by Trilby James
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The language and punctuation. Note how the playwright uses only lower-case letters. There are no commas or full stops, only dashes where a character might take a breath and have a change of thought. What does this suggest to you? How might this determine the playing of the speech in terms of rhythm and pace?
WHAT SHE WANTS
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To assert herself.
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To ascertain who or what Joe means when he tells her, ‘a want to be somewhere else’.
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To extricate herself from the pain the marriage has brought.
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To, as she puts it herself,’ maintain what little dignity I have left’.
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To express her hurt and anger and for Joe to hear it.
KEYWORDS pretending pocket fault guilty forgive wrong fuck justify hurt lighter dignity cut
Maeve
what way did ya mean them to happen – that i would never know and you could go on pretending – or maybe i was to find somethin in yer pocket – somethin to give the game away and i was to confront ya – and somehow it would all turn round that it’s my fault – and although i wasn’t happy with the situation i would feel a bit guilty about it all – so i would forgive you – and we could go through the rest of our lives me thinking what’s wrong with me – what is it about me that makes my husband want to fuck other women – and you thinkin these things happen – that’s the way of the world – is that the way ya meant it to happen – jesus – a thought just came to me there – i know who it is – a don’t know her but a saw her – kept lookin at me that whole time i was in the shop – this girl kept lookin at me then if i caught her eye she’d look away – she runs the pub or somethin – it’s her isn’t it […] doesn’t matter – it is though i know it is […] don’t say a damn thing – i’m not givin ya the chance to justify yerself that’s not goin to happen – you hurt me joe an that’s it – that’s all ya need to understand – funny thing i feel in some way – lighter – when a was up at the hospital today lookin at all those babies i kept thinkin maybe joe an i aren’t right for havin children – that was the first time a thought that – i think that’s why a brought the doll home – to give us a chance to prove me wrong – ya can take one of the good suitcases – i’ll iron some clothes for you […] ya don’t have a choice joe – i’m doin my best to maintain what little dignity i have left – if you were to stay here joe i’d only end up havin to cut yer fuckin eyes out – a wouldn’t be pretendin either
Strawberries in January
Evelyne de la Chenelière, in a version by Rona Munro
WHO Sophie, twenty-eight. (The play was originally written in Quebec French. This version is written with Scottish characters in mind, but works well in any accent.)
TO WHOM Francois.
WHERE Francois’s café, Montreal.
WHEN Present day.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED The speech that follows comes close to the start of the play. Robert, a university lecturer, has come into the café where he knows Francois works. They met for the first time some nights earlier, got quite drunk, and Francois (a would-be writer) had started to tell Robert about his relationship with a woman called Sophie. It is early in the morning some days later, and Robert, intrigued by the story, has come unexpectedly into the café to find Francois. Robert wants to hear how the story ends. As Francois continues, the actress playing Sophie enters and her ‘story’ is told in the form of a flashback sequence. Here she is on her way to work, but has stopped off at the café with a punnet of out-of-season (it is January) strawberries for him. She has something she wants to say.
WHAT TO CONSIDER
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The play follows the fortunes of four ‘romantically challenged singletons’. It is funny and touching and has a happy ending.
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The play goes backwards and forwards in time, characters talk to the audience, and there is a playfulness about the style and tone.
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The punctuation. There are very few commas and full stops in the speech. Watch that, in the playing of it, your thoughts do not run away with you.
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Sophie has a lust for life, what the French would describe as a ‘joie de vivre’.
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She is a romantic. Her gift of the strawberries in January is a lovely example of this. (In a later scene Francois tells her he loves her, but they are in the launderette and Sophie is unimpressed.)
WHAT SHE WANTS
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Romance.
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Experiences that are out of the ordinary.
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To explain and to justify her forwardness.
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To convince Francois that marriage is the best and most obvious step.
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For Francois to say ‘Yes.’
KEYWORDS supposed agony separate tear grab together conventionally/conventional unconventional
Sophie
I know this isn’t the way you’re supposed to do it and that is a bit of a worry but I said to myself life’s short and if everyone always waits for everyone else to make the first move you can waste an awful lot of time and I know you sometimes watch me sleeping I know because I’m not actually sleeping and you can’t deny it, yesterday for instance you were watching me sleeping and I know when we’re drinking wine and talking in the sitting room together until two in the morning it’s just agony for both of us to go to our separate beds and even if every couple tears each other apart and we’ve both made fun of all those couples that tear each other apart I think we owe it to ourselves to try and grab something that might tear us apart. And I don’t see why if we like shopping together, doing the housework together, eating breakfast together, watching old films together, I don’t really see why we wouldn’t like making love together, because that’s something a lot more exciting, it seems to me, than shopping, housework, and old films so I’m asking you to marry me in the spring. I know, conventionally I’m not supposed to be the one who asks but you prefer the unconventional so I’m asking you to marry me in the spring. Or outside, next winter, because it’s conventional to get married in spring. […] That was the moment when you would have kissed me or something so I don’t really know what to say now. […] I tried this out in front of the mirror this morning to see how it came over and I thought I was quite moving? […] I suppose we can talk about it tonight.
