Girl from the North Country

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Girl from the North Country Page 1

by Conor McPherson




  OTHER PLAYS BY CONOR MCPHERSON PUBLISHED BY TCG

  Dublin Carol

  The Night Alive and Other Plays

  Also Includes:

  The Birds

  The Veil

  The Dance of Death

  Port Authority

  The Seafarer

  Shining City

  The Weir and Other Plays

  Also Includes:

  St. Nicholas

  This Lime Tree Bower

  The Good Thief

  Rum and Vodka

  Girl from the North Country (the play) is copyright © 2017 by Conor McPherson

  Introduction is copyright © 2017 by Conor McPherson

  Copyright information for the individual songs can be found on page 95.

  Girl from the North Country is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc., 520 Eighth Avenue, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10018-4156.

  This volume is published in arrangement with Nick Hern Books Limited, The Glasshouse, 49a Goldhawk Road, London, W12 8QP.

  All rights whatsoever in this play are strictly reserved. Requests to produce the text in whole or in part should be addressed to the publisher.

  Applications for performance in excerpt or in full by non-professionals in the English language throughout the world should be addressed, in the first instance, to the Performing Rights Manager, Nick Hern Books, The Glasshouse, 49a Goldhawk Road, London W12 8QP, telephone +44 (0)20 8749 4953, email nickhernbooks.co.uk, except for the U.S. and Canada, see details below.

  Applications for performance by professionals in any medium and in any language throughout the world (and for stock and amateur performances in the U.S. and Canada) should be addressed to Curtis Brown Ltd, Haymarket House, 28-29 Haymarket, London SW1Y 4SP, telephone +44 (0)20 7393 4400, fax +44 (o)20 7393 4401, email [email protected].

  No performance of any kind may be given unless a license has been obtained. Applications should be made before rehearsals begin. Publication of this play does not necessarily indicate its availability for performance.

  This publication is made possible in part by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature.

  TCG books are exclusively distributed to the book trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution.

  A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

  ISBN 978-1-55936-882-7 (ebook)

  Cover image copyright by CLIPART LLC

  First TCG Edition, October 2017

  For Fionnuala and Sumati

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  by Conor McPherson

  Girl from the North Country

  Acknowledgments

  INTRODUCTION

  Maybe five years ago I was asked if I might consider writing a play to feature Bob Dylan’s songs. I initially didn’t feel this was something I could do and I had cast it out of my mind when, one day, walking along, I saw a vision of a guesthouse in Minnesota in the 1930s.

  I had been in Minnesota twice in the years leading up to this – both times in the dead of winter. The friendliness of the people, the dry frozen wind, the vast distance from home, these things had stayed with me. And I saw a way Mr Dylan’s songs might make sense in a play.

  I was invited to write down the idea I had seen and send it to Bob Dylan. A few days later I heard back that Mr Dylan liked the idea and was happy for me to proceed. Just like that.

  And then I received forty albums in the post, covering Mr Dylan’s career. While I owned Dylan albums already, like Desire and Blood on the Tracks, and loved many of his songs (often without knowing he’d written them) performed by hundreds of artists from The Byrds to Fairport Convention, I had no idea of the real search he had been on his whole life.

  It strikes me that many of Mr Dylan’s songs can be sung at any time, by anyone in any situation, and still make sense and resonate with that particular place and person and time. When you realise this you can no longer have any doubt you are in the presence of a truly great, unique artist.

  Working on our production of Girl from the North Country, sometimes I would wake in the night with a Bob Dylan song going round in my head. The next day I would come into rehearsals and we’d learn the song and put it in the show. Did it fit? Did it matter? It always fit somehow.

  Many books have been written in an attempt to explore this universal power. Even though Mr Dylan will say he’s often not sure what his songs mean, he always sings them like he means them. Because he does mean them. Whatever they mean.

  Every time I hear these songs I see a picture like I’m watching a movie. Sometimes it’s the same, sometimes it’s different, but you always see something.

  Like Philip Larkin, like James Joyce, Mr Dylan has the rare power of literary compression. Images and conceits are held in unstable relations, forcing an atomic reaction of some kind, creating a new inner world.

  But let’s talk about his musicality. Spending time with his music has taught me a few things: Firstly, writing something that sounds original is rare, but writing something that sounds original and simple at the same time is the mark of genius. Anyone can keep making things more complicated, but to keep a song simple, like it somehow always existed and would have surely been written by someone, someday… try writing that one.

  Secondly, Mr Dylan always goes through the right musical door. Listening to a Bob Dylan song is like being in a room you’ve never been in before. It’s full of characters and images and tons of musical atmosphere. But then Bob changes the chords, moving through a bridge or a chorus, and a door opens up in that room, so you go through that door into another room – but it’s always the right door.

