s okay.
(a brief pause)
It’s tiring, actually.
Zack pokes his head into the kitchen.
ZACK
I’m going now. Bye, Ma. Bye, Pa.
JENNY
Bye-bye.
Jenny gives Richard a look. Richard remains silent. Zack waits an instant more, and then leaves.
A few moments pass, and then a door in the distance OPENS AND CLOSES.
A few moments later, A TELEVISION SHOW BLARES.
RICHARD
(bellowing)
TURN THAT THING DOWN. ARE YOU DEAF?
The BLARE quietens, but still remains CLEARLY AUDIBLE.
Yen goes to the rice cooker and scoops out another bowl of rice.
YEN
By the way, I have to go to work early tomorrow. And they also want me to work late for the next couple of weeks.
RICHARD
They’re not paying you enough, if you ask me. Always asking this and that.
YEN
Yeah.
Yen comes back to the table and sits down, picking at the dishes with something approximating enthusiasm.
YEN (CONT'D)
It’s especially bad now, because they like to test the scholars during our last attachment before they decide where to post us permanently after we get back.
RICHARD
You better make sure you don’t screw up then.
JENNY
And make sure you get first class honors. I’ll buy some birds nest for you to take back to America. Drink before your exams; it’s very good for your brain.
YEN
Yeah.
Yen takes a piece of meat and puts it in Richard’s bowl.
YEN (CONT'D)
So I was thinking... maybe for the next couple of weeks I can just stay with a friend who lives near SPH.
Jenny and Richard stop eating.
YEN (CONT'D)
It’s just for the next few weeks. It makes no sense for me to leave from here so early and come back so late - I’ll be tired out during work.
RICHARD
What do you think this house is? A hotel?
YEN
That’s not at all what I meant.
JENNY
Yen...
RICHARD
You’re only back for ten weeks and you can’t even spend ten lousy weeks with your family?
YEN
I just think -
RICHARD
We’re not discussing this anymore. You’re not “staying over at a friend’s place”. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to your mother.
Yen looks to Jenny.
JENNY
Yen, please. Is it the room? I know it’s bad that you have to share a room with Zack, but I can get you a better mattress and -
RICHARD
Stop it.
YEN
Okay. Forget it. Forget that I said anything. I’ll stay here until I fly back to Columbia.
Yen picks more food from the dishes and eats quietly. Jenny places a placating hand on Richard’s arm as the latter stares at Yen resentfully, Yen pretending not to see.
Richard tries to continue eating, but he can’t. He puts his bowl and chopsticks down with almost scary control, as though he is on the verge of snapping.
RICHARD
I don’t -
YEN
It’s okay. Let’s not talk about it anymore.
Yen pushes his chair back with a SCRAPE, goes to the rubbish bin, and empties his bowl. He dumps his bowl and utensils into the sink.
Yen goes back to the table, and pushes in his own chair, as well as Zack’s and Jade’s. He leaves the kitchen.
JENNY
It’s not -
Richard shakes his head. He remains in his chair for a moment, and then he gets up, and takes one of the dishes. He goes to the rubbish bin, wipes all of the food into the bin, and puts the plate into the sink.
He disposes of every single dish in the same way. When the last dish is emptied, Richard remains standing at the bin with the last empty plate, his back to Jenny.
Jenny gets up and goes to the sink. She takes a dish rag from the sink and returns to the table, wiping it down. Then she replaces the rag, and goes to the Richard. She hugs him from behind, as he wraps his hands around her encircling arms.
JENNY (45) and RICHARD (49) FENG are sitting at the dining table with their three children, YEN (24), ZACK (21), and JADE (20).
Each member of the family eats in silence, and for a moment only the CLACK OF CHOPSTICKS can be heard as each person, with the exception of Richard, picks cautiously at the slew of shared dishes on the table.
Richard, on the other hand, is attacking the food with gusto and pride.
Yen, Zack, and Jade share sidelong glances as they negotiate the dishes, each one a ‘healthy’ twist on a traditional recipe, such as eggs scrambled with boiled tomatoes.
Jenny valiantly plows on in a show of support.
Richard plucks a piece of boiled chicken deftly with his chopsticks, and puts it on Jade’s bowl of rice. Jade smiles at Richard, and immediately takes a piece too, putting it in Zack’s bowl.
ZACK
Thanks.
RICHARD
(to Jade)
Eat more. So thin how to become Miss World?
JADE
(playfully)
Who says I want to be Miss World?
ZACK
Yeah. It’ll all be over when she gets to the question and answer section anyway.
JADE
You shut up.
(to Richard)
I’m not going to be any Miss World.
RICHARD
If you don’t want to be Miss World what do you want to be?
JADE
Don’t know.
JENNY
She doesn’t want to be anything. All she wants is to laze around at home and watch T.V.
YEN
She wants to be an air stewardess.
Richard frowns at Jade.
RICHARD
Air stewardess?
ZACK
Don’t you have to be, like, of a certain height to become an air stewardess?
JADE
Ay, I got onto the cover of Cleo, okay? If they think I’m tall enough to be a model I don’t see why I’m not tall enough to serve drinks and fluff pillows on a plane.
RICHARD
Air stewardesses don’t earn a lot of money.
JADE
I’m not going to be an air stewardess forever. Just a few years.
RICHARD
What about university? You’re not going to university?
YEN
I think the university will still be there in a few years, Pa.
RICHARD
I’ll ask you what you think when you start paying for her education.
(to Jade)
Why don’t you go to a university here first? Look at your brothers. They’ll -
JADE
Have plenty of options when they get their degrees -
RICHARD
You can try flying afterwards if you like. Didn’t NUS already send you their brochure?
Jenny tries to put a piece of vegetable in Zack’s bowl, but he shakes his head.
JADE
Okay, but if I go to uni first can I stay in a hostel?
Zack smirks into his bowl as Jade kicks him under the table.
RICHARD
We’ll talk about that when you get into NUS.
JADE
Yeah, where have I heard that before.
Zack pushes his chair back with a SCRAPING SOUND and leaves the table with his bowl and utensils, going to the sink. He washes his bowl and utensils, and various cooking ware already in the sink.
JENNY
(to Zack)
Do you want some soup? Your father spent four hours boiling it.
ZACK
Save some for me. I’ll drink it later.
RICHARD
That means you can throw it away.
JENNY
Are you going out?
ZACK
Yeah. I’m going over to Janus’ place. I might be staying over.
RICHARD
Isn’t he the one in Beijing now?
ZACK
No, that’s Calvin. Janus is the one still doing National Service.
RICHARD
Is he the one that you stay over at every weekend?
JENNY
(quickly)
What time are you coming back tomorrow?
ZACK
I’ll be back for breakfast. I’ll buy some soya bean milk too.
JADE
I’m going out later too.
RICHARD
(to Yen)
Where are you going?
YEN
I’m not going anywhere. I think.
JENNY
(to Jade)
Where are you going?
JADE
Out.
RICHARD
Don’t talk to your mother like that.
JADE
What?
JENNY
Where are you going out to?
JADE
Don’t know. Haven’t decided yet.
RICHARD
What’s wrong with staying at home?
JADE
(gesturing to Zack with her chopsticks)
Why aren’t you asking him that?
JENNY
Because he doesn’t come home at 4 a.m. in the morning.
JADE
Yeah. He doesn’t come home at all. Why can’t I stay over at my friend’s place?
RICHARD
Because you’re a girl.
JADE
Pa, I love you, but sometimes you’re full of shit.
Jade pushes her chair out with a SCRAPING SOUND.
RICHARD
Sit down and finish your food.
Jade remains standing, and shovels the rice in her bowl into her mouth quickly. She shows the empty bowl to Richard, goes to the sink, and dumps her bowl and utensils in it for Zack to clean. As she walks by the table on her way to her room -
JENNY
And don’t think I don’t know you’re still smoking.
Jade exits the kitchen.
JENNY (CONT'D)
(to Richard)
I’m telling you, your daughter -
YEN
Ma, don’t.
Zack finishes, and wipes his hands on his shorts. He walks by the table on the way to his room, and exits the kitchen.
An awkward moment passes as Yen, Jenny, and Richard eat quietly, Richard now attacking the food with not so much gusto as with anger.
JENNY
(to Yen)
How’s work at the office?
YEN
It’s okay.
(a brief pause)
It’s tiring, actually.
Zack pokes his head into the kitchen.
ZACK
I’m going now. Bye, Ma. Bye, Pa.
JENNY
Bye-bye.
Jenny gives Richard a look. Richard remains silent. Zack waits an instant more, and then leaves.
A few moments pass, and then a door in the distance OPENS AND CLOSES.
A few moments later, A TELEVISION SHOW BLARES.
RICHARD
(bellowing)
TURN THAT THING DOWN. ARE YOU DEAF?
The BLARE quietens, but still remains CLEARLY AUDIBLE.
Yen goes to the rice cooker and scoops out another bowl of rice.
YEN
By the way, I have to go to work early tomorrow. And they also want me to work late for the next couple of weeks.
RICHARD
They’re not paying you enough, if you ask me. Always asking this and that.
YEN
Yeah.
Yen comes back to the table and sits down, picking at the dishes with something approximating enthusiasm.
YEN (CONT'D)
It’s especially bad now, because they like to test the scholars during our last attachment before they decide where to post us permanently after we get back.
RICHARD
You better make sure you don’t screw up then.
JENNY
And make sure you get first class honors. I’ll buy some birds nest for you to take back to America. Drink before your exams; it’s very good for your brain.
YEN
Yeah.
Yen takes a piece of meat and puts it in Richard’s bowl.
YEN (CONT'D)
So I was thinking... maybe for the next couple of weeks I can just stay with a friend who lives near SPH.
Jenny and Richard stop eating.
YEN (CONT'D)
It’s just for the next few weeks. It makes no sense for me to leave from here so early and come back so late - I’ll be tired out during work.
RICHARD
What do you think this house is? A hotel?
YEN
That’s not at all what I meant.
JENNY
Yen...
RICHARD
You’re only back for ten weeks and you can’t even spend ten lousy weeks with your family?
YEN
I just think -
RICHARD
We’re not discussing this anymore. You’re not “staying over at a friend’s place”. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to your mother.
Yen looks to Jenny.
JENNY
Yen, please. Is it the room? I know it’s bad that you have to share a room with Zack, but I can get you a better mattress and -
RICHARD
Stop it.
YEN
Okay. Forget it. Forget that I said anything. I’ll stay here until I fly back to Columbia.
Yen picks more food from the dishes and eats quietly. Jenny places a placating hand on Richard’s arm as the latter stares at Yen resentfully, Yen pretending not to see.
Richard tries to continue eating, but he can’t. He puts his bowl and chopsticks down with almost scary control, as though he is on the verge of snapping.
RICHARD
I don’t -
YEN
It’s okay. Let’s not talk about it anymore.
Yen pushes his chair back with a SCRAPE, goes to the rubbish bin, and empties his bowl. He dumps his bowl and utensils into the sink.
Yen goes back to the table, and pushes in his own chair, as well as Zack’s and Jade’s. He leaves the kitchen.
JENNY
It’s not -
Richard shakes his head. He remains in his chair for a moment, and then he gets up, and takes one of the dishes. He goes to the rubbish bin, wipes all of the food into the bin, and puts the plate into the sink.
He disposes of every single dish in the same way. When the last dish is emptied, Richard remains standing at the bin with the last empty plate, his back to Jenny.
Jenny gets up and goes to the sink. She takes a dish rag from the sink and returns to the table, wiping it down. Then she replaces the rag, and goes to the Richard. She hugs him from behind, as he wraps his hands around her encircling arms.
Play: A Common Language
ELIZABETH is packing her suitcase, her back to EDDIE as he watches her.
EDDIE
You’re really leaving.
ELIZABETH
Yeah.
EDDIE
So. This is it.
ELIZABETH
Yeah.
EDDIE
You’re just going to walk out the door with your suitcase –
ELIZABETH
(frustrated) Yes!
Elizabeth turns to look at Eddie.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
Yes, I’m just gonna walk out the door with my suitcase. What else did you think was going to happen?
A pause.
EDDIE
Fine. Go.
ELIZABETH
Don’t make this my fault.
EDDIE
Are you saying that it’s mine?
ELIZABETH
You told the whole of Manhattan that I was screwing the milkman!
EDDIE
You were!
ELIZABETH
(stares) Okay, you know what, forget it. Whatever. I’m not doing this.
Elizabeth turns back to her suitcase.
EDDIE
In case you’ve forgotten, you were sleeping with the milkman. I caught you.
Elizabeth turns back to him.
ELIZABETH
So that makes it okay for you to broadcast it over the radio? (shaking her head) You know what? Fuck you, Eddie. You’ve been standing there watching me pack for ten fucking minutes and I haven’t heard you say a single fucking sorry. You’re a piece of work.
EDDIE
What do you want from me? Sorry? Why should I apologize? Did you apologize when I walked in on you… servicing the milkman? Even if I was wrong in telling everyone, I was telling the truth.
ELIZABETH
What are you, five? There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. When I ask you whether my ass looks big in that stupid dress you bought for me, did you say yes? When Robbie asks you ‘How’s it going’ at five a.m. in the morning, do you say ‘fuck you’? No. You said my ass looked great, and you tell Robbie that ‘it’s going fine’. You don’t have a problem lying to me, and you don’t have a problem lying to Robbie, but five million anonymous Manhattanites and you suddenly have to tell the truth? Gimme a break.
EDDIE
Five million Manhattanites didn’t cheat on me. You did.
ELIZABETH
Oh, so it’s not about “the truth” then. It was just about getting revenge. Just so we’re clear.
Eddie is silent. Elizabeth turns back to packing her suitcase.
EDDIE
All right! I’m sorry. Is that what you want? I’m sorry.
Elizabeth pauses.
ELIZABETH
It’s – It’s too late.
EDDIE
You’re not serious. What else do you want from me? I’ve already said that I’m sorry. And let’s not forget that I’m not the only one here who’s made a mistake. I still haven’t heard you apologize for –
ELIZABETH
Fucking the milkman. Yes. I remember. (pause) I’m sorry.
EDDIE
All – all right.
Elizabeth continues packing.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
What are you doing?
ELIZABETH
What does it look like?
EDDIE
Why are you doing this?
ELIZABETH
I told you. It’s too late.
EDDIE
What does that even mean? Why – Stop it. Just – Just – stop!
Eddie pulls Elizabeth away from the suitcase.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
What do you want me to do? Do you want me to make a public apology? Say I was just kidding? What do you want me to do?
ELIZABETH
Nothing. This just isn’t working. It hasn’t been working. I want out.
EDDIE
You want out. You. Want. Out. What the fuck gives you the right to say that? You can’t just want out. What about me? What about what I want?
ELIZABETH
What do you want?
EDDIE
What’s that supposed to mean?
ELIZABETH
– Nothing.
