And All That Jazz

And all that Jazz
By Angel of Death

Scene 1

The day is nothing but a dark room with one light shining down on the Earth. Gray clouds fill the sky, drowning out the last specks of light. Cars swoosh by quickly as people continue down the road of their daily lives. As Mr. and Mrs. Brady wake-up, the sun creeps into their bedroom.

Mrs. Brady: (Sits up in bed and turns to smile at her husband) Alden's starting college today.
(Mr. Brady yawns and then nodds, his eyes full of both proud and relief.)
Mr. Brady: I better get up. His flight's at nine.
(Mrs. Brady looks over at the digital clock on the side table. 7:30 it read.)
Mrs. Brady: You go wake him up and I'll go fix breakfast.

The house was suddenly filled with hustle and bustle as both the proud parents got ready to send their only child off to college. It was a hard year. Alden had his beliefs and they had theirs. He wanted to get a job touring with a band, while they wanted him to do something more conservative. Like become a lawyer like his father or be a school teacher like his mother. As Mrs. Brady scurried downstairs, pain started to explode like atom bombs in her chest. Around her neck hung a silver cross, tarnished by all the years that its seen. Clutching it, she closed her eyes and said a prayer for her son.
Our father who art in heaven, watch over my son and make him see that this life is for him. Do not let the devil feed him lies in the form of music and lyrics.
(Fades Out)

A green light poured out from behind the white wooden door. Spilling into the hallway. Mr. Brady was met with a poster with the words Knock First: Don't Say I Didn't Worn Ya as he placed his hand on the door knob. It was silent. There were no snores and there wasn't definitely any music. As the door creaked open, clothes strewn across the floor and numerous Cd cases came into view. In the far right corner, sat a stereo and a guitar case which was leaned up against a bookcase.

Mr. Brady: Alden?
(Kicks aside a Cd case and ventures farther into the room)
There was no answer.
Mr. Brady: Come on Al, don't pull this. We got to get you ready to....
(Stops in the middle of the room, his eyes glued on the bookcase)

There was nothing in the bookcase. It stood there like a building in Chernobyl. Empty. Once music books and articles lined the shelves, covering the many Bibles that they had bought for him. Ever since last week, a couple of books for College occupied the bottom shelf. Now they weren't there. Had he already left? That couldn't have been the case. Alden didn't drive a car and he wasn't exactly excited about leaving. It was only yesterday when he brushed his hand through his sandy blond hair and sighed.
"I don't want to go to college. It's not for me," A cigarette was fixed in between his lips and his guitar was secured under his right arm. The brown suede jacket that his music teacher bought him for Christmas clung sloppily to his waist. Moth bites covered the surface making him look like a bum. Mr. Brady had fixed his dark eyes on his son and told him that he was going to college. There was no other way out for him.
"Whatever," Alden had said, walking out of the house and slamming the door shut behind him.

(Fades Out)

Cooking was the only thing that kept Mrs. Brady sane. Between working at the local High School and managing the Woman's Prayer Group, she's never had any time for herself. So standing here, breathing in the sweet smells of blueberries was refreshing. As she stirred the batter for the pancakes, she could hear rushed footsteps coming down the stairs. Alden. He was always happy when he smelled breakfast. Mrs. Brady could picture him now, sitting at the round white table, saying his little prayer before digging in. A smile would be wide on his face and everything would be normal. Just like it was when he was a little boy.

Mr. Brady: Martha!
(Mrs. Brady turns around, sorrow prominent in her eyes.)
Mrs. Brady: Yes?
(There is a moment of silence before Mr. Brady takes a seat in the chair Martha imagined her son sitting in. His tall round form rests uncomfortably in the blue wooden chair and lines cover his forehead. He runs his left hand through his thinning gray hair, and sighs. As he looks up at Mrs. Brady, the sorrow in her eyes darken.)
Mr. Brady: He ran away.

