»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
'HOI POLLOI'
| Passions in Prose |
|
'HOI POLLOI' |
|
|
HAZARD Junior Member
since 2009-06-24
Posts 40ENGLAND |
Hoi Polloi A pastiche. Scene: Interior of a large conservatory overlooking a rose garden in Surrey. It is mid June 1951. Painted whicker furnishings have been cleared from the open patio doors. Cased antiques are piled on a sleeper divan. Renowned actor, playwright Roger Hardwick, (twice divorced) is sat at the tea table with his ex wives Helen and Kitty. The girls are identical twins. Roger’s new play, ‘Hoi Polloi’ written for himself and both ex-wives is being revised for a Royal Command Performance. Roger (reading from his script): ‘Promises, promises, promises! Never spent an hour so full of fake promise.’ Helen: I seem to remember you broke all your promises to me! Roger (continues without acknowledgement): ‘I’ve told Anne there will be a lot of bitter hearts and minds when all this flippancy is uncovered and everybody realizes that nobody has done anything to honour their pledges. God help us! And that’s all I’m going to say about fake promise. I promise.’ Kitty: Why darling, you’ve just written yourself a charming speech. Now charm us all the more by sitting quietly while you drink your tea. Your phlegm is spoiling the tablecloth. Roger (to Helen): Pass me another eclair would you – there’s a dear. Helen: Some promises are made before God and crossed fingers! On our honeymoon I found that out. (Tosses the éclair.) Roger (quickly trapping the cake): There was no moon or honey in the South of Wales. Might one take tea without harsh comment. It taints the Bergamot. Helen: Hardly harsh. Besides, tea, as is often said, affects a mild euthanasia. Some writers should drink more of it! Roger: Leave off! Nothing of mine dies when I take tea. At least nothing I’ve missed. (Takes a large bite of éclair.) You are both showing a distinct lack of civility this afternoon. Can’t we bury the hatchet and just get on? Helen: I buried mine years ago. Roger (mouth full): In the back of my head? Let’s agree to keep life and art separate shall we? (Swallows.) I’ve taken all I can from both of you. Helen: Surely you mean we’ve taken all we can from you? Roger: No, you forgot to take the bitter memories! Kitty: Venom dear, venom. We have discussed? Roger: Discussed, but not agreed. (Slurping tea.) I still fail to find a grain of truth or solace in anything Helen says darling, to me to you or to anyone of consequence. Kitty: Venom! We agreed at lunch! Helen (imitating Roger slurping): Such disgusting manners! Roger: Our discussion was far from agreement. (Points at Helen.) ‘She’ is disharmony personified! (Picks up script again.) ‘I was troubled, she had concussion and the captain brought smelling salts. It was touch and go for a moment.’ Helen: You once said I was ‘Imogen and Juliet’ personified. I’m finding devilish parts much more fun. Do I gather you two are friends again? Kitty: A truce isn’t a friendship. Roger (to Kitty, pencil in hand): How about ‘I was devastated’ rather than troubled? Or is that over egging it? Helen: (Pointing back.) ‘Troubled’, Roger. What’s it like to be commandeered? Roger: Ha ha! My Royal command was earned after a lifetime of performance. It is mine, darling. Don’t take it away. Don’t ridicule it. And don’t dare tarnish it! Kitty (leaving the table): We are modern women and… Helen: – Modernity is our permit to kill. Roger: Kill what – an afternoon? You are both modern without being moderate! Insufferable when together! Hysteria can’t begin to describe how one feels when you two start on. Why I ever wanted to play ‘reunions’ I don’t know. I bristle with contempt the moment I see your Dior labels, patent bags and permed hair. Kitty: I thought I looked rather nice today. Helen (seductively): I don’t see why any of those things should disappoint you Roger! One can tell you mentally strip a woman when you first see her – and that’s your lasting impression. Roger: I learned early on that first impressions are never to be trusted. Wear and tear takes place. But one requires a lure of some kind to show the remotest interest. In defence of my work - it goes without saying – a play is a writer’s blood. You girls spill it like water. Why should I be on the defence from the moment we sit down together! Before, sometimes. If it wasn’t for the money, heaven save us, I wouldn’t have agreed to all this in a trillion years! Kitty (lifting out an ornate antique): Money? Darling, these Ormolu clocks are for the lounge, aren’t they? Roger: Yes darling, I think - Haven’t you been listening to me? I said – Helen: Try the white elephant stall at the next church jumble. Roger: I love white elephants. Kitty:Oh, a card from Pippa and Charles came this morning Roger. They want to know if you will be at rehearsal