EDDIE
No. You can’t ask a question like that and then say “nothing”. What, Liz? What did you mean by that?
ELIZABETH
I meant, what do you want? You go to work way earlier than you need to, you don’t come back until late at night –
EDDIE
I’m a hard worker –
ELIZABETH
Okay. If you say so.
Elizabeth goes back to packing. A pause.
EDDIE
I’m not having an affair.
ELIZABETH
God, Eddie! What the fuck is the matter with you? Why do all men think that they’re only cheating if they fuck someone else?
Elizabeth pauses.
EDDIE
I don’t understand.
Elizabeth turns to Eddie.
ELIZABETH
I can’t do this anymore. I barely see you as it is, and when you come back all you do is sit in the kitchen and work on your stupid little phrases –
EDDIE
I’m in radio, Lizzy. Those words are all that I’ve got –
ELIZABETH
Yeah. You work and work to get the words right for your show, but you can’t even spare one for me.
EDDIE
That’s not true.
ELIZABETH
Yeah? “What are you doing?” “Just some work.” “Do you want to go and get something to eat?” “Yeah, sure.” Those aren’t words, Eddie. They’re excuses not to talk.
Eddie is silent.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
Okay then.
Elizabeth turns and shuts the suitcase. She pulls the suitcase onto the ground.
ELIZABETH
See you around.
Elizabeth turns to go.
EDDIE
I’m in radio, Lizzy.
Elizabeth starts to go.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
Wait – wait.
Elizabeth turns to him.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
I’m in radio. I go to work every day, and I sit at a desk, and I read words from pieces of paper. Sometimes those words are mine, sometimes they’re shills from the higher-ups at the station, but it’s not me. The person you hear on the radio talking about how great Mariah Carey’s comeback album is? That’s not me. The guy who just loves that we’re going to get two to four inches of snow this winter? That’s not me either. Don’t you understand? When I go to work, I have to watch what I say, I have to pick and choose every single word I use and make sure that it’s okay for the public ear. Do you know what that does to a person after ten years?
ELIZABETH
Huh.
EDDIE
You think I don’t love you? I do. But it’s not – just – love. Sometimes it’s mixed with hate. Sometimes there’s frustration or annoyance. Sometimes I love you because you get on my nerves. It’s not – it’s not easy. And I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to tell you that I love you, because you might think you know what I mean, when it’s not what I mean at all, and then you’ll get angry at me because you think I was just lying to you. So I don’t say anything. But I do love you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.
Silence.
ELIZABETH
Why didn’t you tell me this before?
EDDIE
Why didn’t you tell me what you were feeling before?
ELIZABETH
I – I don’t know. I thought. (pause) What if it’s not enough?
EDDIE
What if what’s not enough?
ELIZABETH
This. All of this love is great and all, but what if it’s not enough? What happens after this?
EDDIE
I don’t know.
ELIZABETH
Sometimes I thought about telling you, but then I always thought, what happens next? Yes, you love me, and yes, I – well, I like you, but then what? What if we have nothing to say after that? We’re too old to sit around all night just telling each other how much we like or love each other, and I don’t want to be one of those married couples –
EDDIE
Who go out for dinner at a lovely restaurant because it’s Thursday night?
ELIZABETH
Something like that. I can’t do that either. What if “I love you” is the only common language that we have?
Silence.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
I’m sorry. I’m not – I’m not very romantic. I might still love you, but I’m too tired to keep this going. Maybe it’s time.
EDDIE
Why don’t you just tell me what to do.
ELIZABETH
I like you, but I have my pride, Eddie. I can’t always make the first move.
Elizabeth walks forward and touches Eddie’s face.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
Let’s just – not be together for a while, and see how that goes.
Elizabeth turns, takes her suitcase, and walks towards the door.
EDDIE
Let’s go out for a movie.
Elizabeth stops, and turns to look at Eddie, somewhat smiling.
ELIZABETH
A movie?
EDDIE
It’s not dinner. Not yet anyway – I figure that we should just do a movie for the first date.
ELIZABETH
Huh.
EDDIE
You’re right. Maybe we don’t know each other anymore. Maybe we – maybe we never even did. And you’re also right – maybe we have nothing in common, or at least nothing in common right now, other than I love you, or in your case, I like you. But if we go out for a movie, and then another, maybe a drink, maybe dinner sometime, we can start adding words to our common language. Sentences, even. “Yeah, it reminded me of that movie too.” “Let’s go to that sushi place again.” Things like that.
Elizabeth is undecided.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
Come on. I’m making the first move. I’m trying here.
A moment. Elizabeth walks to Eddie, and holds out a hand for him to shake.
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth Alison Abrams.
Eddie shakes her hand.
EDDIE
Edward Rudolph King.
ELIZABETH
I honestly don’t know which is worse, Rudolph, or that your initials spell ERK.
EDDIE
(smiling) Someone I know told me that once. Shall we go catch a movie?
ELIZABETH
Sure.
EDDIE
You’re really leaving.
ELIZABETH
Yeah.
EDDIE
So. This is it.
ELIZABETH
Yeah.
EDDIE
You’re just going to walk out the door with your suitcase –
ELIZABETH
(frustrated) Yes!
Elizabeth turns to look at Eddie.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
Yes, I’m just gonna walk out the door with my suitcase. What else did you think was going to happen?
A pause.
EDDIE
Fine. Go.
ELIZABETH
Don’t make this my fault.
EDDIE
Are you saying that it’s mine?
ELIZABETH
You told the whole of Manhattan that I was screwing the milkman!
EDDIE
You were!
ELIZABETH
(stares) Okay, you know what, forget it. Whatever. I’m not doing this.
Elizabeth turns back to her suitcase.
EDDIE
In case you’ve forgotten, you were sleeping with the milkman. I caught you.
Elizabeth turns back to him.
ELIZABETH
So that makes it okay for you to broadcast it over the radio? (shaking her head) You know what? Fuck you, Eddie. You’ve been standing there watching me pack for ten fucking minutes and I haven’t heard you say a single fucking sorry. You’re a piece of work.
EDDIE
What do you want from me? Sorry? Why should I apologize? Did you apologize when I walked in on you… servicing the milkman? Even if I was wrong in telling everyone, I was telling the truth.
ELIZABETH
What are you, five? There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. When I ask you whether my ass looks big in that stupid dress you bought for me, did you say yes? When Robbie asks you ‘How’s it going’ at five a.m. in the morning, do you say ‘fuck you’? No. You said my ass looked great, and you tell Robbie that ‘it’s going fine’. You don’t have a problem lying to me, and you don’t have a problem lying to Robbie, but five million anonymous Manhattanites and you suddenly have to tell the truth? Gimme a break.
EDDIE
Five million Manhattanites didn’t cheat on me. You did.
ELIZABETH
Oh, so it’s not about “the truth” then. It was just about getting revenge. Just so we’re clear.
Eddie is silent. Elizabeth turns back to packing her suitcase.
EDDIE
All right! I’m sorry. Is that what you want? I’m sorry.
Elizabeth pauses.
ELIZABETH
It’s – It’s too late.
EDDIE
You’re not serious. What else do you want from me? I’ve already said that I’m sorry. And let’s not forget that I’m not the only one here who’s made a mistake. I still haven’t heard you apologize for –
ELIZABETH
Fucking the milkman. Yes. I remember. (pause) I’m sorry.
EDDIE
All – all right.
Elizabeth continues packing.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
What are you doing?
ELIZABETH
What does it look like?
EDDIE
Why are you doing this?
ELIZABETH
I told you. It’s too late.
EDDIE
What does that even mean? Why – Stop it. Just – Just – stop!
Eddie pulls Elizabeth away from the suitcase.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
What do you want me to do? Do you want me to make a public apology? Say I was just kidding? What do you want me to do?
ELIZABETH
Nothing. This just isn’t working. It hasn’t been working. I want out.
EDDIE
You want out. You. Want. Out. What the fuck gives you the right to say that? You can’t just want out. What about me? What about what I want?
ELIZABETH
What do you want?
EDDIE
What’s that supposed to mean?
ELIZABETH
– Nothing.
EDDIE
No. You can’t ask a question like that and then say “nothing”. What, Liz? What did you mean by that?
ELIZABETH
I meant, what do you want? You go to work way earlier than you need to, you don’t come back until late at night –
EDDIE
I’m a hard worker –
ELIZABETH
Okay. If you say so.
Elizabeth goes back to packing. A pause.
EDDIE
I’m not having an affair.
ELIZABETH
God, Eddie! What the fuck is the matter with you? Why do all men think that they’re only cheating if they fuck someone else?
Elizabeth pauses.
EDDIE
I don’t understand.
Elizabeth turns to Eddie.
ELIZABETH
I can’t do this anymore. I barely see you as it is, and when you come back all you do is sit in the kitchen and work on your stupid little phrases –
EDDIE
I’m in radio, Lizzy. Those words are all that I’ve got –
ELIZABETH
Yeah. You work and work to get the words right for your show, but you can’t even spare one for me.
EDDIE
That’s not true.
ELIZABETH
Yeah? “What are you doing?” “Just some work.” “Do you want to go and get something to eat?” “Yeah, sure.” Those aren’t words, Eddie. They’re excuses not to talk.
Eddie is silent.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
Okay then.
Elizabeth turns and shuts the suitcase. She pulls the suitcase onto the ground.
ELIZABETH
See you around.
Elizabeth turns to go.
EDDIE
I’m in radio, Lizzy.
Elizabeth starts to go.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
Wait – wait.
Elizabeth turns to him.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
I’m in radio. I go to work every day, and I sit at a desk, and I read words from pieces of paper. Sometimes those words are mine, sometimes they’re shills from the higher-ups at the station, but it’s not me. The person you hear on the radio talking about how great Mariah Carey’s comeback album is? That’s not me. The guy who just loves that we’re going to get two to four inches of snow this winter? That’s not me either. Don’t you understand? When I go to work, I have to watch what I say, I have to pick and choose every single word I use and make sure that it’s okay for the public ear. Do you know what that does to a person after ten years?
ELIZABETH
Huh.
EDDIE
You think I don’t love you? I do. But it’s not – just – love. Sometimes it’s mixed with hate. Sometimes there’s frustration or annoyance. Sometimes I love you because you get on my nerves. It’s not – it’s not easy. And I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to tell you that I love you, because you might think you know what I mean, when it’s not what I mean at all, and then you’ll get angry at me because you think I was just lying to you. So I don’t say anything. But I do love you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.
Silence.
ELIZABETH
Why didn’t you tell me this before?
EDDIE
Why didn’t you tell me what you were feeling before?
ELIZABETH
I – I don’t know. I thought. (pause) What if it’s not enough?
EDDIE
What if what’s not enough?
ELIZABETH
This. All of this love is great and all, but what if it’s not enough? What happens after this?
EDDIE
I don’t know.
ELIZABETH
Sometimes I thought about telling you, but then I always thought, what happens next? Yes, you love me, and yes, I – well, I like you, but then what? What if we have nothing to say after that? We’re too old to sit around all night just telling each other how much we like or love each other, and I don’t want to be one of those married couples –
EDDIE
Who go out for dinner at a lovely restaurant because it’s Thursday night?
ELIZABETH
Something like that. I can’t do that either. What if “I love you” is the only common language that we have?
Silence.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
I’m sorry. I’m not – I’m not very romantic. I might still love you, but I’m too tired to keep this going. Maybe it’s time.
EDDIE
Why don’t you just tell me what to do.
ELIZABETH
I like you, but I have my pride, Eddie. I can’t always make the first move.
Elizabeth walks forward and touches Eddie’s face.
ELIZABETH (CONT’D)
Let’s just – not be together for a while, and see how that goes.
Elizabeth turns, takes her suitcase, and walks towards the door.
EDDIE
Let’s go out for a movie.
Elizabeth stops, and turns to look at Eddie, somewhat smiling.
ELIZABETH
A movie?
EDDIE
It’s not dinner. Not yet anyway – I figure that we should just do a movie for the first date.
ELIZABETH
Huh.
EDDIE
You’re right. Maybe we don’t know each other anymore. Maybe we – maybe we never even did. And you’re also right – maybe we have nothing in common, or at least nothing in common right now, other than I love you, or in your case, I like you. But if we go out for a movie, and then another, maybe a drink, maybe dinner sometime, we can start adding words to our common language. Sentences, even. “Yeah, it reminded me of that movie too.” “Let’s go to that sushi place again.” Things like that.
Elizabeth is undecided.
EDDIE (CONT’D)
Come on. I’m making the first move. I’m trying here.
A moment. Elizabeth walks to Eddie, and holds out a hand for him to shake.
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth Alison Abrams.
Eddie shakes her hand.
EDDIE
Edward Rudolph King.
ELIZABETH
I honestly don’t know which is worse, Rudolph, or that your initials spell ERK.
EDDIE
(smiling) Someone I know told me that once. Shall we go catch a movie?
ELIZABETH
Sure.
Play: The Index
An office. KENNY (49) sits at his desk, reading a newspaper. DAVID (27) sits at his desk, tapping at a laptop.
DAVID
(in an ‘I’m actually doing it” voice) I’m refreshing.
KENNY
(disinterested) Yeah, you’re just missing a flower in your hair. (silence) What, no comeback? Disappointing, kid.
DAVID
Always assume I’m saying ‘fuck you’ on the inside, sir.
KENNY
At least d/l some porn if you’re going to be fucking around with that all day. (beat) ChixMix isn’t flagged yet, I think.
DAVID
(announcing) One hundred and forty-seven. I told you! – Sir.
As Kenny walks to David’s desk to peer at the laptop screen –
KENNY
That’s not so bad. At least we’re on the list –
DAVID
We’re better off not on it. We’re below Congo and Bhutan.
KENNY
We’re above Iraq.
DAVID
By one place. You got a way to spin that too?
As Kenny goes back to his desk –
KENNY
I told you, kid. We got it covered. Geez. Switch to boxers.
DAVID
You’ve got a 40 cm letter criticizing the government running with a 20 cm report on our Press Freedom Index ranking. Am I right? (silence) You don’t think somebody out there is going to go (puts finger to lip) “Hmm, I wonder whether this is a set-up?”.
KENNY
(already reading his newspaper) No. I don’t think anyone will actually take the time to be that gay. Besides, we got a full-page pet the dog on Tuesday too. (P.R. voice) “The RSF index is based largely on a different media model which favors the advocacy and adversarial role of the press. Singapore's media model is different. Our model is that of a free and responsible press whose role is to report news accurately and objectively to Singaporeans.” (normal voice) Throw in the A.T. Kearney Globalization Index number, get the Jones Lang LaSalle Survey in a sidebar, and it’ll aaaaall be good.
DAVID
(under his breath, but clearly meant for Kenny to hear) Yeah, you got it “aaaaall” lubed up, haven’t you?
KENNY
(with a tinge of warning) You see any riots in the past few years? Rebels storming our offices?
