by Eric Lane
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ANTIGONE'S RED by Chiori Miyagawa
ARABIAN NIGHTS by David Ives
CLASSYASS by Caleen Sinnette Jennings
THE CURE by Romulus Linney
DANIEL ON A THURSDAY by Garth Wingfield
DEER PLAY by Mary Louise Wilson
EL DEPRESSO ESPRESSO by Laura Shaine Cunningham
EL SANTO AMERICANO by Edward Bok Lee
EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE by Nina Shengold
FAITH by Eric Lane
FIGHT DREAMS by Alison Weiss
THE FIND by Susan Sandler
THE GRAND DESIGN by Susan Miller
IT'S NOT YOU by Craig Pospisil
KITTY THE WAITRESS by Christopher Durang
LEFT TO RIGHT by Steven Dietz
THE LEVEE by Taylor Mac Bowyer
MARRED BLISS by Mark O'Donnell
MEN'S INTUITION by Itamar Moses
THE MOON PLEASE by Diana Son
MY RED HAND, MY BLACK HAND by Dael Orlandersmith
NIGHT VISITS by Simon Fill
NINE TEN by Warren Leight
PLAYWRITING 101:THE ROOFTOP LESSON by Rich Orloff
ROSIE IN THE SHADOW OF THE MELROSE by Craig Fols
A RUSTLE OF WINGS by Linda Eisenstein
SINNERY OF A SUNDAY by Honour Kane
THE SNIPER by Anthony David and Elaine Romero
SPACE by Donald Margulies
STUCK by Claire Reeve
TABLE 5 AT EMPIRE SZECHWAN by Alexander Woo
TWENTY DOLLAR DRINKS by Joe Pintauro
21 by Sigrid Heath
VIRGINIA STREET by Toni Press-Coffman
A WHOLE HOUSE FULL OF BABIES by Sean O'Connor
CONTRIBUTORS
ABOUT THE EDITORS
PERMISSIONS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INTRODUCTION
A ten-minute play is a jolt of theatrical energy. It can move you to tears, shock you to the arrow, or send you into uncontrollable spasms of laughter.
It' s just over twenty-five years since the Actors Theatre of Louisville announced its first Ten- inute Play Contest. In its second generation, the ten-minute play has evolved from a novelty item—often derided as “short-attention-span theatre,” “theatrical sound bites,” and the like—to a vital new force in American theatre.
Why ten-minute plays?
Theatres love them. A ten-minute play festival is a great way to forge relationships with many laywrights at once, to cast actors in new combinations, and last but not least, to attract Audit_yts huge audience. It introduces theatregoers to fascinating stories, diverse worlds, and exciting theatrical voices, in record time.
Actors love them. An evening of ten-minute plays is often cross-cast, giving each actor a morgasbord of juicy roles (and Audit yts welcome relief from typecasting). Ten-minute plays are Article velously portable, at home on stages, in cabaret spaces, cafes, student unions, and classrooms. Since they tell complete stories with richly detailed characters, they' re perfect for scene work and showcases.
Playwrights love them. While writing a full-length play is a feat of endurance, akin to climbing a mall Himalaya, a ten-minute play is a breathless, exuberant sprint. The form' s very compactness allows writers the freedom to try things they might not take on in a longer work. It' s hard to think of a major contemporary playwright who hasn' t assayed the ten-minute play form. In this book you' ll find brilliant short plays by award-winning dramatists Warren Leight, Donald Margulies, and Dael Orlandersmith, comic treasures by Laura Shaine Cunningham, Christopher Durang, David Ives, and Mark O' Donnell, and dozens of equally wonderful scripts by both established and emerging playwrights. Many are published here for the first time. The plays in this book premiered all over the country: Minneapolis, Louisville, Phoenix, Los Angeles, New York City, and more, with voices that reach out to Ireland, the Middle East—even (in Susan Miller' s astounding The Grand Design) outer space. They are comedies and dramas, monologues, two-handers, and ensemble pieces, with a fresh diversity of voices that speaks to Audit_yts new multiculturalism in the American theatre.
