ANIL: Okay I’ll keep calm and cut to the chase. Do you have an agent?
JOHN: I do, but she’s always tied up.
ANIL: Never mind, I want to be your agent. Give her the bird, now you work with Anil Dixit the Third. Theek hai?
JOHN: What?
ANIL: You don’t speak Hindi?
JOHN: No. Why would I?
ANIL: I’ll teach you. It means ‘okay’.
JOHN: Ah tick ay. Anil, don’t you want me to audition?
ANIL: No, auditions are futile. It is your destiny to play Addy.
JOHN: Can I think about it? I need to run it by my girlfriend Sandy.
ANIL: We’re having a huge press conference in a few weeks and I want for us to perform a few live scenes and a big dance number at the event. Just to get the international press talking.
JOHN: Where’s the press conference?
ANIL: I’ve hired the most amazing space in Sydney.
JOHN: The old amphitheatre at Australia’s Wonderland?
ANIL: No. The studios where they film ‘Bondi Parade’.
SCENE THREE
Circular Quay. SANDY and JOHN enter.
SANDY: Part with the pumice.
JOHN: I have. I pumice I have.
SANDY: Do you feel bad about Gav?
JOHN: Do you?
SANDY: It was time for him to retire. I didn’t think they’d shut him down so soon, but at least we’ve got our turf back.
JOHN: He got what was coming to him, I guess.
SANDY: Yeah.
Pause.
When can I come hang out in Greystanes?
JOHN: When the track work finishes.
SANDY: When’s that?
JOHN: Never.
SANDY: Why not?
JOHN: State Rail.
SANDY: Say no more. Grey stains … what a funny name for a suburb. It reminds me of dirty laundry. How come you haven’t invited me over to yours yet?
Pause.
Tell me about your folks? Where are they from?
JOHN: My parents are British. From Leicester. Leicester molesters.
SANDY raises an eyebrow.
Tell me about your parents?
SANDY: Mum’s a dealer.
JOHN: What?
SANDY: Art dealer. She spends a lot of her time travelling. She’s a Wiradjuri woman. She’s involved in a research and restoration program with elders in the community.
JOHN: Did the language die out?
SANDY: A lot of it. But it’s coming back.
JOHN: Good. I think Livvy did an assignment on you … guys after a school excursion to Wagga Wagga.
SANDY: You can say mob—it’s okay.
JOHN: Nah. It’s not for me to—
SANDY: Just say it.
JOHN: Sandy—
SANDY: Mob.
JOHN: Mob.
SANDY: We all need a mob.
Pause.
Tell me about your dad.
JOHN: He died when Livvy was born. Heart attack. Mum won’t let us talk about him. What about yours?
SANDY: Dad’s a professor of Indigenous art and culture.
JOHN: Wow. Your parents sound amazing.
SANDY: Is John Green your real name?
JOHN: Everyone always asks that. Yeah, it is. I was named after John Travolta. My sis was named after Olivia Newton-John. My mum’s obsessed with Olivia. Hey, your parents didn’t name you after Sandy from Grease, did they?
SANDY: Are you kidding? How tacky. No. I was actually named after the Sandy Desert.
JOHN: Awesome.
SANDY: When my parents first got together they drove across the desert.
JOHN: You’re named after your parents’ first holiday. That’s so sweet.
SANDY: My parents are awesome. You’d love them. Dad’s Maori. He’s from Whakapapa [pronounced ‘Fhakapapa’].
JOHN: Where’s that?
SANDY: New Zealand. North Island.
JOHN: That’s fantastic [said with a very bad New Zealand accent].
Pause.
SANDY: Have you been looking for a new job, babe? It’s been a month.
JOHN: I’ve landed one, babe.
SANDY: Where?
JOHN: I’ve been cast in a film that’s being shot here.
SANDY: That’s amazing!
JOHN: It’s about the first Indian man in Calcutta to play Othello on stage—without blackface.
SANDY: Couldn’t Indians play Othello before that?
JOHN: No. It’s set during the British rule. White men up until then played Othello with blackface.
SANDY: Makes me mad just thinking about it.
JOHN: I love it when you get mad.
SANDY: Sounds like an important film. It’s pretty amazing that Indians were able to get their turf back from the British. Great role for you.