DAVID
No, but –
KENNY
Singapore Inc. still spiking the charts?
DAVID
That’s not –
KENNY
So what’s your problem, kid?
DAVID
I just don’t think rebuttals slash pet the dogs are gonna cut anymore. (beat) We’ve had a really bad P.R. year – Tisch declined us –
KENNY
Never reported.
DAVID
The Warwick campus voted against us –
KENNY
(bored) It’s the British. Nobody cares.
DAVID
The Nguyen hanging pissed off the human rights group, the anti-death penalty camp, and the Australians –
KENNY
Mr. Nguyen knew of our nation’s zero tolerance of heroin –
DAVID
A*Star debacle, bloggers jailed, walkover Presidential election –
KENNY
Defamation, sedition, disqualification. All perfectly legal –
DAVID
Exactly. All legal. Michael Fay was legal, and how much ass did we have to kiss after that bit of law?
KENNY
(annoyed, putting down his newspaper) Kid. You gotta plan, spill it.
DAVID
A Speakers’ Corner.
KENNY
The London one? Here?
DAVID
It’s not rewriting the Constitution. (beat) It’s good P.R. –
KENNY
(nodding) No. No, you’re right – Free Speech and everything –
DAVID
We just need to find a place –
KENNY
I know exactly where –
DAVID
(forestalling) Somewhere central –
KENNY
(with relish) Hong Kee Park.
Dead silence.
DAVID
That’s so far west it’s practically in Malaysia. No-one’s –
KENNY
(P.R. voice) It’ll weed out the determinedly nationalistic from the merely above apathetic –
DAVID
(viciously) It’s a joke!
KENNY
Kid. (beat) You wanna change the system?
DAVID
Yes –
KENNY
You wanna do it more easily from inside the system?
DAVID
You’re not –
KENNY
Then you’ll have to stay employed in the system, won’t you?
DAVID
That’s not right.
KENNY
David, David, David. Do you really think you’re the first person to come in here all poofed up with your grand ideals –
DAVID
At least I have some ideals –
KENNY
You got any close Malay friends, David? (silence) Talk to Ahmed? – He’s the elevator guy. (silence) Lisa, the lesbian coffee girl –
DAVID
I get it –
KENNY
No. You don’t. (gently) You’re new, so you getta pass, but sometimes the problem with people like you, David, is that you look at other people and you don’t see other people. You see causes, and that’s not what we do. We’re about the people –
DAVID
(bursting out) I’m gay.
KENNY
(beat) I know. (beat) I knew. (beat) It’s the hair. (beat) You want a hug?
DAVID
You talk about us being about the people. I’m the people. What have you done for me?
KENNY
I tabled the repeal of ‘Law 69’. I think that’s pretty big for you, don’t you?
DAVID
(obstinately) The difference between us, Kenny, is that if I accidentally ‘gay up’ in public, or if some scoop-hungry journo catches me at the wrong place at the wrong time –
KENNY
Don’t be dramatic. You won’t be fired –
DAVID
I won’t get nearly enough votes at the next General Elections.
KENNY
Exactly. We’re doing the best we can under the circumstances. We close an eye to the gays, lesbians, trannies, Malays, pros, pimps, rec druggies and a whole lotta other people because we know better. But the vast majority of people out there don’t, so we leave a few stupid laws in the Constitution to keep ‘em happy. Sure, it’s not a perfect system, and there’ll always be a few angry people with axes to grind, but if everyone mostly gets to do what they like –
DAVID
Stop it. Stop talking. You do these things with words – (idealistic crusade) I’m not as well-greased as you, sir, but that isn’t tolerance. It’s avert-your-eyes, sweep-under-the-carpet, deliberate blindness, and every day that a perfectly good article gets pulled because it crosses some “sensitive” O.B. marker is another day that we get a little more blind –
KENNY
You don’t get it –
DAVID
We should be educating them –
KENNY
(wearily) People don’t want to be educated, Dave. People don’t get blinder because articles get pulled. They get blinder because they want to –
DAVID
(passionately) Then we should be making it impossible for them to ignore –
KENNY
Then how are you any different from the people you despise?
Dead silence.
DAVID
(an effort at calmness) I just think that we should be moving forwards to some sort of balance, as opposed to ignoring –
KENNY
Do you know what happens to people with agendas, David? They get ignored. It doesn’t matter how reasonable or logical you are, because as long as you’ve got an axe to grind –
DAVID
Then you should speak for us –
KENNY
(angrily) What the fuck do you think I have been doing? You talk about change like it’s a piece of magic that happens once the ink is dry. (wearily) Do you know what will happen if I do what you say? By tomorrow afternoon everyone on this floor will be canned and by tomorrow evening everything I’ve worked for in the past twelve years will be gone, just like that. Change doesn’t work the way you dream it does. It’s not fiery revolution. It’s an invisible, uncredited, slog. It’s one word here, a few more seconds of a T.V. show there, and maybe one person every few months – if we’re lucky – who starts asking a few more questions. (beat) And yes, sometimes it’s about making a proposal or floating a law that you hate, either because it’ll getcha a favor down the road, or because it’s so disgusting that you hope a few people out there will go, “What the fuck is this?”. That’s how change works.
Kenny stops. A beat, then –
DAVID
(gently) Yeah, but you fuck around with the wrong people too many times and you never get clean… Kenny.
KENNY
(beat) You ‘straightened’ yourself up to get the votes, didn’t you? (beat) It’s a revolving door here cause people don’t like getting really down and dirty, David, and they don’t like backstage work. (A pause, then wearily) It’s the only way to get things done. The only way. (beat) Right now, Singapore is a place that will break your heart if you care. And if you get tired, or if you can’t cut it, then you shouldn’t be here.
David and Kenny are silent for a long moment. Then –
DAVID
Hong Kee Park. (beat) But I want that favor down the road.
KENNY
(beat, then acknowledging) Draw up a proposal, and we’ll talk.
DAVID
(in an ‘I’m actually doing it” voice) I’m refreshing.
KENNY
(disinterested) Yeah, you’re just missing a flower in your hair. (silence) What, no comeback? Disappointing, kid.
DAVID
Always assume I’m saying ‘fuck you’ on the inside, sir.
KENNY
At least d/l some porn if you’re going to be fucking around with that all day. (beat) ChixMix isn’t flagged yet, I think.
DAVID
(announcing) One hundred and forty-seven. I told you! – Sir.
As Kenny walks to David’s desk to peer at the laptop screen –
KENNY
That’s not so bad. At least we’re on the list –
DAVID
We’re better off not on it. We’re below Congo and Bhutan.
KENNY
We’re above Iraq.
DAVID
By one place. You got a way to spin that too?
As Kenny goes back to his desk –
KENNY
I told you, kid. We got it covered. Geez. Switch to boxers.
DAVID
You’ve got a 40 cm letter criticizing the government running with a 20 cm report on our Press Freedom Index ranking. Am I right? (silence) You don’t think somebody out there is going to go (puts finger to lip) “Hmm, I wonder whether this is a set-up?”.
KENNY
(already reading his newspaper) No. I don’t think anyone will actually take the time to be that gay. Besides, we got a full-page pet the dog on Tuesday too. (P.R. voice) “The RSF index is based largely on a different media model which favors the advocacy and adversarial role of the press. Singapore's media model is different. Our model is that of a free and responsible press whose role is to report news accurately and objectively to Singaporeans.” (normal voice) Throw in the A.T. Kearney Globalization Index number, get the Jones Lang LaSalle Survey in a sidebar, and it’ll aaaaall be good.
DAVID
(under his breath, but clearly meant for Kenny to hear) Yeah, you got it “aaaaall” lubed up, haven’t you?
KENNY
(with a tinge of warning) You see any riots in the past few years? Rebels storming our offices?
DAVID
No, but –
KENNY
Singapore Inc. still spiking the charts?
DAVID
That’s not –
KENNY
So what’s your problem, kid?
DAVID
I just don’t think rebuttals slash pet the dogs are gonna cut anymore. (beat) We’ve had a really bad P.R. year – Tisch declined us –
KENNY
Never reported.
DAVID
The Warwick campus voted against us –
KENNY
(bored) It’s the British. Nobody cares.
DAVID
The Nguyen hanging pissed off the human rights group, the anti-death penalty camp, and the Australians –
KENNY
Mr. Nguyen knew of our nation’s zero tolerance of heroin –
DAVID
A*Star debacle, bloggers jailed, walkover Presidential election –
KENNY
Defamation, sedition, disqualification. All perfectly legal –
DAVID
Exactly. All legal. Michael Fay was legal, and how much ass did we have to kiss after that bit of law?
KENNY
(annoyed, putting down his newspaper) Kid. You gotta plan, spill it.
DAVID
A Speakers’ Corner.
KENNY
The London one? Here?
DAVID
It’s not rewriting the Constitution. (beat) It’s good P.R. –
KENNY
(nodding) No. No, you’re right – Free Speech and everything –
DAVID
We just need to find a place –
KENNY
I know exactly where –
DAVID
(forestalling) Somewhere central –
KENNY
(with relish) Hong Kee Park.
Dead silence.
DAVID
That’s so far west it’s practically in Malaysia. No-one’s –
KENNY
(P.R. voice) It’ll weed out the determinedly nationalistic from the merely above apathetic –
DAVID
(viciously) It’s a joke!
KENNY
Kid. (beat) You wanna change the system?
DAVID
Yes –
KENNY
You wanna do it more easily from inside the system?
DAVID
You’re not –
KENNY
Then you’ll have to stay employed in the system, won’t you?
DAVID
That’s not right.
KENNY
David, David, David. Do you really think you’re the first person to come in here all poofed up with your grand ideals –
DAVID
At least I have some ideals –
KENNY
You got any close Malay friends, David? (silence) Talk to Ahmed? – He’s the elevator guy. (silence) Lisa, the lesbian coffee girl –
DAVID
I get it –
KENNY
No. You don’t. (gently) You’re new, so you getta pass, but sometimes the problem with people like you, David, is that you look at other people and you don’t see other people. You see causes, and that’s not what we do. We’re about the people –
DAVID
(bursting out) I’m gay.
KENNY
(beat) I know. (beat) I knew. (beat) It’s the hair. (beat) You want a hug?
DAVID
You talk about us being about the people. I’m the people. What have you done for me?
KENNY
I tabled the repeal of ‘Law 69’. I think that’s pretty big for you, don’t you?
DAVID
(obstinately) The difference between us, Kenny, is that if I accidentally ‘gay up’ in public, or if some scoop-hungry journo catches me at the wrong place at the wrong time –
KENNY
Don’t be dramatic. You won’t be fired –
DAVID
I won’t get nearly enough votes at the next General Elections.
KENNY
Exactly. We’re doing the best we can under the circumstances. We close an eye to the gays, lesbians, trannies, Malays, pros, pimps, rec druggies and a whole lotta other people because we know better. But the vast majority of people out there don’t, so we leave a few stupid laws in the Constitution to keep ‘em happy. Sure, it’s not a perfect system, and there’ll always be a few angry people with axes to grind, but if everyone mostly gets to do what they like –
DAVID
Stop it. Stop talking. You do these things with words – (idealistic crusade) I’m not as well-greased as you, sir, but that isn’t tolerance. It’s avert-your-eyes, sweep-under-the-carpet, deliberate blindness, and every day that a perfectly good article gets pulled because it crosses some “sensitive” O.B. marker is another day that we get a little more blind –
KENNY
You don’t get it –
DAVID
We should be educating them –
KENNY
(wearily) People don’t want to be educated, Dave. People don’t get blinder because articles get pulled. They get blinder because they want to –
DAVID
(passionately) Then we should be making it impossible for them to ignore –
KENNY
Then how are you any different from the people you despise?
Dead silence.
DAVID
(an effort at calmness) I just think that we should be moving forwards to some sort of balance, as opposed to ignoring –
KENNY
Do you know what happens to people with agendas, David? They get ignored. It doesn’t matter how reasonable or logical you are, because as long as you’ve got an axe to grind –
DAVID
Then you should speak for us –
KENNY
(angrily) What the fuck do you think I have been doing? You talk about change like it’s a piece of magic that happens once the ink is dry. (wearily) Do you know what will happen if I do what you say? By tomorrow afternoon everyone on this floor will be canned and by tomorrow evening everything I’ve worked for in the past twelve years will be gone, just like that. Change doesn’t work the way you dream it does. It’s not fiery revolution. It’s an invisible, uncredited, slog. It’s one word here, a few more seconds of a T.V. show there, and maybe one person every few months – if we’re lucky – who starts asking a few more questions. (beat) And yes, sometimes it’s about making a proposal or floating a law that you hate, either because it’ll getcha a favor down the road, or because it’s so disgusting that you hope a few people out there will go, “What the fuck is this?”. That’s how change works.
Kenny stops. A beat, then –
DAVID
(gently) Yeah, but you fuck around with the wrong people too many times and you never get clean… Kenny.
KENNY
(beat) You ‘straightened’ yourself up to get the votes, didn’t you? (beat) It’s a revolving door here cause people don’t like getting really down and dirty, David, and they don’t like backstage work. (A pause, then wearily) It’s the only way to get things done. The only way. (beat) Right now, Singapore is a place that will break your heart if you care. And if you get tired, or if you can’t cut it, then you shouldn’t be here.
David and Kenny are silent for a long moment. Then –
DAVID
Hong Kee Park. (beat) But I want that favor down the road.
KENNY
(beat, then acknowledging) Draw up a proposal, and we’ll talk.
Play: Nobody Hears The Speakers In The Corner
An office with two desks, equipped with laptops, knick-knacks, papers, the like. KENNY (49), a large man, sits at his large desk, reading a newspaper. DAVID (27) sits at his smaller desk, tapping at his laptop. They are both dressed in suits.
DAVID
(tapping at the keyboard) I’m refreshing.
KENNY
Yeah, you’re just missing a flower in your hair. (silence) What, nothing to say? Come on, kid. You’re not worth spit in this department if you don’t have wit. (silence, then impatiently) Come on. You had to get aaaaall the votes from the other department heads to get in here, so you must have a good mouth on you.
DAVID
(pleasantly, but with a sting) If I’m silent, sir, you can assume I’m saying ‘fuck you for wasting my time’ on the inside.
KENNY
Weak. The word ‘fuck’ is a neon sign of weakness, kid. Especially in a government suit. (beat) And especially among government suits. Never use the word ‘fuck’ when you’re dealing with anyone outside this department. The suits might have put you in here, but I can kick you out just as quickly.
DAVID
I consider myself edified.
KENNY
(warningly) Crisis Policy only survives because all the suits think there’s an iron fist in the velvet glove, kid; get that in your head and get it in quick. (beat, then as David continues tapping away at the laptop) At least d/l some porn if you’re going to be messing around with that all day. (beat) ChixMix isn’t flagged yet, I think.
