William Shakespeare's Get Thee Back to the Future!

by Ian Doescher

  The one point twenty-one in gigawatts

  Shall, by this method, flow directly to

  The flux capacitor. As a result,

  Thou shalt return to nineteen eighty-five.

  I prithee watch, as I do test the model.

  Wind up the car, prepare it to release,

  Whilst I make simulation of the lightning.

  MARTY [aside:] A man, a plan, a model—clever Doc!

  DOC Art thou prepar’d? Set thou the car. Let fly!

  [Marty sets the car down, and it rolls down the model road. Doc sends electricity down the cable, which strikes the car. Now aflame, the car rolls off the model and onto a sheet, setting it alight.

  MARTY Alack! Shall all my hopes go up in flame?

  This is a wicked portent, by my soul.

  But little confidence thou dost instill!

  [Doc rushes to put out the fire.

  DOC A temporary setback to the model,

  Yet naught that shall keep us from this endeavor.

  Fear not, for I’ll ensure the lightning strike

  Is well within our power to control.

  Thou, though, must work on more than lightning bolts,

  And tame much greater forces than the weather;

  Thy father’s thy responsibility.

  What happen’d with him earlier today?

  Did he, at long last, ask your mother out?

  MARTY [aside:] I’ve not the heart to tell him truthfully.

  Besides, who knows what happen’d once I left?

  [To Doc:] Methinks he did.

  DOC —Pray tell, what did she say?

  [Someone knocks on the door of Doc’s house. Doc peers through the shade.

  It is thy mother, somehow come for thee!

  Let’s cover up the time machine anon.

  [They throw a cover over the DeLorean. Doc opens the door.

  Whatever hell or heaven enters, come.

  Enter LORRAINE BAINES.

  LORRAINE Hello, sweet Cal—er, Marty.

  MARTY —Ma—Lorraine.

  How knew’st thou I was here? How hither cam’st?

  LORRAINE I follow’d thy steps homeward, verily.

  MARTY Forgive my manners. This man is my Doc—

  My uncle, Doctor Brown.

  LORRAINE —Hello.

  DOC —Good even.

  LORRAINE My manners, Marty, thou too must forgive

  As I of thee a forward query make:

  Wouldst thou ask me to come with thee unto

  Th’Enchantment ’Neath the Sea dance Saturday?

  MARTY [aside:] My lie to Doc exposèd in a trice!

  [To Lorraine:] What, no one hath already ask’d thee this?

  LORRAINE Not yet; I dwell in possibility.

  MARTY Yet what of George?

  LORRAINE —Thou meanest George McFly?

  He hath a somewhat handsome aspect, true,

  But I believe a man should be courageous

  And valiant and strong, e’en as thou art.

  A man should take a stand both for himself

  And to protect the woman whom he loves.

  Dost thou not think a true man should be so?

  MARTY When thou dost put it in these simple words,

  Thy meaning’s plain. Let us discuss it more.

  [Exeunt Marty and Lorraine.

  DOC O, what a tangle hath the young man knit—

  His life dependeth on untying it!

  [Exit.

  SCENE 2

  Outside George McFly’s house.

  Enter MARTY MCFLY and GEORGE MCFLY, hanging laundry on a line together.

  GEORGE Thy words I hear, but little sense they make.

  I prithee, help me understand thee better.

  How can I take Lorraine unto the dance

  When she already eagerly agreed

  To go with thee instead? How shall this work?

  MARTY ’Tis plain the lass would rather go with thee,

  Yet may not know the truth of this yet, George.

  This situation we must rectify,

  Unveiling unto her what her heart knows,

  Although her brain is slower to respond.

  We shall show her that thou, strong George McFly,

  Will fight for her, whatever foe may come.

  Thou shalt, then, take a stand both for thyself

  And to protect the woman whom thou lov’st.

  Yea, such a man art thou, of strength and pow’r,

  Courageous in a scuffle ’gainst a brute,

  Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel.

