| | The stage is divided into areas representing three different places at various times. One is the interior of a school subdivided into a classroom and a gym with stage; the other two represent a riverbank and a construction site. There is only a sliver of light on the empty gym area. We hear the sounds of a busy school hallway. A woman's quick, energetic footsteps as she passes groups of chattering STUDENTS and slamming lockers. There is giggling as she approaches one group. |
| STUDENTS: | (Off.) Hi, Ms Findley! |
| FINDLEY: | (Off.) Good morning, girls. |
| | We follow the sound of FINDLEY's footsteps as the group noise fades. She opens a heavy stage door. As the door closes, the hallway sounds fade. |
| FINDLEY: | (Enters.) Cassie? Cassie, you here? Cassie! Where is the girl? Cassie, you're on! |
| | Exits. Sound of stage door opening. Hall noises. |
| FINDLEY: | (Off.) Has any of you seen Cassie? |
| STUDENTS: | (Off.) Uh-uh. No. |
| | FINDLEY's footsteps fade . CASSIE at her desk lights a candle and a cigarette, then begins to write. After a while she pauses. |
| CASSIE: | What I remember best about him is that he'd never get uptight. And that's something, 'cause we'd bug the hell out of our teachers. Drive them nuts. Old Mrs. Wendel -- great game to see how long it'd take for her to run to the prince, crying. And Harrison, he'd jump up and down and scream like hellfire was blowing up his lab. And then there is Ms. Findley. Sweet, petite Ms. Findley... Hah. You've just got to hit the right button, light the fuse and take cover. We don't mean anything by it, really. Just our way of experimenting, figuring out what makes each of 'em tick. (Beat.) But he... he always seemed in control... so on top of it, the way he handled us, our questions, our challenges. With him we were always teetering over the abyss. One moment a kind glance, a patient word... almost a feeling of being... redeemed or something. And then within a breath any one of us was liable to be ambushed by his sarcasm, so vicious at times. What was really going on inside of him? When he looked at us, how did he feel in his gut? Was it disgust, because his world, his great love, was dead to us? Only once did I see anger in his voice when he pointed at us and said, "In your heads the universe of ancient Athens and Rome isn't unfolding as it should." He had just described some great battle, and there was passion in his eyes. But at that moment he only saw late-night TV faces staring back at him. And there was immense sadness in his voice when he said, "All I can see here is a lot of bodies missing in action." And he walked out... for good. Why did he abandon us at that moment of passion? Why leave us to rot? What was he afraid of? |
| | Sound of a door opening. The beam of a flashlight on CASSIE. Enter SECURITY GUARD. |
| GUARD: | Well, well, what's this. Working overtime? |
| | Glances at CASSIE's writing which she quickly closes, takes CASSIE's bag, inspects it, holds out a hand for the journal CASSIE is clutching as she shrinks away. |
| Okay, okay. |
| | Takes CASSIE by the arm, gently takes her journal, blows out the candle. Darkness, except for the beam of his flashlight. Exit. Spotlight on the SECURITY GUARD who is now alone. |
| Some writing, I tell you. Certainly not an essay or anything you'd want to read out aloud in class. I wouldn't have given it a second look if it hadn't been for the word "kill" that jumped out at me from the page. "Kill." Over and over again. Makes your skin crawl when you think of all the stuff's been going on in schools, reading the papers. Of course she claimed it was a work of fiction. The characters didn't have names, just "he," "she" and "I." Not that I could blame her. Pretty steamy stuff. If it got into the wrong hands... Well, I guess it did. But I couldn't take any chances, now could I? Had to report it. Funny thing, handing in a paper that was never meant to be read -- not by them. |
| | Blackout. Lights up on the riverbank. |
| CASSIE: | (Off.) "Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier and afeared?" (Enters. Quietly.) Fie, my lord, fie... (She bursts out sobbing. Sound of stage door. She lifts her head.) My lord? (Pause.) My lord, thou art... an asshole! (Changes tone of voice.) Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I know it isn't the kind of language... I'm sorry, sir. But, damn it! It isn't half as bad as the broadsides you're gonna get from Findley. Sweet little Ms Findley. Sophisticated Ms Findley. |
| | Lights up on FINDLEY in school gym. |
| FINDLEY: | Cassie? |
| CASSIE: | Bitch! |
| FINDLEY: | (Imploring.) Cassie. |
| | School gym light dims to black.