DAVID
The rankings should be up any moment. At least turn on your laptop.
KENNY
Why? You’re sweating enough for both of us. (beat) Look at me, kid –
DAVID
It’s up. We’re… (looking at the page, then announcing) One hundred and forty-seven. I told you! – Sir.
As Kenny walks to David’s desk –
KENNY
That’s not so bad. At least we’re on the list –
DAVID
It’d be better if we weren’t. We’re below Congo and Bhutan.
Kenny bends over and looks over David’s shoulder at the laptop screen. David is a little uncomfortable.
KENNY
We’re above Iraq.
DAVID
By one place. You got a way to spin that too, sir?
As Kenny walks back to his desk –
KENNY
I told you, kid. We got it covered. Geez. Switch to boxers.
DAVID
(with an edge) Please stop it with the gay jokes, sir. It’s not funny.
KENNY
That wasn’t a gay joke. That was an anal-retentive, briefs-wearing joke. That spin make you feel all better about yourself?
A tense beat, then –
DAVID
The Press Freedom Index ranking, sir.
Kenny gives David a brief contemptuous look, then picks up his newspaper –
KENNY
I told you, kid. It’s done. Problem solved.
DAVID
We call up the press to run a 40 cm anti-government letter in tomorrow’s broadsheet including a reminder that we have always fully supported public feedback since we spearheaded the “Talkback” initiative four years ago. Alongside, of course, a 20 cm sidebar on the ranking.
KENNY
(bored) You’re forgetting the full-page pet the dog the day after.
DAVID
Yeah, that. (P.R. voice) “The RSF index is based largely on a different media model which favors the advocacy and adversarial role of the press. Our media model is different. Our model is that of a free and responsible press whose role is to report news accurately and objectively to our citizens.” Did I get that right?
KENNY
“It’s good for the ages; just make a few changes.” That’s the memo we send to the press every year, by the way, so get on that later. (beat) And we should probably also get them to throw in the new and improved A.T. Kearney Globalization Index number, and put that Jones Lang LaSalle Survey in a sidebar.
DAVID
You don’t think somebody out there is going to think that all this has just the slightest whiff of deceit?
KENNY
“Whiff”? “Deceit”? No, I actually don’t think anyone is going to take the time to be that gay. (beat) And yes, that was a gay joke.
DAVID
(ignoring) You’re not answering the question.
Kenny puts his newspaper down impatiently.
KENNY
What do you want me to tell you, kid? It is bullshit. But if you wanna pick a fight on behalf of Crisis Policy don’t do it with the Press Freedom Index. No-one, and I mean no-one out there, in here, or (gesturing to the ceiling) up there, cares a shit. It’s the same old thing every single year, and it’s only a “crisis” because all the suits got jealous and told the ones above us that we don’t do enough work.
Kenny picks up his newspaper.
KENNY
I’m telling you. It’s aaaaall good.
DAVID
(under his breath, but clearly meant for Kenny to hear) Yeah, you got it “aaaaall” lubed up, haven’t you?
KENNY
(with a tinge of warning) You see any riots in the past few years over this, kid? Rebels storming our offices?
DAVID
No, but –
KENNY
Our economy still spiking the charts?
DAVID
That’s not –
KENNY
Then there is no problem, kid.
DAVID
I just think rebuttals slash pet the dogs aren’t gonna cut it anymore. (beat) We’ve had a really bad P.R. year – NYU’s Tisch School Of The Arts declined our offer –
KENNY
That offer was never reported in the first place.
DAVID
Warwick University publicly embarrassed us when they pulled out at the last minute –
KENNY
It’s the British, nobody cares, and I got Alise in Education to pump up U.K. grants anyway –
DAVID
The Nguyen hanging pissed off global human rights groups, the anti-death penalty camp, and the Australians –
KENNY
Mr. Nguyen was fully aware of our nation’s zero tolerance attitude towards heroin –
DAVID
D.S.T.A. debacle, bloggers jailed, walkover Presidential election –
KENNY
Defamation, sedition, disqualification. All perfectly legal –
DAVID
(angrily) Legal, legal, legal. Caning Andrew King was legal, and even I know how much ass you had to kiss after that bit of law.
KENNY
Careful, kid.
DAVID
(an effort at calmness) I’m just saying that we’ve had a really bad year for academic and press freedom. So in my opinion the Press Freedom Index is the perfect opportunity –
Kenny puts down his newspaper.
KENNY
(exasperated) Kid. You gotta plan, spill it.
DAVID
A Speakers’ Corner.
KENNY
The London one? Here?
DAVID
It’s not rewriting the Constitution. (beat) It’s good P.R. –
KENNY
(nodding) No. No, you’re right – Free Speech and everything –
DAVID
We just need to find a place –
KENNY
I know exactly where –
DAVID
Somewhere central –
KENNY
(with relish) Hong Kee Park.
Dead silence.
DAVID
That’s so far west it’s practically in Malaysia. No-one’s –
KENNY
(P.R. voice) It’ll weed out the merely above apathetic from the determinedly nationalistic –
DAVID
Okay. Okay, as long as there aren’t any O.B. markers –
KENNY
Of course. (beat) But we’ll have to be very careful about inciters –
DAVID
Sir –
KENNY
And we should probably get the speakers to register their names and topics so people don’t miss what’s going on when –
DAVID
People aren’t stupid –
KENNY
I think it’s going to be great. A watershed moment.
DAVID
(viciously) It’s going to be a joke!
KENNY
Kid. (beat) You wanna change the system?
DAVID
Yes –
KENNY
You wanna do it more easily from inside the system?
DAVID
You’re not –
KENNY
Then you’ll have to stay employed in the system, won’t you?
DAVID
That’s not right. That’s just not right.
KENNY
Kid, kid, kid. Do you really think you’re the first person to come in here all poofed up with your grand ideals –
DAVID
At least I have some ideals –
KENNY
You got even one close Malay friend, kid? (silence) You talk to Ahmed? – the handicapped elevator guy. (silence) Lisa? You might know her as the lesbian coffee girl –
DAVID
I get it –
KENNY
No. You don’t. (gently) You’re new, so you get a pass, but get smart if you wanna get things done, kid. The problem with people like you is you look at other people and you don’t see other people. You see causes. You see allies. You see danger signs in suits. But you don’t see people. And in our business it’s all about the people –
DAVID
(bursting out) People? You want to talk about “the people”? Let me tell you about “the people”, sir. “The people” I got the votes from to get here. Jenny in Communications And Technology Information likes Tiffanys, pear-cut and at least 1.4 carat. Natalie in Defense likes expensive vacations in the Caribbean. And sweet sweet Rachel in the all-important Home Affairs department likes it, rough, when her husband’s not around.
A tense beat, then –
KENNY
You forgot Robbie from Finance, Jacob from M.I.T.A., and Tony from Manpower, kid. (beat) I suppose I should be relieved that at least some department heads didn’t vote for you based on the size of your wallet, dick, or mouth. (beat) Two more lessons for your “edification”, kid: Every single suit outside this department hates every single suit inside this department, and I make it my business to know everything about every single suit in this building on any single day. (beat) And don’t expect me to feel sorry for you because Rachel’s a sadistic bitch.
Dead silence.
KENNY (CONT’D)
You make me sick, kid, but that’s not why you make me angry. You make me angry because you are all set-up, all execution, but no follow-through. You see someone who can help you, you give a little to get a little, and you think you’ve got an “ally”. There are no such things as “allies”, kid. There are only “people”. People who need to be cajoled, bullied, threatened, sweetened, and brokered with, each according to that person’s background, position in the ladder, temperament, and which side of the bed that person got out off that morning. (contemptuously) You still think fucking a vagina was the end of your problems?
A beat, then –
DAVID
You didn’t mention the dicks. (beat) Three dicks “aaaaall” lined up. Sometimes more than one at a time.
KENNY
I don’t need –
DAVID
Yes, you do. You think because I’m gay, it didn’t matter to me how many dicks I had to suck, how many dicks I had to get fucked by, and how many assholes I had to fuck in order to get inside this office. It could have been all ten male department heads and you still wouldn’t be surprised. All in a day’s work, right?
KENNY
I tabled the repeal of ‘Law 69’ –
DAVID
For who? (beat) You talk about “the people”. So let’s talk about me. Why do I have to worry that if I accidentally ‘gay it up’ in public, or worry that if some scoop-hungry journo catches me at the wrong place at the wrong time –
KENNY
Don’t be dramatic. You won’t be fired –
DAVID
I won’t get nearly enough votes when the next General Elections are called –
KENNY
If that’s the case then we’re doing the best we can under the circumstances, aren’t we?
DAVID
You’re weasling again –
KENNY
Look. We close an eye to the gays, lesbians, trannies, Malays, pros, pimps, rec druggies and a whole lotta other people because we know better. But the vast majority of people out there don’t, so we leave a few stupid laws in the Constitution to keep ‘em happy –
DAVID
We should be educating them – Your response to everything is allow people avert-your-eyes, sweep-under-the-carpet, deliberate blindness –
KENNY
And yours is to force their eyes open whether they like or not. (beat) You think you’re better than me, kid, but if you were head of Crisis Policy –
Kenny does not continue. A moment later, he laughs suddenly, a harsh sound that cuts off just as suddenly. Kenny suddenly looks very old and tired.
KENNY (CONT’D)
I know what you think of me. You think I’m a fat, foolish and frightened old man. But the more power you have, the less power you have to act… (silence, then as if remembering) Do you really think you’re the first person to come in here all poofed up with your grand ideals?… (beat, then as if being roused) Do you know what will happen if I do what you really want? It’ll be a clean sweep by tomorrow afternoon, even if the suits upstairs play it out quietly over the rest-a the year. Early retirement if you played nice over the years. Redeployment if you were harmless. If you’ve been – flagged – you get stuck spitting out ‘Dear concerned member of the public’ whities…
A beat, then –
DAVID
(unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice) I see.
KENNY
If you’re angry, kid, break something. The whole virgin deflowered thing is shit-ugly.
A long pause, then –
DAVID
(a genuine attempt, at least) I’m sorry.
KENNY
Kid. Right now this is a country that will break your heart if you care. One way or another. And if you can’t cut that then you shouldn’t be here.
A pause, then –
DAVID
(quietly) But if you no longer care then you shouldn’t be here either…
A pause, then –
DAVID (CONT’D)
Maybe change doesn’t work the way I dream it does. Maybe it’s not fiery revolution. But one word here, a few more seconds of a T.V. show there, and maybe one person every few months – if we’re lucky – starts asking a few more questions. (beat) The answers… (beat) And yes, maybe sometimes it’s about making a proposal or floating a law that you or I hate, but only because it’ll getcha a favor down the road, or because it’s so disgusting that a few people out there will go, “What the fuck is this?”.
David stops. A beat, then –
KENNY
Yeah, but you fuck with the wrong people too many times and you might never get clean.
DAVID
Somebody has to stop the revolving door. (beat) Hong Kee Park… (beat) But I want that favor down the road… Kenny.
A pause, then –
KENNY
Draw up a proposal, David, and we’ll talk.
DAVID
(tapping at the keyboard) I’m refreshing.
KENNY
Yeah, you’re just missing a flower in your hair. (silence) What, nothing to say? Come on, kid. You’re not worth spit in this department if you don’t have wit. (silence, then impatiently) Come on. You had to get aaaaall the votes from the other department heads to get in here, so you must have a good mouth on you.
DAVID
(pleasantly, but with a sting) If I’m silent, sir, you can assume I’m saying ‘fuck you for wasting my time’ on the inside.
KENNY
Weak. The word ‘fuck’ is a neon sign of weakness, kid. Especially in a government suit. (beat) And especially among government suits. Never use the word ‘fuck’ when you’re dealing with anyone outside this department. The suits might have put you in here, but I can kick you out just as quickly.
DAVID
I consider myself edified.
KENNY
(warningly) Crisis Policy only survives because all the suits think there’s an iron fist in the velvet glove, kid; get that in your head and get it in quick. (beat, then as David continues tapping away at the laptop) At least d/l some porn if you’re going to be messing around with that all day. (beat) ChixMix isn’t flagged yet, I think.
DAVID
The rankings should be up any moment. At least turn on your laptop.
KENNY
Why? You’re sweating enough for both of us. (beat) Look at me, kid –
DAVID
It’s up. We’re… (looking at the page, then announcing) One hundred and forty-seven. I told you! – Sir.
As Kenny walks to David’s desk –
KENNY
That’s not so bad. At least we’re on the list –
DAVID
It’d be better if we weren’t. We’re below Congo and Bhutan.
Kenny bends over and looks over David’s shoulder at the laptop screen. David is a little uncomfortable.
KENNY
We’re above Iraq.
DAVID
By one place. You got a way to spin that too, sir?
As Kenny walks back to his desk –
KENNY
I told you, kid. We got it covered. Geez. Switch to boxers.
DAVID
(with an edge) Please stop it with the gay jokes, sir. It’s not funny.
KENNY
That wasn’t a gay joke. That was an anal-retentive, briefs-wearing joke. That spin make you feel all better about yourself?
A tense beat, then –
DAVID
The Press Freedom Index ranking, sir.
Kenny gives David a brief contemptuous look, then picks up his newspaper –
KENNY
I told you, kid. It’s done. Problem solved.
DAVID
We call up the press to run a 40 cm anti-government letter in tomorrow’s broadsheet including a reminder that we have always fully supported public feedback since we spearheaded the “Talkback” initiative four years ago. Alongside, of course, a 20 cm sidebar on the ranking.
KENNY
(bored) You’re forgetting the full-page pet the dog the day after.
DAVID
Yeah, that. (P.R. voice) “The RSF index is based largely on a different media model which favors the advocacy and adversarial role of the press. Our media model is different. Our model is that of a free and responsible press whose role is to report news accurately and objectively to our citizens.” Did I get that right?
KENNY
“It’s good for the ages; just make a few changes.” That’s the memo we send to the press every year, by the way, so get on that later. (beat) And we should probably also get them to throw in the new and improved A.T. Kearney Globalization Index number, and put that Jones Lang LaSalle Survey in a sidebar.
DAVID
You don’t think somebody out there is going to think that all this has just the slightest whiff of deceit?
KENNY
“Whiff”? “Deceit”? No, I actually don’t think anyone is going to take the time to be that gay. (beat) And yes, that was a gay joke.
DAVID
(ignoring) You’re not answering the question.
Kenny puts his newspaper down impatiently.
KENNY
What do you want me to tell you, kid? It is bullshit. But if you wanna pick a fight on behalf of Crisis Policy don’t do it with the Press Freedom Index. No-one, and I mean no-one out there, in here, or (gesturing to the ceiling) up there, cares a shit. It’s the same old thing every single year, and it’s only a “crisis” because all the suits got jealous and told the ones above us that we don’t do enough work.
Kenny picks up his newspaper.
KENNY
I’m telling you. It’s aaaaall good.
