A PLAY ON %*# WORDS
(Faux Pas de Deux)
A short play with two characters
By Albert Repicci
Cast of Characters
Tony Collins — A budding playwright in his early 30s
Ms. Harriet Hopper – A theater critic, also in her 30s
TIME: The present
AT RISE: A COCKTAIL LOUNGE. Seated alone at one end of a long bar is HARRIET HOPPER. She is dressed in a high collared blouse with a thin ribbon tie fashioned into a bow, an outdated padded suit with a semi-long skirt and high heels with bows on them. She’s wearing winged pearl glasses and her hair is tied up on the top of her head with a string a beads. She is sipping a cocktail as she jots down some notes on a notepad.
Standing at the opposite end of the bar is TONY COLLINS, dressed in a very well-tailored suit with a silk scarf around huis neck.
Tony glances over at Harriet and immediately recognizes her. He approaches her to introduce himself.
TONY
Excuse me ma’am, but you wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Harriet Hopper from the New York Times would you?
HOPPER
(barely giving him a glance)
And why wouldn’t I be?
TONY
(flustered)
Wouldn’t be what?
HOPPER
(irritated)
Ms. Harriet Hopper.
TONY
Ah. Yes. Ms. Hopper. Of course. Excuse me, I’m a bit nervous. I’m sorry to interrupt you but…ah…my name is Tony Collins. I love reading your reviews in the Times.
HOPPER
So does everyone else.
TONY
I’m sure. I mean, like, why wouldn’t they? You are the most respected critic in New York.
HOPPER
Tell me something I don’t already know.
.
TONY
Well…Did you know that it was my play, “Street Smart,” that opened off-off Broadway yesterday? I… well, I thought I saw you there in the press section.
HOPPER
So now I suppose you want to charge me for the seat?
TONY
No! No, nothing like that! I was honored that you were there….really…very honored.
HOPPER
Sadly, it’s my job.
TONY
Sadly? I don’t understand. Don’t you like your job?
HOPPER
I love my job when there’s creative writing, fine acting, imaginative direction. But that doesn’t happen very often.
TONY
Oh…Oh! I can imagine. Well, I…uh…I hope you enjoyed our show. I mean, I hope you’ll be writing something favorable about it.
(Hopper glances at him, then returns to her notes.)
HOPPER
Actually the only thing that excited me about your play was watching the curtain come down.
TONY
(taken aback)
Excuse me?
HOPPER
I can think of nothing favorable to write about it at all. So I’m going to do you a favor and pretend I never even saw it. And therefore write nothing.
TONY
Nothing?
HOPPER
And I’m not doing this for you, you understand. I’d prefer not to waste one single moment pondering that cesspool of banal language that you called dialogue. And that storyline, notable for nothing more than the acrid stench of mediocrity.
TONY
(shocked)
My god! Right between the eyes! You don’t pull any punches, do you? Nothing? You’ll write nothing? It was that bad?
HOPPER
Unless you really want me to. You tell me, Timmy.
TONY
Tony!
HOPPER
You ‘d be better off if it said “Timmy” in the program. Then nobody would blame you for that travesty.
TONY
I put so much time and energy into that play! I poured out my guts in it! I sweated over every line! I’ve devoted two years of my life to it!
HOPPER
Please don’t tell me that. It only makes it worse. I would much rather you had told me that you dashed it off quickly in the men’s room of some sleazy bar between shots of cheap liquor. Your…”play” was devoid of any literary inspiration, drawing ponderously from an insufferable lexicon of gutter-speak.
TONY
Hey, give me a break here!
HOPPER
The audience was held hostage in the dank gloom of that subterranean theatre, condemned to the torture of your trashy expletives and “F” bombs instead of feasting at a banquet of the English language. The “F” word, if I may point out, you variously and conspicuously used as a noun, a verb, an adverb, and an adjective.
TONY
You didn’t see it as creative description?
HOPPER
“Creative?” “Creative?” Quite the opposite actually. Creative descriptive language might have, in fact, made your play more intelligible if not more endurable. Tell me, have you never heard of a thesaurus?