You' ll find roles here for Asian Americans (Antigone' s Red, Table 5 at Empire Szechwan), Latinos (El Santo Americano, Virginia Street), Middle Easterners (The Sniper), African Americans and Native Americans (Classyass; My Red Hand, My Black Hand). Some plays, like The Grand Design and Craig Pospisil' s It' s Not You, specifically encourage multiethnic casting. Others, like Warren Leight' s Nine Ten and Diana Son' s The Moon Please take this so much for granted that their characters use such phrases as “racial profiling” and “woman of color” without indicating what race or color they might be. There are plum roles for teenagers (Rosie in the Shadow of the Melrose, Men' s Intuition, A Whole House Full of Babies) and seniors (Deer Play, The Find) and everyone in between. There are plays about gay men and lesbians, Mexican wrestlers, Appalachian midwives, Oscar winners, and seductive French cats.
There seems to be nothing beyond the range of the ten-minute play. In swift, bold strokes, playwrights grapple with issues ripped from the headlines, spin wild comic riffs, and create wondrous myths with the logic of dreams. As editors of two anthologies of ten-minute plays, and participants in several annual ten-minute play festivals, we have read or seen over a thousand of these remarkable works. Like snowflakes, no two are alike. The best are like snowflakes in other respects: crystalline and astonishing, miniature worlds.
The thirty-five plays in this book are gems. Whether you' re Audit_yts theatre professional looking for scripts to produce, an acting student who needs a new project, a writer in search of inspiring new voices, or a reader who wants a crash course in the depth and diversity of the American theatre, you' ll find it between these two covers. Enjoy!
NINA SHENGOLD AND ERIC LANE
March 2003
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many individuals generously contributed to the creation of this book. We' d like to thank the literary managers, agents, and publishers who helped us find such a wealth of material and secure the rights for this collection. In particular, we' d like to acknowledge Toni Amicarella at New York Theatre Workshop, Elizabeth Bennet at Manhattan Theatre Club, Pam Berlin at HB Playwrights Unit, Bill Craver and Chris Till at Writers& Artists, Gloria Falzer at Turnip Theatre, Sarah Jane Leigh and Kent Eiler at I.C.M., Bruce Ostler and Melissa Hardy at Bret Adams, Ltd., Tom Rowan at Ensemble Studio Theatre, Steve Supeck at Helen Merrill, Ltd., Jean Wagner at Voice& Vision, Stephen Willems at MCC Theater, Samantha K. Wyer at Arizona Theatre Company, and the folks at New Dramatists. Many thanks to Sarah Bisman and Warren Leight for their gracious help with the cover photo. Grateful thanks also to Steven Corsano, Tina Howe, JosÉ Rivera, David Robinson, Paula Vogel, Shelley Wyant, Maya Shengold, and Werner Schnackenburger. And the Corporation of Yaddo, where work on this book began.
The number of theatres around the country producing annual ten-minute play festivals continues to grow. We' d especially like to thank Actors& Writers, as well as Tanya Palmer and Amy Wegener at Actors Theatre of Louisville—both theatres have been constant sources of material for our collections. And the Berrilla Kerr Foundation, which has generously supported so many of the playwrights in this collection.
Our sincere gratitude to Michael Bigelow Dixon at the Guthrie Theater and John McCormack at All Seasons Theatre Group and the Zipper Theatre—we truly appreciate their vast knowledge and continued generosity. Both Michael and John have brought to our attention countless terrific new playwrights and plays.
Many thanks to Phyllis Lane, whose love, support, and mandel bread are truly missed.
As always, we' d like to thank our agents, Phyllis Wender and Susie Cohen, whose invaluable guidance made this collection possible. Also our wonderful editor at Vintage B
ooks, Diana Secker Larson, for all her support and the opportunity to publish this book. And most of all, to the playwrights who sent us their amazing scripts—many more than we could include in this book—and to the actors and directors who bring their work to life.
ANTIGONE'S RED
Chiori Miyagawa
CHARACTERS
ANTIGONE: Japanese American woman in her early thirties.
ISMENE: Antigone's younger sister.
TADASHI: Japanese American man in his early thirties.
BRIAN: Caucasian man, Ismene's husband. —
GUARD: Caucasian man.
TIME: 1942.
PLACE: Manzanar, California.
