The Astronaut's Chair E-Book

Rona Munro

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

Seitenzahl: 91

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

A thrilling play about the race to be the first woman in space. Renee Coburg is a gritty, glamorous aviator, the fastest, highest, bravest woman in the world. Jo Green is a determined, brilliant and much younger pilot with her eye on all Renee's records. They both want to be the first woman in space but there's only one chair at the top of the rocket. Rona Munro's play The Astronaut's Chair was first performed at the Drum Theatre, Plymouth, in 2012. It followed her earlier play, Little Eagles, about the space race in Russia.

Leseprobe

Rona Munro

THE ASTRONAUT’S CHAIR

NICK HERN BOOKSLondonwww.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Characters

The Astronaut’s Chair

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

The Astronaut’s Chair was first performed at the Drum Theatre, Plymouth, 20 September 2012. The cast was as follows:

STEVE

Tom Hodgkins

RENEE

Ingrid Lacey

LARISSA/VALENTINA/PEGGY

Amanda Ryan

JACK/KENNEDY/SENATOR

Jack Sandle

JO

Eleanor Wyld

Director

Simon Stokes

Set and Costume Designer

Bob Bailey

Lighting Designer

Chahine Yavroyan

Sound Designer

Adrienne Quartly

Assistant Director

Bethany Pitts

Fight Director

Alison de Burgh

Vocal Coach

Mary Howland

Characters

RENEE STEVE LARISSA / WAITRESS / PEGGY / VALENTINA JACK / SENATOR / KENNEDY JO MEMBERS OF THE PRESS, voice-over

Note on the Text

The settings are, variously, a desert, a desert airbase, a desert garden, a hospital garden, and the action should flow seamlessly from one location to another, the transitions between the two as rapid as the change in Renee’s consciousness.

ACT ONE

Desert, 1957.

RENEEandSTEVEare camping out in the desert. It’s a clear starry night.RENEEis looking at the sky.

STEVEis fiddling with a shortwave radio, trying to tune something in.

RENEE (her eyes still on the sky). Have you got it?

STEVEtunes it in.

The sound of the Sputnik satellite.

STEVE. That’s it.

They both listen, both looking up.

Want to try the binoculars?

RENEE. No, I know it’s up there.

STEVE. The sound…

RENEE. What about it?

STEVE. It sounds like it… shimmers… a shining sound.

RENEE. It’s kind of scary though, isn’t it?

STEVE. What?

RENEE. That’s the Russians, right? The Russians are up there, right now, above our heads.

STEVE. It’s a silver ball. Just a silver ball.

I’ll tell you what’s scary. There’s a place up there, only a mile or so above your head, where the air stops, and the gentle warmth of Earth stops, and there’s nothing between you and all of eternity but dark. You’d choke in seconds. The rage of the unshielded Sun would boil your blood. The bottomless cold of space would freeze your eyes open, as you died, looking at the whole, empty universe that presses in on this tiny speck of dust we call home. And there’s guys like me who dream of nothing but getting out there…

RENEE. Wow.

Poetry.

And I thought you were just a medical man from Illinois, Dr Finnegan.

STEVE. Colonel Finnegan.

RENEE. A doctor who had himself a little war.

STEVE. Decorated officer, ma’am. US Air Force.

RENEE. So you can fly yourself up to the edge of space, Dr Steve.

STEVE. No, ma’am. They won’t let me do that.

RENEE. Why not?

STEVE. Leg full of shrapnel.

RENEE. That’s too bad.

Want me to take you up?

STEVE. What?

RENEE. I’ve got my bird here. I could take you up tomorrow.

STEVE. Your bird?

RENEE. I’ve got a F-68 Sabre waiting over at the base but I reckon I could talk us in to a two-seater if you like.

STEVE. Who are you?

RENEE. Steve, you know who I am. I’m a pretty girl you met in a bar and sweet-talked into coming out here to see the stars.

STEVE. And you’ve got a jet?

RENEE. Sure do. And tomorrow I’ll take you up to look at Sputnik. If you want.

STEVE. And the day after?

RENEE. I’m flying home to my husband.

A beat.

Okay, Dr Finnegan?

STEVE. Colonel Finnegan.

RENEE. Excuse me, airman. Okay, Steve?

STEVE. Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.

They kiss. It becomes more passionate.

STEVEbreaks away.

He exits.

An instant shift in time and place, we are now in –

Hospital garden, 1964.

RENEEis close to collapse.LARISSAenters.

She checksRENEE’s pulse.RENEEbarely reacts. She’s looking up at the sky.

RENEE. There’s a woman up there, can you see her?

LARISSA (matter-of-fact). I think you’re going to die tonight.

RENEE. Excuse me?

LARISSA. I think you’re going to die tonight if you don’t make an effort.

RENEE. Are you my nurse?

LARISSA. I’m your doctor.

RENEE. Well, what kind of a bedside manner is that?

LARISSA. It’s up to you.

RENEE. You can’t talk to me like that.

LARISSA. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe you’re ready.

RENEE. I’m not ready to die. I’m on my way home, missy. My bag is packed. I’m out of here. Watch me.

LARISSAshrugs.

LARISSA. Your pulse is weak.

RENEE. I’m going home.

LARISSA. I don’t think so.

RENEE. Help me get up.

LARISSA. If you can’t do it yourself it’s time to lie down.

RENEE. What kind of nurse are you!?

LARISSA. I’m your doctor.

RENEE. You’re not my doctor, Steve’s my doctor.

LARISSA. He’s out.

RENEE. Out where?

LARISSA. At a party.

