Performance v.18
FINAL_FINAL_LAST_VERSION_Performance_v.18.docx
"Performance"
INT. SOUNDSTAGE - EMPTY SET
Curtains open.
White lights fade in, revealing a bare stage. The back and side curtains are pulled up, letting the audience see into the wings. Ropes swing by the side of the set. A ladder creaks. There is nobody there, but the full technical equipment of the theatre is exposed, vulnerable.
Backstage, there is a low rumble. Conversations echo through the wall and increase in volume quickly with manic energy. The tension builds. Someone yells. Something clangs against the floor. A switch flicks on and off and on again. A distant piano plays a song off-tune. Noise, noise, noise,
And suddenly, silence.
The first backstage door swings open.
THE SKILL walks in through stage right with a solemn look. He wears a feathered hat and historic clothing. He walks center stage, downstage.
There is a moment of quiet as he stares into the audience, before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
THE SKILL
(Dramatically.) All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages–
A laugh is heard from stage-right, and THE SKILL flinches.
THE PASSION walks in through the second backstage door with a confident smile. He wears a glamorous modern suit, sparkling in the stage lights.
THE SKILL turns towards him, annoyed.
THE SKILL
What? What is it?
THE PASSION walks forward, standing stage-right. THE SKILL steps back.
THE PASSION
Nothing, nothing. (Beat.) I just… find it silly. Don’t you think that monologue is a little outdated?
THE SKILL
It's Shakespeare.
THE PASSION
Exactly. Why are you doing that dumb posh voice?
SKILL
(Offended.) I'm not doing a voice. This is the character. I'm playing a role.
THE PASSION
Isn’t ‘As You Like It’ a comedy? You sound waaay too serious.
THE SKILL rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.
THE SKILL
The character, Jaques, is supposed to be cynical. He is a philosopher. His overindulgence in melancholy is intentional. He stands apart from the world in order to understand it.
THE PASSION
That doesn’t sound very comedic, I’ll be honest.
THE SKILL turns to fully face him.
THE SKILL
(Frustrated.) Then go complain to Shakespeare’s grave. ‘As You Like It’ is a traditional classic. It’s great. You just have poor taste.
THE PASSION
My taste is great, it’s just a lot more modern. So, you know, it actually applies to my life. I don’t really care for stories that aren’t relatable.
THE SKILLS
Old stories are just as relatable! The themes and ideas are still there, even if the words themselves can be somewhat out of style. I’m just honoring the text.
THE PASSION
No, you’re obeying it. There’s no honor in that.
THE SKILL stiffens.
THE SKILL
Excuse me?
THE PASSION
You heard me. You’re obeying, not honoring.
THE SKILL
This delivery is just… It’s just how it’s always been performed, okay? All actors before me have echoed the author’s voice, to convey the correct message. It’s just how it always is. I won’t change it.
THE SKILL adjusts his clothes with a stubborn arrogance. He steps forward elegantly to return to his monologue, but THE PASSION quickly pulls him back. They split the stage half-and-half.
THE PASSION
Yes, sure, but enough time has passed. Things change. You’re preserving the text, not the thought behind it.
THE SKILL
The thought is the text, that’s the point. You can’t honor a performance without understanding what it was originally meant to achieve, and the writers’ intentions can only shine through in their words. Meaning doesn’t exist without form.
THE PASSION
I disagree. For starters, most of Willie’s old plays were for the commonfolk, not the wealthy. He'd be rolling in his grave if he heard how pretentious you're sounding.
THE SKILL puts his foot down, pushing THE PASSION a bit farther away.
THE SKILL
Will you stop critiquing my accent? I know what I'm doing.
THE PASSION
Do you? Sounds to me like you're just copying better actors.
THE SKILL pauses, visibly upset at the comment.
A beat.
For a moment, it looks like THE PASSION’s face reveals a glint of regret; a sudden sadness he isn’t voicing.
Just as THE PASSION goes to step forward — perhaps to apologize — THE SKILL takes a step upstage in a dramatic faux reverence.
THE SKILL
(Sarcastically.) Well, then, oh, great director. Show us how to do it right. Please, enlighten us with your amazing ability.
THE PASSION pauses for a brief moment, before he walks forward defiantly, a dance-like flow to his step. He looks off to the side with a flame in his eyes, gesticulating vaguely in the air as he talks. He glances right at the audience, even directly locking eyes with some front-row audience members. He has an ambitious charm.
THE PASSION
Life is like a play with no script,
and everyone follows along in their roles.
We come into the world, and eventually leave it;
but in between, we force ourselves to put on masks.
We pretend to know where to go, what to do,
but we all play seven roles–
THE SKILL rushes forward, dropping his face in his hands.
THE SKILL
Stop, stop.
THE PASSION
What now?
THE SKILL
You got it all wrong. That isn’t the monologue. At all.
THE PASSION
Yes, it is.
THE SKILL
No, you’re just babbling some vague ideas.
THE PASSION steps forward, looking ahead as he delivers his monologue. He gets lost in his thoughts as he speaks.
THE PASSION
But that's what it feels like, isn't it? We all live our lives in a performance. The world is a stage, while everyone else is watching and judging. People are born, they grow, they fear, they change, they fail, they learn, and then they die at the end. The idea is the same, right?
THE SKILL paces behind him, disappointed.
THE SKILL
You’re doing a disservice to the original text. There’s so much value, so much history, in the original choice of words. You can’t just improv your way through them because you feel like it.
THE PASSION turns back around.
THE PASSION
(Resolutely.) Yes, I can. It’s how the text makes me feel, so that’s how I’ll say it.
THE SKILL
If everyone bends the text into whatever they believe in, it becomes arbitrary. Theatre isn’t here for you to overwrite nuance with your own worldview, just so you can, what, feel seen? Characters aren’t supposed to be your mirrors.