  GEORGE This generous description makes me smile,

  For gladly would I be the man thou conjur’st,

  Yet never in my life have I rais’d fists

  To start a fight against another person.

  MARTY ’Tis not a real fight, Dad—er, Daddy-O.

  Thou comest to her rescue, nothing more.

  Let us review our fail-safe plan again.

  First: at eight fifty-five, where shalt thou be?

  GEORGE I shall be at the merry, hopeless dance.

  MARTY Indeed thou shalt. And where shall I be, then?

  GEORGE Thou shalt be in the car with her: Lorraine.

  MARTY If thou wert scholar, couldst not be more right.

  Around the moment when the clock strikes nine,

  She shall become most furious with me.

  GEORGE This point escapes me—wherefore should she so?

  MARTY George, ’tis a truth attested through the ages

  That gentle lasses angry do become

  When men do take advantage of them.

  [George begins hanging a corset.

  GEORGE —What?

  These words fall odiously on mine ears.

  Thou shalt, then, touch her harshly on her—

  [Marty takes the corset from George and hangs it up.

  MARTY —Nay!

  George, please, believe me when I say these words:

  The very thought is sickening to me.

  ’Tis nothing but an act, is this not so?

  At nine o’clock, thou strollest through the lot,

  And see us struggling there, inside the car.

  Thou mak’st a bold approach, and then thou say’st—

  [Marty pauses, waiting for George.

  Now speak, George, ’tis thy cue.

  GEORGE —Of course, indeed!

  “Lo, rogue, remove thy filthy, damnèd hands,

  Release this woman from thy grasp anon!”

  Think’st thou ’tis best if I do speak an oath?

  MARTY Yea, George, yea—God damn it, speak thou an oath!

  Thou comest thither boldly, to the car,

  Then punch me in the stomach and I’ll fall.

  Thine enemy, the brute, is overcome,

  And the conclusion is, she shall be thine—

  Lorraine and George live happ’ly ever after.

  GEORGE When thou dost tell the tale, it simple sounds,

  And yet I wish I were not so afeard.

  MARTY Of naught hast thou a reason to be scar’d.

  Thou need’st a tittle of self-confidence.

  When thou dost put thy mind unto the task,

  Thou mayst accomplish nearly anything.

  A man of wisdom spoke these words to me,

  Now may they bring assurance unto thee.

  [Exeunt.

  SCENE 3

  In the town of Hill Valley, near the clock tower.

  Enter two POLICEMEN.

  POLICE. 1 Good even, Sergeant Bradbury, how art thou?

  POLICE. 2 ’Tis well, Lieutenant Wells. Thou art well met.

  POLICE. 1 How goes the night? Doth anything perturb?

  POLICE. 2 Nay, all is well, the evening calm as sleep.

  POLICE. 1 Methinks a storm is brewing, is it not?

  POLICE. 2 If so, a butterfly once flapp’d its wings.

  POLICE. 1 What meanest thou?

  POLICE. 2 —O, understand’st thou not? />
  See, there’s a special providence e’en in

  The fall of one small butterfly, forsooth.

  A butterfly who flaps its wings, or dies,

  May have profound effect upon the future—

  And e’en upon the weather systems, yea.

  POLICE. 1 Is this thy view of traveling through time,

  That one may change the future by the past?

  POLICE. 2 Indeed. Presume a person travels back,

  Say thirty years before the present time,

  And maketh subtle changes thereupon—

  Not e’en a vast change, nay, not murder, theft,

  Assassination or a coup d’état—

  A simple change, like catching butterflies.

  Or even something that doth touch the mind:

  What if the traveler, whilst in the past,

  Did somehow give a person confidence

  They never had before? ’Twould change the world—

  At least the worlds of those directly touch’d.

  The person with the greater confidence

  Would grow to be e’en more successful than

  They’d been before, creating an effect

  Like water rippling from a single drop.

  POLICE. 1 Is this thy view? ’Tis diff’rent far from mine.

  POLICE. 2 I’d hear thee more. Canst thou explain to me?

  POLICE. 1 We shall employ thine own example, sir.

