by Neil LaBute
NEIL LABUTE
Plays Two
The Shape of Things
Fat Pig
In a Dark Dark House
In a Forest, Dark and Deep
with an introduction
by the author
Contents
Title Page
Introduction
The Shape of Things
First performance
Characters
The Play
Fat Pig
First performance
Characters
Act One
Act Two
In a Dark Dark House
First performance
Characters
One
Two
Three
In a Forest, Dark and Deep
First performance
Characters
The Play
About the Author
Also by Neil LaBute
Copyright
Introduction
I’m not going anywhere.
Now that can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how you feel about me or how you read that sentence (I guess the same can be said of just about any sentence ever written) and I suppose that’s just the way I like it. I have spent a good part of my career as a writer – for stage, screen, print and now television – trying to tell stories that can be taken in various ways, depending on who you are and how you see the details. I’m no Agatha Christie, mind you – much to the chagrin of my business manager – but no one likes turning the tables on a reader or viewer any more than I do. O. Henry might have, in his heyday, but he’s dead and gone and I’m still here.
As I said, I’m not going anywhere.
I hope that doesn’t mean I’m spinning my wheels but I don’t think so – that’s for you to decide, I suppose, in the long run. You the reader or you the viewer. Whoever you are. Some of us have met and some of us haven’t yet, but I thank you for coming here for the first time or returning to take a look again at a text or two of mine. I think the four plays represented here are some of the best and most honest work I’ve written for the stage in the past twenty years, so that’s saying something.
It’s strange to say ‘honest’ when all of this stuff is a big fat lie – a lie that hopefully helps us see something close to the truth, to crimp a phrase from Picasso (who was a vastly original artist but also a bit of a thief as it turns out – even at one time being considered a possible suspect in the theft of the Mona Lisa herself from the Louvre). Yes, what you’ll be reading here is all made up, little stories to thrill and delight, but they touch on concerns of mine and so no doubt some shreds of honesty have fallen into the mix. When I write about art or love or abuse or sex or cowardice, I’m tapping into things that matter to me and that I’ve maybe even faced to some lesser (or greater) degree than my fictional protagonists. That’s just the way it goes when you’re a writer. You don’t always steal from yourself or those around you, but just remember: it’s not safe to leave things lying about when an author is around. It’s all fair game, depending on how they were raised and how desperate they are for a good story.
I’m not a thief, though, at least not in the traditional sense. I haven’t whisked away the details of any of my friends or loved ones or acquaintances for money and fame. Not yet, anyway. I wrote the four plays enclosed in this volume all on my own from ideas that sprang into my odd little brain and no one was hurt due to their creation – not due to plagiarism, anyway.
It’s hard for me to believe that The Shape of Things is already sixteen years old. It came to life on the London stage in a wonderful and surprising way: I’d been lucky enough to have a play premiere at the Almeida Theatre (Bash) in 2000 and I was in town working on a new film (Possession) when I received a call from the co-artistic directors of the theatre (the wonderful Jonathan Kent and the equally great Ian McDiarmid) saying that they were looking for a script as something already scheduled had fallen by the wayside. This call came on my English cell phone and, as luck would have it, I’d just spent my Christmas holiday writing a new play. When I heard their message I immediately sent The Shape of Things and the play was up and on its feet within a few months. I was lucky enough to get the dream cast of Rachel Weisz, Paul Rudd, Fred Weller and Gretchen Mol. We spent the better part of one happy year together, working first on the British production, then moving the show to New York (under the heavy cloud of 9/11) and finally ending up in Los Angeles making a film with the same actors. I had a wonderful time with the four of them and I think we created something really special. The play tried to say something about love and art and we had a blast, working first in a beautiful old bus depot that had been converted into a set of temporary theatres by the Almeida (as their home base was being refurbished) and then at the now-extinct Promen ade Theatre on the Upper West Side in New York. The Smashing Pumpkins led the musical charge and we didn’t provide the audience with a curtain call and it was a creative experience I won’t soon forget.
The next play represented in this volume is Fat Pig, which has had a wonderful life around the world in a variety of productions. It began at MCC, my home base in New York, and moved to London’s Trafalgar Studios not long after. I was lucky enough to direct that production and I was even luckier to meet a young actress named Ella Smith. What a find. She was a brilliant ‘Helen’ and one of the easiest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of collaborating with. With her were three other terrific actors who made up a hilarious foursome with Ms Smith: Robert Webb, Kris Marshall and Joanna Page. The show transferred to the Comedy Theatre (now the Pinter) and added the beautiful and talented Kelly Brook to the cast; the sad truth is that more ink was spilled talking about Ms Brook in a bikini than about her acting skills but I thought she was clever and funny and sweet in the role of Jeannie. The rest of the West End ensemble was the madcap Kevin Bishop, the dashing Nicholas Burns and, eventually, the lovely Katie Kerr. Christopher Oram built us a revolving set (something that brilliantly mirrored the ever-changing cycle of courage and cowardice displayed by the main character) and I employed the sonic stylings of The White Stripes to memorably loud effect. The play was also sup posed to make its way to Broadway but due to the back-handed dealings of one potential financier, that moment is still to come. Either way, I’ve written new material for Fat Pig (another office scene that gives Jeannie and Carter more room to grow as characters and also allows Helen to step briefly into Tom’s workspace and, perhaps more importantly, a final monologue for Helen that alters the original ending and gives this wonderful character a clear and honest voice when she needs it the most). Incidentally, this volume of plays is the first one to include that new material for your reading pleasure – I hope you enjoy it.
