Friday 20 February 2015

Day 19: Rest Is Silence

Slight change in titling from today. I will be putting the play's title in the blog heading so it's easier for me to go back and find them if I need to. Today we had to follow in the grand tradition of silent comedy, Josh Whedon's "Hush" and Inside No. 9's "A Quiet Night In". Now for my money Inside No. 9 contained some of the sharpest writing I've seen in years, any episode would have worked as a small half hour play. "A Quiet Night In" is no different, managing to craft a gripping, engaging story with little to no dialogue. It seemed a really interesting challenge, so I'm quite pleased it's come up in 28 Plays. We had to go one better. We had to use no dialogue. And have a good reason for doing so. Enjoy!

                                                                    Rest Is Silence
                                                                  By Jeremy Linnell

The following should be accompanied by a suitable musical score, underscoring and punctuating certain moments.
We are in a small grotty, studio flat. Kitchen, living room, bedroom all in one, with a door leading to a bathroom on one side and a door leading out on the other. It is cluttered and messy, strewn with toddlers toys. In one corner is a cot with a baby in it. Sitting at the table listening to some music with headphones on is Alice. The front door opens with a creak. Alice cringes, looks at the cot, and in comes Brad.
She gives him a pointed look, going from him, to the crib. Finger on her lips. The babies asleep. Can’t wake him. She points at the crib for emphasis. He nods. Walks in. Takes his shoes off. Slams the door behind him and then has to rapidly go to grab it to stop it closing with a bang.
Alice gives a roll of the eyes. This is so fucking typical. She pauses her music, takes out her headphones and stands up, walks over and slaps him upside the head. He starts to yelp and she jams a hand over his mouth. Another sharp look.
He roughly pushes her hand off his mouth and with a sarcastic roll of the yes and a “yeah yeah yeah” look starts to walk across the floor. He stands on a piece of lego. Ouch. He draws in a sharp breath to scream, remembers the baby and jabs a fist in his mouth, exhaling sharply. Alice gives a nod of approval.
Brad sits down and nurses his foot. Alice takes pity on him and makes a “T” shape with her hands. He nods. She goes and flicks on the kettle. He gives her a quizzical look. Makes a “whistling face”. It’s quite silly. She shakes her head. Points at it. It’s a new one. Turns itself off. No noise.
As Alice is attending to the kettle Brad starts going through the paperwork on the table. Looks with concern at some bills. Then, idly, he pulls the laptop over. Opens it. Gets an irritated look on his face. He stands up, storms over (very carefully) and angrily taps Alice on the shoulder. She turns.
Brad points angrily at the laptop. Makes “fucking motion” with his hands. Alice shakes her head and angrily walks over and slams the laptop shut. Comes back. Finishes the tea. Gives it to him, roughly. Points at the bed with a head gesture. He slinks off to sit on the bed. Drinks his tea. Stews.
Alice sits down at the table with her tea, sips and enjoys the silence. Pops her headphones back in. Opens the laptop. Begins to type. It’s loud. Irritating. Brad looks up. Puts his tea down. Walks over. Slaps her hand. Makes mocking typing motion then waves his hands by his ears. Points at the baby. Alice looks confused, then at the baby understanding. Nods. Starts to type more delicately. Satisfied Brad turns to leave, gets caught on the headphone wire and yanks them out.
MUSIC BLARES. Alice and Brad panic, fighting to get to the laptop to shut it down. Frantic glances at the baby. Manage to stop the music. Relieved sigh. Aaaaaah.
The baby still sleeps.
Alice goes to get Brad’s bag to unpack his work things. A pair of panties fall out. Brad gets a panicked look on his face. She picks them up and turns round with fire in her eyes. He feigns innocence. It doesn’t take. She stalks towards him, picking up a knife as she does. He back off. She stalks. He backs. Stalks. Backs. He slips on a toy truck and goes down hard. She laughs loudly, then abruptly stops herself. THE BABY!
Suddenly a knock on the door. They look to each other. To the door. To each other. Who could it be.
Brad picks himself up. Alice goes to answer the door. She gives whoever it is a reproachful greeting, again, making gestures to the baby and ones of silence. Ushers the newcomer in.
Hannah shows them both some ID. They nod in understanding. Point to each other, make arguing gestures, point to her, make calming ones. Give a joint thumbs up. Hannah nods. They’ve got it. She’s a marriage councillor.
They all sit at the table. Immediately Brad and Alice break in to frantic, gesticulated arguing. Pointing at bills. Each other. Making fucking motions. Mock wringing of necks. All in silence. Hannah looks bemused. Brad and Alice point to the baby.  No talking!
Hannah stands up. Makes soothing gestures. It’s ok. She points to herself, makes rocking motion, then to the baby. She’ll soothe the baby and mediate. It’s her job. She walks over to the crib. Picks up the baby. It’s limp. Dead, in fact.
Hannah turns to Brad and Alice with a mixed look of horror, regret and empathy. She holds their child out to them, showing it’s unnatural pose and listening for breath. She finds none.
Brad stands up. Goes over. Takes the baby from Hannah. He nods understandingly. Places the body back in the crib. Points to himself and Alice. Mimes incredibly vicious, loud arguing, then to the baby, makes clasping motion with his hands.  Then lowering motion. It brought us together, he’s saying, stopped us arguing so much.
Alice nods in agreement. Points upstairs and downstairs. Holds up an ASBO noise complaint. Points to the baby. Makes shushing motion again.
Hannah backs away and out of the apartment very, very slowly.
Brad and Alice return to having some sort of mad, mimed argument over nothing.
End

No comments:

Post a Comment