DAVID
(under his breath, but clearly meant for Kenny to hear) Yeah, you got it “aaaaall” lubed up, haven’t you?
KENNY
(with a tinge of warning) You see any riots in the past few years over this, kid? Rebels storming our offices?
DAVID
No, but –
KENNY
Our economy still spiking the charts?
DAVID
That’s not –
KENNY
Then there is no problem, kid.
DAVID
I just think rebuttals slash pet the dogs aren’t gonna cut it anymore. (beat) We’ve had a really bad P.R. year – NYU’s Tisch School Of The Arts declined our offer –
KENNY
That offer was never reported in the first place.
DAVID
Warwick University publicly embarrassed us when they pulled out at the last minute –
KENNY
It’s the British, nobody cares, and I got Alise in Education to pump up U.K. grants anyway –
DAVID
The Nguyen hanging pissed off global human rights groups, the anti-death penalty camp, and the Australians –
KENNY
Mr. Nguyen was fully aware of our nation’s zero tolerance attitude towards heroin –
DAVID
D.S.T.A. debacle, bloggers jailed, walkover Presidential election –
KENNY
Defamation, sedition, disqualification. All perfectly legal –
DAVID
(angrily) Legal, legal, legal. Caning Andrew King was legal, and even I know how much ass you had to kiss after that bit of law.
KENNY
Careful, kid.
DAVID
(an effort at calmness) I’m just saying that we’ve had a really bad year for academic and press freedom. So in my opinion the Press Freedom Index is the perfect opportunity –
Kenny puts down his newspaper.
KENNY
(exasperated) Kid. You gotta plan, spill it.
DAVID
A Speakers’ Corner.
KENNY
The London one? Here?
DAVID
It’s not rewriting the Constitution. (beat) It’s good P.R. –
KENNY
(nodding) No. No, you’re right – Free Speech and everything –
DAVID
We just need to find a place –
KENNY
I know exactly where –
DAVID
Somewhere central –
KENNY
(with relish) Hong Kee Park.
Dead silence.
DAVID
That’s so far west it’s practically in Malaysia. No-one’s –
KENNY
(P.R. voice) It’ll weed out the merely above apathetic from the determinedly nationalistic –
DAVID
Okay. Okay, as long as there aren’t any O.B. markers –
KENNY
Of course. (beat) But we’ll have to be very careful about inciters –
DAVID
Sir –
KENNY
And we should probably get the speakers to register their names and topics so people don’t miss what’s going on when –
DAVID
People aren’t stupid –
KENNY
I think it’s going to be great. A watershed moment.
DAVID
(viciously) It’s going to be a joke!
KENNY
Kid. (beat) You wanna change the system?
DAVID
Yes –
KENNY
You wanna do it more easily from inside the system?
DAVID
You’re not –
KENNY
Then you’ll have to stay employed in the system, won’t you?
DAVID
That’s not right. That’s just not right.
KENNY
Kid, kid, kid. Do you really think you’re the first person to come in here all poofed up with your grand ideals –
DAVID
At least I have some ideals –
KENNY
You got even one close Malay friend, kid? (silence) You talk to Ahmed? – the handicapped elevator guy. (silence) Lisa? You might know her as the lesbian coffee girl –
DAVID
I get it –
KENNY
No. You don’t. (gently) You’re new, so you get a pass, but get smart if you wanna get things done, kid. The problem with people like you is you look at other people and you don’t see other people. You see causes. You see allies. You see danger signs in suits. But you don’t see people. And in our business it’s all about the people –
DAVID
(bursting out) People? You want to talk about “the people”? Let me tell you about “the people”, sir. “The people” I got the votes from to get here. Jenny in Communications And Technology Information likes Tiffanys, pear-cut and at least 1.4 carat. Natalie in Defense likes expensive vacations in the Caribbean. And sweet sweet Rachel in the all-important Home Affairs department likes it, rough, when her husband’s not around.
A tense beat, then –
KENNY
You forgot Robbie from Finance, Jacob from M.I.T.A., and Tony from Manpower, kid. (beat) I suppose I should be relieved that at least some department heads didn’t vote for you based on the size of your wallet, dick, or mouth. (beat) Two more lessons for your “edification”, kid: Every single suit outside this department hates every single suit inside this department, and I make it my business to know everything about every single suit in this building on any single day. (beat) And don’t expect me to feel sorry for you because Rachel’s a sadistic bitch.
Dead silence.
KENNY (CONT’D)
You make me sick, kid, but that’s not why you make me angry. You make me angry because you are all set-up, all execution, but no follow-through. You see someone who can help you, you give a little to get a little, and you think you’ve got an “ally”. There are no such things as “allies”, kid. There are only “people”. People who need to be cajoled, bullied, threatened, sweetened, and brokered with, each according to that person’s background, position in the ladder, temperament, and which side of the bed that person got out off that morning. (contemptuously) You still think fucking a vagina was the end of your problems?
A beat, then –
DAVID
You didn’t mention the dicks. (beat) Three dicks “aaaaall” lined up. Sometimes more than one at a time.
KENNY
I don’t need –
DAVID
Yes, you do. You think because I’m gay, it didn’t matter to me how many dicks I had to suck, how many dicks I had to get fucked by, and how many assholes I had to fuck in order to get inside this office. It could have been all ten male department heads and you still wouldn’t be surprised. All in a day’s work, right?
KENNY
I tabled the repeal of ‘Law 69’ –
DAVID
For who? (beat) You talk about “the people”. So let’s talk about me. Why do I have to worry that if I accidentally ‘gay it up’ in public, or worry that if some scoop-hungry journo catches me at the wrong place at the wrong time –
KENNY
Don’t be dramatic. You won’t be fired –
DAVID
I won’t get nearly enough votes when the next General Elections are called –
KENNY
If that’s the case then we’re doing the best we can under the circumstances, aren’t we?
DAVID
You’re weasling again –
KENNY
Look. We close an eye to the gays, lesbians, trannies, Malays, pros, pimps, rec druggies and a whole lotta other people because we know better. But the vast majority of people out there don’t, so we leave a few stupid laws in the Constitution to keep ‘em happy –
DAVID
We should be educating them – Your response to everything is allow people avert-your-eyes, sweep-under-the-carpet, deliberate blindness –
KENNY
And yours is to force their eyes open whether they like or not. (beat) You think you’re better than me, kid, but if you were head of Crisis Policy –
Kenny does not continue. A moment later, he laughs suddenly, a harsh sound that cuts off just as suddenly. Kenny suddenly looks very old and tired.
KENNY (CONT’D)
I know what you think of me. You think I’m a fat, foolish and frightened old man. But the more power you have, the less power you have to act… (silence, then as if remembering) Do you really think you’re the first person to come in here all poofed up with your grand ideals?… (beat, then as if being roused) Do you know what will happen if I do what you really want? It’ll be a clean sweep by tomorrow afternoon, even if the suits upstairs play it out quietly over the rest-a the year. Early retirement if you played nice over the years. Redeployment if you were harmless. If you’ve been – flagged – you get stuck spitting out ‘Dear concerned member of the public’ whities…
A beat, then –
DAVID
(unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice) I see.
KENNY
If you’re angry, kid, break something. The whole virgin deflowered thing is shit-ugly.
A long pause, then –
DAVID
(a genuine attempt, at least) I’m sorry.
KENNY
Kid. Right now this is a country that will break your heart if you care. One way or another. And if you can’t cut that then you shouldn’t be here.
A pause, then –
DAVID
(quietly) But if you no longer care then you shouldn’t be here either…
A pause, then –
DAVID (CONT’D)
Maybe change doesn’t work the way I dream it does. Maybe it’s not fiery revolution. But one word here, a few more seconds of a T.V. show there, and maybe one person every few months – if we’re lucky – starts asking a few more questions. (beat) The answers… (beat) And yes, maybe sometimes it’s about making a proposal or floating a law that you or I hate, but only because it’ll getcha a favor down the road, or because it’s so disgusting that a few people out there will go, “What the fuck is this?”.
David stops. A beat, then –
KENNY
Yeah, but you fuck with the wrong people too many times and you might never get clean.
DAVID
Somebody has to stop the revolving door. (beat) Hong Kee Park… (beat) But I want that favor down the road… Kenny.
A pause, then –
KENNY
Draw up a proposal, David, and we’ll talk.
Play: Sneezing And Killing
A large desk, flanked by two chairs. The one behind it is large and imposing, while the other before it is small and simply utilitarian. This is an office, austere and sterilized, with a door at stage left.
ALISON MCKINLEY, an attractive and petite woman of 29 dressed in a sharp suit, opens the door and enters with a paper-padded clipboard, followed by LEONARD RIMES, 62, a large and distinguished man similarly attired and holding a briefcase.
Alison heads straight for the desk, leaving Leonard to close the door. This he does, after a moment, before he walks to the small chair, reaching it as Alison reaches her chair.
ALISON
Go ahead and –
Leonard is already seating himself. A moment passes.
LEONARD
Oh! I apologize.
But Leonard does not stand.
ALISON
That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.
Alison sits, putting her clipboard on the desk. A long moment passes.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Since we’re here, you might as well show me your résumé, don’t you think?
LEONARD
Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.
Leonard takes his briefcase, opens it, and rummages through a mess of papers before he finds his résumé. He hands it to Alison.
Alison reads it, making noncommittal sounds. Leonard is silent, at first, but eventually –
LEONARD (CONT’D)
As you can see, I’ve anchored late night for UFS, ARN, VPN, and ABS in my twenty-seven years of experience.
ALISON
Are those the big four?
LEONARD
Yes. That’s right. Those are the big four.
A moment passes.
ALISON
And none of them could hold onto you? That’s so impressive.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
Well. We parted amicably eventually due to creative differences, but I can assure you that while I was under each network’s employment I was an asset to the organization. My shows at UFS and ARN, for example, cleared an average of a percent at the top. In the 18 to 49, I mean.
ALISON
They must have been so happy. What with all that advertising money on the line.
There is a brief moment of silence.
LEONARD
Yes. You’re right. It’s amazing what a big marketing budget can do, isn’t it. Of course, we didn’t have that at ZXS, but we still managed to pull in the Nielsen numbers somehow. We managed to go from number ten to number five.
ALISON
I hope they rewarded you accordingly, then. God knows our little old network will if we’re lucky enough to get you.
LEONARD
Oh, no, please don’t misunderstand me. It was a team effort –
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. I’m sure you’re not flattering yourself enough.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. What I meant to say is that I would be happy –
ALISON
That makes me glad.
LEONARD
Miss McKinley –
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. We should just cut to the chase here, don’t you think? First of all, you would be taking a significant pay cut from whatever number you got when you last had a job. Also, we don’t have a nationwide audience. In fact, we’re barely pulling in enough eyeballs. So we can definitely use the help of a name like yourself. But we are a team here, and –
LEONARD
I wouldn’t have –
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. I’m not done yet. It would be so great if you could just wait until I’m done, don’t you think? It would mean so –
Alison stops, noticing that Leonard has frozen. An instant passes. Alison leans forward.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Leonard?
Leonard reacts to his name being called.
LEONARD
I apologize. I – I apologize, Miss McKinley. I seem to have gone about this all wrongheaded. I assure you I would be honored to work for RFS, if I am given the opportunity.
A moment passes. Alison leans back.
ALISON
That’s – good to know.
LEONARD
I apologize again if it seemed otherwise.
ALISON
That’s okay. I forgive you.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Okay then. Good, good. Let’s – move this along. There’s just one more tiny little thing I need you to do for me.
Alison puts down Leonard’s résumé, and takes her clipboard from the desk. She unclips a stapled sheaf of papers, and puts it on the desk between them.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I just need you to read this script for me.
A moment passes. Alison gestures to the script.
LEONARD
Well, actually, I happen to have with me right now some of the scripts that I wrote while I was with UFS –
ALISON
No, no, that’s okay. This one will do just fine.
LEONARD
It’s only that, well, I see ampersands on your script.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. I assure you that everything else is according to The Elements Of Style. Please. The script. You might as well get used to the way we write our scripts around here, don’t you think?
After a moment, Leonard takes the script, albeit reluctantly.
ALISON (CONT’D)
That’s good. Now. Just go from the top.
LEONARD
I’m afraid you might have given me the wrong script, Miss McKinley. This one has rundown instructions on it.
ALISON
Oh, you can just ignore those. I know there’s usually a separate rundown sheet, but we like to run a tighter ship around here. You can just avoid them when you come to them. You can do that, can’t you?
LEONARD
Yes. Of course.
A moment passes as Leonard reads.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I like to read scripts all through at least once. It helps with the flow afterwards.
ALISON
Sure.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
The slots for the rundown are very clear, Miss McKinley. They’re very crisp and well-organized. Did you write them?
ALISON
Yeah, I did.
LEONARD
You’re a producer of Last Call, then.
ALISON
Executive producer, actually.
LEONARD
Oh. That’s interesting. I have a little production knowledge myself. Dana Whitaker – do you know Dana Whitaker is?
ALISON
Executive producer of UFS’s Daily Report since 1983.
LEONARD
Yes, that’s Dana. She taught me most of what I know about production while I was anchoring the Report. I was just a young kid then, but very eager to learn, you understand. Very ambitious. Dana liked eagerness and ambition. She still does, actually. I think that’s why we’re such good friends.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. You’re not actually –
LEONARD
Oh! I didn’t mean – I apologize –
ALISON
I’m sure it won’t be the last time you do.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Mr. Rimes. Let’s get one thing straight here, because I actually do have a show to run after this. I know I’m talented. And I also know that I’m here, at RFS, and not UFS, or even ABS. But I am applying to the big four, and I will keep applying to the big four. But I’m going to do that. By myself. As I’m sure you did.
LEONARD
If you are talented, as you say, then I’m sure the recommendation from Dana will be – deserving. Everybody needs a little help every now and then.
ALISON
That’s – very nice of you to say. But still. No thanks. I like to do things on the up and up.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I suppose you couldn’t blame me for trying.
ALISON
Your technique could use a little work. Now, the script. Please.
A moment passes, as Leonard reads.
LEONARD
It’s good.
ALISON
We feed our writers top-grade bananas.
LEONARD
Would you mind if I made just a few corrections? There are one or two repetitive redundancies and split infinitives.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I didn’t know that there were any, but okay. Go ahead and Strunk them.
Leonard’s manner changes. He feels about his shirt and pants pockets for a pen, but can’t find one. He opens his briefcase and searches through it, but still can’t find one. Puzzled, he eventually –
LEONARD
I apologize. I can’t imagine – I must have neglected to bring a pen. Would you happen to have one with you?
A long moment passes.
ALISON
Wouldn’t be much an executive producer if I didn’t.
Alison opens a drawer, but there are no pens in it. She pauses for a moment, and then opens another drawer and takes out a pen. She holds it out to Leonard, who takes it.