In a Dark Dark House is another thing entirely – a play that hits as close to home as any has thus far. I’m definitely not an autographical writer (as mentioned above) but the family dynamic, the sibling connection and even the history of abuse at the core of this piece all mean something very real and special to me. It’s not something I like to talk about, so I decided to write about it in a fictional way instead – dump all that pain and guilt and suffering on some body who doesn’t really exist. That seems fair, doesn’t it? Works for me. Like many others before me, I was able to tap into some personal darkness that had previously eluded me by conjuring up a pair of fictive brothers and by using some working knowledge I had about psychiatric facilities and various kinds of abuse (I worked at a few hos pitals in my college days and I lived through some abuse in my younger years). The play began its stage life at MCC again (thanks to the great artistic directors Bernie Telsey, Robert Lupone and Will Canter, who have championed my work for fifteen years now) under the direction of Carolyn Cantor and the
fine cast of Fred Weller, Ron Livingstone and Louisa Krause, but really found itself under the painstaking care of my dream director, Michael Attenborough. Michael was a good enough friend to tell me honestly that the play still needed work and together we found the heart of the text and beat the thing into submission. His production, starring David Morrissey, Stephen Mackintosh and Kira Sternbach, really cut to the quick. Michael’s work and this trio of actors made even me cry, no easy feat (I promise you). In a Dark Dark House is a play I don’t read often any more – it’s too hard to go back to those places – but reading it for inclusion in this volume made me glad that it exists.
And finally we come to In a Forest, Dark and Deep. Having written a play about brothers, I decided to tackle the combo of brother and sister, something up until then (2011) I hadn’t really written about. The play has a mystery at its core – there I go again, trying to be Dame Christie – but it’s really the sibling relationship that most interested me. Never having had a sister, it was fascinating to try and imagine how the connection works between two people of different genders who are tied together by blood. I didn’t want to dabble in incest but I did want to walk a different sexual tightrope and tension – the actual love that can grow between two people who are united by birth. The character of Bobby loves his sister and desperately wants to be needed by her and that drives him through out the play; when that character is embodied by someone as brilliant as Matthew Fox, you just have to consider your life blessed. Mr Fox was as breathtaking to watch on stage as any actor I have ever seen, and trust me, I’ve seen a few of them by now. He was well matched in our West End production by Olivia Williams as Betty, even though having an American and an English actor playing siblings was trickier than you might imagine. We were given a dream set by the genius known as Soutra Gilmour (who created a towering, two-storey A-frame cabin on the stage of the Vaudeville Theatre, complete with blowing wind and pelting rain) and all of this was accompanied by a rock soundtrack featuring the best of Pearl Jam, Bush and Led Zeppelin. I directed In a Forest, Dark and Deep myself and I think we made the play come fully to life, releasing all the lies and pain and forgiveness from the pages, but it remains chiefly in my mind as a testament to the towering talent of Matthew Fox, whose only crime as an actor is that he doesn’t tread the boards nearly often enough.
And there you have it: my thoughts on the four plays committed to paper here. I have another thousand or so stories I could tell you about them, but it’s really just the plays that will matter, in the end, because I lied before: I am going somewhere. I won’t be around forever but with any luck these four plays will continue to be discovered and revived by actors and readers alike for the next however many years. Rejoiced or reviled, they show me at my near best and I like to think that they’ve held up reasonably well, so far at least. The first two, The Shape of Things and Fat Pig, were part of a loose trilogy of plays (along with Reasons to Be Pretty) that I wrote on the subject of ‘beauty’, but I’ve now written two sequels to that last play so perhaps one day they will deserve their own Faber collection bearing another attractive Roy Lichtenstein print on the cover.
Who knows?
Life is short, but for now it’s true: I’m not going anywhere and I will keep writing (so throw your hands in the air in thanks or gnash your teeth in despair, it doesn’t matter to me). I’m a storyteller and that’s what I’m here to do. To tell stories, no matter where they lead me or what I have to do to tell them (or who I might offend in the telling).
I’ll try not to steal too much of your own lives while I do it, but for God’s sake don’t trust me …
I’m a writer.
Neil LaBute
10 March 2017
THE SHAPE OF THINGS
The Shape of Things premiered in London at the Almeida Theatre on 24 May 2001 with the following cast:
Evelyn Rachel Weisz
Adam Paul Rudd
Jenny Gretchen Mol
Phillip Frederick Weller
Director Neil LaBute
Set Design Giles Cadle
Costume Design Lynette Meyer
Lighting Mark Henderson
Sound Fergus O’Hare
Casting Fiona Weir
Assistant Director David Salter
This production transferred to the Promenade Theatre, New York, opening on 10 October 2001, with the above cast and creative team.