TONY
I was trying to make it sound real. Contemporary. The language of the street. You know, “art imitating life” and all that.
(Hopper angrily tosses her notepad on the bar and waves her pen at him.)
HOPPER
By “language of the street” you obviously mean well below the street. In the gutter. Below the gutter, swimming in the sewer. Your version of drama was akin to having a dog come onstage to deposit its personal filth. That’s what you mean by imitating life? Not particularly entertaining, I must say. Have you forgotten that, as a playwright, you have an obligation to entertain as well?
TONY
(winces)
I don’t think that’s a fair analogy. And that dog thing is just gross.
(Hopper tucks her pen back into her purse.)
HOPPER
Yes, gross indeed. I couldn’t agree more. Your play was nothing more than of one piece of feces following another. Now, perhaps if this dog had made his deposit on the shoe of a villain who was hiding from the cops in an alley…That might have been ironic. Symbolic. Poetic justice. But that was certainly not the case. All you did was keep tossing steaming piles of repugnant language at the audience. I can only presume you believed you were creating something edgy, something raw. Something from the gut.
TONY
Well…wasn’t I?
HOPPER
Oh please! It’s so old hat, wearisome. It’s completely unnecessary. Substituting vulgar trivialization for substance.
TONY
But that language, it just…it rolls off the tongue so easily.
HOPPER
That’s your problem Timmy. It’s sooooo easy.
(she picks up her notebook and puts it in her purse.)
You’re too lazy to create a word picture that moves an audience beyond the gratuitous expletive. As is so often the case with so many writers today you resort to shock language in lieu of substance. And it only serves to expose the shallowness of your craft.
TONY
It’s…It’s Tony, not Timmy. And…and it’s wasn’t that shallow.
(sheepishly)
Was it?
HOPPER
(sighs, exasperated)
Cheap dialogue. “F” bombs. A vacuous script masquerading as enlightened contemporary dialogue. At worst you were playing for the cheap laugh, one chortled by an embarrassed and uneasy audience. Now I’m done with it. And you should be too.
TONY
Man, you really are a bitch.
HOPPER
Now that is perfect. A predictable retort. Your word selection only speaks to my point. You can’t even insult someone without using an expletive.
(she stands)
Read more Shakespeare, Timmy. He was the master of insults.
TONY
Tony! It’s Tony, damn it!
HOPPER
Timmy, Tony…Whatever.
TONY
And that Shakespeare stuff is so outdated anyway.
HOPPER
Oh? Too 16th century for you I suppose? Then how about Edward Albee? Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf! Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor pecking at each other’s spleens. Two solid hours of derisive taunting and acrimony and not one single odious expletive.
TONY
Hmmph. Bet they didn’t use such eloquent dialogue in their actual marriage.
HOPPER
Perhaps not. But it was the dialogue in the script, not their bedroom conversations that earned it the Oscar. And consider the raw, visceral dialogue in “On the Waterfront” or “A Streetcar Named Desire.” A tortured Marlon Brando at his very best. Anguished characters emoting until the bile gushes out of the screen…or onto the stage. And guess what? No expletives! Just raw and wrenching dialogue!
(There is a pause.)
TONY
I guess I shouldn’t have called you a bitch. I’m sorry.
HOPPER
(sits)
I would have preferred you call me something more imaginative. A “foul, bilious, contemptible wretch,” perhaps.
TONY
Oh yeah, I’m sure you would have loved that.
HOPPER
Or perhaps “a bitter haggard whose vile and acrimonious froth sullies all discourse.”
TONY
Oh please, give me a break here!
HOPPER
“A pernicious diva spewing the exhortations of an empty rancid soul.”
TONY
Cute. But you’re getting close.
HOPPER
Here’s one. “You sex starved spinster. What you need is a simple fleshy tryst.” The old standby, when all else fails.