LEONARD
Thank you.
Alison does not respond. She watches closely as Leonard scribbles on the script, making notations and canceling sentences. As he does so –
ALISON
I’m going to have to fire some of my writers at the rate you’re going.
Leonard finishes. He holds the script out to Alison. Alison takes it.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. The pen, please.
An instant passes.
LEONARD
Oh, yes, of course. I apologize.
Leonard holds the pen out to Alison. Alison reaches for it, takes it, and puts it in the drawer. She then proceeds to read the script. As she reads –
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Please don’t misunderstand me. I thought the original script was good. For a first draft. I simply added a little extra something.
ALISON
You added a lot of extra something. This would read nothing like the original.
LEONARD
Yes, exactly. I made it a little less… disingenuous. Candor’s a good thing, don’t you agree?
ALISON
Okay… but there’s candor, and then there’s just, you know, vitriol.
Alison puts the script on the desk. An instant passes.
LEONARD
Well. Late night’s always been slippery and ugly.
ALISON
No, late night used to be slippery and ugly.
LEONARD
But it still could be.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I – don’t think so. Slippery and ugly doesn’t do it for late night anymore, Mr. Rimes. People don’t want to go to sleep with slippery and ugly. They want – cute. Ugly, but really actually adorable. A sting, but blunted, and coated with sugar. Like a – a – scary – teddy bear. You get what I mean.
Leonard does not respond for an instant.
LEONARD
Well. I’m afraid I’m just good old fashioned slippery and ugly.
A moment passes. Alison stands.
ALISON
Okay then. I guess –
LEONARD
Miss McKinley.
Leonard does not continue. Alison waits, standing expectantly over him.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. The world does move on outside, you know.
A moment passes, before –
LEONARD
Miss McKinley. I’m 62 and divorced, and my ex-wife insists on telling my ten-year old son that my life is finished. I’ve been passed on from VPN to ABS, to ZXS, to CBN, to AXS, to WPN.
ALISON
And?
LEONARD
And. And I think –
ALISON
What about QSN?
A long moment passes.
LEONARD
I’ve never –
ALISON
It was after WPN. You remember, don’t you? You went to QSN, and you –
LEONARD
No –
ALISON
– made two advance closed tapings for QSN.
Leonard freezes.
This time, Alison does not say anything.
After a moment –
LEONARD
Yes, I made two tapes for QSN.
ALISON
And the executive producers told you to follow a script, didn’t they?
LEONARD
Two fucking 40-year olds telling me to follow a fucking script.
ALISON
And did you?
LEONARD
I – did.
Leonard shakes his head.
ALISON
And?
LEONARD
And I –
Leonard shakes his head.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I – quit.
ALISON
You didn’t quit.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I don’t understand, Miss McKinley. If you already know why I was fired from QSN, why are you still asking me?
A moment passes.
ALISON
You were fired?
LEONARD
I wouldn’t do what those people wanted me to do. No. That’s not exactly accurate. I couldn’t. If I’d known what it was going to be like, I would never have done it in the first place. I would have quit had they not fired me.
ALISON
Oh.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
You don’t believe me.
ALISON
I think you might be – confused, yes. You bribe in one sentence, preach about candor the next, and forget about both by the third…
LEONARD
I suspect you do that more often than you think, Miss McKinley. Besides, since you appear to have done your homework, you should be aware that I’ve been unemployed since QSN because I refuse to do it again.
ALISON
But you’re here, so… I don’t know. Does that mean you decided you could just come here and shop your morals around?
Alison leans forward.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Who do you think you are, Mr. Rimes?
LEONARD
Listen to me, Miss McKinley. Regardless of what you might think of me, I’m still a name. But I’ve come here to your network, and I’ve been as patient and as accommodating as I’ve ever been, and ever will be. I’ve humiliated myself here because of what I believe in. But you don’t seem to understand that. You don’t seem to understand that I have friends in high places like Dana Whitaker, and you don’t seem to understand that if I want to follow scripts churned out pandering hacks, I could just call up one of those friends. I wouldn’t be here bothering to ingratiate myself with some thirty-fourth-rate executive producer who doesn’t even understand that you can’t out-Nielsen another network by aping it.
A moment passes. Alison takes out a cell phone from her pants pocket, and puts it on the desk between them.
ALISON
Call them. Please. Any one of your “friends in high places”.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
What are you waiting for? Go ahead. Call, I don’t know, “Dana”.
Leonard does not reach for the cell phone.
After a moment, Alison takes the cell phone and puts it back in her pocket.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You see, Mr. Rimes. You might know people in high places, but calling them your friends? They don’t seem all that eager to pull you back up to where they are, do they? But then again, I guess I can’t really blame them – it’s really your fault for being such a sanctimonious fuck-wit, isn’t it? Pissed-off people tend to talk, Mr. Rimes. A lot. Especially executive producers. And –
LEONARD
I don’t need this shit.
ALISON
What was that again?
LEONARD
I said I don’t need this shit. I’ve got more millions in spare change than you’ve got years lived, you little pissant –
ALISON
I’m sorry; I must have missed the part of the program where you explain what you’re doing here, then.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
We’re both T.V. people, Mr. Rimes. But there’s a difference between us.
Alison leans forward.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You’re just the meat puppet on the screen. You’ll talk when I pull your fucking strings. You want to be heard, sure. You want to tell your stories to an audience of, maybe a couple million, sure. But you’ll tell your stories the way people want to hear them, or you can forget about telling them at all. You’ll tell your stories the way I want you to tell them. You’ll even sit down only when I tell you you can. And you’ll sure as damn hell follow any fucking script that I –
LEONARD
Stop telling me what to do!
Something in his tone makes Alison backs away instinctively, even as he freezes and she instantly holds out a palm to the audience in a ‘wait’ gesture.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. I really do – I didn’t mean –
Leonard shakes his head.
Alison immediately goes to him and slaps him. She also immediately swivels his chair in such a way that he faces her while her body blocks him from the audience’s view. She leans in, and –
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Miss –
ALISON
Shut the fuck up, Mr. Rimes.
Leonard laughs, a short, harsh sound. A moment passes.
LEONARD
Miss McKinley. I’m not quite ready for a January-December or an office romance yet.
Alison stands, and walks back to her chair. She sits.
ALISON
I’m not old enough to take care of – a child yet, anyway.
A moment passes. Leonard is silent.
LEONARD
You were in the process of advising me how to conduct myself in your presence.
ALISON
If you want this job, then you will do as you’re told. You will sit on the couch that we provide for you, and you will say whatever words we see fit to put in your mouth. You will smile when the rehabbed talk about “how sorry they are”, even if you know they’re still snorting blow, or smack, or whatever. You will sympathize when a star does his job and tells you he “didn’t know what he was doing” when he threw a phone at someone, even if you know that he’s a psychotic jackass. You will not, under any circumstances, embarrass any of the people who put you on that couch. You will not attack your guests, you will not insinuate any of the things that you might happen to know, and you will not insult the audience who has tuned in to see you play the fucking game. Do you understand me?
Leonard does not respond for a long moment.
LEONARD
That’s all, is it.
A moment passes.
ALISON
So you make a couple of sacrifices. Take the middle road instead of the high one. People love stories of redemption, Mr. Rimes. We’re a nation of forgivers. What is the fucking problem here?
A long moment passes, before –
LEONARD
Quintus Horatius Flaccus.
An instant passes, then –
ALISON
What?
LEONARD
Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum. “It is not every man’s lot to go to Corinth.”
An instant passes, then –
ALISON
I - don’t get it.
LEONARD
Corinth was where the sacred brothels were in Rome, Miss McKinley. They put prostitution on a pedestal and worshipped it, until everyone wanted either to be a prostitute or to fuck one.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I’m sure you’ll understand if I seem less than transformed.
LEONARD
Do you have a son, Miss McKinley?
ALISON
No.
LEONARD
I do. I have a ten-year old son.
ALISON
Yes. You do.
LEONARD
He’s started watching television. Pretty soon he’ll be at the age where the cartoon network won’t hold his attention anymore. And when he reaches that age I highly doubt he will turn to Night News for entertainment. He’s going to start watching, possibly dramas, and possibly sitcoms. And then he’s going to start watching late night. If I take your offer, then he’s going to see me, on late night, giving him the tacit green light that he’s free to snort lines, or throw appliances at people, as long as he goes national on the apologies afterwards.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Bravo. I don’t see why you have a problem following our script, because that was one hell of a performance. Very Lifetime.
LEONARD
I wasn’t –
ALISON
Gimme a break, Mr. Rimes. This isn’t about your son. Maybe you really believe that your son is very own Jiminy Cricket, and maybe he really has become your very own Jiminy Cricket, but this is, was, and always will be all you. You quit UFS in ’94, and that was a good two years before your son was born –
LEONARD
I left UFS because ARN offered me a better deal –
ALISON
Wrong again! I really don’t know why you keep lying to me. The UFS renewal contract was 35 million a year for five years, plus performance bonuses, plus three percent of the revenues from the show after yours, a cut that was estimated at 1.65 million. The ARN contract was thirty mil for five years, plus performance, plus ten percent of post-show, which sounded nice, except they were planning to give up the fight anyway and run Night News against reruns of UFS’s Daily Report.
Leonard is speechless.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I know you, Mr. Rimes. You left UFS because they were becoming too schmaltzy for you – just like why you left ARN later, and why you were kicked out of VPN, ABS, ZXS, AXS, CBN, WPN, and yes, QSN. This isn’t about your son at all. This isn’t even about candor. This is all about you wanting –
LEONARD
For a person who started off not even recognizing me you seem to have acquired quite an in-depth knowledge about me, Miss McKinley.
An instant passes.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
This isn’t about me. This is about you.
ALISON
I don’t know about that.
LEONARD
I didn’t ask you to “offer me this job”, Miss McKinley. Why did you?
ALISON
I’m just trying to help –
LEONARD
You were a fan, weren’t you?
An instant passes.
ALISON
I’m a thorough executive producer –
LEONARD
All right. Who did UFS sign when I moved to ARN?
ALISON
Carlson Mailer. He anchored Night Mail for five years.
LEONARD
And what were the terms of his contract?
ALISON
– Confidential.
LEONARD
What happened to you?
ALISON
Nothing –
LEONARD
Did you finally get to meet Dana Whitaker? Did she tell you that you were qualified, but not quite ready for the big four yet? Is that it? Did you realize that –
ALISON
Shut the fuck –
Alison hears something in her tone that causes her to stop instantly. Leonard notices, but says nothing.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I just – changed. That’s all.
LEONARD
Evidently.
ALISON
Who the hell are you to talk? You gave in in the end, didn’t you? I just became smarter sooner.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
Yes. I hope that works out – for you.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Listen to me, Leonard. Just read the damn script. That’s all you need to do. You don’t want your life to be finished yet, just read the script.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I think this interview is over.
Leonard stands and turns to go.
ALISON
You don’t want to forget your briefcase, Mr. Rimes. Being an unemployed late night host and all.
Leonard turns and walks back to the desk to get his briefcase. Alison stands, grabs his arm, and pulls him closer.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You think not taking the job makes you some kind of martyr? You think it makes you some kind of self-sacrificing holier-than-thou –
Leonard forcefully jerks his arm out of her grasp.
LEONARD
I never said that!
ALISON
You enjoy thinking it, don’t you? You enjoy thinking that you’re better than the rest of us – better than Dana Whitaker, better than your ex-wife, better than your son – hey, probably better than me too –
LEONARD
That’s why you came, isn’t it?
Leonard sits down and puts his briefcase beside him.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
If you want to talk about honesty I suggest you take a seat first, Miss McKinley.
A moment passes, before Alison sits.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Yes, I think Dana Whitaker is a less than stellar human being. Yes, I think my ex-wife should stop sponging off actors barely old enough to have chest-hair. And yes, I definitely do think I am better than you.
ALISON
You self-right –
LEONARD
Don’t flatter yourself, Miss McKinley. You think you’re here to save me? You’re not here to do that at all. You’re here because and only because you realized one morning that you sold out. You got tired of having to fight your managing editor, you got tired of caring that the guests that you booked were all smiling liars, so every single day you gave in a little bit more. A wave here, a few drinks after work there, and suddenly you’re schmoozing like the best of them.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I’m offering you a job because –
Alison does not continue.
LEONARD
You have a nice car, don’t you, Miss McKinley?
Alison does not respond.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
A nice house.
Alison does not respond.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I’m even willing to bet that you have elegant furnishings and tasteful, minimalist bric-a-brac arranged around your artfully lived-in mess-of-a-home, don’t you?
Alison does not respond.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I might be an arrogant, self-righteous, self-sacrificing, holier-than-thou martyr, Miss McKinley. But it isn’t as though you’re any better. You’re not “offering me a job”. If I take your offer, then you get to convince yourself that you’re not doing anything wrong. If I don’t, then you get a warning of what would have happened to you if you hadn’t done what you had to. You’re “offering me a job” only because you’ll get one of those two things, and you don’t actually care a single bit which one it is. You just want to pull me down to where you are any way you can.
Alison does not respond. Leonard reaches for his briefcase.
ALISON
What about you?
Leonard leans back in his chair again, almost amused.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Who the fuck died and made you god? Who the hell are you to judge the rest of us? You want to talk about self-hate? You wrote the book on self-hating. You want to vindictively punish anyone and everyone who’s ever made a mistake only because you can’t stand the fact that you make mistakes. Newsflash, Leonard. People are sorry sometimes. Other people forgive those people sometimes. You make a mistake, you move on. You forgive, you go home and kick something if you need to, and then you forget. That’s the way things work in this world, and you –
LEONARD
Alison.
ALISON
WHAT?
Leonard lunges across the desk and slaps her across the face, hard.
An instant later –
ALISON (CONT’D)
No!
An instant later –
ALISON (CONT’D)
I said no!
Leonard sits down in his chair again.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. Please forgive me.
An instant passes. Alison leans forward.
ALISON
I. Forgive you.
Leonard instantly backhands her across the face, hard.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I said fucking no!
An instant passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I’ve recovered. I really have. This is possibly the most shameful situation I’ve gotten myself into. But I’ve gotten myself into anger management. I’ve made some improvements. I’m filming a new movie. I’m writing a book about drug abuse and rehab. Please forgive me.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I. Forgive –
Leonard makes to slap her again. Alison instinctively recoils.
An instant passes.
LEONARD
I see you’re beginning to understand the flaw in your logic of “the way things work in this world”.
An instant, then –
ALISON
You’re pathetic, Leonard.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
Oh?
ALISON
I pity you. Look at what you’ve become. A vengeful 62-year old who hates himself so much he’ll kill another person for so much as sneezing at the wrong time.
LEONARD
There’s no difference between killing and sneezing, Miss McKinley. One second skips to another far away; the size of the heap is all.
A moment passes.
Alison opens the desk’s drawer, and takes out the pen. She puts it on the desk between them.
