Blanche's monologue

This is actually from my English c/w and consists of an extra scene I wrote for Blanche to go at the start of "A streetcar named desire" I hope you like it :D

Blanche in a court room. Sitting at the defenders podium with a small, anxious smile on her face. She sits stiffly with her shoulders slightly hunched and her hands clasped tightly infront of her on the podium.  The contradiction of her body language and expression suggest that her smile is only a facade. She is looking at the jury and attempting subtly to catch their eyes as she arranges her expression into one of beatific tolerance. Her appearance is incongruous to this setting; while the judge and jury are all in black, Blanche’s fancy white attire, along with her expression, portrays a childlike innocence. She is wearing elbow length white gloves and an extravagant hat which hangs low on her head casting a flattering shadow over the most part of her face. She begins her monologue with a tolerant smile to the jury and a laugh which is slightly tinged with hysteria.

Well there’s not much to say. I know he was a little younger than I but we were in love your Honour! And love doesnt care about age, or rank or race, why the poorest, oldest pauper in the world can fall in love with a princess...(she laughs that slightly hysterical laugh again. Then, almost to herself) like they do in fairy tales.

 (She speaks with a reflective tone and her eyes staring out into the distance in a glazed fashion.) Yes... yes,  we were in love; such deep, consuming, powerful love that even Shakespeare himself would be at loss to describe it... and we were gonna get married; abroad, on that pretty little boat called “Fantasy” in the Carribbean... We’d make our own Belle Reve; a good, wholesome place far, far away from the gareish lights and the uninformed judgement of this ghastly place. 

(She looks down sadly for a moment then looks up again, a desperate, bright smile on her face. The sudden change should register as odd)

Your Honour I’m a law abiding citizen, I just made one mistake.                 Havent you ever made a mistake? (with a sense of rambling on) I was always a good child, why I was even head of our children’s charity. I remember, we used to help the elderly with their shopping and across the roads. I was so dedicated I even used to wait on the street corner where that rattle-trap old streetcar named “Cemetries” stopped, just to help them on. Their never was a more tender and trusting child...

(She looks down again, the hat’s shadow now concealing all of her expression. As she speaks a tear runs down her face, emerging from the bottom of the hat’s shadow to drip down her chin in a pitiful manner. She speaks wonderingly.)

But that’s all gone now... funny how things can just end like that... like the final, minor chord of a symphony... or, (she laughs hysterically) or the shot, the shot of a revolver!

(She dissolves in to giggles with peter out spasmodically then dissolves into pittyful tears. She calms, then looks up at the judge. Her run make up, the tiredness in her eyes and tone combined with the dislodgment of the hat’s shadow as she looks up suggests a sudden aging in her character from the childlike persona we witness at the start of the scene.)

I may not be perfect your Honour, but I have know something of sorrow. When you’re alone in the darkness, when all the lights and laterns of your life have been smashed with fate’s iron hammer, what can you turn to if not to love? Where can you go for safety if you have destroyed the one place you felt safe? (Whispered) Sorrow taints us... (Louder. Her voice begins to crack with tears again) If you can find me one person who has known true sadness and has not been infected by its icy hold then I am willing to concede my guilt, but until then (Gradually more hysterical) until you can fully comprehend what it is like to be completely, and utterly alone, until then...

(she trails off with a sob, staring fixedly at her hands with wide eyes as she wrings them on the podium. All we can see of her head is the elaborate decoration on the top of her white hat. A pause. Then her hands suddenly freeze on the podium. After a moment, her gloved hand very slowly raises to her obscured face to wipe away her run make up. Her hand slowly returns to the podium. The white glove is stained with mascara. She stares at the stain for a moment then slowly looks up, the hat’s shadow again concealing the most part of her face in a flattering manner. She holds her glove up for the jury and judge to see and laughs incredulously.

Would you look at that, I’ve stained my glove...  I do hope it comes out... My Mother said a little lemon and a lot of hot water gets rid of most stains... she said that any stain, no matter how terrible, can be washed away in the right conditions... (She looks up at the judge desperately) Isn’t that true your Honour? (She gets no answer and ,after a pause, looks down at her gloved hand again as if the stain were something terrifying. Her hand is shaking. She glances up at the audience, Jury then the judge in a lost, terrified manner.)

Would you please excuse me? I have to go clean my glove...

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar. Is all meant to be said in a South American accent. :)

Reviews

[Bertie]

I can't believe he didnt let you put this in as coursework !
I love it !
"fate's iron hammer"
Thats amazing darling :)
And the end with the glove, pure genius !
x z x