JOHN: I’m not sure if I’m right for the role.
SANDY: Why wouldn’t you be?
JOHN: Well, I … I’m not … Maybe it is the right vehicle for me. I don’t know. I’m terrified. The director wants to do a live preview of one of the dance numbers at a press conference in a few weeks.
SANDY: So you’re doing a staged version of a film about an actor who’s in a play about Othello.
JOHN: Yes. Something like that.
SANDY: I bet your mum’ll be happy if you get this film.
JOHN: She’s never happy with me.
SANDY: I spoke to my dad today. He invited you over for lunch this weekend.
JOHN: Really? Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to be meeting your dad?
SANDY: It’s not a formal thing. It’ll be just like hanging out with mates. Dad’s really cool.
Pause.
JOHN: I’m not ready.
SANDY: It’d mean a lot to me.
JOHN is nervous.
JOHN: I can’t. I’m just not ready.
SANDY: I really want you to meet my family.
JOHN: So do I. When I’m back on track.
SANDY: Why won’t you meet my dad?
JOHN: My family don’t even like me, why should yours?
SANDY: He’s super cool. You’ll love him. I’ll sort out lunch for this weekend. Mum wants to meet you too, when she’s back from New York.
JOHN: I said no. One mum’s too much for me. I can’t handle two.
SCENE FOUR
A Skype ringtone is heard. BRONWYN enters, searching for her mobile. She answers it.
BRONWYN: Who would be calling me on Skype? [To the phone] Hello? I don’t really know how to work this app on my phone.
MERLE enters, also on Skype.
MERLE: Hello, is this Bronwyn Green?
BRONWYN: Yes. Speaking. I can’t see you very well. The image is very dark.
MERLE: Ha. Bronwyn, this is Olivia Newton-John.
BRONWYN: What?
MERLE: This is Olivia Newton-John. I thought I’d call you to thank you for all of your posts on my fanpage.
BRONWYN: Oh, my God. Olivia? Is it really you?
MERLE: Yes. I love interacting with my fans and I thought I should reach out to you.
BRONWYN: Olivia. I … I’m …
She bursts into tears.
I’m so happy to hear from you. You’re my guiding light.
MERLE: Well, I’m trying to be.
BRONWYN: I’m your biggest fan, Olivia.
MERLE: I know. I know. You told me in one of your posts that you were looking for a wife for your son? Well, my daughter’s recently single, so I thought we could introduce them to each other? It’s high time I became a grand-MILF.
BRONWYN: Oh, Olivia, I feel the same way! Yes! Let’s marry them off. John will change his last name! I’ll change mine too!
MERLE: I’m actually in Greystanes at the moment and I thought we could go and grab a bite to eat?
BRONWYN: I … I don’t know what to say. Of course!
MERLE: I’ve kept your address from all of your fan mail from the eighties. I’m actually at your front door.
The doorbell
rings. BRONWYN freezes. MERLE enters in shadow.
BRONWYN: Olivia?
MERLE: Yes, Bronwyn?
BRONWYN: I can’t see you properly. The lighting is very dim.
MERLE: We need an Obie light.
BRONWYN: A what?
MERLE: Never mind. Bronwyn, if our children get married, I’d be happy for my daughter to change her last name to Green.
BRONWYN: Newton-John is the perfect last name, though.
MERLE: My daughter’s last name is Lattanzi, though.
BRONWYN: Of course it is. How could I forget?
MERLE: Lattanzi is an Italian name.
BRONWYN: I thought your first husband was American?
MERLE: His family are Italian and they’re not from up north.
BRONWYN: Oh.
MERLE: If we become grand-MILFs together our grandkids will be very, very dark.
The lights snap to bright. BRONWYN sees MERLE and screams.
BRONWYN: You’re not Olivia!
MERLE: No, I’m not.
BRONWYN: Get out of my house!
MERLE: John told me you were a piece of work, but I didn’t expect this.
BRONWYN You know John? Are you from Fertile Fallopians?
MERLE: Wrong. My business is not with John anymore.
BRONWYN: It isn’t?
MERLE: No. You’re the one that I want.
SCENE FIVE
LIVVY enters and walks to her birdcage. The birds are very quiet. She looks into the breeding box. The life-size budgies do an interpretative egg-laying dance.