PROLOGUE
ANTIGONE: With my bare hands I dug the dry earth and covered my lover's corpse with dirt and tears. The desert land is cruel to those who want to bury loved ones. My nails ripped from my fingers. I made an offering of my blood. Antigone's lover's grave is red. That was my last red.
(ANTIGONE: takes a long red ribbon out of her pocket. She holds the ribbon up vertically, and with a pair of scissors, cuts the ribbon in half. The bottom half falls to the floor. Lights down.)
SCENE 1
(Manzanar, California. One of the sites of the relocation camps for Japanese Americans during World War II. 1942.)
ANTIGONE: Manzanar, California. The dust storms consume our days. We breathe and eat the sand which fills our lungs, leaving a gritty, bitter taste on our tongue. The air is murky coarse white. Ten thousand Japanese and Japanese Americans are here, imprisoned in the barracks at the foot of the magnificent Sierra Nevada Mountains. In the middle of the ground stands a tall pole with a large American flag violently fluttering in the wind. We were allowed to bring what we could carry of beddings, linens, clothes, and eating utensils. We had forty-eight hours to pack. Forty-eight hours to leave our lives behind. I left my dog with the neighbor who looked at me with blue eyes full of tears and said that she would keep my dog until I return. I said no, he is yours now. I had a piano at home. I made the last payment on it two weeks ago. It took me five years to pay for it. Well. Anyway.
(Lights change.)
SCENE 2
(ANTIGONE: is sitting outside the barracks with TADASHI:.)
TADASHI: I'm going to answer no/no to the loyalty oath questions.
ANTIGONE: What will happen?
TADASHI: I don't know. I may get deported.
ANTIGONE: But you were born here. On this land. You've never been anyone other than who you are.
TADASHI: My father was a Japanese veteran, so he was one of the first people arrested after Pearl Harbor. He had been a gardener for twenty years. He was distraught to leave my mother and sister. I heard he tried to commit suicide by biting off his own tongue while being transported. I received a telegram today that he was shot to death in the Enemy Alien Internment Camp in Oklahoma. I am no longer who I was once. (Pause.) I will not go to war to fight for this country from a prison camp. I will not swear allegiance to the country that robbed and humiliated my family. I have to answer no to both questions, even if it means that you and I will not be together.
ANTIGONE: But why allow them to take away your future? If you get stripped of your citizenship for two checkmarks on no and deported to Japan, how will you survive? You don't speak the language. You've never even been to Japan.
TADASHI: They've taken away my past. My life up until the moment of reading the evacuation order was a lie. Thirty years of my life was an illusion. You can't build a future on illusion.
ANTIGONE: They want us to give up. They want to crush us and make us surrender the life we are entitled to. We have to fight them.
TADASHI: I'm not giving up. I'm refusing to compromise the fundamental nature of my being—What I will lose is nothing; it's tarnished forever. Antigone, what we must fight for is the courage to believe in what is right, not what is possible. (Pause.) If something happens to me, would you try to find my mother and sister? I think they are in the camp in Heart Mountain.
ANTIGONE: What shall I say to them?
TADASHI: You'll know then. That part of my history is not written yet. You will tell them either that you are the last person I loved in this country, or the last person I loved in this life. (Pause.)
ANTIGONE: It's suppertime. I have to report to the mess hall duty. TADASHI: Stay for five more minutes.
ANTIGONE: I can't. The tension there is already high because of the rumor that the guards have been stealing meat and sugar from the kitchen. And we found out while we work for eighteen dollars a month, the white commuting workers get paid fifty dollars a week. We're planning a walkout.
TADASHI: Listen, Antigone, be careful. Stay away from all that. There have been shootings of inmates in different camps. The guards are murdering people claiming that they tried to escape. But all the bodies have been found inside the fences, shot in the front. They were not running away. They were all facing the guards.
ANTIGONE: You just told me to act on what is right. The only thing I can do is to fight small, insignificant injustices, since I'm unable to fight the big crime, the betrayal of our dreams and violation of our beings.
TADASHI: Stay for five more minutes.
ANTIGONE: Nothing will happen to me. Don't worry. Our time together isn't over yet.
TADASHI: Just stay and hold my hand.
ANTIGONE: Later. I'll hold your hand later, my love.
(ANTIGONE: exits. TADASHI is left alone.)