Terminus
Mark O’Rowe
WHO ‘B’ – Female, twenties, from Dublin.
TO WHOM The audience (see note on ‘Direct audience address’ in the introduction).
WHERE Unspecified. You may prefer to imagine you are in all the different locations as she describes them.
WHEN Present day. After dark.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED The play is a series of three interconnected monologues charting the events of one extraordinary night in and around Dublin. The speech that follows forms the start of character B’s story.
WHAT TO CONSIDER
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The play is fantastical. What starts out as an ordinary evening for B, soon becomes a trip of supernatural proportions. Read the play to find out what happens when she falls from a crane but is saved from instant death by a flying demon whose face is composed of worms.
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The language. Poetic and muscular, the text is as heightened as its subject matter. You can be bold in your playing of it.
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The use of rhyming words throughout the speech. Make space for these words to land. They are like the beat of music and should pulse through you, driving you on.
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Her backstory. Later on in the play, as she contemplates death, she is besieged by memories. They reveal much about her character and troubled personality and go some way to explaining why trust is such an important issue for her: She had a baby sister who died after only an hour and forty minutes.
Her father die
d of lung cancer.
Her mother had an affair with B’s boyfriend. When B found out, she attempted suicide. The relationship between mother and daughter remains fraught.
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Her name. The playwright has purposefully omitted to supply this detail. What might this suggest?
WHAT SHE WANTS
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To escape her loneliness.
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To protect herself from hurt and at the same time to be able to trust someone again.
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To find love, to love and be loved.
KEYWORDS (there are many) sink adieu depart identical reflex illusion aborting self-isolation forbearance endurance
NB This play offers a number of other speeches from which to choose.
B
Every night at five… […] I leave work… […] and meander the minute or so to McGurk’s; sink one, sink two, then bid adieu to the barman – his reply to me each and every time, ‘God bless’ – depart then, head to the M&S, my dinner to purchase, my day-to-day to adhere to, near to identical all, said days, near rote, you know? Near reflex now.
The bus home then, the silent flat. No cat nor any kind of pet. The sofa – sit. The telly – hit the remote. Reward – the illusion of presence through voices.
Unpack my choices of purchase. Wine: pour, then sip it. My meal: unseal, then flip it into the microwave: shepherd’s pie, my favourite dish. Now, why on earth would I think that mattered?
Shattered as shit tonight, I sit, sort through some bills. The telephone trills, my wine spills on my lap. I curse, say, ‘Fuck,’ pick up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello!’
It’s Lee, who wants to know if I’d like to go for a drink with herself and Lenny, her loving hubby.
I refuse politely. Lonely as I might be, as I am, I can’t abide or suffer the fucker, his swagger, his subtle suggestions; insinuations intimating coupling, couple of times a touch in passing – my behind, my back – Lee’s lack of acknowledgement disappointing. But, what’s worse is that his vying for me’s not just fun. He’s overcome when I’m around with a want that’s potent and profound, which, bound together with his sleaziness, causes me a great deal of unease, I guess.
My shepherd’s pie beeps and I take it, make to unwrap it. The covering jams so I jerk and unjam it with too much force, so it flips and falls – face first, I predict, and am proved correct – the plummet’s conclusion a meeting of meat and floor, in effect, aborting my dinner.
I stare at the mess a moment, unmoving, the checking of tears proving fruitless. Doubtless a symptom of self-isolation, the crushing frustration that ushers one night to the next. Tonight more pronounced, the attack unannounced; my reaction surprising me equally. ‘Fuck it,’ I utter, and phone Lee back, tell her I’ve changed my mind in fact.
She says, ‘Great. How’s nine?’ An hour. Enough time to shower and so forth, check before I go forth, for keys. Pockets. I can’t leave without them. Empty. Now, where the hell did I put them? The kitchen, the counter, swipe them, stop. The slop. I won’t bother cleaning it up.
The bus, the seat behind the driver; tactics for the immediate future: forebearance, endurance, tolerate Lenny; have patience when he tries to harass me.
He doesn’t, surprisingly. Half an hour there, or here, so far, he’s behaving. We’re drinking beer, Lee raving on about saving, the fact that she can’t, when her rant is cut short by this dude exhuding sex appeal, who steals a look in passing, stops and curses, ‘Fuck!’ reverses, and, of course, is a friend of Lenny and Lee’s.
‘Jesus, what are the chances?’ he says, and glances at me with a smile to be filed under, ‘Most attractive I’ve seen in a while’.