  Thirdly, Mr Dylan sings about God a lot. Sometimes God appears as an impossible reflection of yourself. Sometimes as someone you could never know. But however God appears, however Mr Dylan begs for mercy, you understand that cry.

  Anyway, I write this on the eve of moving from the rehearsal room to the theatre. Whatever happens next I have no idea. All I can say with any certainty is that having had Mr Dylan’s trust to create a piece of work using his songs has been one of the great artistic privileges of my life.

  Conor McPherson

  London, 2017

  Girl from the North Country premiered at The Old Vic, London, on 8 July 2017, with the following cast:

  MARIANNE LAINE

  Sheila Atim

  DR WALKER

  Ron Cook

  MRS BURKE

  Bronagh Gallagher

  ELIZABETH LAINE

  Shirley Henderson

  NICK LAINE

  Ciarán Hinds

  KATHERINE DRAPER

  Claudia Jolly

  JOE SCOTT

  Arinzé Kene

  MRS NEILSEN

  Debbie Kurup

  ENSEMBLE

  Kirsty Malpass

  MR PERRY

  Jim Norton

  ENSEMBLE

  Tom Peters

  ENSEMBLE

  Karl Queensborough

  GENE LAINE

  Sam Reid

  REVEREND MARLOWE

  Michael Shaeffer

  ELIAS BURKE

  Jack Shalloo

  MR BURKE

  Stanley Townsend

  MUSICIANS

  Violin & Mandolin

  Charlie Brown

  Guitars

  Pete Callard

  Double Bass

  Don Richardson

  Director

  Conor McPherson

  Music and Lyrics

  Bob Dylan

  Designer

  Rae Smith

  Orchestrator, Arranger and Mus
ical Supervisor

  Simon Hale

  Lighting Designer

  Mark Henderson

  Sound Designer

  Simon Baker

  Musical Director

  Alan Berry

  Movement Director

  Lucy Hind

  Casting Director

  Jessica Ronane CDG

  GIRL FROM THE NORTH COUNTRY

  CHARACTERS

  NICK LAINE, early fifties, proprietor

  ELIZABETH LAINE, early fifties, his wife

  MARIANNE LAINE, nineteen, their daughter

  GENE LAINE, twenty, their son

  MRS NEILSEN, early forties, a widow

  MR BURKE, fifties, erstwhile factory owner

  MRS BURKE, fifties, his wife

  ELIAS BURKE, thirty, their son

  JOE SCOTT, late twenties, a boxer

  REVEREND MARLOWE, fifties, a Bible salesman

  MR PERRY, early sixties, a shoe-mender

  DR WALKER, middle-aged, a physician

  KATHERINE (KATE) DRAPER, Gene’s ex-girlfriend

  SETTING

  A fair-sized family house, which is now serving as a guesthouse in Duluth, Minnesota. Winter, 1934.

  NOTE ON LYRICS

  An ellipsis (…) on its own line indicates an omitted verse or chorus from within the original song.

  This text went to press before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

  ACT ONE

  Actors and musicians on stage to get ready for the live broadcast. Someone sits a piano and plays and sings. A drummer, double-bass player and guitar player join in along the way, as do the cast, harmonizing.

  Sign On The Window

  Sign on the window says ‘Lonely’

  Sign on the door said ‘No Company Allowed’

  Sign on the street says ‘Y’ Don’t Own Me’

  Sign on the porch says ‘Three’s A Crowd’

  Sign on the porch says ‘Three’s A Crowd’

  …

  Looks like a-nothing but rain…

  Sure gonna be wet tonight on Main Street…

  Hope that it don’t sleet

  The band take the music down for a few bars while a middle-aged actor approaches the microphone:

  DR WALKER. Tonight’s story begins and ends at a guesthouse in Duluth, Minnesota, in the winter of 1934. Back here – some of the guests we’ll meet along the way.

  The rising light reveals two figures in the dining room where there’s a table for eating at, some easy chairs near a stove, a dresser, a piano. ELIZABETH, fifties, sits at the piano picking out a tune. She has early-onset dementia. Her husband, NICK, is the same age as ELIZABETH but an agitated energy makes him seem younger somehow. He puts on an apron and starts working, setting the table for their guests.

  This is Nick Laine. That’s his wife there, Elizabeth. Nick inherited this house from his granddaddy, but he never had no head for business. First he lost the stables and stud, then all the stocks. Managed to remortgage the house long enough for Elizabeth to turn it into decent boarding rooms.

  But she hasn’t been so good lately. Her dementia crept in so insidiously, so gradually, crueler folk in town said you’d be hard pushed to know the difference. Nick’s tryna take care of everything. Trying real hard. Like a man tryna to run through a wall tries real hard.

