The Humans is copyright © 2015 by Stephen Karam
The Humans is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc.,
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Epigraphs: Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill was first published by the Ralston Society in 1937; Penguin, New York, 2005. The Uncanny by Sigmund Freud was first published in Imago, Bd. V., 1919; The Uncanny, Penguin, New York, 2003. “Dance of Death” by Federico García Lorca, published in Poet in New York, Grove Press, New York, 2008.
The publication of The Humans by Stephen Karam, through TCG’s Book Program, 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.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Karam, Stephen.
The humans / Stephen Karam.—First edition.
pages; cm
ISBN 978-1-55936-835-3 (ebook)
1. Families—New York—Drama. 2. Interpersonal relations—Drama.
3. Domestic drama. I. Title.
PS3611.A72H862015
812’.6—dc232015032787
Book design and composition by Lisa Govan
Cover design by Mark Melnick
Cover photographs: Jonathan Knowles/Getty Images (statue);
Carlos Casariego/Getty Images (New York skyline)
First Edition, October 2015
CONTENTS
Production History
Dramatis Personae
The Humans
PRODUCTION HISTORY
The Humans was commissioned by the Roundabout Theatre Company and received its world premiere on November 18, 2014, at the American Theater Company (PJ Paparelli, Artistic Director) in Chicago. It was directed by PJ Paparelli; the set design was by David Ferguson, the costume design was by Brittany Dee Bodley, the lighting design was by Brian Hoehne, the sound design was by Patrick Bley; the production stage manager was Amanda J. Davis, the production manager was Markie Gray and the assistant stage manager was Abigail Medrano. The cast was:
ERIK BLAKE
Keith Kupferer
DEIRDRE BLAKE
Hanna Dworkin
AIMEE BLAKE
Sadieh Rifai
BRIGID BLAKE
Kelly O’Sullivan
“MOMO” BLAKE
Jean Moran
RICHARD SAAD
Lance Baker
The Humans received its New York premiere at the Roundabout Theatre Company (Todd Haimes, Artistic Director; Harold Wolpert, Managing Director; Julia C. Levy, Executive Director) on October 26, 2015. It was directed by Joe Mantello; the set design was by David Zinn, the costume design was by Sarah Lau, the lighting design was by Justin Townsend, the sound design was by Fitz Patton; the artistic consultant was Robyn Goodman, the literary manager was Jill Rafson and the production stage manager was William Barnes. The cast was:
ERIK BLAKE
Reed Birney
DEIRDRE BLAKE
Jayne Houdyshell
AIMEE BLAKE
Cassie Beck
BRIGID BLAKE
Sarah Steele
“MOMO” BLAKE
Lauren Klein
RICHARD SAAD
Arian Moayed
This script went to print as rehearsals for the New York production were underway. Any revisions to the script made during rehearsal will be reflected in later editions.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ERIK BLAKE, sixty
DEIRDRE BLAKE, Erik’s wife, sixty-one
AIMEE BLAKE, their daughter, thirty-four
BRIGID BLAKE, their daughter, twenty-six
“MOMO” BLAKE, Erik’s mother, seventy-nine
RICHARD SAAD, Brigid’s boyfriend, thirty-eight
NOTES
1.A slash ( / ) means the character with the next line of dialogue begins their speech.
2.Dialogue in brackets [ ] is expressed nonverbally.
3.The Humans takes place in one real-time scene—on a two-level, four-room set—with no blackouts. Life continues in all spaces at all times. While this is difficult to render on the page, the noting of “UPSTAIRS” v. “DOWNSTAIRS” is a reminder of the exposed “dollhouse” view the audience has at all times. Throughout the journey, the audience’s focus may wander into whichever room it chooses.
There are six basic fears, with some combination of
which every human suffers at one time or another . . .
The fear of poverty
The fear of criticism
The fear of ill health
The fear of loss of love of someone
The fear of old age
The fear of death
—NAPOLEON HILL, THINK AND GROW RICH
The subject of the “uncanny” . . . belongs to all that is terrible—to all that arouses dread and creeping horror . . . The German word [for “uncanny”], unheimlich, is obviously the opposite of heimlich . . . meaning “familiar,” “native,” “belonging to the home”; and we are tempted to conclude that what is “uncanny” is frightening precisely because it is not known and familiar . . . [But] among its different shades of meaning the word heimlich exhibits one which is identical with its opposite, unheimlich . . . on the one hand, it means that which is familiar and congenial, and on the other, that which is concealed and kept out of sight.
