MALAPROP: plays E-Book

Carys D. Coburn

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

MALAPROP Theatre is an award-winning collective of Irish theatremakers, who seek to challenge, delight and speak to the world we live in (even when imagining different ones). This volume brings together four of their bold, playful and genre-spanning plays, all premiered at the Dublin Fringe Festival between 2017 and 2023. In Everything Not Saved, ex-lovers argue about when they were happiest, police officers rewrite history, and Rasputin dances like no one's watching. Oh, and also the Queen is there. Before You Say Anything questions how everyone can be safe at the same time. A time-travelling set of interweaving stories exploring injustice, freedom and bravery. Where Sat the Lovers is about codes, hallucinations, Isaac Newton, war crimes, seeing meaning where there's none and vice versa. In an age of misinformation, how do you know if you know the right things? HOTHOUSEtackles climate breakdown with big ideas, a lot of laughs, and some truly grotesque cabaret numbers. Cruise ships, horny/murderous songbirds, fecund/fatalistic rabbits, loving/bruising parents and Minnie Riperton all make an appearance in this play with songs, which asks if things can ever get better. MALAPROP Theatre are Carys D. Coburn, John Gunning, Breffni Holahan, Molly O'Cathain, Maeve O'Mahony, Claire O'Reilly and Carla Rogers. 'MALAPROP have quickly distinguished themselves as one of Ireland's most exciting emerging companies' Ruth McGowan, Director, Dublin Fringe Festival (2018-23) 'A company of real ambition. One which is using theatrical form to grapple with the complexities of a world where the ground is constantly shifting beneath our feet and where what we believe can be recalibrated not just on a daily basis but minute by minute' Lyn Gardner, Stage Door 'Reminiscent of early Caryl Churchill... this is thinking theatre at its best'Irish Independent

Leseprobe

MALAPROP

plays

Everything Not Saved Before You Say Anything Where Sat the Lovers HOTHOUSE

NICK HERN BOOKS

Contents

Introduction

Everything Not Saved

Before You Say Anything

Where Sat the Lovers

HOTHOUSE

Company Biographies

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Introduction

It’s been a busy few years since we were awarded Spirit of Fringe at Dublin Fringe Festival for LOVE+. At the time we weren’t even a company, on the basis that a company name felt like a promise of a further show. We knew we could make LOVE+ – because we’d just done so – but we didn’t know if we could make something else.

And then, with the award, we suddenly had to! What a wonderful vote of confidence! What a terrifying vote of confidence!

It made sense, we felt, to take two years to make Everything Not Saved. So we could work out how we worked. To separate the idiosyncrasies of a single project – because they all have idiosyncrasies – from integral parts of the process. (That was a thing we did once, this is a thing we always do.) To work out our interests, goals, style.

Style, in particular, is a funny thing. Get too precious about it and you fall into self-parody. Get too self-conscious about getting too precious about it, and you risk alienating people who like your stuff by not doing things you want to do out of some vague sense you have a duty to ‘innovate’. (Whatever that means.)

Our solution was not something we sat down and worked out. It was something that emerged from two years of intense work on everything else: BlackCatfishMusketeer, JERICHO, a truly bizarre short play that we performed at a corporate fundraising dinner. (The brief: okay, so, we’re raising funds for children with haemophilia, so what if it was a retelling of the Children of Lír but instead of them turning into swans they had haemophilia and instead of their dad is a king who works for Construction Company We Can’t Legally Name In This Introduction?)

We made shows that, in retrospect, we think share a set of priorities if not a set language. They all aim to say something about the world we live in, but to say it obliquely. To have the larger thought sneak up on you. Not because mystery is inherently more artistic, but so as to encourage reappraisal of what you thought you knew. To make you realise two disparate things are the perfect metaphor for each other. To make you think the sprawling, associative thought that you would not otherwise think.

In funding-application speak, we often say that we ‘aim to challenge, delight and speak to the world we live in (even when imagining different ones)’. We’re lucky to have found a moderately palatable soundbite that matches up moderately well with what we really think.