This Wide Night
Chloë Moss
WHO Marie, thirty, working class.
TO WHOM Lorraine, fifty.
WHERE Marie’s bedsit, London.
WHEN Present day.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED At the start of the play, Lorraine arrives unexpectedly at Marie’s bedsit. She has just been released from prison where (until Marie’s earlier release) she and Marie were cellmates. Marie is surprised to see her. Lorraine is on her way to the hostel where she has been found a place to stay. She is hungry and thirsty, so Marie gets a pizza for them. Lorraine is clearly frightened, and Marie suggests she stays the night. Marie then tells Lorraine she has got a late shift and has to go to work. When Marie returns to the bedsit at 2.30 a.m. the next morning, she wakes Lorraine. Sharing Marie’s bed they both then try to sleep but are overtired. It is raining hard, and Marie is reminded of her first night in prison with Lorraine: ‘I thought you was a nutter at first… Goin’ on about meditating to the sound of the fuckin’ rain.’ Then Marie tells Lorraine about the ‘game’ she used to play with herself when she was little and, by the end of the speech that follows, Lorraine is fast asleep.
WHAT TO CONSIDER
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The play takes its inspiration from real-life events and was first produced by Clean Break theatre company, who work with women whose lives have been affected by the criminal justice system.
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Strictly speaking they are lying in bed and Lorraine is stroking Marie’s hair. However, for the purposes of an audition, you may wish to restage the scene with Marie sitting up in bed or sitting on a chair. You decide.
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Marie was a drug addict when she arrived in prison. Apart from smoking and drinking, she is now clean.
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Her ex-boyfriend is a violent drug addict. He wants Marie back. Marie tells Lorraine that she won’t take him back unless he can change.
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She has told Lorraine that she works at The Windmill pub on Brixton Lane.
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Later on in the play we discover that Marie has lied to Lorraine about her boyfriend and her job at the pub.
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The immense difficulty of leaving prison and resettling into a life on the outside.
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Throughout the play the women struggle to redefine their relationship in its new context.
WHAT SHE WANTS
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To comfort and to reassure herself.
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To surrender in this moment to the same feeling of closeness she had with Lorraine in prison.
KEYWORDS alright nice rich poor herpes
Marie
I used to do this thing when I was little. Raindrop racing. I’d fix on two drops. One would be me and the other one would be any kid in school who was doing alright, like if they had a nice mum and dad or a nice house.
Mostly it was Charlotte Hughes coz her mum worked in Greggs and put cream cakes in her packed lunch.
Sometimes my one’d stop and hang on another raindrop and I’d imagine that was when I went to stay with Auntie Barbara or Mr and Mrs Dent or Sam and Jason’s then it’d separate and roll down and catch up with Charlotte Hughes.
Aim of the game was that if you got down first then you’d be alright.
Auntie Barbara, she weren’t my proper auntie but she made me call her that for some reason, she used to say, ‘Not everyone can be alright, Marie. The world isn’t like that. Some people are rich and some people are poor and some people’s mothers work in Greggs and some don’t. Not everyone can be alright. That isn’t how things work.’
I didn’t have anything against Charlotte Hughes.
She used to break off bits of cake when I asked for a bit. But I weren’t allowed to take a bite. She’d go, ‘You’ve always got cold sores, Marie, and once you catch one you’ve got herpes for life.’
So I used to have me nose pressed against the window willing myself to stop hanging about and get down to the finish line.
Charlotte’s raindrop usually zig-zagged along no sweat but if she did brush against another one I reckoned it’d be something nice like popping into a friend’s for tea then she’d be on her way, holding one of them party bags with flumps and fruit-salad chews in it.
Once, David Harper was the other raindrop because he had a nan who knitted clothes for his action men.
Beat.
I still do it now sometimes. That game.
Silence. LORRAINE has started to snore quietly.
Lorraine? (Beat.) Lol.
What We Know
Pamela Carter
WHO Lucy, thirties, Scottish.
TO WHOM Helen, an emergency-call handler, Charlie, a neighbour and Cal, Lucy’s college friend.
WHERE Lucy’s kitchen.
WHEN Present day.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED Lucy and her partner Jo have invited friends over and are preparing a meal together. As they are cooking, Jo, ‘as if by magic’, disappears into nowhere, and moments later a teenage boy appears out of the blue. Lucy has never met the boy. He helps her prepare a table for a dinner party and then leaves. No sooner as he does so Helen arrives followed by Charlie and then Cal. What started out as an ordinary evening soon takes a surreal turn as Lucy is forced to recall Jo’s death. The ‘nine minutes’ referred to in the speech that follows is the time it took for the ambulance to arrive.
WHAT TO CONSIDER
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Jo’s death was sudden and completely unexpected.
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Before he died they were discussing their future.
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The play reminds us of just how fragile our lives can be.