  My name is George Arthur Walker. I’m a doctor. Least I was. Back when this was our world. I healed some bodies in pain. But as we know pain comes in all kinds. Physical, spiritual. Indescribable.

  I’ll come in the story later, but right now, all you need to know is Nick’s made some stew for his family, for the guests. Keep everybody alive another day.

  The last verse is sung while NICK spoons stew in a bowl to cool for ELIZABETH. The song finishes out…

  NICK. Elizabeth. (Pause.) Elizabeth.

  She ignores him.

  Elizabeth. Sit down, I’ll give you something to eat.

  ELIZABETH’s expression suggests her absence, her presence. She looks at him but otherwise ignores his requests. She goes, bends down under a chair and retrieves a little box. She turns away, hiding it from NICK. She opens it, counts through some dollars in there, and closes it again quickly.

  Sit down. Come on. Supper.

  Exasperated, he puts her meal down on the table and comes to her, guiding her towards the easy chair near the stove. She resists. This becomes a silent battle of wills as they slowly wrestle. She is surprisingly strong. NICK gives up, angrily walking away and tossing a plate across the table. She remains standing.

  Alright. Well. Alright.

  ELIZABETH. I can hear it.

  NICK. What.

  ELIZABETH. The girl down the hole.

  NICK looks at her.

  NICK. What?

  ELIZABETH. Girl down the hole.

  NICK is startled by someone coming through the kitchen.

  NICK. Hello?

  NICK sees GENE in the kitchen.

  Oh.

  GENE. Yeah, ‘Oh…’

  NICK. What are you doing scratching around like that?

  GENE. What? I’m hungry!

  NICK. You know what time it is? You’re only coming in?

  GENE. I was working late.

  NICK. Working my ass.

  GENE. I was working!

  NICK. You were drinking.

  GENE. You have to drink if you want to sit at the bar.

  NICK. Who works in a bar?! You can’t work in your room?

  GENE. No I can’t work in my room.

  NICK. Why?

  GENE comes to the table, putting a book down, picking at bread, while NICK continues his work.

  GENE. It’s too stultifying.

  NICK. Well excuse me! I saw you got a letter. Huh?

  GENE. Yeah.

  NICK. New York postmark.

  GENE. It was nothing.

  NICK. Yeah?

  GENE. Yeah, nothing, you know.

  NICK. You should let me read, you know, some of your stories, some time.

  GENE. Yeah?

  NICK. Hey I been around.

  GENE. Yeah.

  NICK. Yeah. I’ve lived. You can’t see it ’cause as far as you’re concerned I’m just the old dumb-bell round here. I could read ’em. Tell ya where you might need a little… you know. A little life. A little real life. Maybe we could turn some a those rejection slips into pay cheques, huh?

  GENE. Now I know you’re desperate.

  NICK. Desperate? Well…

  GENE. Two minutes ago it wasn’t even work, now you wanna do it for me?

  NICK. Hey don’t ambush me with my own double standards. You don’t even know what work is. Get a job, you’ll know all about it. What it does to you.

  GENE. Get a job where?

  NICK (to himself). Scribbling in a book isn’t work.

  GENE. Get a job where?

  NICK. Hm?

  GENE. Get a job where?

  NICK. What are you asking me for? The Twin Cities! I don’t know! You and your sister are too damn spoiled. You wanna give me some help here?

  GENE. What do you want?

  NICK. Lay the table. Feed your mother.

  GENE. She doesn’t want me feeding her!

  NICK. You do it too fast. Let her chew, for Christ’s sake! You let it all go down her chin, of course she doesn’t like it.

  GENE. She doesn’t like me doing it, she doesn’t like me… [doing it.]

  NICK. It’s because you don’t pay attention.

  NICK is checking his watch with the clock on the wall. Underscore begins for ‘Went To See The Gypsy’.

  GENE. What’s up your nose all of a sudden?

  NICK. What?

  GENE. Why you so on edge?

  NICK. I’m not on edge.

  GENE. No, huh?

  MRS NEILSEN, a woman in her early forties, comes into focus. She wears a skirt with pockets in it. When she has her hands in her pockets she takes on a kind of lounging adolescent rebelliousness.
She sings.

  Went To See The Gypsy

  Went to see the gypsy

  Stayin’ in a big hotel

  He smiled when he saw me coming

  And he said, ‘Well, well, well’

  His room was dark and crowded

  Lights were low and dim

  ‘How are you?’ he said to me

  I said it back to him

  I went down to the lobby

  To make a small call out

  A pretty dancing girl was there

  And she began to shout

  ‘Go on back to see the gypsy

  He can move you from the rear

  Drive you from your fear

  Bring you through the mirror

  He did it in Las Vegas

 

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