A Doll House
A Doll House. Now, that's a play!
posted by taotianone at 9:43 PM
0 comments
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Chapter Seven: Exercises
Chapter Seven: Exercises
Item #3: Changing “beat.” Tom trumps Jack’s non-support decision with a scholarship.
Scene Two:
As dad leaves the room angrily, mom sadly takes the uneaten bowl of chili from the table and goes to the sink, continuing with washing the dishes. The back door opens and Tom enters, hanging his wraps on the coathooks by the door.
TOM: Hi Sis.
MOM: (face lighting up in a smile) Hello Tommy. My, your cheeks are red.
TOM: It’s cold out there tonight. Jack home yet? … hope he got the forms set. I know he needs to pour concrete tomorrow for sure.
MOM: Yes, thank Goodness … at least something went right for him today.
TOM: There was a problem?
MOM: I’m sorry to say it, but … Hardin … you know … the liquor again …
TOM: Oh no. Jeez, I thought maybe he was doing better with that. I know how much Jack hates … well, that whole situation.
MOM: It hurts him Tommy, it’s his own father and he loves him, but he just can’t stand what the stuff does to Hardin. It makes Jack feel so bad … he’s mad and sad all at the same time. And right now, he’s got so many things on his mind. Even you, Tom.
TOM: I know, I know. And I hate being another problem for him too, but I’ve made my decision. I just finally made up my mind this afternoon.
MOM: And…?
TOM: I’m going to Ann Arbor. For sure. I’m going to go.
MOM: Are you certain Tommy? Is that really what you want to do? Jack won’t be very happy about it. But I guess you’ve got to do what’s best for you. You’re not a little boy any more.
TOM: That’s it Sis. Making Jack happy by making myself unhappy won’t work for long ... things’d blow up sooner or later anyway. I’d just …
Jack enters from the door to the living room, carrying the newspaper folded in his hand, sees Tom, and smiles briefly at him.
DAD: ‘Lo, Tom. I didn’t hear you come in. How was school today?
TOM: Okay, I guess. But I’m not really interested in (sarcastically) “Statics and Dynamics.” In fact, its about the most boring thing I ever heard of.
DAD: It may be boring, but it’s bread and butter for an engineer. You need to take it very seriously … do well in it. Once you’re out of school, you’ll use it every day of your life.
TOM: I might just as well tell you, Jack … straight out. I’m done with it. I decided for sure, I’m going to Ann Arbor. I know you don’t like it, and I really don’t mean to make you unhappy, but I’m going to study art. I want to be an artist.
DAD: Tom, damnit, it just doesn’t make sense. We’ve talked about this over and over and over. Artists don’t make any money, at least, not many of them do. You’re going to school right here in town, you’ll get a degree in Civil Engineering, or maybe Mechanical if you like. You have a good mind. You could succeed in either one. And when you got out, you’d be almost guaranteed a good job. In fact, I sort of hope maybe you’ll come in with me…we’d make a good team.
TOM: I know that. And I know you’re thinking about a good future for me. I appreciate it, I really do. But its just not what I want to do with my life. Overseas I began to realize that life can be pretty short – I had friends that didn’t come back. I love to draw and paint, and I want to see if I can make a living at it. And, if I can’t, I’ll always find something to do…
DAD: For Christ’s sake, can’t you remember your own father walking the streets looking for work? For anything? Any kind of work? And there wasn’t anything for a guy without a practical skill, guys like that were a dime a dozen in the 30’s. There weren’t many engineers in bread lines back then, and there won’t ever be. Those days could come again …in fact, they probably will.
TOM: It’s just not for me. I’m going to go to Ann Arbor. I’ve been accepted there and I’ve made my decision. I hope someday you’ll be proud of me…maybe I’ll be famous, get one of my pictures on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post or something.
DAD: (sigh) … I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, I really did. But I’m going to have to put my foot down. I want you to go to school here. I’m not going to give you another dime if you go off to Michigan. I’m sorry, Tom, I really am. But, I’m just going to have to say “No.” You'll thank me some day.
TOM: I’m sorry too, I guess. You’ve been awfully good to me, you and Sis. But I’ve just got to do it. I was going to tell you both, I got a telegram from them today – they’ve offered me a scholarship in the Art Department. I was hoping you’d be happy for me. With that and my G.I. money, and some part-time work…I’ll make it somehow. You won’t have to support me. I can go on my own.
DAD: Tom, I think you’re making a big mistake … a really big mistake.
TOM: You may be right Jack. But, I’m going anyway. I’ll never forget all you’ve done for me … but I’ve got to go.
(Tom, glances quickly at Mom, and skirting around DAD, leaves the kitchen through the door to the living room.)
