An old man stands by window of his hotel room, cigarette in hand whilst his sister sits next to him, silently reading a book. The open window brings the sound of passing trains.
Old man: It’s time Annie.
Sister: (Slowly looks up from her book) For you maybe. It was never time for me.
Old man: (Inhales, says abruptly) For God’s sake, we’ve been through this a thousand times.
Sister: (Closes book and places it on her lap.) A thousand times is never enough. (Pauses) What’s done is done. You dragged me here to dig it up like you always do.
Old man: She couldn’t have lived, you know that Annabelle. We sent her out here for a reason. No one could have noticed that she was gone out here (Inhales deeply).
Sister: (Her eyes teary and full of awe) Mother noticed. We were away for months before you returned and sent me to America. She knew something was wrong.
Old man: She knew something was wrong and she died because of it. (Leans forward over the windowsill) She knew things that weren’t good for her. (Sighs)
(Pause)
Sister: If only we’d been more care-
Old man: (Interrupts her and then undoes the top button of his shirt.) Did you enjoy dinner last night? (Taps cigarette)
Sister: It wasn’t different from the night before. (Opens up her book and continues from where she left off.)
Old man: I ordered Gnocchi in the spaghetti, your favourite.
Sister: Funny you remembered. (Smiles) I forgot how much I loved it.
Old man: (Carries on staring out the window, breathing in deeply) You smiled.
Sister: You saw. (Looks up to meet his gaze as he puts out his cigarette.)
Old man: (Catches her eye whilst putting out his cigarette.) It’s time to go. (Softly drops the butt) Do you still remember where we put her?
Sister: (Tears welling up inside her eyes) We buried our little girl in the forest behind the rail track, (Pauses) where no one would have noticed. (She picks herself up and places the book on the sofa. He places his arm around her, and together they leave the hotel room, locking it behind them.)
Old man: It’s time Annie.
Sister: (Slowly looks up from her book) For you maybe. It was never time for me.
Old man: (Inhales, says abruptly) For God’s sake, we’ve been through this a thousand times.
Sister: (Closes book and places it on her lap.) A thousand times is never enough. (Pauses) What’s done is done. You dragged me here to dig it up like you always do.
Old man: She couldn’t have lived, you know that Annabelle. We sent her out here for a reason. No one could have noticed that she was gone out here (Inhales deeply).
Sister: (Her eyes teary and full of awe) Mother noticed. We were away for months before you returned and sent me to America. She knew something was wrong.
Old man: She knew something was wrong and she died because of it. (Leans forward over the windowsill) She knew things that weren’t good for her. (Sighs)
(Pause)
Sister: If only we’d been more care-
Old man: (Interrupts her and then undoes the top button of his shirt.) Did you enjoy dinner last night? (Taps cigarette)
Sister: It wasn’t different from the night before. (Opens up her book and continues from where she left off.)
Old man: I ordered Gnocchi in the spaghetti, your favourite.
Sister: Funny you remembered. (Smiles) I forgot how much I loved it.
Old man: (Carries on staring out the window, breathing in deeply) You smiled.
Sister: You saw. (Looks up to meet his gaze as he puts out his cigarette.)
Old man: (Catches her eye whilst putting out his cigarette.) It’s time to go. (Softly drops the butt) Do you still remember where we put her?
Sister: (Tears welling up inside her eyes) We buried our little girl in the forest behind the rail track, (Pauses) where no one would have noticed. (She picks herself up and places the book on the sofa. He places his arm around her, and together they leave the hotel room, locking it behind them.)
Wow - powerful stuff! This is really well crafted. You unravel things for the audience at a nice pace, and in a natural way: it doesn't feel like you're making your characters explain things to us. It feels like naturalistic theatre should: like we've come in as an invisible presence in the middle of a conversation. You manage to keep us curious about their past and hold off the truth til the end without making this seem artificial or melodramatic.
ReplyDeleteThere are some very good, subtle moments of exchange here, eg 'you smiled', 'you noticed'.
There is a problem, though, in the fact that this is his sister, but the only way we know that is from your introduction: how will the audience know? It's a particular challenge of theatre that there's almost no escape from the 'show don't tell' rule. However, it strikes me that the piece still works very well without the added issue of incest. If this was set a couple of generations ago (or even today, in some more repressive areas of society) an 'unsuitable' pregnancy could be a huge drama in itself. Also, I would probably expect more guilt/shame/tension on the part of the couple simply because of the incestuous relationship, aside from issues of their mother or their daughter.
But it's great to see you taking on a 'taboo' theme like this and exploring it so powerfully. Really well done
Yes - great dialogue. It sounds absolutely right when read aloud, too, which shows that it's well-observed: the way in which they speak in fragments, but know what the other means, while still not confusing the audience, is perfectly managed.
ReplyDeleteOne small point - you've at least the woman a name, so this should replace "sister" (you might want to think of a name for the male character, too - not necessarily for the Annabelle to use, but just for the script... after all, people don't tend to use each others' names that often in familiar speech).
Great, subtle writing, though. Well done.
Hi,
ReplyDeleteThe stage directions in this are subtle and powerful. The foreshadowing train whistle at the beginning, the man unbuttoning to change the subject (although, I'm not clear how he interrupts her with just this gesture.)
The dialogue is is strong. The dark (I hesitate to say humour) you've demonstrated before in "dig it up". Excellent.
At the end, the old man's line could be a bit more subtle. Perhaps, a brief line expressing some confusion interrupted by the sister. Here and earlier you've shown a gift for poetic lines and small details. You might consider using these talents for a longer soliloquy by the sister - something she's rehearsed in her head many times but still is fresh in her emotions.
A very evocative and human piece. Thanks.
Not much more to add here other than this is really very good.
ReplyDeleteThe opening, 'It's time' immediately hooks the reader/audience in and sets up a quiet kind of tension emphasised through measured use of dialogue and well rendered characters.
The gnocchi in the spaghetti is a really good quirky touch.
I think that a simple, repeated, 'it's time to go', would do fine for the old man's closing line, they obviously remember everything about the incident. It also has a dual meaning then, serving as a reminder of what they have done and their own mortality. The question seems clunky and at odds with the quiet dignity elsewhere.
I'm a fan of the Coen Brother's work, and this to me conjures memories of that, a kind of faded or half remembered Americana, also much like Hopper's work.
It's subtle and evocative, (as others have said), of both time and location, has real depth and stands up to repeated reading.
Really well done.
Wow! As the comments so far testify, this is really very impressive work - from stage directions to dialogue, it is incredibly subtle and highly effective. The "You smiled" / "You saw" lines are especially skilful and absolutely brilliant, but the rest isn't far behind.
ReplyDeleteVery well done - you are getting better and better all the time.
P.S. I like the comment about the potential for a sister's soliloquy too! :)
Thankyou for all the lovely comments, I really appreciate them all. I'll take a look at all things that I need to take into consideration and I'll be sure to make my next piece just as good. :)
ReplyDeleteE.