The wooden spoon still firm in her hands drop, making the bowl fall to the floor. Across the black and white linoleum floor is circle shaped blotches. The timer on the stove goes off, signaling that the pan was hot. Ready to cook the cakes. Falling to the floor, Martha grabs a hold of her cross. Crying, instead of praying. She could feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Gooey under her legs was the batter. It seeped in through her pajama pants. A hand rested on the small of her back and then two arms were around her.

Mr. Brady: It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay.
(Martha shake her head 'no' and lets out a tired wail.)
Mrs. Brady: Why? Why?

Anger and pain flits across Mr. Brady's face. He knew why Alden ran away. It was because he wanted to live a life thinking that music was his only outlet. His only light. After realizing that he wasn't there, Mr. Brady started to rip down all the posters and break apart every Cd. His face was burning up. Being set ablaze by the blood rushing to his head. Just when he was about to throw the guitar case across the room, it fell open and out fell a note. It withered in the empty green air, like a snowflake, before it fell to the ground.
Mr. Brady: (Bends over, muscles cracking like someone stepping on a stick, and picks up the note) I should have never let him have this stupid guitar.
Turning the note in his hand, he skims through it. Letting each word sting, like getting sprayed in the eyes with mace.
Dear Mom and Dad,

You don't understand me and you never will. Music is my life and my only way of living. Nothing y'all can do will stop me from spreading the message of faith in the form of music. You have my god and I have mines. If you could've just listened to me, maybe we could be on this trek together but all y'all see is the Bible and all those other false publications. I don't know if I'll ever return but in the meanwhile, I'll be traveling the world with my Conductor. Sorry for the inconvenience but you know how religion is.

Peace,
Alden

(Fade Out)

Scene 2

Lyric: Imagine you are dead. What do you hear? Some believe that a quartet of violinists are spitting classical tunes while others think that death is playing silence. Well the truth is, when you die, you hear the flaming chords of Rock 'N' Roll. Its writhing in a musical sweat, making your dead heart dance. Don't you hear it? If not you've lived a life of sin. Shame on those who've turned their ears blindly to the sound of music.

Alden sits in the dusty pew, nodding and sighing as he takes in Lyric's words. Her black hair falls in great tendrils around her neck as she reads from the Great book. Beside her rests a guitar. Its been through the ages but if you hold it in your hands, everything about life seems better. A couple of guys his age raise their hands in agreement as Lyric keeps reading, her smooth voice music to their ears. As she finishes her sermon, everyone gets up and start dancing. Their hearts listening to the music of the words.

Lyric: (Closes book and smiles.) Thank you all for coming to today's prayer group. The goddess Muse smiles down on you all.

Alden makes his way up to the make-shift stage, which was only a step that was crumbling on the far left of the huge dark room, and touches the guitar. It felt like silk under his fingers. Lyric appears beside him, her red dress becoming the only stream of color in the room.

Lyric: (Touches Alden's shoulder) Did you enjoy today's talk?
Alden: (Nods) Yeah, I loved this one!!
Lyric: (Smiles) I'm really proud of you, my son. You've shown great growth throughout the whole time you've been here. Has it been a year now?

Alden smiled. It was nice to have someone compliment you every once in a while. He was getting tired of people telling he was doing the wrong thing and saying that he needed to take a more logical approach to life. Ever since he came here, to La Musica, his life has been different. He's become more informed in the religion and he has been able to explore his thoughts. With Lyric as his new mother, everything about life was better. Easier.

Alden: Its almost a year. Only four more months to go.
Lyric: (Grins) Congrats on being a believer this long. The goddess Muse smiles down on you especially. Now, run along. Go share the news with the world!!

(Fades Out)

Shame on those who just can't feel the rhythm gnawing at their useless bones.- Brother Sunshine

A strand of Alden's hair falls in front of his face, as he stares down at his guitar. She is the reincarnate of the goddess Muse. The strings on her wooden belly is her mouth. Sometimes, when he's not making her talk, Alden reads the Great Book. The notes that she had the disciples before him write, sing to him in heavenly verses.