TONY
(impressed)
Hmmm…”fleshy tryst.” Actually, they were all pretty descriptive. “A rancid soul.” Beautiful. And so eloquent. “A bilious contemptible wretch.” I loved that one! How did you come up with all that? Not one curse word and you still managed to skewer yourself like a shish-ka-bob.
HOPPER
(staring down at her drink)
Practice Tim. I mean Tony. Lots of practice.
(takes a sip)
Maybe if you decide to quit taking the cheap and easy way out, you’ll find you can actually complete a sentence that’s devoid of rhetorical putrescence.
(There is a pause.)
TONY
(tentative)
Ms. Hopper, could you…? I mean… would you…um…? I wonder if you would consider…you know, teaching me how to do that? Help me expand my use of words so I can bring my dialogue up a notch or two? I’d like to learn to use the English language better to be able to express myself more fully. Like you do. I mean, not as good as you do, of course. But kinda.
(Hopper takes another sip of her drink. She puts the glass down, then turns to look at him.)
HOPPER
Listen Timmy…Tony…whatever. I’m not your dramaturge. And I am not your mommy!
(she points an imaginary finger-pistol at him and fires)
POOF!
(Hopper blows the imaginary smoke from her fingertip and holsters the gun. She lifts her glass and knocks down the remainder of her drink with gusto. She places the glass on the bar and stands, gathering up her belongings.)
HOPPER
Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m late.
TONY
(dejected)
Oh. Okay. I just thought…Figured I’d ask. I guess I deserved all that. Sorry to impose. I hope I didn’t make you too late.
HOPPER
Don’t worry about it. Just another literary dinner for the top tier New York critics and playwrights.
TONY
Oh wow. That sounds big.
HOPPER
Fairly big. Yes.
TONY
So…are you planning to go straight there?
HOPPER
Of course. I told you. I’m already late.
TONY
So…you’re not going home first?
HOPPER
Why would I go home?
TONY
(slightly embarrassed)
Well, I…uh…I just think…I mean, don’t you want to wear something a little more…fashionable? I mean, a big event like that…
HOPPER
More fashionable? What are you saying?
(Tony shuffles uncomfortably, looks down at his shoes.)
HOPPER
You’ve got to be kidding! I look great!
TONY
Well…uh…I mean…the padding. In the shoulders.
HOPPER
You don’t like the pads?
TONY
Well…It just strikes me that the pads in the shoulders of that jacket…They seem to be artificially placed in an effort to create a slenderizing effect in the waist. Tragically, they do little more than expose a futile attempt to masquerade the truth about your figure. A rather garish and misplaced enhancement.
HOPPER
Masquerading?…Garish and misplaced enhancement? C’mon…I spent two hours getting ready.
(Hopper stares at him, shocked, wide-eyed. Then she reaches into her jacket and proceeds to tug out the shoulder pads which she then tosses onto the bar.)
TONY
Please don’t tell me that. It makes it even worse. I would much rather you had told me that you picked up the outfit as you hurriedly ran through the Salvation Army warehouse.
HOPPER
Hey…give me a break here!
TONY
And your skirt length. Neither long enough to be formal nor short enough to be chic. Very indecisive. It speaks to nothing, exposing a surprising vulnerability in someone purporting to epitomize unshakable self-assurance and…
HOPPER
(interrupting him defensively)
Hey! There’s no one more self-assured than I am!
TONY
Excuse me, Ms Hatter, but I’m talking.
HOPPER
That’s Hopper!
TONY
The length of your skirt. It leaves you hovering in empty space. It hides the full contours of your calf as though you were intentionally feigning modesty. Or perhaps intent on highlighting merely half an ankle.
(Flustered, Hopper reaches down and bunches up her skirt at the waist, shortening it to expose her calf. She looks down, pleased with the result.)
HOPPER
Hmmm. Not bad!
TONY
And those bows on your shoes! What’s with that? A very nice touch…if it was Christmas, maybe. Were they a present from someone who hates you?
HOPPER
Wow… Right between the eyes. I thought they would look festive.
TONY
Sure they would. On Martha Washington. On you, they are not even cute.
