The ActorA Stage Play by Gadfly An Actor and his Audience are "trapped until the curtain falls." The Actor And the...grand scheme of it all...The... Oh, the hell with this. How many times have you all heard this Shakespearean bullshit? I mean, Christ, who am I to start questioning humanity's purpose? I'm just an Actor. I don't even know what half this s**t means! Oh...come off it. Neither do you. I'm still trying to grasp general physics, am I really expected to stand here and recite this existential crap for you? I don't even know how this story ends. (A figure sitting in the audience, obviously annoyed by these words, speaks up) AUDIENCE: Then get off the stage! ACTOR: Who said that? (There is silence) ACTOR: Come on, speak up, buddy. We've completely blown up the fourth wall at this point anyway, I just wanna know who you are. AUDIENCE: (After a pause) Well, why even get up there in the first place? You're just wasting everyone's time. ACTOR: Excuse me? Alright Mr. D****e in the second row, you wanna get up here and spew this (shaking the script in the air) existential garbage at an uncaring audience? Be my freakin' guest! AUDIENCE: Uh, well, no, I just... ACTOR: Yeah! Come on up! I'm sure you'll do loads better with this contrived word vomit than I ever would. (He walks over and throws the script down in the AUDIENCE character's lap. They stare at eachother for a few seconds.) There! AUDIENCE: ...are you for real? You're crazy. (He turns to the person sitting next to him) Can you believe this? They call this s**t theater. ACTOR: (Sarcastically) Oh, no! Look! You're perfect for the role. Violently unempassioned and pretentiously derisive. Take it! Take the script! You're just a stupid, ignorant, hypocrite if you don't. AUDIENCE: (Suddenly angry) Alright, fine! (He snatches the script up and walks to the stage.) You want me to embarrass you in front of an audience? Fine, I will. (The ACTOR sits down in his unoccupied seat. The AUDIENCE reaches the stage, turns around, clears his throat and begins reading the monologue) AUDIENCE: I am an enigma. A wandering, boundless gift of cells and panic and noise- I hear my own noise, double it, package it as words and toss it to the skies... ACTOR: Boo!! hiss!!! Boooooooooo! (AUDIENCE pauses, and glares at the Actor.) AUDIENCE: Do you mind? ACTOR: (looking around) Yeah, wow, guys. The poor sap goes up there to prove a point and all you can do is make fun of his performance? tsk, tsk. (AUDIENCE scowls, but continues reading.) AUDIENCE: ...understand my heat and panic, and particles. I wish I could say- ACTOR: (In a high-pitched, british accent) Oh, boohoo! Bloody awful! Get a haircut! AUDIENCE: Stop it! ACTOR: Who...me?? No! Never!! AUDIENCE: (He glowers further, and starts cannoning off the rest of the monologue, not even attempting to read it in character.) I wish I could tell you I've changed. I wish I could say- (The ACTOR begins shouting over the AUDIENCE, who attempts to ignore it by simply increases his volume. This crescendos until the ACTOR is standing on top of his chair, shouting obsenities at the AUDIENCE, who is screaming the monologue.) ACTOR: (simultaneous with AUDIENCE) Booo!! booooo!!! HISSSSSSS! You suck! You're terrible! awful! HORRIBLE! PRETENTIOUS COMPLAINER!! (he stands up)DEEPLY DISTORTED INDIVIDUAL, NO LOVE, NO GLORY, OH, HORRID HORRID WORDS! (Climbs on the chair and stands over the stage) DISGUSTING ATTEMPT AT ART, AT HUMANITY! WORD VOMIT! SICK! TWISTED! PERVERSE! DISTURBED!! (raising his hands and shouting) AAAAAAAAHA! AUDIENCE: I am an enigma!! A wandering, boundless gift of cells and panic and noise!! I hear my own noise, double it, package it as words and toss it to the skies!!! maybe they can hear my noise. Maybe they can understand my heat, and panic, and particles. BECAUSE? THROUGH THESE BLUE DUSTED RAMBLING INSECURITES...SHUT UP!!!! JUST SHUT UP!!! (They both end on the same decibel, at the same time. The ACTOR is standing high atop his chair, positively giddy, and the AUDIENCE