—SIGMUND FREUD, THE UNCANNY
The mask. Look at the mask!
Sand, crocodile, and fear above New York.
—FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA, DANCE OF DEATH
A turn-of-the-century ground-floor/basement duplex tenement apartment in New York City’s Chinatown. It’s just big enough to not feel small. It’s just small enough to not feel big.
The two floors are connected via a spiral staircase. Each floor has its own entrance.
The apartment’s pre-war features have been coated in layers of faded off-white paint, rendering the space curiously monotone. The rooms are worn, the floors are warped, but clean and well kept.
The layout doesn’t adhere to any sensible scheme; the result of a mid-century renovation in which two autonomous apartments were combined.
UPSTAIRS: two rooms divided by an open entryway. The room with the staircase also has the apartment’s lone, large deep-set window with bars. The window gets no direct sunlight. An urban recliner is the only piece of furniture upstairs. The other room has a door that leads to the duplex’s sole bathroom.
DOWNSTAIRS: two windowless rooms divided by an even larger open entryway—with a different floorplan than upstairs. A small kitchen alley is wedged awkwardly behind the spiral staircase. The other room is dominated by a
modest folding table. The table is set with six paper plates and napkins with turkeys on them. Plastic silverware. Scattered moving boxes. Not much else.
The apartment is a touch ghostly, but not in a forced manner; empty pre-war basement apartments are effortlessly uncanny.
At lights:
Erik is upstairs, alone, some plastic bags in his hands. Beside him is an empty wheelchair. He takes in the space. The main door is open. Beat.
A sickening thud sounds from above the ceiling. Erik looks up.
ERIK
[What the hell was that?]
He recovers.
Gradually his attention shifts away from the noise; he continues to explore the space when—
Another sickening thud sounds from above, startling him. He looks up.
ERIK
[God, what the hell is that?]
A toilet flush.
Aimee and Brigid enter through the main door carrying a few plastic bags.
AIMEE
This is the last of the goodies . . .
BRIGID
(To Erik)
I told you guys not to bring anything.
Deirdre and Momo exit the bathroom; Momo is shaky on her feet.
Erik helps her into her wheelchair.
DEIRDRE
Mission accomplished . . .
BRIGID
ERIK
It’s pretty big, right?
I gotcha, Mom, there you go . . .
AIMEE
Definitely bigger than your last place.
ERIK
Is there some kinda construction going on upstairs?
BRIGID
Oh, no that’s our neighbor, we think she drops stuff? Or stomps around?—we don’t know . . .
DOWNSTAIRS: Richard emerges from the kitchen alley.
RICHARD
(Calling up)
Everyone okay up there?
BRIGID
We’re fine, babe, just keep an eye on the oven, we’ll be down in a minute.
RICHARD
You got it.
ERIK
Have you complained to her about the noise?
BRIGID
No, Dad, she’s a seventy-year-old Chinese woman, / I’m not gonna—
DEIRDRE
Well, Brigid, I’m sixty-one—older people can still process information, we’re / still able to—
BRIGID
I’m saying she means well, she’s older so I don’t wanna disturb her if I don’t have to / . . . hey, here, I’ll take your coats . . .
MOMO
(Mumbled)
You can never come back . . . you can never come back / . . . you can never come back . . . cannevery you come back . . .
DEIRDRE
All right . . . you’re all right, Mom . . .
Momo’s mumbling is not directed to anyone—her primary focus is down, toward the floor, lost; she is passive and disconnected.
BRIGID
What’s she saying?
DEIRDRE
MOMO
She’s—[who the hell knows]—
. . . fernall here sullerin . . .
even when she is saying real
werstrus um black . . . sezz it
stuff . . . what’s been coming
bigger . . . fernal down /
out is still all . . . [muddled] . . .
black . . . sorn it all . . .
ERIK
Mom, hey Mom, this is Brigid’s new apartment . . .
BRIGID
How are you, Momo?
DEIRDRE
We’re gonna have Thanksgiving at your granddaughter’s new place, / that sound good?
MOMO
(Mumbled)
. . . you can never come back . . . you can never come back . . .
BRIGID
Momo, you can absolutely come back, any time you want.
Deirdre moves into the room with the recliner.
ERIK
This is a decent layout, Bridge . . . / good space . . .
DEIRDRE
Really nice . . .
BRIGID
It’s good, right?—I can set up my music workspace downstairs so I won’t drive Rich crazy.
DEIRDRE
This is a fancy chair . . . Erik, check out this fancy chair . . .
