Apologia E-Book

Alexi Kaye Campbell

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 116

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

A disastrous family reunion is the occasion for a sharp and perceptive look at what has happened to 60s idealists and their children. Kristin Miller is an eminent and successful art historian. As a young mother she followed her politics and vocation, storming Parisian barricades and moving to Florence. Her birthday should be a time for celebration but, when her two sons deliver their versions of the past, everyone must confront the cost of Kristin's commitment to her passions. Alexi Kaye Campbell's play Apologia premiered at The Bush Theatre, London, in 2009. It was revived at the Trafalgar Studios, London, in 2017, directed by Jamie Lloyd.

Leseprobe

Alexi Kaye Campbell

APOLOGIA

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Dedication

Original Production

Characters

Act One

Act Two

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

For Dominic

Apologia was first performed at the Bush Theatre, London, on 17 June 2009, with the following cast:

PETER

Tom Beard

KRISTIN

Paolo Dionisotti

TRUDI

Sarah Goldberg

SIMON

John Light

CLAIRE

Nina Sosanya

HUGH

Philip Voss

Director

Josie Rourke

Designer

Peter McKintosh

Lighting Designer

Hartley T A Kemp

Sound Designer

Emma Laxton

Characters

KRISTIN MILLER, in her sixties

PETER, her son, fortyish

TRUDI, his American fiancée, in her late twenties/early thirties

SIMON, her other son, in his late thirties

CLAIRE, his girlfriend, in her thirties

HUGH, an old friend of hers, in his sixties or early seventies

The play takes place entirely in the kitchen of Kristin’s cottage somewhere in the English countryside, in the present.

Thanks

The author would like to thank Louisa Prodromou and Peter Wolff, Dillian Gordon at the National Gallery, and Josie Rourke and everyone at the Bush Theatre.

ACT ONE

Scene One

The kitchen of KRISTIN’s cottage. Impressive, chaotic, eclectic – like its owner. Full of interesting and beautiful objects. The space is dominated by a large dining table.

KRISTIN is standing on one side of the room, PETER and TRUDI are on the other side, by the door. They have just arrived. They have two bags with them – an overnight travel bag and a large plastic one.

PETER. Mother.

KRISTIN. Darling.

PETER. We’re early.

KRISTIN. You are.

PETER. No traffic.

KRISTIN. It’s fine.

PETER. And Trudi wanted to see it before the sun went down.

KRISTIN. Did she?

TRUDI. The countryside is so beautiful.

KRISTIN. As long as you don’t mind me in my dressing gown.

Pause. PETER and TRUDI put the bags down.

PETER. Mum, this is Trudi.

KRISTIN. Hello, Trudi.

TRUDI. Hi, Mrs Miller.

KRISTIN. Kristin.

TRUDI. Kristin.

KRISTIN. Welcome to my house.

TRUDI. I’ve heard so much about you.

KRISTIN. Have you?

TRUDI. And I’ve read your work.

KRISTIN. What a pretty name you have, Trudi.

TRUDI. Thank you.

KRISTIN. It’s so American.

TRUDI. I know.

KRISTIN. Like Disneyland.

TRUDI. Yes.

KRISTIN. Or Coca-Cola.

A slight pause.

We have a bit of a crisis on our hands.

PETER. What kind of crisis?

KRISTIN. I need you to look at the oven.

PETER. The oven?

KRISTIN. It just doesn’t feel to me like it’s getting hot enough.

PETER. Have you got something in there now?

KRISTIN. Chicken.

TRUDI. Okay.

PETER. I thought I told you Trudi was a vegetarian.

KRISTIN. There’s potatoes. And vegetables, of course.

TRUDI. I love potatoes.

KRISTIN. But I can’t remember you telling me she was a vegetarian.

TRUDI. Really, Kristin, it’s fine.

PETER opens the oven.

PETER. It’s not that hot.

KRISTIN. And I’ve put it on full.

PETER. What time is it?

TRUDI. Just turned six.

KRISTIN. I mean, we won’t be eating for at least another hour so maybe –

PETER. It doesn’t feel that hot in there.

KRISTIN. Can you look at it?

PETER. Look at it?

KRISTIN. I mean, check the electrics, that kind of thing. Might be a switch.

PETER. It’s not a switch, and no, I can’t look at it. I mean, I wouldn’t know where to start. You need an electrician.

KRISTIN. The irony of it. I mean, tonight of all bloody nights. I wanted everything to be –

PETER. What’s your contingency plan?

KRISTIN. Contingency plan?

PETER. I mean, if it doesn’t get any hotter. Pasta, or something?

KRISTIN. The hobs seem to have gone as well. I tried them earlier. I was thinking I could poach it or something. As a last resort. Cut it up and fry it.

PETER. Fry the chicken?

KRISTIN. But the hobs seem to have gone as well. The whole damn thing.

PETER. So what do we do?

KRISTIN. I could drive it over to Phil and Lou’s. Borrow their oven.