  Suppose a person from a future time,

  Who knew the music of their present day,

  Did travel back in time and share that music

  With those who, being thirty years behind,

  Had never heard such strains. They would invent

  The very music that the traveler

  Had come to fancy after thirty years.

  The past, in mine example, is not chang’d,

  But was exactly as it had to be,

  Anticipating ev’ry future time,

  The cord of fate ne’er alter’d in the least.

  POLICE. 2 I see, so thou believ’st the traveler

  Hath e’er existed in the past, although

  They travel’d from the future. Is this so?

  POLICE. 1 By mine own view, it is. Yet I would hear

  More of thine own opinion on the matter.

  Let us talk more and, then, we’ll find a snack.

  POLICE. 2 Past, present, future—always is it time

  For coffee and a doughnut. So say I!

  [The two policemen step aside to talk more.

  Enter MARTY MCFLY and DOCTOR EMMETT BROWN, listening to a weather forecast on the RADIO.

  RADIO The weather in Hill Valley on this night

  Is mostly clear, with some few scatter’d clouds.

  Our lowest temp’rature tonight shall be

  No lower than the forties, Fahrenheit.

  DOC Art thou most certain of this storm tonight?

  No cloudy show of stormy blust’ring weather

  Doth yet in this fair welkin once appear.

  MARTY When was it thou a weatherman didst trust

  To read the skies, much less the future tell?

  DOC I shall most sorry be to see thee go.

  Thou hast giv’n me a target for mine aims,

  A vital, noble goal I may pursue.

  Now I shall take the road less travel’d by.

  That, Marty, hath made all the difference.

  E’en knowing I, in nineteen eighty-five,

  Shall be alive to see profound success,

  My greatest labors e’er come to fruition.

  One day I shall experience time travel—

  Such wondrous expectation, by my troth!

  MARTY [aside:] Alas, his words do strike my very soul,

  As if the man hath died once more just now,

  For he shall never know time travel’s joy,

  Ne’er eat the hard-won fruit he toil’d to grow.

  DOC Methinks ’twill be most difficult to wait

  Some thirty years before we two can talk

  O’er all that hath transpir’d these past few days.

  Most truly shall I miss thee, Marty, aye.

  MARTY And I shall miss thee, too, more than thou know’st.

  DOC [aside:] Some message hides within young Marty’s face,

  For all my knowledge, though, I cannot read it.

  MARTY Doc, hear me speak about what is to be…

  DOC Nay! Que será, será, as we agreed.

  Should I have information of the future,

  ’Twould be extremely dangerous for me.

  E’en if thou hast naught but the best intentions,

  Remember ’tis with these the road to hell

  Is often paved. Thine aim, no doubt, is sound,

  Yet still may backfire most disastrously.

  Whatever thou dost burn to say to me,

  I’ll learn within the nat’ral course of time.

  [Marty steps aside.

  POLICE. 1 [approaching:] Good even, Doctor Brown. What are these wires?

  DOC A weather trial of mine own devising.

  [Aside:] It could be call’d a whether trial, too,

  As we discover whether it shall work!

  POLICE. 1 What is this here, beneath the steely shroud?

  DOC Nay, do not touch, I prithee. Science ’tis!

  A tool for weather-sensing specializ’d.

  POLICE. 1 Thou hast, no doubt, a permit for the thing?

  DOC What dost thou take me for? An amateur?

  Come hence, and I shall show thee what thou seek’st.

  It bears the countenance of Andrew Jackson…

  [Exeunt Doc with policemen.

  MARTY Doc shall not let my words of future times

  Fall on his ears, if spoken from my lips,

  Yet I must tell him what I, sadly, know.

  Another way, perchance, I may employ:

  A letter I shall write for later reading,

  Wherewith Doc’s tragic fortune to forfend.

  [Writing:] “Dear Doctor Brown—my teacher and my friend,

  Upon the night I travel back in time,

  Thou shalt be slain by terrorists most vile.

  Please take whate’er precautions necessary

  To keep thyself from this most heinous fate.

