The Shape of Things, by Neil LaBute

HI.

IT’S SHANNON.

Neil LaBute was one of the most controversial playwrights of the 2000s. In theatre school I either had teachers who handed him out to everyone saying “He writes like real people talk about things you’ll be able to relate to. Do it!” or refused to let us bring in so much as a monologue, saying “His characters are non-redeemable and he uses profanity in lieu of good writing”... Yeah, well, everyone’s a critic. I love LaBute. I’ve written papers on him, directed plays of his, and used this monologue time and time again. So I say go for it. He’s pretty identifiable, but if you can really do one of his pieces, go for it.

Therefore I bring you

THE SHAPE OF THINGS
by Neil LaBute

WARNING: This play is all about the twist, and I’m going to give it away in the paragraph below because it’s relevant (if not necessary) to the monologue. Please please please read the play instead. Here! (http://amzn.to/1RS5nNn) That’s a link to the Amazon page where you can buy it. Buy it and read it and don’t read the paragraph below. Trust me, the monologue I’ve chosen will be self-evident.

The play is about Adam, a nerdy, sweet literature major (MA) at an unspecified midwestern university who meets a young graduate art student, Evelyn at his job as a security guard at the art museum. She’s in the middle of defacing a statue, and instead of arresting her, Adam gets her number. They start dating. Slowly he begins to work out, loses weight, cuts his hair, dresses better, gets a nose job, and, in general gets a little darker, more interesting, and less nice. His relationship with his best friend’s girlfriend, Jenny, gets a little ambiguous. Evelyn, though evidently alright with the changes, confronts him about Jenny, and in defense he proposes. Before responding, she invites him to her thesis presentation. It’s him. His changes have been her project over the year, and the ways in which he has become more appealing overall are evidence of her ‘sculpting.’ At the end of the presentation, she rejects his proposal. He confronts her, and her argument is “it was real to you, therefore it was real. It wasn’t to me, therefore it wasn’t. It’s all subjective, Adam. Everything.”

Yeah. What a bitch, right?

I love this part, I love this play, I love the complete turn around it does and the ways in which everyone is wrong but no one is wrong.

So of course

EVELYN

This is the presentation monologue. She’s just spent the entire play making this man into exactly who she wants him to be and she knows that that’s not ‘okay.’ This is her reason, her defense, her thesis that she’s given up her life for the past year to prove. And she, in her mind (I won’t speak for yours or even mine), is right.

EVELYN:

And yet, open any fashion magazine, turn on any television program, and the world will tell  you  he's only gotten more interesting,  more desirable, more normal. In a word, better. He is a living,  breathing example… of our obsession  with the surface of things, the shape of them. Not bad, huh? And ladies he is available. This was a completely startling and unexpected gesture, but obviously, I can't accept. You can examine the stone and setting further when it's placed  in the exhibit.

As for me, I have no regrets, no feelings of remorse for my actions, the manufactured emotions - none of it. I have always stood by the single and simple conceit that I am an artist, only that. I follow in a long tradition of artists who believe that there is no such concept as religion, government, community, or even family. There is only art; art that must be created whatever the cost. With that in mind, I present to you my untitled sculpture and supporting materials tonight. Thank you.

Yeah, it’s kind of horrible. Amazing, but horrible. I’m not sure what it says about me that I adore this part (she’s kind of a modern-day Hedda Gabler), but I do. As with Sarah Ruhl last week this will not be the last LaBute play on the docket for this blog, but if you’re impatient, here are some others I’d recommend: In a Dark Dark House, Fat Pig and reasons to be pretty. The one thing I’ll say about LaBute is that if you pick him, make sure you’re casting yourself correctly. The casting director or teacher could put a lot of stock in which LaBute character you think you are.

Once again, this has been
SOMEONE MONO-BLOGGING

and

I’M SHANNON.

ENJOY!

Seminar, by Theresa Rebeck

HI.

IT’S SHANNON.