PETER. That’s twenty miles away.

KRISTIN. I know.

PETER. You can’t be driving up and down the motorway with a chicken in the back seat.

KRISTIN. Or we could just have a cold meal. I’m sure I could be inventive. Forage for food in the cupboards, you know. Look for things.

PETER. Look for things?

KRISTIN (looking in the cupboard). There’s anchovies, nuts.

PETER. Nuts?

KRISTIN. I have a cos lettuce in the fridge.

PETER. We’re not bloody squirrels.

KRISTIN. Make a salad, you know.

PETER. Anchovy nut salad?

KRISTIN. Be inventive is what I mean.

TRUDI. I love salads.

KRISTIN. It’s still early. It’ll probably warm up.

PETER. Unlikely.

KRISTIN. We won’t be eating for another hour.

PETER. It’s broken.

KRISTIN. So in the meantime let’s just try and be positive, shall we?

PETER. We’ll try.

KRISTIN. And I’m sure you didn’t tell me Trudi was a vegetarian.

PETER. My version of events against yours.

A slightly awkward pause.

KRISTIN. I was just about to have some tea.

PETER. Okay.

KRISTIN. But I think, under the circumstances, a glass of wine would be more appropriate.

TRUDI. That would be lovely.

KRISTIN. Good.

PETER. I’ll do it.

PETER gets three glasses out of a cupboard and a bottle of wine out of the fridge. It is already uncorked – maybe KRISTIN has had a glass before they arrived.

TRUDI (remembering). Oh, happy birthday.

PETER. Of course.

KRISTIN. Thank you.

TRUDI. Shall we…?

PETER. What?

TRUDI. You know…

PETER. Oh.

TRUDI. Should we…?

PETER. Oh, that.

TRUDI. We’ve brought you something.

PETER. Maybe we should wait.

TRUDI. Or you could open it now.

She opens the plastic bag she’s brought with her and takes out quite a large, strangely shaped object which is wrapped in paper.

KRISTIN. My goodness.

TRUDI. Happy birthday.

KRISTIN. Well, it isn’t a book.

TRUDI. It’s from somewhere far away.

KRISTIN. How exciting.

TRUDI. I hope you like it.

KRISTIN. Shall I open it now?

PETER. Go on then.

KRISTIN. All right.

She starts to unwrap it. PETER has poured the three glasses of wine.

TRUDI. We kind of chose it together.

PETER. Trudi chose it.

TRUDI. I thought it was very, very beautiful.

PETER. She sort of fell in love with it.

TRUDI. And I said to Peter, ‘Maybe your mother will love it too.’ I knew it was kind of risky but –

PETER. But we took the chance.

TRUDI. And we really hope you like it.

KRISTIN has taken the paper off and the object is revealed – an African tribal mask. It is beautiful and disturbing the way these masks can often be – it has an exaggerated long face and a very broad forehead. PETER has handed TRUDI her glass of wine but holds onto KRISTIN’s because she is holding the mask.

KRISTIN. A mask.

TRUDI. Yes.

KRISTIN. An African mask.

PETER. It’s from Liberia.

TRUDI. When Peter was there and I went with him. He was working all day and I was stuck in the hotel watching CNN.

KRISTIN. A tribal mask.

TRUDI. I was kind of nervous of going out on my own.

KRISTIN. It’s quite something.

TRUDI. We were in Monrovia.

PETER. The capital.

TRUDI. But there’s only so much Larry King you can watch. So Peter was out all day with the people from the bank, meeting with all these guys from the Government. And I got bored. So I ventured out.

PETER. Not on your own.

TRUDI. With this guy from my hotel who was like my bodyguard or something. Peter arranged it. It was crazy.

KRISTIN. A bodyguard?

TRUDI. And we just walked around this marketplace and then this woman suddenly came up to me. She was very, very beautiful and quite young but when she opened her mouth I noticed she had no teeth. I mean, not a single tooth. It was kind of freaky. Anyway, she grabbed me by the arm and asked me to stay there and she ran into her house and then came out with this mask and said that she would sell it to me. And I kind of fell in love with it.

PETER. And the next day she took me over and showed it to me and persuaded me to buy it.

TRUDI. For you. Because I knew you liked beautiful objects of art. And of course, it’s the real thing, what I mean is, it’s not like the ones they sell at the airport. It’s the real thing.

Pause as KRISTIN takes in the mask.

I really hope you like it.

KRISTIN continues to examine it.

KRISTIN. It’s a tribal mask.

TRUDI. Yes.

KRISTIN. It’s definitely impressive.

TRUDI. Oh, I’m so glad you like it.

KRISTIN. But what’s its significance?

TRUDI. Its…?

KRISTIN. Its significance, history, function, its life.

TRUDI. How do you mean?

KRISTIN. Which tribe does it belong to? Was it made to conjure rain out of the sky or to bring punishment to those who had transgressed?

TRUDI. I don’t –

KRISTIN. Did the person who wore it dance a dance of delirium so as to be taken over by the spirit of an ancestor or to pray for the crops?

