In the Wake Read online
IN THE
WAKE
BOOKS BY LISA KRON
AVAILABLE FROM TCG
2.5 Minute Ride and 101 Humiliating Stories
Well
ALSO
The Five Lesbian Brothers/Four Plays
By The Five Lesbian Brothers:
Maureen Angelos, Babs Davy, Dominique Dibbell,
Peg Healey and Lisa Kron
INCLUDES:
Brave Smiles . . . another lesbian tragedy
Brides of the Moon
The Secretaries
Voyage to Lesbos
IN THE
WAKE
Lisa Kron
THEATRE COMMUNICATIONS GROUP
NEW YORK
2014
In the Wake is copyright © 2014 by Lisa Kron
In the Wake is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc., 520 Eighth Avenue, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10018-4156
All Rights Reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this material, being fully protected under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other countries of the Berne and Universal Copyright Conventions, is subject to a royalty. All rights, including but not limited to, professional, amateur, recording, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio and television broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are expressly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed on the question of readings and all uses of this book by educational institutions, permission for which must be secured from the author’s representative: Patrick Herold, ICM Partners, 730 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10019, (212) 556-5782.
Epigraphs: “Nobody Knows My Name: A Letter from the South,” by James Baldwin, from Nobody Knows My Name, copyright © 1961 by James Baldwin, renewed 1988, 1989 by Gloria Baldwin Karefa-Smart, Vintage Books, a division of Random House, New York. “The Uses of Sorrow,” by Mary Oliver, from Thirst: Poems, copyright © 2004 by Mary Oliver, Beacon Press, Boston; used by permission of Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency, Inc.
The publication of In the Wake, by Lisa Kron, through TCG’s Book Program, is made possible in part by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature.
TCG books are exclusively distributed to the book trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Kron, Lisa.
In the wake / Lisa Kron.—First Edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-55936-729-5
1. Women journalists—Drama. 2. Mothers and daughters—Drama. 3. Lesbians—Drama. I. Title.
PS3561.R584I52013
812’.54—dc232013014445
Book design and composition by Lisa Govan
Cover design by Mark Melnick
Front cover photographs: Joerg Buschmann / Millennium Images, UK (top);
Mark Melnick (bottom)
First Edition, March 2014
Contents
Acknowledgments
Act One
Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
Act Two
Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
Scene 5
Scene 6
Scene 7
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Kathy Bailey, Michael Kavanagh, Joann Kingsley, Ben Kron and especially Loretta Mears for conversations that informed, inspired and shaped this play. I am, as always, indebted to my collaborator and friend Leigh Silverman for her intelligence, craft, guidance and heart.
IN THE
WAKE
PRODUCTION HISTORY
In the Wake co-premiered at the Kirk Douglas Theatre/Center Theatre Group (Michael Ritchie, Artistic Director; Charles Dillingham, Managing Director) in Los Angeles, California, on March 21, 2010 (under the title The Wake). It was subsequently produced at Berkeley Repertory Theatre (Tony Taccone, Artistic Director; Susan Medak, Managing Director) in Berkeley, California, on May 14, 2010. It was directed by Leigh Silverman; the set design was by David Korins, the costume design was by Meg Neville, the lighting and projection design were by Alexander V. Nichols and the sound design was by Cricket S. Myers; the production stage manager was Elizabeth Atkinson. The cast was:
ELLEN
Heidi Schreck
DANNY
Carson Elrod
KAYLA
Andrea Frankle
LAURIE
Danielle Skraastad
JUDY
Deirdre O’Connell
AMY
Emily Donahoe
TESSA
Miriam F. Glover
In the Wake received its New York premiere at The Public Theater (Oskar Eustis, Artistic Director; Andrew D. Hamingson, Executive Director) on November 1, 2010. It was directed by Leigh Silverman; the set design was by David Korins, the costume design was by Susan Hilferty, the lighting and projection design were by Alexander V. Nichols and the sound design was by Darron L West; the production stage manager was Martha Donaldson. The cast was:
ELLEN
Marin Ireland
DANNY
Michael Chernus
KAYLA
Susan Pourfar
LAURIE
Danielle Skraastad
JUDY
Deirdre O’Connell
AMY
Jenny Bacon
TESSA
Miriam F. Glover
CHARACTERS
ELLEN, white, mid to late thirties, is funny, earnest and self-assured. She advocates for her ideas fiercely and with enjoyment, and she grapples eagerly with the ideas and the feelings of others. She is a delightful talker, charmingly self-aware, who often pokes fun at herself to soften her excesses—though she does not apologize for her passion. Her efforts to be big and good and responsible are sincere, as is her love for her family and friends.
DANNY, white, mid-thirties, is Ellen’s long-time boyfriend and Kayla’s younger brother. He is a schoolteacher and exceptionally good at it, though low-key when talking about it. He is easygoing and understated, but not simple. Though he doesn’t advertise it, he runs deep.