  Thy oldest and thy youngest friend, e’en Marty.”

  Thus have I writ, to keep kind Doc from harm,

  And then inscribe upon the envelope:

  “Ope not until ’tis nineteen eighty-five”—

  E’en thus I hope to keep my friend alive.

  [Marty slips the letter in Doc’s coat. Exit.

  SCENE 4

  In Hill Valley High School at the Enchantment ’Neath the Sea dance, and outside the school.

  Enter GEORGE MCFLY, dancing. Enter MARVIN BERRY and his merry band THE STARLIGHTERS, playing music. Enter several STUDENTS, dancing.

  GEORGE This plan of Marty’s brings me little ease;

  I was not fashion’d as a man of action,

  And have but little sense for schemes and ploys.

  Yet if he has it right and through this plot

  I may, incredibly, end up within

  The graces of the beautiful Lorraine—

  Preventing thereby, too, Darth Vader’s scorn—

  ’Twill be worth doing, though I like it not.

  The time is nigh; ’tis now eight fifty-five.

  Lorraine and Marty shall arrive anon,

  Then shall our act begin in earnest. O,

  I am afeard of what may come to pass.

  George, screw thy courage to the sticking-place,

  And we’ll not fail—good Marty and myself.

  Enter MARTY MCFLY and LORRAINE BAINES on balcony, in his car.

  MARTY We have arriv’d, yet ere we thither go,

  Mayhap thou wouldst enjoy it if we park’d.

  LORRAINE Thy mind has mapp’d the perfect path for us,

  For I would gladly park awhile with thee.


  MARTY Indeed? ’Tis not the route I did expect.

  LORRAINE Yea, Marty, I am near eighteen years old;

  This isn’t the first highway I have travel’d,

  Thy lane is not the first in which I’ve steer’d.

  MARTY What? Verily? This comes as news to me,

  And reason, probably, to press the brakes.

  LORRAINE Soft, Marty—thou art overheated, dear,

  Belike thou shalt thy system flood with nerves.

  Is something wrong? Methought we shar’d this hope,

  To drive along this road together. Yes?

  MARTY Nay, nay.

  [Lorraine pulls out a flask and takes a drink.

  LORRAINE —Belike a drink shall brake thy blood.

  MARTY What art thou doing? Drinking whilst thou drive—

  Er, whilst we park and rest our engines here.

  LORRAINE I swip’d it from my mother’s liquor cupboard.

  MARTY Thou shouldst not drink, else surely thou wilt crash.

  LORRAINE Yet wherefore? Such libation giveth pleasure.

  MARTY Once thou art older, farther down the road,

  Thou mayst have some regrets o’er drinking now.

  LORRAINE O Marty, be thy wheels not square, but round,

  Else thou shalt nowhere go. Dost thou not see

  That ev’ryone who’s anyone doth drink?

  [Marty takes a sip as Lorraine pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

  MARTY What, smoking, too, Lorraine? Dost think it wise?

  Shalt not thy young transmission burn withal?

  LORRAINE Thy horn doth bleat much like my mother’s sound;

  Betwixt the two of you, my mom and thee,

  I almost cannot tell the difference.

  Enter SECOND MARTY MCFLY on balcony, aside.

  MARTY 2 Bold gentles, patience, as this may confound—

  As ye see Marty, stuck inside the car,

  Caught with Lorraine, both mother and admirer,

  Know this: I’m Marty too—or Marty two.

  Ta’en once again to nineteen fifty-five,

  On new adventures hither have I come,

  To stop young Biff becoming even worse.

  He hath a book, which I must take away,

  E’en as I do avoid my other self.

  For he is me, yet hath another task—

  Undoing his effect upon Lorraine

  To let his father enter in her love.

  Unless I can evade him, all shall fail;

  Relentless is the march of time’s harsh rules.

  Excuse my brief intrusion to this scene—

  Think not of me again, I’ll not appear.

  We shall, perchance, meet in another tale

  Once this is finish’d. Friends, enjoy the show!