Interesting Scenes

In writing "All Grace," I've been experimenting with scenes in a new way, playing around with what constitutes a scene, what constitutes "action." All this while also playing around with adapting real life events to a fictional/theatrical world. This has become more evident as I plunge further and further into the play, digging into the form and the material.

Two scenes have come from my experimenting. I'm very proud of these scenes, but wonder what people will think of them. I suppose part of this comes from ushering at the University's Summer Rep plays, which are comedies. I see the audiences come out of the theatre, cheering, ecstatic, they say things like, "There should be more plays like this." Part of me wonders, well, so who am I writing plays for? These people probably wouldn't enjoy "All Grace." They probably wouldn't know what to make of it. And people in the Playwrights Workshop might just rip it to shreds, questioning everything that isn't mainstream or "normal." I know I'm going to get questions about the scenes I've written yesterday and the scenes yet to come.

The first scene I wrote yesterday, concerned Lipchitz on the subway in NYC having recently fled France because of the Nazi invasion. There was an anecdote I read in which Lipchitz saw a woman weeping at her radio and mistakenly thought she was crying for the plight of Europe, only to find out that she was crying because her baseball team was losing. I spent a while looking up baseball scores on the internet for 1941. The 1941 World Series: The NY Yankees Vs. The Brooklyn Dodgers. The Yankees won in five games. A put Lipchitz on the subway with a man listening to his radio, crying. I gave Lipchitz a monologue about the war and his new joy at finding someone who was obviously connected to his plight. This is a comedic scene, which then falls on its head. True story twisted around for dramatic purposes. Not as twisted around as the other scene I wrote yesterday.

There were several anecdotes about Lipchitz' life that I intertwined to create one scene. 1. There was an old hermit named Saint Michael that Lipchitz knew. 2. Lipchitz had asked a doctor friend of his for something to give him a quick death if he was in a desperate situation. 3. In the dead of night, some friends helped Lipchitz clear out his art studio with a truck to hide pieces from the invading Nazis. What didn't fit in the truck, they buried in the garden.

I crafted the scene with Lipchitz talking to Saint Michael. I made the decision that I would write the scene from the perspective that the man WAS Saint Michael and not just a vagabond. In a bit of research, I found that Saint Michael was seen as a great protector of the Israelites. What better figure to help save Lipchitz from the Nazis? Saint Michael tells Lipchitz he is providing protection to which Lipchitz replies, "You call this protection?!" Lipchitz reveals a small envelope of poison, which he received from his doctor friend and explains its use. He even offers to give some to Saint Michael to help through the "desperate times." In the end, Saint Michael gets Lipchitz to throw out the poison and instructs him to empty out his studio and whatever doesn't fit in the truck, bury it and Saint Michael would personally protect it. He also instructs Lipchitz to take the "other sculptures," (the unmade ones) to America.

Earlier this week, I also crafted the Annunciation scene. The Virgin Mary starts off the scene asking the question of Passover, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" She then has a monologue about a strange and violent dream she had the night before. The Angel Gabriel arrives with his message, which frightens Mary, yet in the end, she accepts her role and the fact that her son will "change the world." "Into what?" she asks.

I know people in the Workshop are going to question these scenes. Why this? Why that? Why is his name Saint Michael? Why did Lipchitz get the poison? Why is the man crying about baseball, isn't that a bit far-fetched? Why is Mary talking about Passover (if they get the reference)?

These are all questions I can feel are coming. I'm struggling right now with how many of these questions I should consider, and how many I should just ignore. This is some of my most interesting writing so far and I would hate to subject it to the ripping apart that could happen in the Workshop. Perhaps I'll feel differently when the play is a fully finished draft.