We also like this quote from Kim Stanley Robinson: ‘If you want to write a novel about our world now, you’d better write science fiction, or you will be doing some kind of inadvertent nostalgia piece; you will lack depth, miss the point, and remain confused.’

That feels true to us. That realism is more ‘radar ping’ than ‘Book of Revelation’, a missive from where we’ve just been, a contingent truth subject to correction, a great flavour to round out a meal but never the main event. Grumio’s totes hilarious joke from the Shrew: do you want the mustard without the beef?

‘Contingent’ is a good word. We like sci-fi because it’s not not fantasy, because it reminds us that the present is future history and erstwhile future. Our pal Eoghan Quinn did a PhD with super-brainy cool dude Julia Jarcho, who talks about negating the present; there’s a difference between it is so and it is necessarily so. That has a political charge, finding ways to get people to feel that the givens of the world are really mades. Not data, facta. It’s the feeling of waking up on February 9th 2020 and Sinn Féin have seventeen Teachtaí Dála and Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael have one apiece. Not that we are Sinn Féin supporters, but this has never happened before! We might have the chance to be disappointed by the ostensibly left-wing party in government, instead of just swapping Fine Gael (capitalist death-cult) for Fianna Fáil (capitalist death-cult) until the end of time! Everything is where it was, but there’s a new way through it all. It occurs to you that the same old dots can be joined in a different order. It occurs to you that taking a different path means new perspectives from new places we’ve never stood before.

Another quote we like, this from our fairy godmother Ali Smith: ‘More and more, the pressing human dilemma: how to walk a clean path between obscenities.’ That’s the feeling, that there might be a clean path. You try not to feel it about electoral politics – most of us are the age that means our first election was the one that put Labour in power so Joan Burton could cut lone-parent benefits. We’ve been here before. And yet, and yet, the feeling of possibility. It’s briefer and more doomed than the feeling of May 23rd 2015 or May 25th 2018, those big referendum results – there was actual hope on those days. Maybe the WHOLE country doesn’t hate queers; maybe the WHOLE country doesn’t hate women. But hope is a slippery instant between the months of terrified lead-up to the vote and the years of complex aftermath that have followed. Possibility is a less shiny feeling than hope, but it might be more durable. In the face of everything it is less of a strain to believe it doesn’t have to be this way than it gets better.

Maybe that’s the key to why we like sudden changes of subject that aren’t. Maybe that’s why the characteristic MALAPROP gesture – if there is one – is the zoom, whether out or in, movement without departure or arrival, things appearing or disappearing from where they weren’t hiding but we couldn’t see, sharpening or blurring until there’s something there that wasn’t there before. Hence the Queen, bad cops, Rasputin, bad cops again, nineteenth-century gays, seventeenth-century science and/or alchemy, Loughinisland, even more bad cops, Operation Legacy, immortal time-travelling drag king Isaac Newton, climate breakdown, rabbits, Blanchardstown, cruise ships, Minnie Riperton, great tits.

Enjoy.

EVERYTHING NOT SAVED

Carys D. Coburn

with MALAPROP THEATRE

Everything Not Saved was first performed at Project Arts Centre, Dublin, on 11 September 2017, as part of Dublin Fringe Festival. The cast was as follows:

B

Breffni Holahan

M

Maeve O’Mahony

P

Peter Corboy

SPOOKY-JEWEL-FACED- WOMAN-WHO-SHOOTS-B

Sara Gannon

Set, Costume, Graphic Design

Molly O’Cathain

Lighting Design

John Gunning

Sound Design

Brian Fallon

Stage Manager

Sara Gannon

Producer

Carla Rogers

Production Manager

Dara Ó Cairbre

Assistant Stage Manager

Ursula McGinn

Costume Assistant

Anna Chiara Vispi

Assistant Lighting Designer

Briony Morgan

Characters

B

M

P

Note on the Dialogue

Text in bold is voice-over and projection until it is indicated that the voice-over drops out. In the original production, the voice-over was progressively older in each section.