LIVVY: It’s a miracle! Fanny’s laid an egg! Dicky’s done the deed. They got physical! My birds have laid! We’ve got eggs! I’m so eggstatic!
JOHN enters.
JOHN: That’s fantastic, Livvy! Your budgies finally bonked.
LIVVY: What’s bonked?
BRONWYN enters, tampering with her phone.
JOHN: Doesn’t matter. I’ve got some good news too. Mum, can you listen to me for a second?
BRONWYN: Hang on. I just need to block this stalker.
JOHN looks at his mother’s phone.
JOHN: Mum—that’s my picture! What are you doing?
BRONWYN: It’s just this new app I’ve discovered. Fertile Fallopians. It shows you all the frisky women in the vicinity.
LIVVY: Are you a lesbian, Mum?
BRONWYN: No, darling. I’m pretending to be him.
JOHN: Mum!
BRONWYN: Look, darling. There’s Barbara, Betty, Bianca, Briony. And that’s just the B’s. What’s best is that you can refine the search within five kilometres so they’d at least all be members of Greystanes RSL. You never need sign your members in ever again.
JOHN: Christ, Mum. You’ve even filed them into alphabetical order!
BRONWYN: So many wonderful wombs in close proximity.
LIVVY: You know in some countries matchmaking is a celebrated part of society.
JOHN: Delete the app. Now.
BRONWYN: I can’t. It’s pokies for the promiscuous. I only just got a straight flush.
JOHN: You’re an addict. Gimme the phone.
BRONWYN: No, I’m on fire!
JOHN: Why is my pic filtered?
BRONWYN: I had to filter it. I’m better at being you, than you.
JOHN: Delete it now.
BRONWYN reluctantly deletes the app.
I’ve gotta tell you something important.
BRONWYN: What on earth is it?
JOHN: I’ve been cast in a movie. As the lead.
BRONWYN: Congratulations, darling! Your first film!
BRONWYN hugs JOHN.
JOHN: It’s just a little arty film.
LIVVY hugs JOHN as well.
LIVVY: My brother’s a star! C’mon, budgies, leave the shell! Now, I just want my British budgie eggs to Breggsit.
LIVVY heads to the attic.
BRONWYN: Where are you going? I thought we were going to watch the ‘Grease Singalong Rockin’ Rydell’ edition.
LIVVY: I thought you wanted me to clean out the attic?
BRONWYN: Clean the attic. Then we’ll rock the Rydell edition.
LIVVY exits the room.
So, Johnny. Who’s the director?
JOHN: He’s … he’s from … Indi … Indianapolis. Midwestern American guy.
BRONWYN: How wonderfully cultural, darling!
JOHN: Mum. I’ve got something else I need to tell you.
BRONWYN: Oh.
JOHN: I’ve met a girl.
BRONWYN: Oh, thank God.
JOHN: I really like her. It’s all moving really fast. I’ve decided to meet her dad. I want you to meet her soon.
BRONWYN: Wonderful. What’s her name?
JOHN: Sandy.
BRONWYN is filled with joy once more. We hear the chorus of ‘You’re the One that I Want’ from Grease. An OLIVIA LOOK-ALIKE struts onstage and dances around BRONWYN. She’s pregnant. BRONWYN is over the moon.
SCENE SIX
Sandy’s dad, MANA, enters doing a fierce traditional Maori welcome dance to JOHN called ‘Powhiri’. SANDY watches. JOHN is nervous. MANA ends suddenly. He has a Maori accent.
MANA: Nau mai ki toku fare. Relax, bro. I just welcomed you to our home.
JOHN: Thank you. Quite a welcome.
MANA: You look like you shat yourself. Next time do it in the garden, the plants could do with some fertiliser.
JOHN: It’s a nice garden.
MANA: Nah, it’s full of crap from all of Sandy’s exes who also shat themselves after my Powhiri welcome dance.
JOHN: Interesting water feature. What is it—the Elephant Man?
MANA: Nah, son, it’s Ganesh.
JOHN: Ganesh the garden gnome?
MANA: No, Ganesh the Indian elephant god. The remover of obstacles. Don’t you know him?
JOHN: No.
