CHARACTERS: Mother, Father, Leonora, Max, Roof the Dog.
Mother and Father sit drinking their morning coffee and reading the newspaper. MOTHER: More coffee? FATHER: (a long beat, then) Sure. MOTHER: (pouring) Think we should wake the children? FATHER: X Who? MOTHER: The children. We have two of them. FATHER: Oh. X Might as well. MOTHER: What were their names? FATHER: X Who? MOTHER: The children. FATHER: Oh. X Who? MOTHER: The children…their names. I’ve forgotten. FATHER: You must write these things down. LEONORA: (running in, hysterical) Ahhhh! Mom! Dad! Max is in trouble! FATHER: (indicating Leonora) There’s one of them now. MOTHER: Leonora. Her name’s Leonora. I remember her now. LEONORA: Max slipped in the shower! He’s hurt! FATHER: Max? MOTHER: Your son. LEONORA: Mother! FATHER: Oh. LEONORA: Come help me! Please! I think he’s broken his leg! MOTHER: You can do that better. FATHER: Not convincing. LEONORA: X What are you talking about? MOTHER: Sweetheart..uh… LEONORA: Leonora. MOTHER: Leonora darling, your father and I have paid big money for you education at The Delacarte School of Theatre. Then you come in here this morning with this utterly unconvincing performance. LEONORA: This is not a performance! Max slipped in the shower and broke his leg! MOTHER: X That’s hardly the point. FATHER: Hardly the point. LEONORA: He’s lying there crying the shower with a bone sticking out of his leg! FATHER: Emote. LEONORA: X What? MOTHER: Your father wants you to emote more, dear. LEONORA: I am not acting! FATHER: You’re telling me. Terrible performance, just terrible. MAX: (groans painfully offstage) LEONORA: Listen to him. FATHER: Who’s that? LEONORA: That’s Max! I think he’s dying! FATHER: There you go again. Over the top. Let the script speak for itself. LEONORA: The script!!?
FATHER: The author’s intentions, Lena. Don’t infuse it with your own personal whims. LEONORA: My name’s Leonora, father, and it’s no whim! MAX: (screams in pain, still offstage) LEONORA: I’m coming, Max! FATHER: Where are you going? LEONORA: I’m going to help Max! FATHER: But I mean, why. What’s your motivation, sweetheart? An actress can’t just go shouting about willy-nilly without proper motivation. LEONORA: I’m going crazy! FATHER: Weak. LEONORA: X What? MOTHER: Insanity is so overused, dear. I mean it’s so …so amateurish. FATHER: Copout? MOTHER: Yes, that’s it. A copout. And predictable. Insanity is always predictable in the hands of amateurs. LEONORA: (grabbing Father by the shirt) Would one of you please help me?! FATHER: Now that’s good. ….physicalization. MOTHER: Nice presence. Much more believable. FATHER: I was nearly moved. LEONORA: (grabbing Mother) Your son could be dying in the shower! MAX: (screams offstage) FATHER: Open yourself up, dear. LEONORA: What!! FATHER: Cheat it out. Bring it toward the audience. You’re blocking. You’re blocking. LEONORA: I’m going to help Max! FATHER: Where do you think you’re going? LEONORA: I just said I’m going to help Max! FATHER: That is the worst exit line I’ve ever heard. Check your script. MOTHER: Perhaps it’s just overwritten. FATHER: Happens a great deal. Then at least underplay it. MOTHER: Try this. (posing, then) “I’m going to help Max.” FATHER: No. Your mother’s and old Method actor. Just state the line dear. MOTHER: Sorry. “I’m going to help Max.” FATHER: Yes. Yes, that did it. Perfect. (to Leonora) Now you try it, Lena. LEONORA: If you won’t help me then I’ll do it myself! FATHER: (to Mother) Better, don’t you think? MOTHER: Much better. A sense of danger…foreboding.