RENEE. Well, get him back here.

LARISSA. We’re only supposed to contact him in emergencies.

RENEE. You said I was dying!

LARISSA. That’s not an emergency, not if it’s your time.

RENEE. What do you mean, my time! I’m only… I’m not old.

LARISSA. You look old.

RENEE. I’m not old!

LARISSA. You look very old.

RENEE. Get me my make-up bag!

LARISSAis just looking at her.RENEEis furious.

Will youpleasebring me my bag. (AsLARISSAhesitates.)I can see it! It’s right there!

She’s pointing at it.LARISSAbrings over what’s basically a large vanity case.

RENEEstruggles to open it.

(Looking through make-up, selecting.) All right… all right… let’s see now… dying? What does she mean… dying… nurses these days…

LARISSA. I am a doctor…

RENEE. You’re too young to be a doctor.

LARISSA. I’m not young. It’s just you are old.

RENEE. Why you…?! I’m not…

RENEEbreaks off abruptly as she sees her reflection in the mirror in the box’s lid.

Oh my Lord, I look about one hundred and two.

LARISSA. You see?

RENEE. I really do. Okay, give me a minute here.

She starts fixing her face. Her energy is coming back, her movements getting more confident as she works.

All right… all right, I can have this fixed in a beat of a gnat’s wing… here we go… Come on, Renee, I know you’re hiding in there…

Honey, can you get me a drink?

LARISSA. You want some water?

RENEE. Hell no, I want a martini.

LARISSA. You are in hospital.

RENEE. Yes.

LARISSA. You want a martini? In a hospital?

RENEE. I thought you said I was dying? Don’t I get whatever I want when I’m dying? I’ve got the fixings in my bag there. Mix me up one, there’s a dear.

LARISSAfinds the martini ingredients.

Why would you say a thing like that? Why would you tell a person they were dying?

LARISSA. Don’t you want to know?

RENEE.No!

LARISSA. I’d want to know.

RENEE. Well, guess what. As soon as I get a gun or a blunt implement in my hand, you’re dying.

Do you know what you’re doing there?

LARISSA. I know how to make a martini.

RENEE. Good. Fix yourself one if you want it. You see anything in my make-up bag you like? Help yourself. I’ve plenty more. I bet you nurses work hard for a stripe of lipstick.

LARISSA. I’m your doctor.

RENEE. So you say. (Looking in mirror.)Oh, now I can see myself.

All right.

Help me up here.

LARISSAjust looks at her.

You’re really starting to annoy me, you know that?

All right.

Just to make the point. Just to show you how far I am from the grave, I’ll stand myself up.

LaboriouslyRENEEdoes this.

LARISSA. You will be sick.

RENEE. I’m not sick.

LARISSA. You will… (Searches for word.)throw up. When you stand up it makes you throw up.

JACKenters and stops, startled to seeLARISSA.

RENEE. I never throw up.

Where are my shoes?

Moving with increasing strength,RENEErummages in her bag and finds her heels and slips her feet into them.

LARISSAis glaring atJACK.

LARISSA. Did she pay you? To bring her bag here?

JACK (defensive). The lady wanted to leave. It’s a hospital, not a prison, right?

LARISSA. So now we have this.

Wait here, I’ll need help getting her back inside.

RENEE. I can’t remember one occasion in my whole life when I have lost my lunch. There’s no excuse for it. It’s just a lack of will-power.

Where’s my drink?

LARISSAhands her the martini.

You know, I’m wrong, I can remember one occasion but I tell you…

Instant change into –

Desert garden, 1960.

The garden ofRENEE’s ranch/mansion, south-west USA.

The actress playingLARISSAis now aWAITRESS, handing out drinks and collecting empties. Clearing up.

The actor playingJACKis now a TexanSENATOR, John Powell.

RENEEis talking to him, and toSTEVEandJO, who shortly enter. They’re all in evening dress. TheWAITRESShands them drinks.

RENEE. … I blame the Mexican food. Had to be that. I have never ever lost my cookies before a flight. That was the only time.

I was the only woman in that race and the engine in my bird was experimental.

My race slot was 3 a.m. By 1 a.m. we’ve got fog, dark and wet as full fathom five. I was sitting in this police car to keep warm. Two officers are sitting in with me, feeding me little nips out their flask and joking with me, but they’re watching me sideways as the night gets blacker and thicker. Those boys have something on their mind. They have an opinion about my chances of getting airborne. I have to keep cracking jokes, keep making them laugh so they don’t pop right out with that dark, damp opinion. (Takes a drink.) At about 2.15 there’s a terrible noise in the fog at the end of the runway. You know that noise metal makes when it tears like paper? It screams.

So one of the boys in blue gets out to see. Ten minutes later he’s back again. ‘I want you to see this, Renee,’ he says. Face like a funeral director.

He walks me down to the end. I’ve still got my heels on. You know, I always keep the whole outfit looking sharp till the minute I close the canopy on the cockpit. Never know when a stray photographer might pop out of the shadows, right? I can feel my heels sinking into the damp grass.

By now theWAITRESShas finished handing them drinks, andJOandSTEVEare on. TheWAITRESSexits.

There at the end of the runway is a big twisted heap of metal, nose-down in the ground. Used to be a Gee Bee airplane. The grass is wetter yet with all the gas that’s pouring out of that thing. Firemen have their hoses going full-blast soaking it. It’s a lake of water and gasoline around a pile of metal crumpled like a bit of damp cardboard. There’s a sad little heap of something floating in the shallows of that lake. That’s what my policeman friend is guiding me towards, warm manly arm round my back.