KAYLA, white, mid to late thirties, is Laurie’s partner, Danny’s older sister, and best friends with Ellen since they were in college, where she was Ellen’s idol. She is a freelance writer of fiction and journalism. She supports herself with a series of day jobs at various not-for-profit social-justice organizations.
LAURIE, white, mid to late thirties, is Kayla’s partner and works as a chef. She’s fierce in her affections and loyalties and though she’s sometimes irritable with Ellen, she loves her like family. She finds talk of politics stressful, and the heated conversations that take place regularly in her home feel to her like a rigged competition she could never win if she cared to compete—which she doesn’t. She is attractively dykey—although she does not actually look like Ellen DeGeneres.
JUDY, white, mid-fifties, is Ellen’s long-time friend. She is an international aid worker and the kind of person who feels most at ease in a crisis zone. She has no romantic illusions that the world can be changed, but she also cannot pretend that everything is fine. It is important to note that there is no sense of betrayal in her critique of American democracy, since she never believed American democracy was intended to include people like her.
AMY, white, mid-thirties to early forties, is an experimental filmmaker who lives in Boston. She is
intelligent and un-self-consciously direct in conversation. Feelings move through her unmediated, and she presents them without calculation.
TESSA, Judy’s niece, biracial, sixteen.
DIALOGUE NOTATION
This is not a play of assertions. The thoughts and feelings of the characters should be evolving and fluid, taking shape in the back and forth of their conversations with each other. It should feel spontaneous. For Ellen in particular, it is imperative that her dialogue be driven by wonder, curiosity and deep pleasure in her search for lucidity.
Double slashes ( // ) in the dialogue indicate the start of the next spoken line.
Ellipses are used here to indicate a character’s active search for the right words or image.
PROJECTIONS
Projected images from television and print news are indicated in many of the transitions between scenes. These projections should be prominent, immersive and immediate. They are meant to pull the audience into a visceral memory of time and place, and to reconnect them with whatever assumptions and frame of mind they held at that time. The content of the projections should serve only this purpose. Though perhaps tempting, it is much better not to choose clips that score political points or invite the audience to easy judgment.
Any honest examination of the national life proves how far we are from the standard of human freedom with which we began. The recovery of this standard demands of everyone who loves this country a hard look at himself, for the greatest achievements must begin somewhere, and they always begin with the person. If we are not capable of this examination, we may yet become one of the most distinguished and monumental failures in the history of nations.
—James Baldwin, “Nobody Knows My Name: A Letter from the South”
THE USES OF SORROW
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
—Mary Oliver
Act One
The present.
Lights up on Ellen. She’s mid-thought in a conversation with her (unseen) friend, Judy, searching for a way to describe her confusion with the current state of things.
ELLEN: Have you ever known a moment like this?
I haven’t. I don’t remember ever feeling like this. It’s . . . an incomprehensible time. On the one hand everything seems fine. I mean, not fine, maybe, but recognizable. Like, not fine but you can see fine, you can see that fine is down the road.
And on the other hand, it feels like nothing’s fine; it’s like we’ve crashed into a brick wall, full speed, and we’re mortally wounded. We’re sitting in this smashed-up car and we’re broken and bleeding—but, the thing that is so super weird about this moment is that somehow we still think we’re fine. We’re in the broken car and we’re broken and we’re, like, listening to the radio and, I don’t know, sort of idly chatting about, “Hmm, what if this car crashes?” And not registering that it’s already happened.
I mean . . . I don’t know if that’s happened. That’s what I’m saying. Everything feels familiar and yet totally unrecognizable, and I don’t know how to negotiate that.
There must be a blind spot somewhere. You know what I mean? There’s got to be some huge thing we’re not seeing. Because if you can’t figure out how you ended up so far off the path you thought you were on, it must be because there was some huge-ass thing you weren’t seeing. Right?
There must be a blind spot
I think that must be right. And I think we . . .
Well . . .
I
have to look back over these past years and . . . suck it up . . . and try to find that blind spot.
Scene 1
Projections: Coverage of the still-undecided 2000 election.
The projections iris down to the TV in Ellen and Danny’s East Village apartment. It’s Thanksgiving, 2000.
Ellen stands, staring at the TV, transfixed, holding a phone in one hand and the remote in the other. Danny enters from the kitchen with paper Thanksgiving decorations and Scotch tape. He wraps his arms around Ellen from behind. He watches with her for a second.
DANNY: They’re going to be here soon. (Beat) You might want to think about turning that off.
ELLEN: I cannot believe the ruthlessness of the Republicans. Listen to this bullshit. It’s . . . It’s . . . It’s . . . Oh my God, I can’t believe it.
DANNY (Singing a meandering, made-up song): Happy Thanksgiving, it’s a Happy Thanksgiving, where the turkeys run free, you should turn off the TV . . .