So this is one of my favorite plays, by another fabulous lady playwright, Theresa Rebeck. She’s very popular, and very, very good. My other favorite play by her, which has great female parts (and is sadly but expectedly a little overdone by girls looking for monologues) is Spike Heels, which I am certain you will see on this blog at some point (despite its being overdone). This one, however, is even better. It’s about writers, and (at least to me) treads that perfect, delicate line of pretentious, yet human. Its a writer writing about writers writing, and doing so masterfully.

UGH.

I love this play.

So.

My gift to you this week:

SEMINAR

by Theresa Rebeck

(you’re welcome)

Seminar is about four young writers who take a class with a well-renowned writer/editor, Leonard, in hopes of launching their careers. Douglas has a famous uncle, Izzy has a rampant sex drive, Kate has one story she’s been working on for six years, and Martin has… well we don’t know what Martin has because he won’t show it to anyone. Kate and Martin are old friends who clearly have a thing for each other. The play takes place over the course of several scenes, all (except the last) in Kate’s parents’ fabulous-and-rent-stabilized Upper West Side apartment. In the first scene, Douglas is pretentious, Leonard tears apart Kate’s story, and Martin falls for Izzy’s sexuality. In the second, Douglas and Izzy might be sleeping together, but then Leonard reads Izzy’s story, using it as a tool to get in her pants (which pisses Martin off), and despite Kate being quite upset, Martin convinces her to let him live with her in the apartment. The next week, Leonard calls Douglas a whore (for selling out his connections and writing style), Izzy tells Martin she’s not sleeping with Leonard and kisses him, which upsets Kate even more. The next scene, Martin and Izzy are a furously-copulating couple, Kate turns in a story to Leonard (which he likes) that she’s written under someone else’s name, and Douglas tells Martin that Leonard was once condemned as a plagarist. The following week, Leonard reads Martin’s story and (after offhandedly mentioning to Martin that Izzy’s been cheating on him) tells him he’s brilliant and offers him a leg up in the world. Martin rejects him, calls him a bunch of names. Leonard ends the class for good. In the next scene, we’re in Leonard’s apartment: Martin knocks, looking for his money back for the uncompleted sessions. Kate is in the apartment already, now sleeping with Leonard. She and Martin make up (sort of), and she leaves. Martin finds Leonard’s writing on his desk and realizes he actually is kind of a genius. Leonard offers to help Martin again, Martin accepts.

It’s wayyyy better than that I promise. It’s so smart and so quick and so wordy and the characterization is freaking brilliant. I highly recommend both the parts of Kate and Izzy. And Martin. And Leonard. And if you’re a Douglas, I think he’s got a good speech in there too.

That said, I’m definitely a

KATE

so that’s who we’re looking at today.

This monologue comes at the part of the play where Kate has turned in a new piece of writing to Leonard without telling him she wrote it… and he liked it. VICTORY! Her first story, about an over-educated white girl pining on the themes of Jane Austen, didn’t go over well to say the least so she furiously started her first story in years: the memoir of a transvestite Cubano gang member who she “knows from Bennington” (her endlessly-referenced alma mater). It was a hit with Leonard, and Kate is now telling everyone about that fact. At this point in the story her relationship with Martin is very strained because he’s living in her apartment and fucking Izzy’s brains out on a regular basis… in the living room. She’s frustrated, but has been channeling that frustration into writing and the result is a win. It’s a big moment.

KATE: Yes I did and Leonard loved it. Fucker. Stupid fucking mother fucker. A Cubano transvestite gang member. And he loved it! Asshole.

DOUGLAS: You wrote it?

KATE: OF course I wrote it! His biggest objection to me is that I’m a rich white girl. Maybe if I’m not a rich white girl we can find out if I can write.

(... skipping a lot of text, where Martin pipes up, Kate shuts him down, and basically no one gives Kate the reaction she’s looking for, so...)