ERIK
I thought all your furniture was on the moving truck.
BRIGID
It is—Richard’s parents gave us that—a couch, too . . . we’re not sure if the living area’ll be up here or—this might become the bedroom . . .
AIMEE
(Noticing the staircase)
I can’t believe you have a downstairs . . .
ERIK
Why would they give something this nice away?
BRIGID
MOMO
Because they got a new one,
(Softly mumbled)
Dad.
. . . fernall all sertrus inner . . .
DEIRDRE
(Referring to the recliner)
You might want something even bigger up here . . .
BRIGID
This isn’t Scranton, I don’t need an oversized recliner in every room.
MOMO
(Mumbled)
. . . you can never come back . . . you can never come back . . .
Deirdre’s a little stung. Erik is drawn to the window, studies the surroundings.
BRIGID
You can come back any time, Momo.
DEIRDRE
It’s her latest phrase-of-the-day . . . the doctor says it’s normal, the repeating . . .
BRIGID
And is she . . . how’s she been?
Eriks stops staring out the window.
Momo’s focus remains primarily fixed toward the floor.
ERIK
Uh . . . she’s still got her good days, you know? . . . yesterday she was pretty with it for most of the morning, but now she’s [all over the place] . . . I dunno where she goes . . .
DEIRDRE
I tried to do her hair, I want her to look good, / you know?
AIMEE
BRIGID
She does . . .
Treat yourself to a spa day . . .
/ the both of you should go—
DEIRDRE
No, no way, do you know how much that costs?
BRIGID
Yeah, well you’ll burn out if you’re / not careful—
DEIRDRE
Hey, hey don’t worry about us—having her at home with us is, until it becomes too much, it’s a blessing, you know . . . right Erik? . . . Erik . . .
Erik has been staring out the window again—something outside caught his attention.
AIMEE
Dad— / come back to earth . . .
BRIGID
ERIK
Are you okay?
Sorry, sorry . . . long drive.
Yeah, once I get some caffeine in me, I’ll be good . . .
AIMEE
(Trying to find the light switch in the bathroom)
Hey is the light switch . . . ?
BRIGID
No, it’s on the outside . . .
Another thud sounds above the ceiling.
ERIK
You want me to call the super about the noise?—
BRIGID
No, no this is New York, people are loud, why are you so—
DEIRDRE
Hey, he had a rough night, he hasn’t been sleeping, / he’s been—Erik, you haven’t . . .
BRIGID
ERIK
Why haven’t you been
Deirdre, c’mon . . . [please
sleeping? Are you okay? . . .
don’t talk about this] . . .
(To Brigid)
I’m—yeah, I’m okay . . .
AIMEE
(Offstage, from the bathroom)
There’s no toilet paper!
BRIGID
Okay, hang on . . .
Brigid searches for toilet paper in one of the bo
xes/shopping bags. Deirdre follows her.
ERIK
Hey you get cell reception in here?
BRIGID
Up here we do, if—is it a Verizon phone?
ERIK
Uh, Sprint.
BRIGID
Then you have to lean up against the window.
ERIK
In here? I wanna check the score of the game.
BRIGID
Yeah . . . but now, yeah, now lean in . . .
Erik sits in the window ledge trying to get reception. Brigid looks for toilet paper.
DEIRDRE
The sheets were covered in sweat last night . . . I dunno if he’s having nightmares or what—
BRIGID
Has he tried . . . Rich sometimes takes a sleeping pill, I can ask him what kind of / medicine—
DEIRDRE
Oh right like your dad’d ever try any sorta—no, no I bet . . . he’ll sleep better after seeing you guys today, it’ll be good for him . . .
BRIGID
Okay . . . well, good . . .
Brigid cracks the bathroom door open, hands Aimee the toilet paper, then shuts the door.
DEIRDRE
. . . yeah . . .
AIMEE
(Offstage)
Thank you.
BRIGID
. . . and . . . how’s Aimee? . . .
DEIRDRE
[I dunno] . . . she’s still heartbroken, you know? . . .
BRIGID
[Yeah,] it’s gonna be weird for us, not having Carol around . . .
DEIRDRE
Well I’m telling you if they got married it—
(Brigid sighs)
—hey, it’s why I don’t like you and Rich moving in together / before making a real commitment—
BRIGID
I know, I’ve heard your reasons, / but we put this to rest, yeah? . . .
DEIRDRE
—marriage can help you weather a storm, that’s all—yeah, hey / I’m sorry if I’m [being pushy]—
MOMO
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