A pastel-pink plastic house is set centre stage. It is illuminated by a pallid light, shinning slightly from behind. This casts a menacing shadow on the stage. The shadow is outlined in chalk. A victim to the brilliance of the doll-house. The actors stand inanimate, as ambient lo-fi music plays. Jennifer is sitting on her bed, upstairs. She is dressed in a turquoise dress of belle-epoque fit. Everyone else is wearing modern clothes. Mary is in the kitchen, slowly pouring vodka into a Martini glass. The liquor overflows, forming a glimmering puddle by the feet of Alastair. He is staring at his wife. In his left back pocket is a pair of turquoise thongs. It appears a caricature, you can almost hear the shutters clicking.
Voice (off stage): One take is enough, moving on!
The last drops of alcohol drip from the bottle. The ambient music ends. Characters become animate.
Jennifer (singing): Polly wants a cracker...
Alastair: Wish I could get off her first...
Mary begins to slurp the alcohol off the counter. She gulps, and then theatrically wipes her mouth.
Mary (knowingly): Oh, you sure do... Always have, always will. The bathroom lock. Nice, nice. You’re quite the handyman. (pause). La-ve-ly.
She downs the glass.
Alastair: Darling, look at me (he squeezes her cheeks and turns her head towards himself.) Right here, right in my eyes (pause.) Keep looking. Do you think I could’ve done that to her, Mary, I would have never even thought of it. Let’s clean up this mess. You and me together.
He clutches her hand. Ambient music starts playing
Mary: So, what you sayin’ is she’s lying. Frank, i’ll believe you... trust you if I must. Just tell me. (pause) HOW?
She throws an empty glass at the floor. It shatters. Silence ensues.
Alastair: Easy, we’ll clean up this mess and then we’ll set the table up. Have a good ol’ chat with the Johnsons. They’re bringing a daughter, her and Jenny could be friends. All will be well, Joyce, stop thinking about it.
Mary hiccups
Alastair: We’ll find you a good doctor, I’ll go with you to AA. You’re the love of my life, Mary, I need to get you through this…
Mary (pointedly): Oh, Alastair, this… this... all o’it. It ain’t ‘bout me.
Jennifer (upstairs): what did old reality say? It wasn’t much of a “boo”, more like a grunt or a moan... (shocked.) Did I moan back?
Alastair: This is ridiculous. I did not do that to my daughter.
Mary: She ain’t yours no more.
Jennifer starts packing a backpack. She holds up a black journal and passionately kisses it. Sliver marks can be seen on its matte cover.
Alastair: She’s my daughter, mine! (Whispers) You pathetic, alcoholic wench, running your dirty faggot mouth like this.
(Shouts) Jenny!
Doorbell rings. The ambient music is replaced with sounds of jazz. There is no one at the door.
Mary: I betta go get ‘at
Alastair: It’s the Johnsons. You better stay here and fix your lipstick, cannot have him think you’re a whore. My wife should be my wife after all that, all that and this, and THAT, right?
Alastair opens the door and greets the nothingness. Meanwhile, Mary climbs under the table, grunting profusely. Alastair shows the nothingness in and sets the table out for nothingness as if it were three persons. He brings out a platter of scones and some fruit.
Jennifer (reading from the journal):
clotted creme de la creme,
a stack of luscious eclairs
and a large platter of pears,
gently groped and caressed by
little, lustful, porcelain fingers.
a candlelight which malingers
on noses and ears —
bloodshed and tears.
and all those insidious fears
that shiver and shatter
in a thick, silk, victorian garter.
Alastair: How do you do?
Silence
Alastair: Is there talk about us in town?
Pause. An alarm rings upstairs
Alastair: Jenny is quite the girl, you can’t deny that, I’m willing to bet that even your boys are all over her. (Pause. Alastair pours out tea). Sugar?
Jennifer (Maniacally flicks the pages, then starts reading):
I hope you knew that —
there are sixteen tablespoons
of saccharine toxin in a cup.
but I am seventeen now, no longer even.
not like sugar nor flour...
not that homogenised, but plain enough,
to be measured and weighted,
to be lifted and plated.
Alastair: She looks every bit like me, Jenny does, it’s almost as if I’m looking into the mirror.
Silence. He dishes out scones for the empty chairs.
Alastair: Apologies, no eclairs available today, but we’ll send some over when Mary bakes them, she makes a mean eclair, does she not?
Mary: Shh... hush hush ma gal (she hiccups. pause). Attagirl
Jennifer (reading):
Escapism has become a dirty word for me…
(flicks pages, reading)
A wealth of choce and of pretence,
Built like a prison wall…
(flicks pages, reading)
When there’s no air in my lungs,
But sordid stone – then
And only then, reality will dawn.
She abruptly closes the journal. The window creaks open. Jennifer starts sobbing, slowly, her sobs turn into moans. She sticks her head out of the window and screams.
Jennifer: SKRIK!
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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125,021 Literary Works • 672,740 Reviews
Well that was quite the abrupt ending. I love it. I'm all for them. One thing I can tell you is that there was this one element that makes me feel the presence of Shakespeare influence. That was. I can see the characters heading towards a big metaphoric message throughout.
I love this description. Really. It gives me a very clear image of the two simultaneous things happening in the house when the play starts.
Alistair seems to be mad. From what Mary said I get the impression that he has hurt their daughter Jennifer somehow. (okay I absolutely cannot ignore the fact that she's named after you.) Anyway, so Alistair seems to be mad, and he is seeing things and is trying to make Mary feel like she is the sinner. Am I right?
Then comes Jenny's journal. From all the words she read out, I could clearly make out that she's been through a lot. She says "there are sixteen tablespoons of saccharine toxin in a cup. but I am seventeen now, no longer even." A clear indication of the trauma causing her to think in abstract ways that seem very clear to her scarred mind.
What I didn't clearly understand however, was the ending. "SKRIK!"
Now, was this an aunomotopic impression of the window smashing its way through the back of her neck, or perhaps something else. I'm not sure so I don't wish to interpret.
I hope this review helped you. Please keep writing. TAG ME when you're done with the next part.
Yours sincerely,
Grav
Hello!
I've always wanted to do so myself but aside from a terrible one act play I wrote as a 12 year old and forced my friends to act out with me, I've never gotten around to it.
Wow this is the first time I've seen the scrip for a play here
For me, I am not too familiar with reviewing plays, so the advice I give might be lacking a little. I sometimes like to leave questions as a reader I have so that you as a writer can help clarify in your next revision or let me know if it's just something I misunderstood
1. Can Alistar, Mary and Jennifer hear each other? The stage directions weren't too clear
2. Was Jennifer talking to herself?
3.Can there be more stage direction for the nothingness. Is it an entity we can't see? Several?
Overall I was intrigued and hope your work continues!