DAD: Goddamnit. This whole family’s going to hell in handbasket. Thinks just because he's got some damned scholarship he can do whatever he wants. He'll wish he'd listened to me ... it's a mistake...he'll find out someday.
(Mom, leaves the sink, approaches Dad, hugs him.)
MOM: Now, dear …
Item #4
I didn’t know it when I wrote it, but after reading Chapter Seven, I see that the scene I wrote in the Chapter Six exercises (as well as this one for Chapter Seven) are “French” scenes. The action is precipitated and terminated by major characters entering or leaving the stage.
Item #3: Changing “beat.” Tom trumps Jack’s non-support decision with a scholarship.
Scene Two:
As dad leaves the room angrily, mom sadly takes the uneaten bowl of chili from the table and goes to the sink, continuing with washing the dishes. The back door opens and Tom enters, hanging his wraps on the coathooks by the door.
TOM: Hi Sis.
MOM: (face lighting up in a smile) Hello Tommy. My, your cheeks are red.
TOM: It’s cold out there tonight. Jack home yet? … hope he got the forms set. I know he needs to pour concrete tomorrow for sure.
MOM: Yes, thank Goodness … at least something went right for him today.
TOM: There was a problem?
MOM: I’m sorry to say it, but … Hardin … you know … the liquor again …
TOM: Oh no. Jeez, I thought maybe he was doing better with that. I know how much Jack hates … well, that whole situation.
MOM: It hurts him Tommy, it’s his own father and he loves him, but he just can’t stand what the stuff does to Hardin. It makes Jack feel so bad … he’s mad and sad all at the same time. And right now, he’s got so many things on his mind. Even you, Tom.
TOM: I know, I know. And I hate being another problem for him too, but I’ve made my decision. I just finally made up my mind this afternoon.
MOM: And…?
TOM: I’m going to Ann Arbor. For sure. I’m going to go.
MOM: Are you certain Tommy? Is that really what you want to do? Jack won’t be very happy about it. But I guess you’ve got to do what’s best for you. You’re not a little boy any more.
TOM: That’s it Sis. Making Jack happy by making myself unhappy won’t work for long ... things’d blow up sooner or later anyway. I’d just …
Jack enters from the door to the living room, carrying the newspaper folded in his hand, sees Tom, and smiles briefly at him.
DAD: ‘Lo, Tom. I didn’t hear you come in. How was school today?
TOM: Okay, I guess. But I’m not really interested in (sarcastically) “Statics and Dynamics.” In fact, its about the most boring thing I ever heard of.
DAD: It may be boring, but it’s bread and butter for an engineer. You need to take it very seriously … do well in it. Once you’re out of school, you’ll use it every day of your life.
TOM: I might just as well tell you, Jack … straight out. I’m done with it. I decided for sure, I’m going to Ann Arbor. I know you don’t like it, and I really don’t mean to make you unhappy, but I’m going to study art. I want to be an artist.
DAD: Tom, damnit, it just doesn’t make sense. We’ve talked about this over and over and over. Artists don’t make any money, at least, not many of them do. You’re going to school right here in town, you’ll get a degree in Civil Engineering, or maybe Mechanical if you like. You have a good mind. You could succeed in either one. And when you got out, you’d be almost guaranteed a good job. In fact, I sort of hope maybe you’ll come in with me…we’d make a good team.
TOM: I know that. And I know you’re thinking about a good future for me. I appreciate it, I really do. But its just not what I want to do with my life. Overseas I began to realize that life can be pretty short – I had friends that didn’t come back. I love to draw and paint, and I want to see if I can make a living at it. And, if I can’t, I’ll always find something to do…
DAD: For Christ’s sake, can’t you remember your own father walking the streets looking for work? For anything? Any kind of work? And there wasn’t anything for a guy without a practical skill, guys like that were a dime a dozen in the 30’s. There weren’t many engineers in bread lines back then, and there won’t ever be. Those days could come again …in fact, they probably will.
TOM: It’s just not for me. I’m going to go to Ann Arbor. I’ve been accepted there and I’ve made my decision. I hope someday you’ll be proud of me…maybe I’ll be famous, get one of my pictures on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post or something.
DAD: (sigh) … I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, I really did. But I’m going to have to put my foot down. I want you to go to school here. I’m not going to give you another dime if you go off to Michigan. I’m sorry, Tom, I really am. But, I’m just going to have to say “No.” You'll thank me some day.
TOM: I’m sorry too, I guess. You’ve been awfully good to me, you and Sis. But I’ve just got to do it. I was going to tell you both, I got a telegram from them today – they’ve offered me a scholarship in the Art Department. I was hoping you’d be happy for me. With that and my G.I. money, and some part-time work…I’ll make it somehow. You won’t have to support me. I can go on my own.