Where text is in [square brackets] these words are intended but unspoken.

One

Hi.

Thanks for coming.

Especially you, James.

What with the new baby and all.

Would you raise your hand if you wouldn’t mind raising your hand in answer to some questions?

Please.

I’m asking nicely.

You don’t have to, but it’ll be more interesting if you do.

Thank you, everyone except the woman in the fifth row rolling her eyes.

Raise your hand if you think you’ll remember, in five minutes, the face of the person who took your ticket?

If you think, in five minutes, you could draw that person from memory.

The man in the third row is lying.

Look at him there, with his beard and his lying hand.

Just, like, I mean, like, come ON, man in the third row.

Don’t lie.

Maybe I should try to be more ingratiating.

Maybe you’d find this easier if you could see someone.

Would you raise your hand if there’s a photo of you you really hate?

If you’d be embarrassed if, after your death, that photo was the only image remaining of you?

If you feel like that photo doesn’t really represent all of who you are in any meaningful sense?

If you feel like all of the photos of you ever taken still don’t accomplish that?

Because that’s the problem, isn’t it?

Photos only show what you looked like that one time.

And you’ve looked like lots of other things too.

Including shit.

Video is arguably better for that.

Capturing change over time.

Your words. Your actions.

Not just how you looked but how you sounded.

That one time anyway.

But you still have to choose what to capture.

Because an unedited video of your whole life would be as long as your whole life.

And it would take someone else’s whole life to watch your whole life.

And who’d do that?

Who, if anyone, loves you that much?

Maybe you’re thinking ‘perspective?!’.

Well done. Top marks. Your medal’s in the post.

There’s always a perspective the camera hasn’t covered.

Yours.

Because the camera isn’t your eyes, unless you’re a robot.

But you’re not a robot.

Don’t lie.

Say everyone recorded their whole life. Whose life, if anyone’s, would you want to watch?

Throughout this section, a garden with a small iron table and chair has been constructed on the stage in full view of the audience. It should vaguely resemble the garden in Cape Town from which Queen Elizabeth II made an address when she was still Princess Elizabeth, on the occasion of her birthday. M has also entered, dressed as Princess Elizabeth, with her printed speech in her hands. She seats herself at the table poisedly.

Best Bits

M. Now that we are coming to manhood and womanhood, it is surely a great joy to us all to think that we shall be able to take some of the burden off the shoulders of our elders who have fought, and worked, and suffered to protect our childhood.

I hope you didn’t put your hand up for that question, it wasn’t yes or no, that would be silly.

M. We must not be daunted by the anxieties and hardships that the war has left behind in every nation of our Commonwealth.

Say only one photo of one person from one time will survive the nuclear war next year.

What do you hope that photo is?

M. We know that these things are the price that we cheerfully undertook to pay for the high honour of standing alone seven years ago, in defence of the liberty of the world.

Say it’s the year before the Queen died, I’m sure you all remember that.

M. Let us say with Rupert Brooke: ‘Now God be thanked who has matched us with his hour.’

And we’re here, with them, in their friend’s garden.

B and P take up their places in the scene; B behind M with her camera on a tripod, and P off to one side with a reflector such that it’s uncertain whether he exists.