Well done, Kate! you not only pulled one over on Leonard who everyone in the room thinks is a flaming abusive BUTTHOLE, you came up with a terrific piece of writing! We know you’ve been feeling shitty about yourself because of the way Leonard treated you and you’ve been really nice to let MARTIN and IZZY use your apartment as a FUCKING LOVE NEST and well done, well done you must feel a lot better: that piece you wrote about the Cubano transvestite gang member is really smart and edgy and funny, you’re a writer after all. Well done.

(then, playing her part)

Thanks, thanks you guys. Thanks!

This whole play is genius and hilarous and smart. I actually can’t say enough good things about it (clearly), so go check it out. Also, as if the text itself weren’t enough, Alan Rickman (RIP) played Leonard when it appeared on Broadway in 2011 (legend has it that Rebeck wrote it for him, which I can totally buy.) I saw Jeff Goldblum play the part, personally, and it was fantastic. So imagine Rickman’s gorgeous voice when reading the text and it only gets better. Izzy’s got a good monologue to Martin later in the play, as well, when she tells him of course she was sleeping with Leonard the whole time. Check it out!

And as always,

if you choose this monologue

buy/read the whole play

and post a video of it here!

Thanks guys!

Once again, this has been

SOMEONE MONO-BLOGGING

and

I’M SHANNON.

ENJOY!

You Can't Take It With You by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman

This is my mom's favorite play.  Every time I do this monologue it is dedicated to her.

The Vanderhof's are crazy.  Their "living room" tells you everything you need to know about this family.  "The room we see is what is customarily described as a living room, but in this house the term is something of an understatement.  The ever-man-for-himself room would be more like it.  For here meals are eaten, plays are written, snacks collected, ballet steps practiced, xylophones played, printing presses operated- if there were room enough there would probably be ice skating... This is a house where you do as you like, no questions asked."  And yes, we see all of those things happen (and lots more) over the course of the play.

The family is happy.  They all do what they like, oblivious to the restraints (especially the financial ones) that the rest of the world allows to dictate their life.  Alice is the most "normal" one of the family (although how "normal" can you really be, growing up in a family like that?)  She has a job, and most importantly, a boy.

She is dating Tony, the vice-president of the business she works for.  And of course, his dad's the president.  And of course, the time has come for the families to meet...

Tony, listen.  You're of a different world.  A whole different kind of people.  I don't mean money or socially, that's too silly.  But your family and mine?  It just wouldn't work, Tony.  It just wouldn't work.

I love them Tony.  I love them deeply.  Some people could break away, but I couldn't.  I know they do rather strange things, but they're gay and they're fun and I don't know... there's a kind of nobility about them.

Tony.  Your mother believes in spiritualism because it's fashionable and your father raises orchids because he can afford to.  My mother writes plays because eight years ago a typewriter was delivered here by mistake.  And look at grandpa, thirty-five years ago he just quit work one day.  He went up the elevator and came right down again.  He just stopped.  He could have been a rich man, but he said he wasn't having any fun.  So, for thirty-five years he's just collected snakes and gone to circuses and commencements.

Could you explain grandpa to your father?  You couldn't Tony, you just couldn't!  I love you Tony, but I love them too.  And it's no use, Tony.  It's no use.

The Importance of Being Earnest, by Oscar Wilde

HI.
IT’S SHANNON.

Okay, we’ve got another good one this week (admittedly I don’t put plays I don’t like on here, but this is still way way up there), by one of the greatest English writers of all time: Oscar Wilde. The comedy of all comedies, the farce of all farces, the epitome of what it means to be quippy and British and hilarious.