(Hopper reaches down and pulls the bows off her shoes and tosses them on the bar,)
TONY
But none of it is as bad as your hair.
HOPPER
(getting infuriated)
Now what the hell’s wrong with my hair you critical bastar…?
( her hand flies to her mouth to stop the word)
TONY
Uh uh uh, .tut tut now, Hatter. Can you not insult me without using vulgar expletives.
HOPPER
That’s “Hopper,” you…!
TONY
You might be well advised to inquire instead, “Is not my coif in proper harmony with my physiognomy?”
HOPPER
Is not my…?
(she stops, smiling now)
Hmmm. I like that. Very eloquent. Now you’re getting somewhere. But you’re also ticking me off. So what about my hair…Mister Tony!
TONY
Well, Ms. Hopper…To be brutally honest, you look as if you’re ready to audition for the role of Frau Blucher in Young Frankenstein. Do yourself a great favor and pull the beads out of that pompadour of yours so your hair can cascade down over your shoulders.
(Hopper hesitates.)
HOPPER
Over my shoulders? But it will just hang there…all limp and rumpled!
TONY
Trust me.
(Following his advice, she pulls the string of beads out, letting her hair fall to her shoulders.)
TONY
Now flip it over your back and pull a wisp down over your forehead.
(She does so.)
TONY
Fasten the beads around your neck and let them flow down to your…uh… your breasts.
HOPPER
To my breasts?
(does as he instructed)
You mean like this?
TONY
(getting aroused)
Yes. Yes! Now that collar, it looks like a turtleneck designed for Katherine Hepburn. Leave the collar raised up on the back of your neck
( he gentle takes the strings of her ribbon tie and pulls down
as it unravels and hangs loosely exposing the top button)
….then…then… unbutton the top two buttons of your blouse so you expose just a hint of cleavage
(She does as she feels the chemistry of his rising passion)
TONY
Now drape your purse strap over your shoulder.
(She does. Tony walks over to Hopper and removes her glasses. He gently taps the tip of her nose with his finger.)
TONY
Now let’s send these little puppies back to Elton John, shall we?
HOPPER
But he gave them to me.
TONY
Why am I not surprised?
(Tony folds up her glasses and places them in his pocket. He takes a step back and admires his handiwork, quite pleased. For a moment, his attention is drawn to his own silk scarf, which he cautiously kneads for a moment. Then he removes the silk scarf from his neck and drapes around her neck, flipping her hair over the back. He steps back again and admires her. He grins, proudly.)
TONY
(Swooning)
Beautiful ….Rapturous!
(Hopper looks down at herself. She is stunned. And very pleased)
HOPPER
(almost breathless while gently stroking the silk scarf)
Oh! My goodness! Look at me! How did you do this?
TONY
Well…Besides being an inept and vulgar playwright, I am also a couturiere….a fashion designer for Versace.
HOPPER
I must say…I am impressed. . Now, if you could bring that same eloquence to your playwriting…
(There is a long pause as they stare at one another, perhaps really seeing each other for the first time.)
HOPPER
(almost meekly)
So…. Would you consider…I mean…giving me some pointers? Maybe teaching me how to dress better?
(There is a pause as he steps back))
TONY
Madam…I’m not your dressmaker. And I am not your mommy.
(points an imaginary finger-pistol at her and fires)
POOF!
(He blows the imaginary smoke from his fingertip and holsters the gun. She grins at him. Then they both break into laughter)
HOPPER
(being rebuffed she begins to turn away)
Touché.
TONY
( he reaches for both ends of the scarf around her neck and draws her more closely to him)
Of course I will. It would be my great pleasure. After all, I spend most of my life dressing women.
HOPPER
Oh do you now?
(She smiles at him seductively toying with his tie)
So tell me. (pause) How good are you at undressing a woman?
TONY
(moving closer to her and with a pause)
Even better!
(They look at each other passionately, He then turns his head and winks at the audience)
THE CURTAIN FALLS
END OF PLAY