Man: (Walks down the street, phone glued to his ear.) Uh huh...sure...I'll be right...hold on,"

Alden watches as the man drowns in the voice of a false God. He's walking down the street, passing up each follower with their hands out. In his eyes lies disgust. The wind carries the tail of his suit jacket. His gray hair is thinning and the thin lips that sat under his nose, were pinched up. Alden could tell he wasn't a believer. When his shadow falls over him, he wants to shout out at him: Hey you Atheist, don't try to step on my faith! But he remains quiet, meeting the conservative eyes of the oppressor.

Alden: (Holds guitar close to his chest; Places his fingers on the strings) Can I help you, sir?
Man: (Switches phone to other ear) Shouldn't you be in college or something?

The guy that he is talking to is shouting at him through the speaker. It was so like the commercial world to shun religion. Can't people see that he was worshiping his God. His personal Allah. She was a Jesus and a Moses wrapped up in one. Everyday she put her life on the line to save those who just couldn't find faith. Everyday she does amazing things. Once, she split, the oceans of my soul right down the middle.

Alden: (Frowns) This is my school. In fact, its my church and my synagogue.

The man looks down at the contribution plate and then continues on. Walking outside of truth.

Man: (Speaks into phone) Yeah...sorry about that...no...it was just some stoner.

Typical. Everyone always wanted to believe that religion was for radicals like Alden. But the truth was, they thought they were too good for his savior.

Alden: (Strums a few chords) Well listen here you God-less souls. Muse with all her power, will one day rule over all.

(Fades Out)

Angel -

At first I wanted to tell you to ask a mod to move this over to scripts, but after I actually read it, I discovered that it is more a script/prose combination and that it belongs right where it is.

Anyway, this was nice. It has a pleasent message and some good dialogue. However there were a few things that I think you could change. It's so easy when you're dealing with scripts and topics like this to fall prey to cliches.

[who is this masked man?]

To me, Alden has no personality. His only characteristics are quiet rebellion and free love. You didn't make me care about him or what he wants because you spent half of the story showing us his parent's point of view. Is the story about them or him our guitar-slinging, old-time religion hero? If you want to actually go somewhere with this piece I suggest you do a character outline for Alden and then give more screen-time, if you will, to him instead of unimportant (and hindering) characters like Mr and Mrs Brady.

[misery and blueberry pancakes]

In fact, I hate the parents. Not because they don't support their son's ambitions, but because they're poorly contructed and they bloat the story with handfuls of cliches and too many been-done-befores. They are your classic parental unit: conservative, middle-class, mother cooks, father disapproves, they wake up in the mornings refreshed and excited. There is nothing unique or real about them. An easy solution is this: give them as little 'screen-time' as possible. Take out some, if not most, of their lines and replace them some more of Alden's. Otherwise, your story suffers a plague.

[in the beginning]

Maybe the reason I dislike the Brady's so much is how you portrayed them in your very first scene, your very first line. Let me tell you something in case you didn't know already: when people wake up in the morning, they don't turn and smile at their husbands, wide eyed and bushy tailed. They are lumps of clay. They've got to ooze out of bed and they remain boneless until someone spoon-feeds them caffeine. Also, I just didn't like how you set up the beginning in general. It's too cheery and forced and cliche, as I've already said. A solution: kill the beginning and start this piece off with Alden sitting on a street corner with a buddy, smoking a cigarette and complaining about his parents wanting him to go to college. You know?

[miscellaneous]

Man: (Switches phone to other ear) Shouldn't you be in college or something?

No one would say this. Maybe, if the man thought that Alden looked young enough to be in high school he'd ask, 'shouldn't you be in school?' But still. A perfect stranger wouldn't condescend to a kid on the streets about college. It's not realitic.

It was so like the commercial world to shun religion.

I disagree. The commercial world adores religion, especially Christianity. Think of all the angel-oriented greeting cards and the televangelists and the Christian rock bands that charge you twenty-five bucks a ticket. And not to mention the multi-billion dollar Christmas industry. Oh yeah, the commercial world accepts religion with open arms.

Anyway.