ALISON
Then do it.
An instant passes.
LEONARD
I’m not going to hurt you –
ALISON
No. You.
A long moment passes as the pen stays between them.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Who are you to talk when you don’t even have the balls to follow your own fucked-up philosophy to the end?
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You’re just a coward – that’s what you are.
As Alison gestures to the office, their suits, their surroundings –
ALISON (CONT’D)
This – all this. It’s easier, isn’t it. You get to just forget everything and everyone, just bend everything to what you want to –
LEONARD
Shut up.
Alison does not continue. She does not need to.
ALISON
I think you were right. This interview is over.
Alison stands. An instant passes, then –
LEONARD
Don’t fool yourself, Miss McKinley.
As Alison reaches for her clipboard, Leonard grabs her arm.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
You don’t get to leave just like that –
As Alison wrenches her hand out of his, and takes the clipboard –
ALISON
Or what? You’ll try to kill me? “Yes. I hope that works out – for you.”
Alison continues standing over Leonard for a moment.
Leonard does not respond.
Alison circles the desk to leave, but the moment she passes Leonard, he jerks up from the chair, grabs her arm, spins her around, pinions her by both arms, and pulls her dangerously close, all in one smooth action.
Alison instinctively knees him in the groin.
Leonard instantly releases her, staggering back.
He begins to – laugh.
ALISON
Stop laughing.
LEONARD
You think that was in defense, Miss McKinley? What do you think you’re doing when you type out your rundown and fill in the slots and clip it on your precious clipboard? You’re not any different from me, Miss McKinley. “We like to run a tighter ship around here”? Don’t be stupid. You’re afraid of dead air. You –
ALISON
Shut up –
LEONARD
– wake up in the morning and you put on your fancy suit, and you go to work and you executive produce and you fill every second of dead air with something so you end up with a nicely packaged world –
ALISON
Shut up –
LEONARD
I’m sure your sex life must be something awful, isn’t it, Alison –
Alison jerks towards him, but catches herself instantly.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Now we’re done.
Leonard walks past Alison.
ALISON
If you walk out that door, I will destroy you.
An instant later –
LEONARD
That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it?
Leonard takes another step.
ALISON
I will offer you the job every single day, and you will entertain me, Mr. Rimes, because you are an unemployed late night anchor, and I am a late night executive producer with a job opening to fill. And one day, either you will accept the offer, or one second will skip to another far away again, and you will pay when it does.
LEONARD
Now you understand, don’t you? Kill an ant, kill a man – it’s all the same thing.
ALISON
Choose.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
All right.
Leonard walks past Alison to the desk, and reaches for the script on the desk. He holds it up.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Sell me on the merits of late night schmaltzy scary teddy bear-ness, and sour me on the dire outlook of unemployment. Do it again, and I’ll choose.
An instant later –
ALISON
Read the script.
A moment later –
LEONARD
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.
ALISON
Read. The script.
LEONARD
“I fear the Greeks, even when they bear gifts.” Virgil. You came here because you can’t control your life and you want to dictate mine –
ALISON
Read the script!
LEONARD
Why don’t you get it, you stupid girl. There’s no difference.
Leonard tears the script in half. And tears it in half again. And again.
An instant, then –
ALISON
What the fuck is the problem with you – the Aeneid, sarcastic Roman poets, and The Elements Of Style – that’s the problem with you – look at where we are – you’ll never change – never – it’s not that you can’t, it’s that you won’t – so you keep going on – you’ll just keep going on –
Leonard – laughs. He laughs and laughs. Alison holds her hands to her ears, as though the laughter is hurting her. Then, in an instant –
Alison flies at Leonard, pushing him onto the desk and strangling him.
Leonard pushes her off roughly – she hits the floor.
A DOCTOR enters, accompanied by GUARDS. The guards swiftly pinion Leonard and manhandle him towards the door.
On the floor, Alison is in shock –
LEONARD
It’s always round the corner, Miss McKinley – when the world explodes because two seconds far apart smash into each other –
The guards leave as the doctor helps Alison up.
The doctor is shaken.
DOCTOR
He’s crazy.
Alison does not respond – she cannot.
A long moment, then –
Black out.
ALISON MCKINLEY, an attractive and petite woman of 29 dressed in a sharp suit, opens the door and enters with a paper-padded clipboard, followed by LEONARD RIMES, 62, a large and distinguished man similarly attired and holding a briefcase.
Alison heads straight for the desk, leaving Leonard to close the door. This he does, after a moment, before he walks to the small chair, reaching it as Alison reaches her chair.
ALISON
Go ahead and –
Leonard is already seating himself. A moment passes.
LEONARD
Oh! I apologize.
But Leonard does not stand.
ALISON
That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.
Alison sits, putting her clipboard on the desk. A long moment passes.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Since we’re here, you might as well show me your résumé, don’t you think?
LEONARD
Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.
Leonard takes his briefcase, opens it, and rummages through a mess of papers before he finds his résumé. He hands it to Alison.
Alison reads it, making noncommittal sounds. Leonard is silent, at first, but eventually –
LEONARD (CONT’D)
As you can see, I’ve anchored late night for UFS, ARN, VPN, and ABS in my twenty-seven years of experience.
ALISON
Are those the big four?
LEONARD
Yes. That’s right. Those are the big four.
A moment passes.
ALISON
And none of them could hold onto you? That’s so impressive.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
Well. We parted amicably eventually due to creative differences, but I can assure you that while I was under each network’s employment I was an asset to the organization. My shows at UFS and ARN, for example, cleared an average of a percent at the top. In the 18 to 49, I mean.
ALISON
They must have been so happy. What with all that advertising money on the line.
There is a brief moment of silence.
LEONARD
Yes. You’re right. It’s amazing what a big marketing budget can do, isn’t it. Of course, we didn’t have that at ZXS, but we still managed to pull in the Nielsen numbers somehow. We managed to go from number ten to number five.
ALISON
I hope they rewarded you accordingly, then. God knows our little old network will if we’re lucky enough to get you.
LEONARD
Oh, no, please don’t misunderstand me. It was a team effort –
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. I’m sure you’re not flattering yourself enough.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. What I meant to say is that I would be happy –
ALISON
That makes me glad.
LEONARD
Miss McKinley –
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. We should just cut to the chase here, don’t you think? First of all, you would be taking a significant pay cut from whatever number you got when you last had a job. Also, we don’t have a nationwide audience. In fact, we’re barely pulling in enough eyeballs. So we can definitely use the help of a name like yourself. But we are a team here, and –
LEONARD
I wouldn’t have –
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. I’m not done yet. It would be so great if you could just wait until I’m done, don’t you think? It would mean so –
Alison stops, noticing that Leonard has frozen. An instant passes. Alison leans forward.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Leonard?
Leonard reacts to his name being called.
LEONARD
I apologize. I – I apologize, Miss McKinley. I seem to have gone about this all wrongheaded. I assure you I would be honored to work for RFS, if I am given the opportunity.
A moment passes. Alison leans back.
ALISON
That’s – good to know.
LEONARD
I apologize again if it seemed otherwise.
ALISON
That’s okay. I forgive you.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Okay then. Good, good. Let’s – move this along. There’s just one more tiny little thing I need you to do for me.
Alison puts down Leonard’s résumé, and takes her clipboard from the desk. She unclips a stapled sheaf of papers, and puts it on the desk between them.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I just need you to read this script for me.
A moment passes. Alison gestures to the script.
LEONARD
Well, actually, I happen to have with me right now some of the scripts that I wrote while I was with UFS –
ALISON
No, no, that’s okay. This one will do just fine.
LEONARD
It’s only that, well, I see ampersands on your script.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. I assure you that everything else is according to The Elements Of Style. Please. The script. You might as well get used to the way we write our scripts around here, don’t you think?
After a moment, Leonard takes the script, albeit reluctantly.
ALISON (CONT’D)
That’s good. Now. Just go from the top.
LEONARD
I’m afraid you might have given me the wrong script, Miss McKinley. This one has rundown instructions on it.
ALISON
Oh, you can just ignore those. I know there’s usually a separate rundown sheet, but we like to run a tighter ship around here. You can just avoid them when you come to them. You can do that, can’t you?
LEONARD
Yes. Of course.
A moment passes as Leonard reads.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I like to read scripts all through at least once. It helps with the flow afterwards.
ALISON
Sure.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
The slots for the rundown are very clear, Miss McKinley. They’re very crisp and well-organized. Did you write them?
ALISON
Yeah, I did.
LEONARD
You’re a producer of Last Call, then.
ALISON
Executive producer, actually.
LEONARD
Oh. That’s interesting. I have a little production knowledge myself. Dana Whitaker – do you know Dana Whitaker is?
ALISON
Executive producer of UFS’s Daily Report since 1983.
LEONARD
Yes, that’s Dana. She taught me most of what I know about production while I was anchoring the Report. I was just a young kid then, but very eager to learn, you understand. Very ambitious. Dana liked eagerness and ambition. She still does, actually. I think that’s why we’re such good friends.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. You’re not actually –
LEONARD
Oh! I didn’t mean – I apologize –
ALISON
I’m sure it won’t be the last time you do.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Mr. Rimes. Let’s get one thing straight here, because I actually do have a show to run after this. I know I’m talented. And I also know that I’m here, at RFS, and not UFS, or even ABS. But I am applying to the big four, and I will keep applying to the big four. But I’m going to do that. By myself. As I’m sure you did.
LEONARD
If you are talented, as you say, then I’m sure the recommendation from Dana will be – deserving. Everybody needs a little help every now and then.
ALISON
That’s – very nice of you to say. But still. No thanks. I like to do things on the up and up.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I suppose you couldn’t blame me for trying.
ALISON
Your technique could use a little work. Now, the script. Please.
A moment passes, as Leonard reads.
LEONARD
It’s good.
ALISON
We feed our writers top-grade bananas.
LEONARD
Would you mind if I made just a few corrections? There are one or two repetitive redundancies and split infinitives.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I didn’t know that there were any, but okay. Go ahead and Strunk them.
Leonard’s manner changes. He feels about his shirt and pants pockets for a pen, but can’t find one. He opens his briefcase and searches through it, but still can’t find one. Puzzled, he eventually –
LEONARD
I apologize. I can’t imagine – I must have neglected to bring a pen. Would you happen to have one with you?
A long moment passes.
ALISON
Wouldn’t be much an executive producer if I didn’t.
Alison opens a drawer, but there are no pens in it. She pauses for a moment, and then opens another drawer and takes out a pen. She holds it out to Leonard, who takes it.
LEONARD
Thank you.
Alison does not respond. She watches closely as Leonard scribbles on the script, making notations and canceling sentences. As he does so –
ALISON
I’m going to have to fire some of my writers at the rate you’re going.
Leonard finishes. He holds the script out to Alison. Alison takes it.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. The pen, please.
An instant passes.
LEONARD
Oh, yes, of course. I apologize.
Leonard holds the pen out to Alison. Alison reaches for it, takes it, and puts it in the drawer. She then proceeds to read the script. As she reads –
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Please don’t misunderstand me. I thought the original script was good. For a first draft. I simply added a little extra something.
ALISON
You added a lot of extra something. This would read nothing like the original.
LEONARD
Yes, exactly. I made it a little less… disingenuous. Candor’s a good thing, don’t you agree?
ALISON
Okay… but there’s candor, and then there’s just, you know, vitriol.
Alison puts the script on the desk. An instant passes.
LEONARD
Well. Late night’s always been slippery and ugly.
ALISON
No, late night used to be slippery and ugly.
LEONARD
But it still could be.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I – don’t think so. Slippery and ugly doesn’t do it for late night anymore, Mr. Rimes. People don’t want to go to sleep with slippery and ugly. They want – cute. Ugly, but really actually adorable. A sting, but blunted, and coated with sugar. Like a – a – scary – teddy bear. You get what I mean.
Leonard does not respond for an instant.
LEONARD
Well. I’m afraid I’m just good old fashioned slippery and ugly.
A moment passes. Alison stands.
ALISON
Okay then. I guess –
LEONARD
Miss McKinley.
Leonard does not continue. Alison waits, standing expectantly over him.
ALISON
Mr. Rimes. The world does move on outside, you know.
A moment passes, before –
LEONARD
Miss McKinley. I’m 62 and divorced, and my ex-wife insists on telling my ten-year old son that my life is finished. I’ve been passed on from VPN to ABS, to ZXS, to CBN, to AXS, to WPN.
ALISON
And?
LEONARD
And. And I think –
ALISON
What about QSN?
A long moment passes.
LEONARD
I’ve never –
ALISON
It was after WPN. You remember, don’t you? You went to QSN, and you –
LEONARD
No –
ALISON
– made two advance closed tapings for QSN.
Leonard freezes.
This time, Alison does not say anything.
After a moment –
LEONARD
Yes, I made two tapes for QSN.
ALISON
And the executive producers told you to follow a script, didn’t they?
LEONARD
Two fucking 40-year olds telling me to follow a fucking script.
ALISON
And did you?
LEONARD
I – did.
Leonard shakes his head.
ALISON
And?
LEONARD
And I –
Leonard shakes his head.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I – quit.
ALISON
You didn’t quit.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I don’t understand, Miss McKinley. If you already know why I was fired from QSN, why are you still asking me?
A moment passes.
ALISON
You were fired?
LEONARD
I wouldn’t do what those people wanted me to do. No. That’s not exactly accurate. I couldn’t. If I’d known what it was going to be like, I would never have done it in the first place. I would have quit had they not fired me.
ALISON
Oh.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
You don’t believe me.
ALISON
I think you might be – confused, yes. You bribe in one sentence, preach about candor the next, and forget about both by the third…
LEONARD
I suspect you do that more often than you think, Miss McKinley. Besides, since you appear to have done your homework, you should be aware that I’ve been unemployed since QSN because I refuse to do it again.
ALISON
But you’re here, so… I don’t know. Does that mean you decided you could just come here and shop your morals around?
Alison leans forward.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Who do you think you are, Mr. Rimes?
LEONARD
Listen to me, Miss McKinley. Regardless of what you might think of me, I’m still a name. But I’ve come here to your network, and I’ve been as patient and as accommodating as I’ve ever been, and ever will be. I’ve humiliated myself here because of what I believe in. But you don’t seem to understand that. You don’t seem to understand that I have friends in high places like Dana Whitaker, and you don’t seem to understand that if I want to follow scripts churned out pandering hacks, I could just call up one of those friends. I wouldn’t be here bothering to ingratiate myself with some thirty-fourth-rate executive producer who doesn’t even understand that you can’t out-Nielsen another network by aping it.
A moment passes. Alison takes out a cell phone from her pants pocket, and puts it on the desk between them.
ALISON
Call them. Please. Any one of your “friends in high places”.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
What are you waiting for? Go ahead. Call, I don’t know, “Dana”.
Leonard does not reach for the cell phone.