Characters
Evelyn
Adam
Jenny
Phillip
Author’s Note
The / in certain lines denotes an attempt at interruption or overlap by a given character
A MUSEUM
Silence. Darkness.
A young woman stands near a stretch of velvet rope. She has a can in one hand and stares up at an enormous human sculpture. After a moment, a young man (in uniform) steps across the barrier and approaches her.
Adam … You stepped over the line. Miss? / Umm, you stepped over …
Evelyn I know. / It’s ‘ms’.
Adam Okay, sorry, ms, but, ahh …
Evelyn I meant to. / Step over …
Adam What? / Yeah, I figured you did. I mean, the way you did it and all, kinda deliberate like. / You’re not supposed to do that.
Evelyn I know. / That’s why I tried it …
Adam Why?
Evelyn … To see what would happen.
Adam Oh. Well … Me, I s’pose.
Evelyn ‘Me’?
Adam No, I mean, I’m what happens, I guess. I have to walk over, like I’ve done, and ask you to take a step back. Could you, please? / Step back?
Evelyn And if someone doesn’t? / What then?
Adam … You’re not gonna step back?
Evelyn No … I mean, yes, I probably will, but just for interest’s sake, what would you do if?
Adam I’m … Geez, I’m not sure. I’ve never had anyone not step back. I’ve only said it, like, four times, and every time they’ve done it. Stepped back.
Evelyn What if I’m your first? Non-stepper, I mean. Then what?
Adam Hell, I dunno … I’m off in, like, ten minutes, I’d probably just stand here, make sure you didn’t touch anything.
Evelyn Really?
Adam Pretty much, yeah. I’d let next shift talk to you, kick you out or whatever.
Evelyn You wouldn’t grab me or anything?
Adam Nah. That’s too … you know. That’s a total hassle, you end up rolling around on the ground, you’d probably sue the place, or me, and then … I’d get fired for doing my job. Screw that … (Beat.) Could you do that for me, though?
Evelyn Which, roll around on the ground or sue you?
Adam No, step back behind the line there … I’d appreciate it.
Evelyn Not really.
Adam No, seriously, I would. I’d definitely appreciate it …
Evelyn I mean, ‘not really’ I’m not going to …
Adam I thought you just said you probably will …
Evelyn Yeah, ‘probably’. I decided not to.
Adam Hey, you’re not gonna mess up my weekend with this, are you?
Evelyn I wasn’t planning on it, but … I’m not completely against it, either.
Adam See, if you get all crazy, then I gotta write up a report and stuff, I’m here till six, six-thirty easy, and I have a second job to get to.
Evelyn Tonight? Friday night?
Adam Yep. Right after this, at the video store …
Evelyn Why would anyone work two jobs on Friday night?
Adam … For money.
Evelyn Of course … Sorry. (Looks at him again.) Oh … Oh, right! That’s where I … I’ve seen you in there. You helped me once, I think.
Adam Yeah? / With what?
Evelyn Uh-huh. / The Picture of Dorian Gray … You found it in classics, not drama. / Somebody’d misplaced it …
Adam Right, I remember that. / Yes … Behind Cabaret. The ‘Joel Grey’ fiasco …
Evelyn Yeah, you said you fou
nd it with Dirty Dancing once, too, or something …
Adam I did, you’re right … That’s funny.
Evelyn Anyway, you helped me, that was nice …
Adam Thanks. But, you’re not gonna return the favour, right?
Evelyn You mean the …?
She points back toward the velvet rope.
Adam Yeah.
Evelyn No, sorry, I can’t.
Adam Why is that? (Pointing) It’s a pretty good-sized sculpture. You can see it just fine from there …
Evelyn Truthfully? I’m building up my nerve, and if I go back over, I’ll probably be a big wuss about it and take off …
Adam About what? The ‘wuss’ part, I mean …
Evelyn I was going to deface the statue.
Adam Oh. Oh … (Pointing) Is that paint?
Evelyn Yes.
Adam Great … From across the room, I thought you were maybe one of the cleaning people, I was hoping that was lemon Pledge or something …
They share a smile.
Paint’s not really a great thing to have in a museum. People’ll definitely take that the wrong way …
Evelyn How do they know which way to take it?
Adam I’m thinking outside would be the general direction they’d steer you with spray paint … Why do you have that?
Evelyn I was going to do something to the nude. Mess it up or …
Adam What, you mean, like, colour it or something?
Evelyn I was thinking more of painting a big dick on it, but whatever …
Adam Well, you could still colour it in … The dick.
Evelyn smiles at this.
Evelyn True. It might look kinda weird …
Adam Oh, I think a graffiti penis is gonna be plenty odd already … (Beat.) So, right over the leaves there, or just a free-floating number?
Evelyn Probably anatomically correct. I mean, if you’re gonna do it, why not –
Adam – do it right? Absolutely. And, would ‘why’ be completely out of the question here?
Evelyn Why the ‘dick’?
