Utterly Ridiculous
By Ken Bradbury
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: Who?
MOTHER: The children. We have two of them.
FATHER: (a long beat, then) Oh. Might as well.
MOTHER: What were their names?
FATHER: (a beat, then) Who?
MOTHER: The children.
FATHER: Oh. (a beat, then) Who?
MOTHER: The children…names. I’ve forgotten.
FATHER: (a beat, then) 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: 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: 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: 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: 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.
MAX: (comes crashing into the room and lands on the floor with a scream)
FATHER: Good heavens. Who’s he?
LEONORA: (running to comfort him) Max!
MOTHER: He’s your son. Your stark naked son.
FATHER: How do you know?
MOTHER: The birthmark.
FATHER: Ah yes. Daring, don’t you think?
MOTHER: Most daring. Almost avant-garde.
LEONORA: He’s dying, Mother.
MOTHER: Reminiscent of Chekov.
FATHER: No. Miller. Definitely Arthur Miller.
MOTHER: A matter of interpretation, I suppose.
LEONORA: Mother!!
MOTHER: Williams? Perhaps more of Williams? (to Leonora) Sweetheart, could you just try this? Just for me? Shout “Stella!!!!”
LEONORA: His name is Max!
MOTHER: Well, that’s irrelevant.
FATHER: Not to the point in question.
LEONORA: I give up!
MOTHER: (to Leonora) Is there more?
LEONORA: More what?
MOTHER: To the scene? Is that it? Or is this some sort of absurdist thing?
LEONORA: Max’s leg bone is sticking out his skin.
FATHER: No, you were right. Chekov. Call Ruff. We need some resolution.
MOTHER: Ruff! Oh Ruff, boy!
FATHER: Bravo! What a concept! (standing and clapping) Author! Author!
RUFF: (enters on all four, barking)
LEONORA: What are you doing?!!!!
FATHER: Disillusionment. You’ll find it in all of Becket’s later work.
LEONORA: Max! (shaking his lifeless body) Max is dead!
MOTHER: No, not yet.
LEONORA: Mother, Max just bled to death!
FATHER: Without a soliloquy? The boy was always out of sync.
MOTHER: Timing is everything.
FATHER: Everything.
LEONORA: (crying on Max’s dead body) Oh Max! Max! Max!
FATHER: Easy. Easy. Not too much. Max, you do the soliloquy.
ROOF: (stands on his hind legs and barks the first few phrases of Hamlet’s “To Be or Not to Be!” as the action continues)
MOTHER: (as Max continues, more quietly) Somehow I feel it’s all been worth it now.
FATHER: The perfect climax. (putting his arm around Mother) It’s been a good life, Mother.
MOTHER: (sighs, then) More coffee?
FATHER: Do we have time?
MOTHER: We must hang on to these precious moments in parenting.
ROOF: (howls then takes a bow)
FATHER: Ah. Good old Roof. Ever the trouper.
MOTHER: Cream?
FATHER: Of course. (they sit)
MOTHER: What do you think of musical comedy?
FATHER: Perhaps tomorrow. Let me savor the moment.
Utterly Ridiculous
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