|
| CASSIE: | So, how is it going at the construction site? Like standing on top of Mount Olympus, huh? Seventeen floors up. Yeah, I've counted -- yesterday when I crept past the barrier and touched the cold, grey walls of your creation. You're far from us mortals now, balancing so cock-sure on steel trusses and other skeletons. Think us peasants can't hear you cussing up there, huh? I've listened to your words, tattered in the wind and the distance. I watched you pour tons of wet concrete and a pound of your crumbling soul into that Tower of Babel, one floor at a time. Seventeen storeys up you looked like a bumble bee -- yellow hard hat and rain gear and black denims, trying so hard to keep your distance from us even now. Wouldn't be caught dead in jeans, huh? But things have changed, haven't they, sir? You've changed them, even changed your destiny... and ours. The wind that now blows your words out of our reach has also scattered us, the hordes of Genghis Khan Senior Secondary School, into the mists of your memory. Or do you still battle us in your dreams? Do you dream about me? Are your dreams about having lost your soul... to me? Or are they about losing your balls to Ms Findley? |
| | Stretching out by the riverbank she unbuttons the top of her blouse, folds the collar under to expose her neck, rolls her sleeves up over her shoulders, closes her eyes and leans back as if sunbathing. |
| I told you I'd take it off, take my blouse off because it was so hot. (Beat.) But you didn't answer. |
| FINDLEY: | (Enters.) You've been working on Lady Macbeth?... Cassie? |
| | CASSIE rises and, as in a trance, walks into the school space as lights on the riverbank fade. |
| Cassie? |
| CASSIE: | Yes? Yes, Ms Findley? |
| FINDLEY: | How far did you get? |
| CASSIE: | Far, Ms Findley? |
| FINDLEY: | The Scottish play. |
| CASSIE: | Yeah, of course... |
| FINDLEY: | Well? |
| CASSIE: | Uhm... where... where she gets screwed by her -- |
| FINDLEY: | Lady Macbeth is getting screwed? |
| CASSIE: | I mean... not really, not the way... not sexually that is. But she's sleepwalking, you see -- |
| FINDLEY: | Yes, I see. |
| CASSIE: | She's in a trance, confessing. It's like a bad trip. Inside she's in an uproar. |
| FINDLEY: | Well, then roar, Cassie. Roar! |
| CASSIE: | But nobody knows until -- |
| FINDLEY: | And for heaven's sake do up your blouse. |
| CASSIE: | What? Oh... |
| FINDLEY: | And just so we understand each other: our personal fantasies have no place on the stage. Up there your character is your soul. Let's go over it -- where you come in. (Yells.) Could we bring up the spotlight? |
| CASSIE: | "Yet here's a spot. Out, damned spot! Out, I say!" |
| | Blackout. |
| FINDLEY: | Well, that worked like a charm. (Yells.) I really would appreciate a little light up here! |
| CASSIE: | "One - two - why then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie!" |
| | Lights come up. |
| FINDLEY: | Thank you! Okay, Cassie, can we do that again? |
| CASSIE: | "Yet here's a spot. Out, damned spot! Out, I say! One - two - why then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie!" |
| FINDLEY: | All right, let's do it again but with a bit more energy. And lift up your chin a little toward the end, okay? It gives the character more strength. |
| CASSIE: | I feel so weak. |
| FINDLEY: | That's it. The murder has been working on your mind... |
| CASSIE: | The murder? |
| FINDLEY: | You're walking down into the center like a ghost. And here I want maximum emotional contact with the audience. |
| CASSIE: | Any more emotional contact and they'll freak out. |
| FINDLEY: | Then freak them out! |
| CASSIE: | I wonder if Shakespeare would approve. |
| FINDLEY: | I do! End of discussion. Okay? |
| CASSIE: | (Trying to collect herself.) "Fie, my lord, fie!" |
| FINDLEY: | Lift your head. |
| CASSIE: | (Quietly.) I can't. |
| FINDLEY: | There must be something in your life you feel passionate about. Imagine it out there -- above the audience. Project it way out there and then let your voice and your passion follow. |
| CASSIE: | Above? |
| FINDLEY: | Imagine someone way out there in the audience; someone you desperately want to convince. |
| CASSIE: | (Quietly.) Someone? |
| FINDLEY: | And stop sounding like a bloody echo! (Beat.) Okay, Cassie, I'm not going to give you a line reading, but maybe this is something you can grab hold of. So listen. (Beat.) "Where hast thou been, sister? (Pause.) "Say if th' hast rather hear it from our mouths / Or from our masters." That was witch number one, and while she is indeed speaking to her witch sister, she projects her eerie self way out there into the ether. Don't you remember? |
| CASSIE: | Remember what? |
| FINDLEY: | Basic acting technique? |
| CASSIE: | (Mechanically.) Direct your words to the first row of balconies. |