THE PASSION walks towards him.
THE PASSION
But how am I even supposed to perform a role I don’t see myself in? What’s the value of speaking words I can’t believe in? It’s not acting if you’re just reading the text.
THE SKILL
Actors are vessels. We carry fictional worlds, stories, morals, so much larger than ourselves. It’s not acting if you’re just being yourself. Then it’s just reality.
THE PASSION
Well, I think–
THE SKILL
No one cares what you think. This is about the story, not about you.
THE PASSION steps back at THE SKILL’s confrontation, in surprise and offense. He turns away in frustration, facing the audience for a moment before slowly walking away stage-left in anger.
THE SKILL
Theatre isn’t about your own indulgence. You have to understand the craft, the insight, the versions of stories told before… You can’t get so lost in your own delusions, in the beating in your chest, that you forget the message you’re actually trying to tell. The audience will leave empty-handed. You can have all the fantasies you want, but without effort, without structure–
THE PASSION, lost in his thoughts, stops at the stage’s edge.
THE SKILL
–You’ll overstep without knowing the way forward. You’ll just fall into the pit.
THE PASSION pauses at the edge off to the side of the stage, just before the orchestral pit. He looks down into the dark pit. He sighs, before sitting down right at the ledge and letting his legs swing.
THE PASSION
But, if actors speak what they don’t believe, the stage becomes a lie. And you know the audience can sense that, too.
He looks up at the audience as he speaks. THE SKILL moves closer.
THE PASSION
There’s no point in living so systematically, so performatively, you forget to actually live. Why do you think every theatre production is so different? People’s experiences are all unique to them.
THE PASSION turns quickly towards THE SKILL, and he freezes, embarrassed for getting caught in his interest.
THE PASSION
You can read all the books about theatre guidelines and memorize all the little key terms, but there’s no rules or laws to real emotion.
THE PASSION turns back forward, while THE SKILL mumbles to himself, tired of the discussion. He pulls out a small notepad from his pocket and begins to flick through the pages.
THE PASSION
I’d rather fall than not have spoken at all. And yeah, sure, okay. Characters aren’t mirrors, but our job is to make them feel real. They’re fragments of us, in one way or another, just as we take fragments of them into ourselves.
THE PASSION waits for a rebuttal, but THE SKILL stays quiet.
Instead, THE SKILL walks forward and sits down beside him. He takes a pen out of his pocket and clicks it.
THE PASSION looks back at him, confused.
THE PASSION
What are you doing?
THE SKILL
Tallying.
THE PASSION
(Disillusioned.) … Really?
THE SKILL
Yes. This is the… 18th time we’ve had this argument.
THE PASSION
(Scoffing.) You really never change tradition, do you? We keep going in circles, and still you never actually listen to me.
THE SKILL
I can listen to you just fine. You literally never shut up about anything.
THE PASSION
How can I be quiet? (Sighing gently.) There are so many beautiful things to feel.
THE SKILL
Too many, maybe.
THE PASSION
I won’t be silent about my excitement when given a spotlight.
THE SKILL flicks through his notepad a few more times, before putting it back in his pocket.
THE SKILL
I’m afraid I’ll never properly understand you, but I…
He hesitates, as if he couldn’t believe he was admitting this.
THE SKILL
I don’t dislike you.
THE PASSION
(Prickly.) You act like you do.
THE SKILL
(Softer.) Of course I do. A performance feels safer, doesn’t it?
THE PASSION looks up suddenly, in concern. There is a deep understanding in his eyes as they share a look. THE SKILL looks back down, flustered.
THE SKILL
But I’ve studied enough to know your importance. There’s not much point in writing a story if there’s nothing to write about. You matter just as much.
THE PASSION takes a moment to process this, looking away. He smiles to himself sweetly, before a sudden realization pops into his head.
THE PASSION
(With sass.) …I know what you’re trying to do.
THE SKILL
Do you?
THE PASSION
You’re trying to get me to admit that I still need your technical knowledge, that my excitement can’t flourish anywhere without your little structures and rulebooks.
THE SKILL grins to himself.
THE SKILL
Oh, hm, am I?
THE PASSION
Yes, you are! You’re always like this. If you’re trying to get me to confess that I need you, then I have bad news.
THE SKILL scooches closer, leaning over THE PASSION.
THE SKILL
I’m not trying to do anything; you already wear your heart on your sleeve. We both know you would be nowhere without me. I can read between the lines just fine.
THE PASSION grins madly, a sneaky tone in his voice.
THE PASSION
…Oh?
THE SKILL
What?
THE PASSION
So you say… there’s meaning between the lines? It’s almost like–
THE SKILL pulls away, embarrassed.
THE SKILL
Don’t.
THE PASSION
It’s almost like… you can tell the meaning… without the text.
THE SKILL
Stop that.
THE PASSION
It’s like the feeling matters more than the form, or something. Woaaaah, that’s crazy.
THE SKILL
(Chuckling.) Your understanding of comedy is very twisted.
THE PASSION
And still, you laugh.
The two share a small laugh, before THE SKILL gets up. He extends a hand to THE PASSION, who takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up.
THE SKILL turns to the audience, smiling fondly.
THE SKILL
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances…
He turns towards THE PASSION, and loses track of his thoughts.
THE PASSION
But we keep forgetting the script, don’t we?
THE SKILL laughs quietly to himself. He takes a deep breath.
THE SKILL
Let’s go from the top.
BLACKOUT.
(Come to the Night of Short Plays!)
Written by Ana Clara Martins, a dedicated Writing & Marketing Committee member!
You can find Ana Clara on Instagram: @anaa.logy