DAD: Tom, I think you’re making a big mistake … a really big mistake.
TOM: You may be right Jack. But, I’m going anyway. I’ll never forget all you’ve done for me … but I’ve got to go.
(Tom, glances quickly at Mom, and skirting around DAD, leaves the kitchen through the door to the living room.)
DAD: Goddamnit. This whole family’s going to hell in handbasket. Thinks just because he's got some damned scholarship he can do whatever he wants. He'll wish he'd listened to me ... it's a mistake...he'll find out someday.
(Mom, leaves the sink, approaches Dad, hugs him.)
MOM: Now, dear …
Item #4
I didn’t know it when I wrote it, but after reading Chapter Seven, I see that the scene I wrote in the Chapter Six exercises (as well as this one for Chapter Seven) are “French” scenes. The action is precipitated and terminated by major characters entering or leaving the stage.
posted by taotianone at 9:50 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Chapter Six: Exercises
Item #1
DAD: (entering kitchen through back door, hanging jacket on hook) Hi hon.
MOM: (in apron, working between stove and counter top) Hi. Gee, you’re really late. I was starting to worry about you.
DAD: Sorry about that. I shudda called, but I just couldn’t get to a phone. We’ve got concrete coming first thing…just had to get all the forms set tonight…I just have to get the pour done before it freezes tomorrow night.
(Dad moves to the center of the room and sits down at the kitchen table, picks up the newspaper.)
MOM: (walking to the table and setting a steaming bowl in front of Dad) Did you get finished up alright?
DAD: Mmm, chili. Good, its pretty raw out there tonight. Yeah, we got everything ready to go…had to keep the crew on overtime…expensive, but worth it I guess. Man, I’m tired.
MOM: I know you are dear, but…well … I hate to have to tell you…but…
DAD: But…?
MOM: It happened again … Bob called from the office this afternoon.
DAD: Christ! What was it this time?
MOM: I’m sorry, dear…he was out on the sidewalk…they couldn’t do a thing with him.
DAD: God damn it! What was he doing?
MOM: Nothing…really…he was passed out. Just lying there when I got there.
DAD: For Christ’s sake. Not again. What got it started this time?
MOM: I guess it wasn’t his fault…sorta. Bob said some of the old cronies from down on the river came by – Stub, Cecil and some others; had a jar of that awful moonshine with them…and after they left he finished the whole jar, Bob said.
DAD: Goddam them. Why the hell can’t they just leave him alone.
MOM: I know…I know…he tries so hard, but he can’t resist that stuff…
DAD: Well, its got to stop…it’s just got to stop. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ve got my hands full with the contract, now this…I just don’t have time for this kinda crap. And its embarrassing…embarrassing for all of us. Even if he doesn’t care, I do. We have to live here too, damnit. I have to make a living here, and this doesn’t help things any.
MOM: I know…I know…but he’s old and sick, I…I don’t think he can change.
DAD: (shoves bowl away from himself) God damnit…he’s going to have to. I don’t care if he likes it or not…he’s just gonna have to quit the booze. Period.
MOM: What are you going to do?…I just don’t think he can control it…I really don’t.
DAD: Well, he could live in a home?…where they control such stuff. I love him, and I was happy enough to have him here after Mom died, but this is just the last straw…I’m just not gonna have this. Where is he now?
MOM: I put him to bed after I got him home. He’s still asleep.
DAD: That’s not sleep…it’s just …goddamit…that’s just …hell, I don’t know what it is, but its not sleep…he’s just boozed out…when he wakes up, I’m gonna have it out with him once and for all.
MOM: (comes over to table and bending down, puts her arms around him) I know… you’re tired, Hon, and now all this…try to be kind with him, he’s an old man…
DAD: Not this time! This is it, I’ve had it with this crap.
(Dad abruptly pushes his chair back from the table and strides angrily out of the kitchen, uneaten supper still on the table.)
DAD: (entering kitchen through back door, hanging jacket on hook) Hi hon.
MOM: (in apron, working between stove and counter top) Hi. Gee, you’re really late. I was starting to worry about you.
DAD: Sorry about that. I shudda called, but I just couldn’t get to a phone. We’ve got concrete coming first thing…just had to get all the forms set tonight…I just have to get the pour done before it freezes tomorrow night.
(Dad moves to the center of the room and sits down at the kitchen table, picks up the newspaper.)
MOM: (walking to the table and setting a steaming bowl in front of Dad) Did you get finished up alright?
DAD: Mmm, chili. Good, its pretty raw out there tonight. Yeah, we got everything ready to go…had to keep the crew on overtime…expensive, but worth it I guess. Man, I’m tired.