MANA: Can’t blame you. He’s one of a billion. Takes more than a lifetime to learn ’em all. Probably why they invented reincarnation.
JOHN: How do you know about that stuff?
MANA: Each year in India they hold a huge festival of Ganesh, called Chaturthi.
SANDY: Dad went there last year to see it.
MANA: It’s fascinating. Thousands of Hindus carry giant elephant statues to the beach where they submerge them in the ocean for blessings and purification. Last year there was one at Dandi Beach in Gujarat, the very same beach where Gandhi finished his salt revolt.
JOHN: Sounds like an assault on the senses.
MANA: Indigenous cultures all over the world use water to purify.
JOHN: I often swim in Bondi Beach.
MANA: Me too. When I grew up in Whakapapa [pronounced ‘Fhakapapa’], there was nowhere to swim. Just a ski field.
JOHN: ‘Whakapapa’. What does that mean?
MANA: Ancestry. Makes sense, ay? Whoever your papa fucked, that’s your ancestors.
Beat.
So, John, I heard you pretended to be a black fella to get a job in Sandy’s dance company.
JOHN: I did.
MANA: Back in the eighties, Sandy’s mum pretended to be Indian to get work.
JOHN: Really?
MANA: Yeah. When we first met, it was tough to get our careers started. It was just something that we had to do to make ends meet. While I was writing research papers, Katrina had to go out and get a normal job.
SANDY: Mum loved the ritual of getting ready for work. Every morning she’d stand in front of the mirror and wrap herself in a sari to prepare for the day. The final touch was always the red tika.
JOHN: What’s a tika?
SANDY: It’s the red dot that married women wear on their forehead. For two years Mum pretended to be an Indian woman. She couldn’t get close to anyone at work ’cause she didn’t want her identity to be revealed.
MANA: Can you believe, back in the eighties a local grocery store wouldn’t give a job to an Aussie black girl, but they would to a newly arrived ‘fake’ immigrant?
SANDY: I loved watching Mum wear the sa
ri. It’s so elegant and feminine. Dad liked it too.
MANA: Yeah, but I preferred when she wore nothing at all.
SANDY: Dad!
MANA: She’ll be back from New York soon. You’ll get to meet her, John. She’ll be thrilled to meet our new honorary black fella.
JOHN: You don’t need to call me that. It’s all good.
MANA: Why not? I thought you wanted to be a black fella.
JOHN: I don’t like the word black actually. I think it’s derogatory.
MANA: What do you mean, boy?
JOHN: Well, the history of the word has negative connotations. Words are important. This tablecloth is black. Your jeans are black. My jacket is black. I am not black. I used to get called ‘blackie’ all the time when I was a kid and I hated it.
MANA: You’ve got to turn that around. You’ve got to own it. Don’t let other people water you down. It doesn’t matter what your background is. Whether it’s Maori, Mayan, Middle East or Middle Earth. You can still be an Aussie. Nobody dictates identity, just you. Rise above it. Be proud. Be yourself.
Pause.
You’ve never been with a black girl, have you, John?
SANDY: Dad—
JOHN: No.
MANA: I can tell. I better go check the jerk chicken, it needs more spice.
MANA leaves. JOHN is slightly awkward.
JOHN: Hope I didn’t upset him?
SANDY: No, he likes you.
JOHN: I think he called me a jerk.
SANDY: He was referring to the chicken.
JOHN: Sometimes I get a little worked up.
SANDY: Don’t worry. My family loves a good argument.
JOHN reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope.
JOHN: Here’s my resignation letter.
SANDY: Thank you. I know it meant a lot to you.
JOHN: I’m grateful that you’ve allowed me to be in your company.
SANDY: If it were up to me I’d love you to stay. It’s just not fair. On the others.
JOHN: I know. It’s not fair.
Pause.
SANDY: When can I meet your mum?
JOHN: Soon. Give me time.
SANDY: You haven’t been wearing your green contact lenses.
JOHN: No.
SANDY: I think you look much more handsome without them.
JOHN smiles. He holds SANDY’s hand.
JOHN: I like the look of my hand up against yours. And my arm. And my body.
SANDY: It was weird for you, wasn’t it?
JOHN: What?
SANDY: When we first got naked together. I could see you were freaking out over your skin up against my black skin.
Lighten Up Page 5