M. I am sure that you will see our difficulties in the light that I see them; as the great opportunity for you and me.

B. Bit slower.

M. I thought you weren’t recording audio.

B. I’m not but when you talk like a normal person, you move like a normal person.

M. Which is too fast.

B. Yeah.

M. Sorry. Are you recording this?

B. Yeah.

M. So I should stop talking?

B. Yeah.

M. Like now?

B. Yeah.

M. Are you getting cross?

B. Yeah.

M. Is there any chance you’ll go to jail?

B. For this?

M. Yeah.

B. No.

M. Is it not though a bit –

B. What?

M. Y’know.

B. Unethical?

M. Profoundly unethical.

B. No.

M. You sure?

B. Very.

M. So, the Queen dies.

B. Statistically, within four years.

M. And then the media go apeshit.

B. Queenarama.

M. Lizapalooza.

B. Extrazabethaganza.

M. Just the fucking dead Queen, like, everywhere.

B. Yeah.

M. Highlights of her reign.

B. Momentous moments.

M. Her trying not to look guilty when Diana died.

B. Trying not to look awkward when her boyfriend was racist.

M. The different coins. The coins have been different, haven’t they?

B. Yeah.

M. So that’s what you’re, what we’re doing?

B. Queen footage?

M. For TV.

B. For when she dies?

M. Yeah.

B. Yeah.

M. Even though we’re not English.

B. To the continuing shock of English people.

M. Yeah.

B. Yeah. Work is work, though.

M. And I’m not the Queen.

B. Wait, WHAT?!

M. I feel like you go to jail for not being the Queen.

B. You won’t go to jail.

M. I don’t know laws, but aren’t there laws?

B. You definitely won’t go to jail.

M. Funny. I just assumed it wasn’t people.

B. Making or editing the – ?

M. Yeah. Privately. That it was a government thing.

B. Well, in North Korea it would be.

M. Oh, right. Yeah.

B. Because what you’re describing is propaganda.

M. Yeah.

B. But, in fairness, I sometimes forget that that’s bad.

M. Media monopolies?

B. Feels like a sailed ship when Google owns everyone’s tits and dicks.

M. Everyone’s tits and dicks?

B. Literally everyone’s titties and dickies.

M. Shit.

B. Yeah.

M. And this is before the Queen was the Queen?

B. Yeah. This is Princess Elizabeth on her twenty-first birthday in 1947. Turn around for a sec…

M. Seventy years ago.

B. Good maths.

M. Just after the war.

B. Good history.

M. Mad, isn’t it?

B. Time?

M. Just like, time yeah.

B. There’s footage of her giving this speech from Cape Town.

M. I’m finding this weird.

B. Sitting on a chair at a table in a garden just like this.

M. Being dressed as the Queen.

B. The war had only been over two years.

M. With her filming me.

B. Twenty-one and engaged. If I’d married who I was with when I was twenty-one, I’d be married to her.

M. I remember the last time I wore this necklace was to a dinner party here.

B. Don’t get me wrong, but FUCK.

M. And, while I was getting ready, she kept trying to take a photo of me. Naked.

B. Like, now I think I like my photos of her better than I like her.

M. And I couldn’t move. Literally.

B. One in particular. Where she’s facing the camera naked.

M. Because I had my hand over the lens and I didn’t trust her not to take my photo if I took it away.

B. From when she was, or we, or, actually, things maybe weren’t complicated. Less so, anyway.

M. And I started feeling a bit scared. Of having to have the fight we would have to have if she did.

B. She was shy back then, but that’s why I like it. Having a memory of that shyness.

M. Because she’d win.

B. And the act of making the memory helped her not be. Shy any more.

M. So I kept saying STOP.

B . Why?

M. Because I feel like, at any moment, you’re going to shove your dick in my mouth.

B. I don’t think that’s fair.

M. Because you don’t have a dick?

B. Because I’m not some creep with a shit moustache who says there’s a modelling job when there isn’t.

M. Then stop acting like one.

B. One photo.

M. Fuck off.

B. Super tasteful.

M. Fuck off.

B. Bush but no lip.

M. Fuck right off.

B. And you can cover your nips with your hand – You hesitated!

M. No I didn’t.

B. Bush and covered nips, then I’ll leave you alone forever.

M. Forever?

B. Forever.

M. Forever?

B. Forever.

P. This is actually my garden, and it’s so good to have them both here again.

M. Standing?

B. Whatever.

P. It’s not that I took sides; there aren’t sides.

M. Sitting?

B. Whatever.

P. But we’d never learned how to talk to each other one on one.

M. Standing then.

B. Okay then.

P. I find that pretty difficult generally actually; talking one on one.

M. How’s this?

B. Perfect.

P now definitely exists, and his reflector becomes a tray of G and Ts with cucumber in them.