panting with anger. The ACTOR laughs and jumps down, walking leisurely back to the stage and pats the AUDIENCE on the back.) ACTOR: Not so easy, hm? AUDIENCE: (He breathes deeply for a few seconds, before blurting out) I want my goddamn money back. ACTOR: Oh, but you haven't even sat through the first act! I mean, the show's just begun! AUDIENCE: This is ridiculous. What kind of show are you running? ACTOR: (He laughs) Me? You think I'm in charge of this madness? No, I'm just the Actor! There are others to blame for that. (Enter DIRECTOR. He is wearing sunglasses and a scowl on his face.) DIRECTOR: What the hell is going on in here? ACTOR: Speak of the devil. AUDIENCE: Who are you? ACTOR: (with glee, over the director's line) He's the Director! DIRECTOR: (He coughs, importantly) I'm the Director! More importantly, what are you doing on my Stage? (to the Actor) What did you DO? ACTOR: Me? Ha! I did nothing! Nothing at all! AUDIENCE: Listen, can I sit down now? DIRECTOR: (Looking at him for a moment, then scowling) Yeah, excuse us for a moment. (Whispers angrily low and aside to the Actor) Who the hell is this clown? Whatever. He's not important. Listen, I'm getting so sick of you completely destroying everything this show is built upon! ACTOR: (Laughing, refusing to have the conversation discretely) HA! This "show" is built upon the pretentious assumption that we can somehow describe the human condition in a few poorly constructed lies. Just tell these suckers how it ends so we can all go home. DIRECTOR: How it ends? God, I don't know how it ends, I'm just the Director... ACTOR: Huh. Well that's inconvenient... shouldn't it be in the script somewhere? (The ACTOR and the DIRECTOR both flip through their scripts to the final page, which has nothing but a giant ampersan printed on it. They present this to each other.) ACTOR: Huh! Well, I'll be damned. AUDIENCE: Do you mean to tell me you a******s put up a play without an ending? What's the point? Why on earth would you do something like that? Why are you even here?? DIRECTOR: Well now, listen, why are YOU even here? AUDIENCE: I- ACTOR: (Cutting him off) Exactly. DIRECTOR: They're all the same. Everyone's a critic! I mean, I worked my heart out getting this idiot to deliver meaning... Commissioned this beautiful set! (He gestures to the nothing behind him) Why can't people appreciate anything anymore? ACTOR: He's got a point though. If you don't know the ending, who does? DIRECTOR: Hm... The Writer! She'll know! AUDIENCE: What's the point? This entire show's ruined... DIRECTOR: Are you kidding? The action is just beginning to rise! Oh, how exciting... ACTOR: And they can leave whenever they want to. I'm shackled to this damn piece of literature, and I deserve to know it's conclusion! DIRECTOR: You got it. Now, where is she... (Shouting) CAN SOMEBODY FIND ME THE WRITER? AND MAYBE A LATTE? (WRITER enters behind DIRECTOR) DIRECTOR: (turning about, looking for WRITER) LISTEN, I JUST NEED- (The WRITER coughs) DIRECTOR: (he spots her.) Oh, my. That was fast. WRITER: (dreamily) This is my entrance, right? ACTOR: HEY! IGNORAMUS! WRITER: Perhaps I'm a bit early... DIRECTOR: What he means to say is, we don't have an ending, dear. WRITER: No ending? Are you sure? Did you check the script? DIRECTOR: Yes, my love. And can you explain this? (He holds up the second to last page of the script, which is full of nothing but ellipses) WRITER: (Thoughtfully) I think that signifies absence of light. DIRECTOR and ACTOR: Aaahhhh! ACTOR: Oh, and what does this mean? (He shows her the ampercent) WRITER: Why, that's simply a metaphor for the waste and chaos. DIRECTOR: Oh, of course! With the right inflection... ACTOR: Sometimes you really are a genius. AUDIENCE: What the hell are you people talking about? ACTOR: (Ignoring the AUDIENCE) But my love, my dear, how does it all end? WRITER: How does it end? ACTOR: The show, my love, the show! What's the conclusion? When do the lights come down? What preludes the final bow? WRITER: Oh! Well... you die. (There is a slight pause) ACTOR: I WHAT?! DIRECTOR: He what? ! AUDIENCE: Well that's a cop-out ending... WRITER: Isn't that how all stories go? ACTOR: Well... (He sits down on the ground, dejectedly) Fuck. WRITER: I'm sorry. AUDIENCE: (To no one in particular, or everyone in general) Uh, excuse me? DIRECTOR: Shhh! (Indicating the Actor) Give him a moment, will you? Can't you see he's upset? AUDIENCE: ...are you alright? ACTOR: (Moodily) Of course I'm not alright! I've just been told of my imminent death! AUDIENCE: You mean your character's. ACTOR: (Turning away and staring at the ground) Oh, it's all the same. (There is some more silence.) AUDIENCE: (Suddenly piping up, and pointing towards the seats) May I sit down? (There is a few seconds of stunned silence.) DIRECTOR: Sit down? You can't be serious! You are a part of the action now! AUDIENCE: But...there isn't any plot- WRITER: You may be the missing device! DIRECTOR: And anyway, it's a matter of principle. Once a part of the action, you may not leave the Stage. WRITER: That's true. AUDIENCE: (Pointing towards the Actor) But he left! He left the stage before either of you were here! ACTOR: (Still testy) That's a different matter entirely. This is my action, and it's my story. You were simply roped in by someone else. AUDIENCE: Yes, by you! DIRECTOR: No, (pointing at Writer) by her. WRITER: (Holding up a script) It's in the script. AUDIENCE: (Snatching the script) Give me that...(He reads through the beginning, quickly. He looks up, and stares, a little creeped out, into the audience.) Well. I'll be damned. WRITER: (Pensive) Yes, I suppose you are. AUDIENCE: This is ridiculous! I'm sitting down! ACTOR: (Tiredly) No, you aren't.AUDIENCE: (Pausing, angrily, for a few seconds, he finally sits down on the Stage, and glares out at the audience. There is a silence.) Well? (looking up at the WRITER) Now what do we do? WRITER: We wait for the applause. ACTOR: And until then? WRITER: (Unsure, furrowing her brow.) I...suppose I have some more dialogue to write... ACTOR: (Laughing, darkly) Ha! Of course. An ending without a plot... a footnote to an empty page! Typical... WRITER: (Genuinely hurt) Hey, I'm working on it! (Dreamily) I figure the play will open doors...ask questions no one's dared to ask! ACTOR: (Dismissively) Or cared to know. DIRECTOR: (Pointing to the seats) We're stuck until the end begins... ACTOR: Trapped until the curtains fall... (The actor gets up and moves to the edge of stage right, looking into the distance. They are all silent for a few minutes before the realization dawns on them. Simultaneously, they look from the audience, to the Actor. He looks up, and slowly turns towards the other three. The Audience gets up.)ACTOR: (Almost hyperventilating. He knows exactly what they're thinking.) What? DIRECTOR: The curtains must fall sometime, my friend. WRITER: Every story must end... ACTOR: No...what are you talking about?? AUDIENCE: We'll have to kill him, won't we? WRITER: It's in the script... ACTOR: No!! What?! ...Rewrite the script! Change the ending!! WRITER: I'm just a writer... ACTOR: But- DIRECTOR: Well, it's decided. Now the only question is how- ACTOR: Decided?! I'm not decided!! WRITER: (She walks over the the Actor and puts her hand on his arm, sympathetically) We have to end it. ACTOR: No... No! What if...(He looks hysterically out at the audience) What if they leave? That could work! We can't have a show without an audience! WRITER: Oh, you know they won't do that. ACTOR: Try them! Just try it! WRITER: (She sighs.) Alright, (To audience, without much conviction) Leave! Go on! He's going to die if you don't! Get out of here! (She pauses. When no one moves, she turns sadly back to the ACTOR) You see? They want to see this thing through. They have to. DIRECTOR: I don't blame them. This is all very suspensefull. AUDIENCE: I could really go for some popcorn right now... ACTOR: Stop it! No, I won't die. I can't! Not yet! DIRECTOR: Babe, listen. You can't outrun