That’s right ladies, this week we’re doing:

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST

by Oscar Wilde

This play is a classic farce, depending on the mixing up of identities and names and ending in wealth, marriage, and love for all involved. It revolves around the young, wealthy bachelor who was found in a handbag at birth (though adopted by a rich lord we never see), Jack Worthington. Jack lives a double life: In the city he is known as Earnest, drinking and gambling and courting a young woman named Gwendolen with whom he is in love. In the country, he goes by Jack, and sets a proper example for his beautiful young ward, Cecily. Whenever he wants to switch between lives, he cites his alter-ego: Cousin Jack in the country gets sick whenever he needs rest, and his brother Earnest gets into trouble whenever the city calls. All goes well until Jack’s best friend Algernon (Algy), cousin to Jack’s beloved Gwendolen, confronts Jack about a cigarette case addressed to “Dear Uncle Jack” and discovers Jack’s double life. Upon hearing of Cecily, Algernon immediately travels to Jack’s residence in the country, where he introduces him self as the prodigal brother Earnest to the already-enchanted Cecily (and her governess, Miss Prism). He proposes to Cecily, and she accepts him immediately. Jack arrives, having proposed at last to Gwendolen (who “has always longed to be married to a man called Earnest”) and determined to end his dual life. His plot is to announce his brother dead, but upon discovering Algernon masquerading as his brother, is forced to reevaluate. They go inside to dress. Gwendolen arrives, fleeing her mother who has refused to accept her engagement, and confronts Cecily with the news that she has been engaged to Earnest Worthington (Jack). Cecily rebukes her with the information of her recent proposal to Earnest Worthington (Algernon). Just as the argument between the girls gets heated, the men enter and their true identities are revealed. Lady Bracknell (Gwendolen’s terrifying mother who has completely rejected Jack’s proposal), enters and demands Gwendolen’s return to the city. Algernon requests permission to marry Cecily, which Lady Bracknell gives. Jack, as Cecily’s ward, witholds permission for Cecily to marry Algernon unless he is permitted to marry Gwendolen. Lady Bracknell does not give that permission, and the party is at a standstill. Suddenly, Lady Bracknell spots Miss Prism (Cecily’s governess, remember). She demands the return of the baby Miss Prism lost years ago, her brother’s child (Algernon’s brother). Miss Prism confesses that she left the baby in a handbag. Jack leaps up, realizing that he was that baby, and retrieves the handbag. Lady Bracknell accepts Jack as her nephew, grants him permission to marry her daughter (because nobility and inbreeding), he grants Cecily permission to marry Algernon, and everyone is happy. And then, wanting to know his true name, Jack rushes to the catalog of generals (and their families, apparently) and finds out that his name was Earnest after all.

All are happy, the play ends.

Whew that was a long summary. It’s all very intricate and complicated and witty and ridiculous. It’s a satire of the upper class, and an endless stream of perfect, quippy one-liners that make the plot so much more than my summary (despite its length) could possibly imply, so I heartily encourage you to read it. No matter who you are, it will make you laugh.

There are two brilliant parts for girls in this play:

Gwendolen and Cecily

and their scene together is one of

the best girl/girl scenes

in all of literature.

(seriously, take a look at if you’re ever doing scenework)

But today we’ll be looking at

GWENDOLEN

This is the proposal scene, where Jack (or as Gwendolen knows him, Earnest) is proposing to her. Gwendolen knows this is coming, but is delighted anyway.

(JACK: Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl… I have ever met since… I met you)

GWENDOLEN: Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible fashion. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you. (Jack looks at her in amazement) We live, as I hope you know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial pulpits, I am told: and my ideal has always been to love someone by the name of Earnest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Earnest, I knew I was destined to love you.

JACK: You really love me, Gwendolen?

GWENDOLEN: Passionately!

JACK: Darling! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.

GWENDOLEN: My Earnest!

JACK: But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name wasn’t Earnest?

GWENDOLEN: But your name is Earnest.

JACK: Yes I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean you couldn’t love me then?

GWENDOLEN: Ah! That is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as we know them.

JACK: Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly, I don’t much care for the name of Earnest… I don’t think that name suits me at all.

GWENDOLEN: it suits you perfectly. It is a divine name. It has a music of its own. It produces vibrations.

JACK: Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that I think there are lots of other much nicer names. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name.

GWENDOLEN: Jack? … No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all indeed. It does not thrill. It produces no vibrations…. I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Earnest.