-Kylan

Wow! Only one review. But I'm here now, like I promised.

I really liked how you structured this. I love looking at different styles, and how you've done this reminds me a lot of how Sam does some of her writing.

Characters

I can't say I really like any of your characters. As a general rule of life, I don't really like people such as Alden, but that's no fault of your own, just personal tastes. However, I would agree with Kylan about the parents. Walking cliches. But my suggestion is different to Kylans. I think you should change something about them that would change the whole dynamic of the story. They're rich? Make them poor. Their son ran away? Make them kick him out. This will give the parents flaws, and therefore make them more believable.

Plot

I can't say I followed this very well. The beginning I got, but in the second scene you lost me. Who was the man he was talking to? You need to be a bit clearer here. Apart from that, I liked your plot, I just think that one section could be written better

And some other things

Mrs. Brady: You go wake him up and I'll go fix breakfast.

The repetition of go makes this sentence awkward. Say it aloud. Does it sound right to you? Get rid of one of the 'go's.

Cd

CD



Yeah, that's it, really. PM me if you want another crit!

This was well written, however there were some faults.

Knock First: Don't Say I Didn't Worn Ya

It's "Warn". "Worn" means to wear in the past tense.

It was only yesterday when he brushed his hand through his sandy blond hair and sighed.

The way you say "it was only yesterday when he" it appears as if your story is going to take place yesterday, instead of it being just a memory. If you wrote "it was only yesterday when he had" it would be more of a memory for me. One word can make a whole lot of difference.

As he looks up at Mrs. Brady, the sorrow in her eyes darken.

I think you mean "the sorrow in her eyes deepens" or "engulfs them completely" or something like that, because "darken" makes no sense. Sorrow is not a colour. Although colours like blue or black are often associated with sorrow, it is not a colour and therefore cannot darken.

Gooey under her legs was the batter.

Have you seen Star Wars? Because this reminds me of Yoda. It would sound better if you put "The batter was gooey under her legs", because what's there right now is confusing.

Shouldn't you be in college or something?

I know you are trying to support your story by indicating that he should in fact be in college, but no one would ask that nowdays. Not everyone goes to college and it is not expected that everyone does, so nobody would ask that question in real life.

I think the message in this story is good. But your characters need to support it much more. Maybe if this was performed in a play it would be more believable, but as this is writing you need to fill us in on your characters, because right now there are just a bunch of stereotypes and Alden, who barely has a personality, mimicking all sorts of emotions. Not trying to be harsh, but mimicking is the right word. Mrs. Brady (Brady? Cliche #1) suddenly breaks down at one point in the story. Is this like her? Is she a weak person? Or is this so shocking and upsetting to her that she breaks down, even though she usually never cries? It is hard to feel for characters you know nothing about.

I'm also not feeling this supposed depth to this church you've introduced (maybe it's real, I don't know of it, but if it's real then this point is invalid). If you were using an already established faith, the depth would be believable, but you need to explain it and its boundaries, expectations, etc, because I as the reader don't understand. The attempt to make it seem like it's an everyday thing that everyone knows about makes it more hollow to me.

The clashing of parents' and child's faith (cliche #2) is a tried and true method of provoking emotion and introspection. Unfortunately, it's become a cliche, so you need to introduce something fresh and different that would make me want to read THIS story over another one about clashing of faiths.

I'm not too sure about the whole half play half prose thing. If you love it, keep it. I mainly use formats like this for my planning stages, but if that's what you want, keep it.

Oh how frustrating! A really good piece that my fellow instructors have jumped all over first so I can't review it properly without repeating what they've said!
Gutted!

But anyway, I liked it, I jut want more character definition of Alden...love the name too...where did that come from if you don't mind me asking?

chichi: Thanks for the crit, and no I haven't seen Star Wars, fell asleep every time I tried to watch it. I know this is cliche and I'm going to work on rewriting it once I get the chance. Thanks again!

Olivia: I loved Alden too but its hard to write for him...and I just thought up that name one day. Thanks for reading.