Etiquette and Vitriol by Nicky Silver (classic fiction .txt) 📗

The following season it opened in New York. This time, I wasn’t directing. And this time it was fun. I had Bob Falls, who’d directed subUrbia (you see I learned to know a director’s credits). Bob is a terrific director and, my God, what fun to be with. He never lets his sense of personal dignity prevent him from having a good time. Such a healthy attitude! We laughed and ate all day long. Again (am I lucky or what?) I had a great cast. I was a little intimidated by Phyllis Newman the first day and called her Miss Newman. She put a quick stop to that! (Her credentials and talent certainly entitle to her to some diva-esque behavior. But, quite the contrary, Phyllis is a riot.) And I had my beloved Hope Davis, who’d done such wonderful work in Pterodactyls. The New York Times’ Ben Brantley said of Hope, “There is no one quite like her on the stage these days.” He’s mostly right—he could’ve left off “on the stage these days.”

Cripes, I sound like a terribly sweet, cloying mess. So full of love and gratitude. If you met me in real life you’d see none of that. I’d be much more likely to spew venomous gossip about people I hate—and trust me that list is long and growing. But this looks awfully permanent. I do want to put my best foot forward. So call, or corner me at a party for the lowdown on who did me dirt, who’s mean, who’s talentless, who’s ruthless, whom I slept with to get this published and who slept with me to get parts in plays (well no one’s ever slept with me to get a part in a play, but I can plant the idea right here). Besides I feel pretty lucky and grateful. It’s a rare thing to be able to earn a living doing what you love. And all I ever wanted, after all, was “a life in the theatre.”

N. Silver

March 1996

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Aside from those mentioned in the introduction, I’d also like to thank the following for their help and guidance: George Lane and Mary Meagher (of William Morris, listed, please note, alphabetically), Jon Nakagawa, Barbara Zinn Krieger, Robert V. Straus, James Bart Upchurch III, Tim Sanford, Bruce Whitacre, Nancy Turner Hensley and a battery of psychiatric doctors.

THE FOOD CHAIN

The Food Chain premiered at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company (Howard Shalwitz, Artistic Director) July 15, 1994. The production was directed by the author. The set design was by James Kronzer; costumes were by Howard Vincent Kurtz; lighting was by Martha Mountain; sound was by Gil Thompson; the production stage manager was Anne Theisen. The cast was as follows:

AMANDA DOLOR

Kate Fleming

BEA

Cam Magee

FORD DOLOR

James Whalen

SERGE STUBIN

Christopher Lane

OTTO WOODNICK

Rob Leo Roy

The Food Chain subsequently opened August 24, 1995 at the Westside Theatre, directed by Robert Falls. It was produced by Robert V. Straus, Randall L. Wreghitt, Annette Niemtzow and Michael Jakowitz, in association with Evangeline Morphos and Nancy Richards. The associate producers were Kathleen O’Grady, Gilford/Freeley Productions, Andrew Barrett, Terrie Adams, Fanny M. Mandelberger, Richard Kornberg and Pope Entertainment Group, Inc. The set design was by Thomas Lynch; the costumes were by William Ivey Long; lighting was by Kenneth Posner; the sound by Duncan Edwards/Ben Rubin; the production stage manager was Allison Sommers. The cast was as follows:

AMANDA DOLOR

Hope Davis

BEA

Phyllis Newman

FORD DOLOR

Rudolf Martin

SERGE STUBIN

Patrick Fabian

OTTO WOODNICK

Tom McGowan

CHARACTERS

AMANDA DOLOR, Early thirties. A very attractive,

high-strung intellectual. She is mercurial and has a terrific

verbal capacity. It is important that she be very thin.

BEA, Mid-fifties. A Jewish matron with a heavy

Long Island accent. She is abrasive and easily offended.

FORD DOLOR, Mid-thirties. A strikingly handsome man,

Ford is a filmmaker and a man of ideas, not words.

SERGE STUBIN, Thirty. Serge is a sexual being, and as a

runway model, he must be good-looking, although it is

possible that he is less attractive than his confidence would

indicate. Although intellectually out of his league with

Amanda, Serge is far from stupid.

OTTO WOODNICK, Mid-thirties. Hugely overweight.

Otto is flamboyant, Jewish, insecure in the extreme and full

of rage. He is a verbal tornado, quite out of control.

TIME AND PLACE

SCENE 1: Amanda

The Dolor living room in New York City, late at night.

SCENE 2: Otto

Serge’s studio apartment, the same night.

SCENE 3: Fatty & Skinny Lay in Bed . . .

The Dolor living room, the next morning.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

In the interest of accuracy, I have included an alternate ending in this edition. This secondary ending was used in the play’s premiere in Washington, D.C. It is my feeling that both endings work, despite one being much darker than the other, and I have decided to include them both.

SCENE 1

AMANDA

The lights come up on the Dolor living room. It is night. The room is decorated in an extremely young, “hip” manner. There is a hallway to the bedroom, a kitchen area, the main entrance and a powder room. Amanda is pacing, smoking a cigarette. She is listening to some sad, sophisticated jazz, wearing a T-shirt and leggings or casual pants. After a moment, she goes to the phone and dials.

AMANDA (Into the phone): Hello, Bi— . . . Damn. Hello, Binky. This is Amanda. If you’re asleep, don’t get up. If you’re out, don’t call me back.

(She looks at the phone as if she’s just spoken gibberish and hangs up. She gets a New York Yellow Pages from a bookcase and looks up a number. She turns off the music and returns to the phone. She dials. This done, she presses a button which puts the call on speaker phone. We hear the ringing, and Bea is revealed.)

BEA: Hello, Contact.

AMANDA: Yes, hello.

(Pause.)

BEA (Irritated):