SCENE 3
(The same evening. Late night. ANTIGONE: is asleep. Her sister ISMENE comes in quietly and approaches ANTIGONE:.)
ISMENE: Antigone, wake up.
ANTIGONE: What?
ISMENE: Are you awake?
ANTIGONE: Did something happen to my lover?
ISMENE: Oh, my sister. I'm so sorry.
ANTIGONE: Stop crying, Ismene. Is he dead?
ISMENE: Yes.
ANTIGONE: (desperate and angry) How can I live then? What is life for?
(Lights change. Back to the beginning of the moment.)
ISMENE: Antigone, wake up.
ANTIGONE: What?
ISMENE: Are you awake?
ANTIGONE: Did something happen to my lover?
ISMENE: Oh, my sister. I'm so sorry.
ANTIGONE: Stop crying, Ismene. Is he dead?
ISMENE: Yes.
ANTIGONE: (hysterical) No, it can't be! Not yet, not yet! I didn't say good-bye to him! I didn't stay and hold his hand!
(Lights change. Back to the beginning of the moment.)
ISMENE: Antigone, wake up.
ANTIGONE: What?
ISMENE: Are you awake?
ANTIGONE: Did something happen to my lover?
ISMENE: Oh, my sister. I'm so sorry.
ANTIGONE: Stop crying, Ismene. Is he dead?
ISMENE: Yes.
ANTIGONE: (calmly) Then he is free.
(Lights down.)
SCENE 4
(Lights up immediately on ANTIGONE: and ISMENE in the exact same positions, but it is two days later.)
ANTIGONE: Tadashi's body has been exposed for forty-eight hours now. An order forbids a burial for him. His corpse is to be left out in the middle of the camp for the dust storm to swirl around until it is rotten to the core of his disappointment.
ISMENE: Oh, my sister, I'm so sorry.
ANTIGONE: Stop crying Ismene. I'm going out there to bury him. Will you help me?
ISMENE: That is insane. We will be killed for it.
ANTIGONE: Tadashi exposed the meat and sugar scandal and organized last night's demonstration with twelve men who were willing to die in order to gain justice. He never even told me about his plans. After the tear gas bombs were thrown at the demonstrators, they stormed the guards. The guards opened fire. Tadashi was at the front. (Pause.) If not for the sacrifice he made, we still owe him a burial for being a human being and having lived among us.
ISMENE: We will be killed for it.
ANTIGONE: Possibly.
ISMENE:
I have a husband. I want to have children.
ANTIGONE: If we don't bury him, then we are allowing them to disgrace a soul, to condemn it to wander eternally. We are allowing them to commit even a greater crime than our imprisonment, our deaths.
ISMENE: Antigone, there are certain things that are beyond our power to correct. We had no choice but to give up everything that our parents worked so hard to make possible—our houses, our cars, our jobs, our rights, our dignity. All we can do now is to hold onto the little that is under our power to preserve. Identity. Survival. I want a future.
ANTIGONE: What does your future look like, Ismene? Like an American dream? Like “give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”?
ISMENE: I will not be victimized anymore. If it means that I'd be accepted, I would cut off my flesh, go along with the system, and lose my name. I want to live.
ANTIGONE: I understand. It's not fair to ask you to give up what's left of your life to allow my lover a noble entrance to the next life. He had no family, so it's my responsibility.
ISMENE: I know you loved Tadashi and that he was brave. But you must let his body disintegrate out there. You cannot fight them. We are too small. Please promise me …
ANTIGONE: Don't ask me that. I will hate you for it.
ISMENE: Antigone, you are crazy. You will not survive this.
ANTIGONE: And you will?
ISMENE: Don't worry about my soul.
ANTIGONE: Report my crime to the guards. Take the opportunity. Oppress someone, Ismene, if you want to move up.
ISMENE: You're my sister.
ANTIGONE: I hate you.
SCENE 5
(In ISMENE's room. Spare. A bed and a window. ISMENE sits with her husband, BRIAN. Her back is erect; she is listening intently for sounds outside.)
BRIAN: You have been awfully quiet. What are you thinking?
ISMENE: Do you feel the pressure in the air? It's so heavy. Condensed. I can't breathe.
BRIAN: It's a strange night.