MOM: I know you are dear, but…well … I hate to have to tell you…but…
DAD: But…?
MOM: It happened again … Bob called from the office this afternoon.
DAD: Christ! What was it this time?
MOM: I’m sorry, dear…he was out on the sidewalk…they couldn’t do a thing with him.
DAD: God damn it! What was he doing?
MOM: Nothing…really…he was passed out. Just lying there when I got there.
DAD: For Christ’s sake. Not again. What got it started this time?
MOM: I guess it wasn’t his fault…sorta. Bob said some of the old cronies from down on the river came by – Stub, Cecil and some others; had a jar of that awful moonshine with them…and after they left he finished the whole jar, Bob said.
DAD: Goddam them. Why the hell can’t they just leave him alone.
MOM: I know…I know…he tries so hard, but he can’t resist that stuff…
DAD: Well, its got to stop…it’s just got to stop. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ve got my hands full with the contract, now this…I just don’t have time for this kinda crap. And its embarrassing…embarrassing for all of us. Even if he doesn’t care, I do. We have to live here too, damnit. I have to make a living here, and this doesn’t help things any.
MOM: I know…I know…but he’s old and sick, I…I don’t think he can change.
DAD: (shoves bowl away from himself) God damnit…he’s going to have to. I don’t care if he likes it or not…he’s just gonna have to quit the booze. Period.
MOM: What are you going to do?…I just don’t think he can control it…I really don’t.
DAD: Well, he could live in a home?…where they control such stuff. I love him, and I was happy enough to have him here after Mom died, but this is just the last straw…I’m just not gonna have this. Where is he now?
MOM: I put him to bed after I got him home. He’s still asleep.
DAD: That’s not sleep…it’s just …goddamit…that’s just …hell, I don’t know what it is, but its not sleep…he’s just boozed out…when he wakes up, I’m gonna have it out with him once and for all.
MOM: (comes over to table and bending down, puts her arms around him) I know… you’re tired, Hon, and now all this…try to be kind with him, he’s an old man…
DAD: Not this time! This is it, I’ve had it with this crap.
(Dad abruptly pushes his chair back from the table and strides angrily out of the kitchen, uneaten supper still on the table.)
posted by taotianone at 8:37 AM
0 comments
Chapter Five: Exercises
Chapter Five: Exercises
Item #1
Our society is riddled with rituals, many of which are not readily recognized. Most of what we think of as manners are exchanges based upon ritualistic formulas. Good morning, have a nice day, thank you/youre welcome small rituals performed on autopilot allow us to function smoothly, without much actual thought, in society. Larger rituals are conscious weddings, funerals, graduations, bar mitzvahs, communion services, retirement celebrations, beauty contests; all conscious performances, but all follow ritualistic rules. So much so that when someone goes through one of the rites of passage in a different way, it is striking to us. Any of these modern rituals might offer possibilities for dramatic treatment. For example, in Picnic, the Labor Day picnic is itself a metaphor for an ending of summer ritual and the ending of dreams.
Item #2
I think the author offers a pretty thorough discussion of theatrical limitations in this chapter, and most others I can think of are really subtexts under the rubric he has already provided. I think one area he didnt touch upon very deeply would be that of self-limitation by playwrites. By that I mean the concern (or perhaps even timidity) of an author to espouse unpopular causes, or to risk the ire of family or friends by delving into family secrets. Many of the very best plays ever written do exactly that, but one wonders at what cost to their authors?
Item #1
Our society is riddled with rituals, many of which are not readily recognized. Most of what we think of as manners are exchanges based upon ritualistic formulas. Good morning, have a nice day, thank you/youre welcome small rituals performed on autopilot allow us to function smoothly, without much actual thought, in society. Larger rituals are conscious weddings, funerals, graduations, bar mitzvahs, communion services, retirement celebrations, beauty contests; all conscious performances, but all follow ritualistic rules. So much so that when someone goes through one of the rites of passage in a different way, it is striking to us. Any of these modern rituals might offer possibilities for dramatic treatment. For example, in Picnic, the Labor Day picnic is itself a metaphor for an ending of summer ritual and the ending of dreams.
Item #2
I think the author offers a pretty thorough discussion of theatrical limitations in this chapter, and most others I can think of are really subtexts under the rubric he has already provided. I think one area he didnt touch upon very deeply would be that of self-limitation by playwrites. By that I mean the concern (or perhaps even timidity) of an author to espouse unpopular causes, or to risk the ire of family or friends by delving into family secrets. Many of the very best plays ever written do exactly that, but one wonders at what cost to their authors?
posted by taotianone at 7:24 AM
0 comments