Isn’t it lovely? The British accent (perfect RP if you can wrangle it) is absolutely essential -- if you try to walk in with this monologue in an American accent (or anything else), people are going to look at you funny. Wilde has a very specific style, and unless you’re trying to specifically go against it, I’d recommend toeing the line as close as possible. That said, it’s absurd and fun.

As always,

read the play, post your version of the piece, and have fun!

This has been

SOMEONE MONO-BLOGGING

and again,

I’M SHANNON

ENJOY!

Birdbath by Leonard Melfi

Note: if you want to read or see this play, do so before reading/watching the following.  Many spoilers ahead.

This is the story of two messed up people.  They are messed up in ways that almost mesh, but not quite enough.

The play was developed at La Mama, performed at Theatre Genesis, and on Broadway in "Six From La Mama" at Circle-in-the-Square.  It's a two-person, one-act play about Velma Sparrow, age 26, very talkative and very nervous, and Frankie, a lost poet in his 20's. 

Velma trembles uncontrollably when she's nervous(almost the entire show).  She also talks a lot.  Frankie doesn't.  So we learn a lot more about Velma than we do about Frankie.  We learn that Velma is unsuccessful around men- she's never had a valentine and that she has an incredibly overbearing mother who criticizes her for being to skinny, then yells at her to stop eating because she'll get fat.  We hardly learn anything at all about Frankie until the final scene which takes place in his apartment.

They met playing the "game of glances" at the restaurant they work at.  Frankie doesn't like it there.  They walk to the subway together, Velma shares much of her life story, Frankie half-listens but seems sort of annoyed.  He invites her to his place anyway.

Once they get there, Frankie starts drinking.  Velma gets nervous- she shouldn't be there... what would her mother say?  Frankie starts to loosen up, he sings, he tries to get her to dance with him.  It works.  It's awkward.

Finally, Velma mentions a topic that Frankie has lots to say about- girls.  First, that all the girls he's been with get jealous of the time he spends at his typewriter.  He had a serious relationship with one girl- Carrie, but she wanted to get married and he didn't and that was that.  He wants to dance with her, to touch her, to hold her.  Velma doesn't want that.  It freaks her out.  Finally, he tries to embrace her and she pulls a knife screaming at him.  This leads into the monologue...

Note:  I've chosen to give her a long beat before the monologue to put the knife away and calm herself down.  (I don't perform this beat when I do the monologue.)  This way, when the knife comes back at the end, it can be a reveal and I think it makes the monologue more dynamic.  But, starting the monologue with the knife still at his throat could also be very interesting....

When . . . we got up this morning, my mother and me, we had coffeecake and caviar for breakfast. It was a big surprise. My mother said that we were havin’ the treat even if payday was three days away yet. She said it was sort of special celebration. My mother said that she was leaving for the mountains this afternoon. She was going to a resort with a man. Harriet, my mother’s friend who lives in the next apartment, she told my mother that there were a whole lot available man at this certain resort up in the mountains, the Catskills, I think, and my mother said she was goin’ no matter what, and that I must send her money every weekend until she has some luck. She said that I couldn’t go because I would scare the men away, that I would ruin her chances, and that I was really such an ugly girl, that I looked like the mother and she looked like the daughter . . . and then she said that was why were having the treat early: to celebrate! The coffeecake and caviar . . . and then she asked me to cut her a big piece of the coffeecake and to cover it with a whole lot of caviar . . . and so I started to cut the coffeecake with this here knife, but . . .
It’s my mother’s blood! I didn’t know what to do. I don’t . . . know why I did it! I don’t even really remember that much, Frankie. When I got in the subway to come to work afterwards it was jist like nuthin’ happened, nuthin’ at all! But do you know? I thought, I thought when my mother asked me to cover her piece of coffeecake with a whole lot of caviar, I thought . . . my mother . . . she thinks my head is a hammer! That’s what she thinks! AND IT ISN’T! IT ISN’T! Tell me, Frankie, please tell me that my head is not a hammer!