your curtain call. ACTOR:The next show, the next show! Anything but this! One last bow? One last standing ovation? (AUDIENCE, WRITER and DIRECTOR all look at each other, circle around him all facing the audience, and break into an applause. The ACTOR simply breaks down and sinks to the floor, crying. He remains like this for the next few lines.) DIRECTOR: (Stopping the applause) Give him a few moments... (He walks towards stage right and motions the other two to follow. They huddle together, football team style.) Well, I really can't see any alternative. The boy has to die. WRITER: I can't kill him, I'm just a writer. I shouldn't be even be here...Oh, my. This is all my fault... DIRECTOR: Yes, it is. But I can't kill him, either. I'm just the director...it, uh, ahem, wouldn't be my place... (WRITER and DIRECTOR both look pointedly at the AUDIENCE.) AUDIENCE: Hey! Don't look at me! Like he said, this is his action, his story. I'm simply a misplaced observer. DIRECTOR: Poignant. So it's settled, then? It'll have to be a suicide. AUDIENCE: How are we meant to orchestrate that? DIRECTOR: Excellent point. I'm not sure he's emotionally ready to off himself just yet... AUDIENCE: I mean, I'm sure someone here has a copy of Sex in the City 2... (The ACTOR begins to collect himself, and looks haggardly over at the team huddle.) WRITER: (Noticing the ACTOR's calm) No, I think he's snapped out of it. I think he's ready... (she breaks the huddle and steps closer to the ACTOR.) You are the rising, and the falling, action. You were brought to the stage by your own, fighting, will. And now you must leave it...by your own, fighting, will. Do you see? (The ACTOR nods, slowly.) ACTOR: Yes, (He sighs.) I suppose I do. (He stands up and addresses the audience. This is his goodbye? His final monologue? The other three circle behind him, and face the audience. There is a large silence.) ...You know, You can scoff, and bleed, and laugh, and ridicule all you want...but it's quite difficult to be the comedian when you're the punchline. (He begins to say more, but shakes his head, and closes his eyes.) Alright. (The ACTOR turns to face the other three, thrusts his script into his chest, and yells, beginning a most crude and ridiculous death. He turns towards the audience, and there is are the ripped, torn, and crumpled pages of the script, positively bleeding out of his chest. He dies, in the most flourishing, ridiculous manner possible, complete with writhing and bizarre noises. In another circumstance, this display would have been comedic. Perhaps it is. Perhaps the audience begins a low chuckle. The remaining three are quite solomn and silent until the display is over. And suddenly, it is over. The ACTOR falls to the floor, shards of paper still bleeding from him.) (There is couple of seconds before AUDIENCE begins to chuckle, ever so slightly. The DIRECTOR glances at him, and begins to laugh as well. Even the WRITER starts up a low giggle. This escalates until the writer is wiping tears from her eyes.) AUDIENCE: I'm sorry, but did you hear those noises he was making? Oh, god... WRITER: Lord, I've got some revising to do... DIRECTOR: Spot on performance...spot on... (They all begin to drift offstage, the AUDIENCE heading back to his seat, the WRITER going left and the DIRECTOR exiting right. They do not even glance at eachother as they leave; they no longer have anything in common; the show is over.) AUDIENCE: (Before he reaches his seat. As if he's quoting the Actor's original monologue.) How funny death is, when it isn't yours... (He sits down, pauses a beat, and begins applauding. WRITER and DIRECTOR have cleared the stage by now. Regardless of whether or not the audience joins in, he cointinues to clap at the form of the ACTOR on the floor. He comments, loudly, to the person to his left.) What a pathetic show, don't you think? (Lights linger on the image for a few seconds. Black out.) SCENE. © 2012 GadflyAuthor's Note
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