this evening? They have, well, ‘issues’… Roger (haughtily): Issues about what? About me, about the play? I bet it’s me! Kitty: Money is often the route of all issues. Helen: That little anglophile that swarms over their contracts has been on the telephone again. I made sweet love to him. Roger: Not ‘sweet’ love? The man collects people. He’s on everyone’s diary, without being friend or foe. Shackle the blighter! Disconsulate little shi- Kitty: Venom – venom again! Roger: Will you desist? Pen venom is all I’m interested in today. Kitty: And the poor Clocks? Roger: Waste of time! Helen: How droll. Is that the best you can do in your, ‘prime’ darling? Roger: Timings’ a little off Helen – but you always knew know how rip a man. Helen: I once loved a man to whom time was stretched on the rack for love. One sunset lasted a whole year. Kitty: Oh? One kiss lasted me six months. Helen: Ah, that’s marital physics: all energies dissipate… Roger has a degree in it – honorary of course. Roger: Will you both stop! – Sharp critique is beyond your intelligences. (Gets up and repacks clock.) I took you both all over the world. We saw everything, did everything - met everybody, and anybody, while you slung mud and bullets at all and sundry – until my heart burst from the strain of it all. That pitiful last flight back from New York showed in your eyes Helen; two dark solemn catch-alls. Kitty: Oh, random as ever. Please don’t rage at Helen. Helen: Why I ever agreed to let him marry you Kit, I’ll never understand. He asked me, did you know? Said would I mind awfully if he married my twin, the shy one, not the older one. Kitty: I see. Well, Charles Harting told me something similar one night after all Saints day. We were off to Gracie’s in the Morris and he suddenly pulled up sharp, turned off the ignition, and in an awfully agitated state poured out the ‘things’ I should know’. But why has it taken you so long to tell me Suzy; pangs of guilt or just falling for him all over again? Helen: My, my questions to stem conscience and conceit. Kitty: There’s nothing conceited in it. I always find a mention of Pip stings you into action. Perhaps there are things about Charles you should know? Oh don’t worry. I wont take it to heart. But just so you know. I’m not the only soul manipulated by our confederacy. Roger (stands): Don’t you two ever stop? If it’s not one it’s the other. A slight for this, a punch for that – a man ruined here, a man sold-out there; one cut, one brushed off, one ignored for a day, feted the next? Goodness me. Go slug it out on the lawn. My sandwiches are curling from your vitriol and spite – Kitty: Not ours, and not quite spite. Roger (staring at the sandwich): You’re inferring spittle? My poisoned spittle? Helen: Well, we’ve all tasted it dear… The banter pauses and the director David Burman steps in David: Let’s remember a period piece needs speed and subtlety. I think dwelling on the accented line is – Clement: Damn it! If those two would just stop ad libbing! Here life and art have mixed - like blood and water. May we break for tea proper, David, I’m gasping? Susan (producing a small flask): Oh, I’m bloated with tea – kept sipping mine, even tho’ it was stone cold. How ‘bout a nip? Joyce: Off the wagon already darling, wasn’t it in your contract? Something about salary fines? Susan: Where dya hear that? Joyce: Well, when Clem took me over to the Lacies’, last Tuesday night, he suddenly pulled up sharp and poured his little heart out. The strain of it all had become ferocious – the preciocity, I mean the mean and tardy treatment – your entire lack of sensitivity. I was awash in moments. (Looks at Clement smiling) The last time I came back from Cairo was the same. Our steamer ran aground on the Garam banks and we had two hot nights, most uncomfortable, on top-deck. All I recall is the terrible heat and Clem taking every opportunity to let me know precisely what he thought about Helen and ’93 Degrees in the Shade’. Susan: Staying in character all day Joyce, is bloody irritating! Can’t you just act? Clement: What have I just said about divorcing art and life? I might as well shoot myself. I’m sorry Susan dear – it’s true – but not as bad as Joyce is making it sound. These things get all blown up Susan: And roar into bloody reverse the moment a liar is confronted? Clement: Now now! There’s nothing wrong with a white lie in the right circumstances. – Susan: More method in the pot? David: C’mon, back to work – let’s pick it up where Joyce is caught by Clem kissing Charles. ******* The playacting ceases The director Graham appears, “Alright – we’ll break there. Robin will you take Judy off to wardrobe and try that blue number on. Holly take five. Dress rehearsal on Tuesday, everyone!” |
||
| © Copyright 2009 HAZARD - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