After a moment, Alison takes the cell phone and puts it back in her pocket.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You see, Mr. Rimes. You might know people in high places, but calling them your friends? They don’t seem all that eager to pull you back up to where they are, do they? But then again, I guess I can’t really blame them – it’s really your fault for being such a sanctimonious fuck-wit, isn’t it? Pissed-off people tend to talk, Mr. Rimes. A lot. Especially executive producers. And –
LEONARD
I don’t need this shit.
ALISON
What was that again?
LEONARD
I said I don’t need this shit. I’ve got more millions in spare change than you’ve got years lived, you little pissant –
ALISON
I’m sorry; I must have missed the part of the program where you explain what you’re doing here, then.
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
We’re both T.V. people, Mr. Rimes. But there’s a difference between us.
Alison leans forward.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You’re just the meat puppet on the screen. You’ll talk when I pull your fucking strings. You want to be heard, sure. You want to tell your stories to an audience of, maybe a couple million, sure. But you’ll tell your stories the way people want to hear them, or you can forget about telling them at all. You’ll tell your stories the way I want you to tell them. You’ll even sit down only when I tell you you can. And you’ll sure as damn hell follow any fucking script that I –
LEONARD
Stop telling me what to do!
Something in his tone makes Alison backs away instinctively, even as he freezes and she instantly holds out a palm to the audience in a ‘wait’ gesture.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. I really do – I didn’t mean –
Leonard shakes his head.
Alison immediately goes to him and slaps him. She also immediately swivels his chair in such a way that he faces her while her body blocks him from the audience’s view. She leans in, and –
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Miss –
ALISON
Shut the fuck up, Mr. Rimes.
Leonard laughs, a short, harsh sound. A moment passes.
LEONARD
Miss McKinley. I’m not quite ready for a January-December or an office romance yet.
Alison stands, and walks back to her chair. She sits.
ALISON
I’m not old enough to take care of – a child yet, anyway.
A moment passes. Leonard is silent.
LEONARD
You were in the process of advising me how to conduct myself in your presence.
ALISON
If you want this job, then you will do as you’re told. You will sit on the couch that we provide for you, and you will say whatever words we see fit to put in your mouth. You will smile when the rehabbed talk about “how sorry they are”, even if you know they’re still snorting blow, or smack, or whatever. You will sympathize when a star does his job and tells you he “didn’t know what he was doing” when he threw a phone at someone, even if you know that he’s a psychotic jackass. You will not, under any circumstances, embarrass any of the people who put you on that couch. You will not attack your guests, you will not insinuate any of the things that you might happen to know, and you will not insult the audience who has tuned in to see you play the fucking game. Do you understand me?
Leonard does not respond for a long moment.
LEONARD
That’s all, is it.
A moment passes.
ALISON
So you make a couple of sacrifices. Take the middle road instead of the high one. People love stories of redemption, Mr. Rimes. We’re a nation of forgivers. What is the fucking problem here?
A long moment passes, before –
LEONARD
Quintus Horatius Flaccus.
An instant passes, then –
ALISON
What?
LEONARD
Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum. “It is not every man’s lot to go to Corinth.”
An instant passes, then –
ALISON
I - don’t get it.
LEONARD
Corinth was where the sacred brothels were in Rome, Miss McKinley. They put prostitution on a pedestal and worshipped it, until everyone wanted either to be a prostitute or to fuck one.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I’m sure you’ll understand if I seem less than transformed.
LEONARD
Do you have a son, Miss McKinley?
ALISON
No.
LEONARD
I do. I have a ten-year old son.
ALISON
Yes. You do.
LEONARD
He’s started watching television. Pretty soon he’ll be at the age where the cartoon network won’t hold his attention anymore. And when he reaches that age I highly doubt he will turn to Night News for entertainment. He’s going to start watching, possibly dramas, and possibly sitcoms. And then he’s going to start watching late night. If I take your offer, then he’s going to see me, on late night, giving him the tacit green light that he’s free to snort lines, or throw appliances at people, as long as he goes national on the apologies afterwards.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Bravo. I don’t see why you have a problem following our script, because that was one hell of a performance. Very Lifetime.
LEONARD
I wasn’t –
ALISON
Gimme a break, Mr. Rimes. This isn’t about your son. Maybe you really believe that your son is very own Jiminy Cricket, and maybe he really has become your very own Jiminy Cricket, but this is, was, and always will be all you. You quit UFS in ’94, and that was a good two years before your son was born –
LEONARD
I left UFS because ARN offered me a better deal –
ALISON
Wrong again! I really don’t know why you keep lying to me. The UFS renewal contract was 35 million a year for five years, plus performance bonuses, plus three percent of the revenues from the show after yours, a cut that was estimated at 1.65 million. The ARN contract was thirty mil for five years, plus performance, plus ten percent of post-show, which sounded nice, except they were planning to give up the fight anyway and run Night News against reruns of UFS’s Daily Report.
Leonard is speechless.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I know you, Mr. Rimes. You left UFS because they were becoming too schmaltzy for you – just like why you left ARN later, and why you were kicked out of VPN, ABS, ZXS, AXS, CBN, WPN, and yes, QSN. This isn’t about your son at all. This isn’t even about candor. This is all about you wanting –
LEONARD
For a person who started off not even recognizing me you seem to have acquired quite an in-depth knowledge about me, Miss McKinley.
An instant passes.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
This isn’t about me. This is about you.
ALISON
I don’t know about that.
LEONARD
I didn’t ask you to “offer me this job”, Miss McKinley. Why did you?
ALISON
I’m just trying to help –
LEONARD
You were a fan, weren’t you?
An instant passes.
ALISON
I’m a thorough executive producer –
LEONARD
All right. Who did UFS sign when I moved to ARN?
ALISON
Carlson Mailer. He anchored Night Mail for five years.
LEONARD
And what were the terms of his contract?
ALISON
– Confidential.
LEONARD
What happened to you?
ALISON
Nothing –
LEONARD
Did you finally get to meet Dana Whitaker? Did she tell you that you were qualified, but not quite ready for the big four yet? Is that it? Did you realize that –
ALISON
Shut the fuck –
Alison hears something in her tone that causes her to stop instantly. Leonard notices, but says nothing.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I just – changed. That’s all.
LEONARD
Evidently.
ALISON
Who the hell are you to talk? You gave in in the end, didn’t you? I just became smarter sooner.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
Yes. I hope that works out – for you.
A moment passes.
ALISON
Listen to me, Leonard. Just read the damn script. That’s all you need to do. You don’t want your life to be finished yet, just read the script.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I think this interview is over.
Leonard stands and turns to go.
ALISON
You don’t want to forget your briefcase, Mr. Rimes. Being an unemployed late night host and all.
Leonard turns and walks back to the desk to get his briefcase. Alison stands, grabs his arm, and pulls him closer.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You think not taking the job makes you some kind of martyr? You think it makes you some kind of self-sacrificing holier-than-thou –
Leonard forcefully jerks his arm out of her grasp.
LEONARD
I never said that!
ALISON
You enjoy thinking it, don’t you? You enjoy thinking that you’re better than the rest of us – better than Dana Whitaker, better than your ex-wife, better than your son – hey, probably better than me too –
LEONARD
That’s why you came, isn’t it?
Leonard sits down and puts his briefcase beside him.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
If you want to talk about honesty I suggest you take a seat first, Miss McKinley.
A moment passes, before Alison sits.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Yes, I think Dana Whitaker is a less than stellar human being. Yes, I think my ex-wife should stop sponging off actors barely old enough to have chest-hair. And yes, I definitely do think I am better than you.
ALISON
You self-right –
LEONARD
Don’t flatter yourself, Miss McKinley. You think you’re here to save me? You’re not here to do that at all. You’re here because and only because you realized one morning that you sold out. You got tired of having to fight your managing editor, you got tired of caring that the guests that you booked were all smiling liars, so every single day you gave in a little bit more. A wave here, a few drinks after work there, and suddenly you’re schmoozing like the best of them.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I’m offering you a job because –
Alison does not continue.
LEONARD
You have a nice car, don’t you, Miss McKinley?
Alison does not respond.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
A nice house.
Alison does not respond.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I’m even willing to bet that you have elegant furnishings and tasteful, minimalist bric-a-brac arranged around your artfully lived-in mess-of-a-home, don’t you?
Alison does not respond.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
I might be an arrogant, self-righteous, self-sacrificing, holier-than-thou martyr, Miss McKinley. But it isn’t as though you’re any better. You’re not “offering me a job”. If I take your offer, then you get to convince yourself that you’re not doing anything wrong. If I don’t, then you get a warning of what would have happened to you if you hadn’t done what you had to. You’re “offering me a job” only because you’ll get one of those two things, and you don’t actually care a single bit which one it is. You just want to pull me down to where you are any way you can.
Alison does not respond. Leonard reaches for his briefcase.
ALISON
What about you?
Leonard leans back in his chair again, almost amused.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Who the fuck died and made you god? Who the hell are you to judge the rest of us? You want to talk about self-hate? You wrote the book on self-hating. You want to vindictively punish anyone and everyone who’s ever made a mistake only because you can’t stand the fact that you make mistakes. Newsflash, Leonard. People are sorry sometimes. Other people forgive those people sometimes. You make a mistake, you move on. You forgive, you go home and kick something if you need to, and then you forget. That’s the way things work in this world, and you –
LEONARD
Alison.
ALISON
WHAT?
Leonard lunges across the desk and slaps her across the face, hard.
An instant later –
ALISON (CONT’D)
No!
An instant later –
ALISON (CONT’D)
I said no!
Leonard sits down in his chair again.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. Please forgive me.
An instant passes. Alison leans forward.
ALISON
I. Forgive you.
Leonard instantly backhands her across the face, hard.
ALISON (CONT’D)
I said fucking no!
An instant passes.
LEONARD
I apologize. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I’ve recovered. I really have. This is possibly the most shameful situation I’ve gotten myself into. But I’ve gotten myself into anger management. I’ve made some improvements. I’m filming a new movie. I’m writing a book about drug abuse and rehab. Please forgive me.
A moment passes.
ALISON
I. Forgive –
Leonard makes to slap her again. Alison instinctively recoils.
An instant passes.
LEONARD
I see you’re beginning to understand the flaw in your logic of “the way things work in this world”.
An instant, then –
ALISON
You’re pathetic, Leonard.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
Oh?
ALISON
I pity you. Look at what you’ve become. A vengeful 62-year old who hates himself so much he’ll kill another person for so much as sneezing at the wrong time.
LEONARD
There’s no difference between killing and sneezing, Miss McKinley. One second skips to another far away; the size of the heap is all.
A moment passes.
Alison opens the desk’s drawer, and takes out the pen. She puts it on the desk between them.
ALISON
Then do it.
An instant passes.
LEONARD
I’m not going to hurt you –
ALISON
No. You.
A long moment passes as the pen stays between them.
ALISON (CONT’D)
Who are you to talk when you don’t even have the balls to follow your own fucked-up philosophy to the end?
Leonard does not respond.
ALISON (CONT’D)
You’re just a coward – that’s what you are.
As Alison gestures to the office, their suits, their surroundings –
ALISON (CONT’D)
This – all this. It’s easier, isn’t it. You get to just forget everything and everyone, just bend everything to what you want to –
LEONARD
Shut up.
Alison does not continue. She does not need to.
ALISON
I think you were right. This interview is over.
Alison stands. An instant passes, then –
LEONARD
Don’t fool yourself, Miss McKinley.
As Alison reaches for her clipboard, Leonard grabs her arm.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
You don’t get to leave just like that –
As Alison wrenches her hand out of his, and takes the clipboard –
ALISON
Or what? You’ll try to kill me? “Yes. I hope that works out – for you.”
Alison continues standing over Leonard for a moment.
Leonard does not respond.
Alison circles the desk to leave, but the moment she passes Leonard, he jerks up from the chair, grabs her arm, spins her around, pinions her by both arms, and pulls her dangerously close, all in one smooth action.
Alison instinctively knees him in the groin.
Leonard instantly releases her, staggering back.
He begins to – laugh.
ALISON
Stop laughing.
LEONARD
You think that was in defense, Miss McKinley? What do you think you’re doing when you type out your rundown and fill in the slots and clip it on your precious clipboard? You’re not any different from me, Miss McKinley. “We like to run a tighter ship around here”? Don’t be stupid. You’re afraid of dead air. You –
ALISON
Shut up –
LEONARD
– wake up in the morning and you put on your fancy suit, and you go to work and you executive produce and you fill every second of dead air with something so you end up with a nicely packaged world –
ALISON
Shut up –
LEONARD
I’m sure your sex life must be something awful, isn’t it, Alison –
Alison jerks towards him, but catches herself instantly.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Now we’re done.
Leonard walks past Alison.
ALISON
If you walk out that door, I will destroy you.
An instant later –
LEONARD
That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it?
Leonard takes another step.
ALISON
I will offer you the job every single day, and you will entertain me, Mr. Rimes, because you are an unemployed late night anchor, and I am a late night executive producer with a job opening to fill. And one day, either you will accept the offer, or one second will skip to another far away again, and you will pay when it does.
LEONARD
Now you understand, don’t you? Kill an ant, kill a man – it’s all the same thing.
ALISON
Choose.
A moment passes.
LEONARD
All right.
Leonard walks past Alison to the desk, and reaches for the script on the desk. He holds it up.
LEONARD (CONT’D)
Sell me on the merits of late night schmaltzy scary teddy bear-ness, and sour me on the dire outlook of unemployment. Do it again, and I’ll choose.
An instant later –
ALISON
Read the script.
A moment later –
LEONARD
Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.
ALISON
Read. The script.
LEONARD
“I fear the Greeks, even when they bear gifts.” Virgil. You came here because you can’t control your life and you want to dictate mine –
ALISON
Read the script!
LEONARD
Why don’t you get it, you stupid girl. There’s no difference.
Leonard tears the script in half. And tears it in half again. And again.
An instant, then –
ALISON
What the fuck is the problem with you – the Aeneid, sarcastic Roman poets, and The Elements Of Style – that’s the problem with you – look at where we are – you’ll never change – never – it’s not that you can’t, it’s that you won’t – so you keep going on – you’ll just keep going on –
Leonard – laughs. He laughs and laughs. Alison holds her hands to her ears, as though the laughter is hurting her. Then, in an instant –
Alison flies at Leonard, pushing him onto the desk and strangling him.
Leonard pushes her off roughly – she hits the floor.
A DOCTOR enters, accompanied by GUARDS. The guards swiftly pinion Leonard and manhandle him towards the door.
On the floor, Alison is in shock –
LEONARD
It’s always round the corner, Miss McKinley – when the world explodes because two seconds far apart smash into each other –
The guards leave as the doctor helps Alison up.
The doctor is shaken.
DOCTOR
He’s crazy.
Alison does not respond – she cannot.
A long moment, then –
Black out.
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