TRUDI. I don’t know –

KRISTIN. Or perhaps to bring famine and death to his enemies?

TRUDI. I really don’t know. She didn’t say.

KRISTIN. I suppose what I’m saying is that these objects – these strange, mysterious objects – are steeped in their own histories and we know very little of them, so to expatriate them in exchange for a few hundred dollars seems a little –

PETER. Mother.

KRISTIN. It’s not that I’m superstitious because I’m not. I just suppose I wish I knew something of the context in which it was created. Because its main purpose was definitely not decorative. So for it to be here, in this house, as a decorative object seems to be… how can I put this… disrespectful, I suppose. Both of it and of the artist who created it.

PETER gives her a look.

But thank you. It’s very kind.

TRUDI. I just thought it was beautiful.

KRISTIN. It is. It is. It is.

TRUDI. And I thought that –

KRISTIN. Somewhere in my study I have a book on African tribal art. We’ll have a look later. See if there’s any point of reference. Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. So we’ll have a look at the book.

TRUDI. That would be good.

KRISTIN. But thank you.

TRUDI. Happy birthday.

Pause. KRISTIN places the mask down on one of the kitchen counters somewhat awkwardly as if she is uncomfortable with it. It stares out at them for the rest of the evening. PETER hands her the glass of wine.

I was wondering…

KRISTIN. Yes?

TRUDI. I need to powder my nose.

KRISTIN. How sweet. Through the door on your right.

TRUDI. Thank you.

TRUDI leaves the room. A short pause. KRISTIN takes some napkins out of a drawer and starts to fold them.

KRISTIN. She’s pretty. In a North American kind of way. Wholesome.

PETER. Be nice to her.

KRISTIN. I’m not an ogress, my darling. I won’t have her on toast.

PETER. I think this is it.

KRISTIN. She’s definitely the right age.

PETER. What do you mean?

KRISTIN. You know. Children.

PETER. For fuck’s sake.

KRISTIN. Well, you have to think about these things. If you want a family.

PETER. We’re in love.

KRISTIN. She looks fertile.

PETER. I want you to be nice to her.

KRISTIN. Like a peach tree.

PETER. A peach tree?

KRISTIN. And she’s got that look.

PETER. What look?

KRISTIN. Like she’s going to be a good mother.

PETER. How d’you mean?

KRISTIN. Some women just have it. It’s in the eyes.

PETER. The eyes?

KRISTIN. The eyes that say, ‘I’m going to be a good mother.’

Pause.

I’ve missed you.

PETER. Yes.

KRISTIN. It’s been –

PETER. I’ve been busy.

KRISTIN. How’s that awful bank you work for?

PETER. The bank is fine.

KRISTIN. Still raping the Third World?

PETER. Brutally.

KRISTIN. I was thinking that in the present climate your job would have lost some of its allure. I keep hoping you’re going to pack it all in and grow your own vegetables. Teach yoga. Anything. You’ve always looked awkward in a suit. Then I can be proud to call you my son again.

PETER. Please don’t moralise. You know nothing about what I do.

KRISTIN. I know you’re with the takers and not the givers.

PETER. Enough.

Pause.

And Simon?

KRISTIN. What about him?

PETER. Is he coming?

KRISTIN. Claire said she’d pick him up after filming. But you don’t really know these days, do you?

PETER. Know what?

KRISTIN. She said he disappeared for three days last week. She called the police.

PETER. Fuck.

KRISTIN. I think she was implying he’d been living rough.

PETER. Living rough?

KRISTIN. On the streets, under the bridges, God knows.

PETER. Jesus.

KRISTIN. The point is, Peter, your brother is having a complete mental breakdown and the sooner we start recognising it for what it is, the better it is for all of us.

PETER. I suppose.

KRISTIN. He’s left his job.

PETER. When did that happen?

KRISTIN. On Thursday.

PETER. The café?

KRISTIN. Three jobs in as many months.

PETER. Shit.

KRISTIN. He said he needs the time to work on his novel.

PETER. Okay.

KRISTIN. He’s been working on it for seven years.

Pause.

PETER. And Claire?

KRISTIN. What about her?

PETER. What’s she doing about it?

KRISTIN. Nothing.

PETER. Nothing?

KRISTIN. She’s a soap actress, Peter.

PETER. What’s that got to do with it?

KRISTIN. I’m convinced she’s driven him to it in the first place. There’s something missing in her.

PETER. Missing?

KRISTIN. You try living with a big gaping hole in close proximity. Must be unnerving, I would imagine.

PETER. Claire’s not the problem.

KRISTIN. Isn’t she?

PETER. No.

KRISTIN. I just want him to be happy.

Pause.

PETER. I read your book.

KRISTIN. Oh?

PETER. It made me…

KRISTIN. What? It made you what?

TRUDI comes back.

PETER. Hey.

TRUDI. I love your bathroom. All those books. And that beautiful picture of the old man over the toilet.