P. I have drinks with cucumber in them!

M (with a self-aware quoting air). I mean of COURSE cucumber!

B. We’re real people.

P. Your Majesty.

M (in her Queen voice). One is very grateful.

B. I definitely told you I wouldn’t be recording audio.

P. Any excuse.

M. ANY excuse.

B. To do voices?

P (in a voice). To do voices.

M (in a non-Queen voice). To do voices.

B. What the fuck was that meant to be?

P. Why are you not recording audio of her amazing Queen impression?

M. It’s actually Princess Elizabeth, actually, on her birthday in – 1946?

B. Seven.

P. Seventy years ago.

M. I did that because six is green.

B. What?

P. Weird, it’s red for me.

M. Because we’re in the garden.

B. Wait, WHAT?

P. That cucumber’s gone STRAIGHT to your head.

M. So when I thought about what you said a minute ago I was getting green, but it was the plants. But I thought it was the number, and green is six. Six is the green number. Mad that it’s not for you, is it for you? So, that’s why I thought that you had said – thought that it was six.

B. It’s seven, though.

P. It’s really great to see you both again!

M. It is.

B. Properly.

P. I mean, it must be –

M. Like, what?

B. Two years since that lunch?

P. It can’t be.

M. Time.

B. Yeah, because the election was –

P. Yeah, fuck. Which means that that dinner was –

M. Four?

B. Nearly five years ago.

P. I want to say his name was Jake?

M. From that dinner?

B. Your boy?

P. Who I had that, a date ends up being a whole weekend, instant, y’know, chemical-level-attraction-type thing with. With whom.

M. Who stayed to dinner with us.

B. And ended up being a total dick.

P. Who liked working for a startup.

M. And ended everything he said with speaking personally.

B. Not even personally speaking.

P. That was weird.

M. Like, what else –

B. Would he be speaking as?

P (in a fantastical ambassadorial voice). ON BEHALF OF MY PEOPLE.

M (in a fantastical ambassadorial voice). ON BEHALF OF THE GALACTIC COUNCIL.

B. What the fuck was that meant to be?

P. I feel strongly one syllable?

M. Like Jake?

B. Dave?

P. Dave was the activist.

M. Who had a dick.

B. What did we think his dick was, again?

P. Friendly?

M. With the friendly dick.

B (in a voice). Enchanté. Voices.

At some point during the ensuing text, a member of stage management brings out some comically sketchy representation of the Dumb Hot Jock and gives it to P to help him illustrate his memory of the dinner. In our production, he was a mannequin head attached to the top of a broom handle. Whatever he is, it’s key that he be obviously less detailed than a real man.

P. But yes he turned out to be a total dick, whatever his name was, not Dave, who just had one, a dick, and not friendly, unlike Dave’s. And I think he had a kind of a Dumb Hot Jock face, like the character who, in a movie set in an American high school, says things like Hey, SECOND NAME, nice SHIRT to the protagonist after squirting ketchup all over said shirt, meaning protagonist can’t ask hot popular Mandy Spoopelpeim to the Sadie Hawkin’s dance. That happens a lot in films, though I actually can’t name a single specific one where that happens right now. Maybe if I saw him right now, I’d be surprised by how normal he looks. Maybe I’m remembering him as more Dumb-Hot-Jock-looking than he was because he acted that way too, but he definitely looked at least a bit Dumb Hot Jock, because I have and had a bit of a guilty thing about that like hmm, in school you definitely would have bullied me but instead we’re naked, deadly, I must be growing as a person or at least getting better at hiding my sad breakable true self under a sexy veneer.

And then, at dinner, we were sitting here in this garden, the four of us, and you were all –

M. Something about the election.

P. And he said how he felt something kind of snide and patronising about people with left-leaning politics and no money, speaking personally, which made everything a bit awkward. And then you were all –