ELLEN (Her focus on the TV unbroken): I will in a minute . . .
(The phone in Ellen’s hand rings. She answers before the end of the first ring.)
Hey . . . It means that even if the vote count changes to Gore’s favor, the Florida State Legislature is going to send Republican delegates to the electoral college . . . Well, I assume if Gore has the votes his delegates would also go . . . Yes, there’d be two opposing sets of delegates from Florida at the Electoral College, which, you know, then what happens? What? . . . Oh. (To Danny) Turnips. Laurie // wants—
DANNY: They’re ready.
ELLEN (Into the phone): The turnips are ready . . . Yeah, I got celery, what, is she doubting me? . . . No, okay. I’ll double check. (Handing Danny the phone, mock-offended) Laurie doesn’t believe I got celery.
DANNY (Teasing her): Well . . .
(Ellen gives him a look and goes to check.)
(Into the phone) Hello, my sister! How is Thanksgiving so far on the third floor? . . . Uh-huh . . . Oh! That sounds very nice . . . Well. Here on the fifth floor, aka the CNN news desk—the presidential election is still hotly contested.
ELLEN (Taking the phone back): Give me that.
DANNY: “Special Coverage: A Nation Undecided.” (Impersonating dramatic “breaking news” music) Chung-chung.
ELLEN (Into the phone): You tell Laurie I got the celery, the lady apples, the cheese and I got her mulling spices from her favorite guy at the farmer’s market. (The TV captures her attention again) Oh my God, Kayla, I’m going to lose my mind.
DANNY: Okay, soon we’re going to have to switch into Thanksgiving mode.
ELLEN (To Danny): Seriously? (Into the phone) I know. What are we supposed to do? Pretend this isn’t happening?
KAYLA (Entering, carrying a platter of food and talking into a phone tucked under her chin): I don’t know.
(Danny takes the phone from Ellen as she joins Kayla in front of the TV.)
ELLEN: I mean, it’s like nobody ever heard of a recount before this. It’s like it’s some diabolical invention that conniving, thieving Democrats have conjured from thin air.
KAYLA: I know. As if Democrats were cohesive or organized enough to carry out any sort of plan!
ELLEN: Oh my God, in our dreams.
DANNY: Ladies? Oh, ladies. (He snaps his fingers to get their attention) Look at me. Look at me. (They wrench their gazes away from the TV to look at him, a bit blankly) Focus . . . Focus . . . I’m advising you here to take a break from current events, just for today— (Ellen starts to object) Whoa, whoa. Easy. Easy there, James Carville. Laurie is going to be very unhappy if this thing takes over the whole day.
LAURIE (Offstage, calling from two flights down): Kay?
KAYLA: Oh. (Yelling down to Laurie) Coming, honey. (To Danny) You’re right.
ELLEN: Okay, I know, you’re right, it’s just . . .
(Kayla and Ellen both get sucked back into the TV.)
KAYLA: What is this, MSNBC?
ELLEN: Yeah.
(They watch.)
KAYLA: What’s on CNN?
(Ellen switches. They watch for a second.)
Aargh! No! I can’t watch him.
ELLEN: Come back, Florida Supreme Court! Make them start counting again!
LAURIE (Offstage, calling from downstairs): Kayla?
DANNY: Do you want me to go?
KAYLA: Oh my God. No. (Calling down to Laurie) I’m coming!
ELLEN: You need help?
KAYLA: No, I got it. Be right back.
(She exits. Small beat.)
DANNY: You didn’t by any chance mention . . .
ELLEN (Understanding he means Judy): Not really.
DANNY: Hm.
ELLEN: What?
DANNY: Nothing.
ELLEN: What?
DANNY: You just might want to pick your battles today. You might want to think about keeping the political talk to a minimum.
ELLEN: Yes, I know. Laurie hates “political talk.” Which basically means anything // on any subject—
DANNY (Making a dial-turning gesture): You know what I’m doing?
ELLEN: What?
DANNY: Dialing down . . .
DANNY: the intensity.
ELLEN: . . . the intensity. Okay.
(Laurie and Kayla enter with trays of food.)
KAYLA: We’re back!
LAURIE: Happy Thanksgiving!
DANNY: Merry Thanksgiving! Oh!—
ELLEN: Happy Thanksgiving!
(Danny remembers something and goes to find it.)
ELLEN: Laurie! It looks so good!
LAURIE: You know why?
(Laurie puts a bite of food into Ellen’s mouth.)
ELLEN: Oh my God it’s so good!
LAURIE: It’s really good.
(Danny gets his face dangerously close to the pie Laurie’s holding.)
What are you doing?!
DANNY: I’m just going to lick it a little.
LAURIE: Off it!
(She takes the pie to the kitchen. Kayla places snacks on the coffee table.)
DANNY (Opening the box he’s located): Look, we almost forgot!
ELLEN: Oh no.
In the Wake