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

END OF PLAY

FAT MEN IN SKIRTS

Fat Men in Skirts was first presented by the Vortex Theater Company (Robert Coles, Artistic Director) in New York City under the author’s direction in 1988. The lighting design was by Mark Andrew; the costume design was by Susan B., the production was stage managed by Lizze Fitzgerald. The cast was as follows:

PHYLLIS HOGAN

Stephanie Correa

BISHOP HOGAN

Chuck Coggins

HOWARD HOGAN/DR.NESTOR

Bill Christ

PAM/POPO

Debra Riessen

In 1991, the play was produced at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre in Washington D.C. (Howard Shalwitz, Artistic Director; Nancy Turner Hensley, Producing Associate). It was directed by Howard Shalwitz and Lee Mikeska Gardner; the set design was by Keith Belli; the costume design was by Helen Qizhi Huang; the lighting design was by Christopher Townsend; the sound design was by Daniel Schrader; the production stage manager was Scott Hammar. The cast was as follows:

PHYLLIS HOGAN

Nancy Robinette

BISHOP HOGAN

Rob Leo Roy

HOWARD HOGAN/DR.NESTOR

Grover Gardner

PAM/POPO

Desiree Marie

CHARACTERS

PHYLLIS HOGAN, An attractive,

sophisticated woman in her 40s at the play’s opening.

BISHOP HOGAN, Her son.

HOWARD HOGAN, Her husband.

PAM, A young woman.

DR. NESTOR, A psychiatrist,

played by the same actor as Howard.

POPO MARTIN, A very cheery mental patient.

Played by the same actor as Pam.

TIME AND PLACE

ACT I

Five years on a desert island and various locations.

ACT II

The Hogan apartment, New York City.

ACT III

A hospital for the criminally insane. One year later.

ACT I

In the darkness we hear Bobby Darrin’s recording of “Beyond the Sea.” The lights come up on a beach. There is no foliage, perhaps a lone palm tree. Phyllis Hogan is standing center, with her back to us. She is emptying her shoes of sand. She is clearly overdressed for a day at the beach. She turns and addresses the audience.

PHYLLIS: I loathe the beach. I am Phyllis Hogan and I do so loathe the beach. To me, it is the very definition of monotony. Just sand and water and sand and water. And more sand and more water. Ick. And look, a perfectly good pair of shoes, Susan Bennis/Warren Edwards, crocodile, and completely ruined! I have never understood the appeal of the seashore: sand in your stockings and young girls with better bodies in skimpy swimsuits. When I was a girl I used to bury myself in the sand. Head first.

I’ve no idea where I am. I was supposed to be in Italy by now, but I’ve been to Italy, and I always gain weight in Italy, so here I am at the beach. My husband is in Italy, gaining weight no doubt, gorging himself on the local delicacies and the local girls—and perhaps, thinking, only fleetingly, “What could have become of Phyllis?” He’s scouting locations for a new film. Something heartwarming about extraterrestrials. I assume. My husband is a filmmaker. He was a director in the seventies, now he’s a filmmaker. He makes heartwarming films about lovable extraterrestrials, mostly.

My plane crashed. It’s a miracle that I’m alive. I suppose. There were eight of us on the plane, including the pilot. Only Bishop and I survived. Of course one died of a heart attack during the in-flight movie. It featured Tatum O’Neal. I can’t say I was frightened when the plane went down—the film was beastly. I just watched the ground getting closer and closer, spinning around outside my window like a top. I just shut my eyes and waited for it to happen: the bang, the crash, the end. And knowing my life was over was kind of a relief in a funny way. The chore of my life was over and I could just relax and wait and see. . . . But then I opened my eyes and now a perfectly good pair of shoes is down the drain. Damn. You should meet Bishop. Bishop! He’s my son. I sent him to go through the pockets of the others. I only have two packs of cigarettes with me and there’s no telling how long it’ll be before they find us. That was an hour ago.

BISHOP! I’ll go mad if I don’t have some cigarettes.

(Bishop enters from over a dune. He is 11. He’s wearing a prep-school uniform. His posture is terrible, hunched over and pigeon-toed. He speaks with a stutter.)

BISHOP: Yes, M-m-other?

PHYLLIS: What’ve you been doing?

BISHOP: What did you t-t-tell me t-to do?

PHYLLIS: I told you to go through their pockets for cigarettes.

BISHOP: Well, that’s what I’ve been d-d-doing.

PHYLLIS: And?

BISHOP: Two cigars.

(He offers her two cigars which she takes and puts in her flight bag.)

PHYLLIS: Thank you. (Out) You never know.

BISHOP: M-m-mother?

PHYLLIS: You needn’t address me as “Mother,” Bishop. There’s no one else alive.

BISHOP: Oh.

PHYLLIS: Well, what is it?

BISHOP: M-m-mother?

PHYLLIS (Irritated): Yes?

BISHOP: I’m f-f-fr—scared.

PHYLLIS: Of what? We’ve already crashed.

BISHOP: What will happen t-t-to us?

PHYLLIS: Someone will find us.

BISHOP: B-b-but—

PHYLLIS: Don’t be gloomy. It isn’t becoming on little boys.

BISHOP: B-b-but—

PHYLLIS: If we’d made it to Italy, you’d be fat by now.

BISHOP (Out): Katharine Hepburn made a movie in Italy.

S-s-summertime. With Rossano B-b-brazzi. It was ad-d-dapted from The Time of the Cuckoo, by Arthur Laurents, and later turned into the m-m-musical, Do I Hear a Waltz? While f-f-filming on the canals of Venice, which are sewers, she fell in and got an eye in-f-fection which caused her to tear all the t-t-time after that.

PHYLLIS: Very good, Bishop. Bishop is obsessed with Katharine Hepburn. Stand up straight.

BISHOP (Out): K-k-katharine Hepburn was born November eight, n-n-nineteen-oh-nine. As a young girl, she wore her hair v-v-very short in the summer and was often m-m-mistaken for a boy. She was married to Ludlow Ogden Smith. But only for th-th-th—a little while.

PHYLLIS: Thank you, Bishop. That will be all about Miss Hepburn.

BISHOP: Her f-f-first play was The Art and Mrs. B-b-bottle.

PHYLLIS: That will do.

BISHOP (Out): Her first film—

PHYLLIS: That’s enough.

BISHOP (Out): A B-b-bill of Divorcement.

PHYLLIS: Stop it now.

BISHOP (Out): Her f-f-first