| FINDLEY: | And even though we may not have any balconies, you will stick to the fundamentals. You will not look at your aunt or your little sister or any boyfriend who may be sitting in the front row, but cast your eyes beyond your vision into the deep, dark abyss of your character -- as dark as it may be. |
| CASSIE: | My aunt and my little sister would be disgusted by the language I'm using. |
| FINDLEY: | Not you, Cassie. Your character. |
| CASSIE: | Yeah. (Quietly.) You tell 'em. |
| FINDLEY: | And you should know by now that Shakespeare wasn't squeamish about using such biblical words as "hell" and "damn" and a few others that aren't in the Good Book. (Yells.) Okay, bring up the floods for a moment, and you can kill the spotlight! (Blackout.) The floodlights! (Pause.) Well, somebody hit the damn lights! Stage lights, house lights, anything! (Beat.) Where is everybody? (Her voice trails off stage. She can be heard bumping into something.) Damn! Where the hell is everybody... |
| |
Lights on CASSIE. A second set of lights comes up on HE with carpenter's apron and hard hat. Sound of construction site. |
| CASSIE: | "What had he done to make him fly the land? His flight was madness. When our actions do not, /Our fears do make us traitors." |
| FINDLEY: | (Off.) Lady Macbeth, not Lady Macduff! |
| CASSIE: | (Quietly.) The bitch, not the witch. |
| | She leans back as she did before, on the riverbank, and closes her eyes. Suddenly, she utters a long, desperate moan. HE turns his head and listens. |
| FINDLEY: | (Enters.) Some trip, eh, Cassie? |
| CASSIE: | (As if in a trance.) Cassandra. |
| FINDLEY: | Okay, okay, Cassie... |
| CASSIE: | Cassandra Doris Black. September seventeenth two thousand and... September seventeenth... September -- |
| FINDLEY: | Cassie, the script! |
| CASSIE: | Yes, sir, I remember. The river, the willows, the grass under my bare feet. The sun is still warm enough when there's no wind. If only I could be sure there's no one else around... I mean, I don't want to compromise you -- |
| FINDLEY: | We were going to drop that part. |
| CASSIE: | But now so close behind me, your breath touching my neck. Are you looking over my shoulder? Peering down my blouse? |
| FINDLEY: | Would somebody please shut the door! I can't hear a word. Okay, Cassie, let's take it from the top. |
| | HE walks out of his spotlight. Exits. Construction sounds fade. |
| CASSIE: | Don't leave me, Alexander! |
| FINDLEY: | Cassie, do you want to take a break? |
| CASSIE: | Yes, sir. Of course, sir. It's not the kind of language a woman ought to use. I'm sorry, sir. But, damn it, sir, I'm in love with -- |
| FINDLEY: | (Confused. Lecturing.) The voice needs support. One has to learn to express a character's emotions not just through the voice. No, the voice without body is dead. The entire body has to speak out. |
| CASSIE: | Yes, sir. Of course... Just an infatuation. It'll pass. |
| FINDLEY: | It's called emotional responsiveness. (Exits.) |
| | Sound of construction noise. Lights on scaffold. |
| WORKER: | (Off.) Hey, professor! It's lunch time! Drop your tools and join us down here! |
| CASSIE: | Sir, you are looking well today. Yes, sir? After class? My essay... on Alexander the Great? |
| WORKER: | (Off.) Come on! We're gonna have us a round of poker. |
| | Blackout over scaffold. Construction sounds fade. |
| CASSIE: | Alexander knew it. All of Macedonia knew it that the gods were with him one hundred percent. Question is, did Alexander seduce the priestess or did the priestess seduce Alexander? Did Cassie seduce you, sir? I can't remember! Did you, sir? Before waging war? Before taking Roxana? Before taking Queen Statira to bed, and Princess Parysatis -- and Ms Findley. Before conquering the desert. Or did the desert conquer you, Alexander? The desert destined you to die young. I, the priestess, sit on my gilded rock and curse the desert! I curse Alexander who does not want to grow old with me. |
| | HE has changed from construction garb into school clothes, steps into CASSIE's spotlight, hands her a sheaf of papers. |
| CASSIE: | Not another C-minus! |
| HE: | I don't know where you have been. |
| CASSIE: | In your class! |
| HE: | Seriously, Cassie. You can't expect to get away with that stuff -- writing history essays as if they were Harlequin romances. |
| CASSIE: | So, creativity and imagination means nothing to you? |
| HE: | If you would keep them in some semblance of historical perspective -- |
| CASSIE: | Perspective! Hah. Whose perspective? |
| HE: | Haven't I taught you anything? |
| CASSIE: | Yeah, a lot. |
| HE: | Okay, what? |
| CASSIE: | To listen to your voice, master. |
| HE: | Seriously, Cassie. |
| CASSIE: | (Mimicking.) Seriously, Cassie. |
| | She grabs him by the sleeve. HE takes a step back. |
| I am serious. "You kids should try to bring history down to a personal level: Fall in love with Alexander. Have an affair with Cleopatra. Think of what your uncle Hannibal would do if he'd be fined for riding his circus elephants down main street without a parade license." Only, I've been listening to a different Alexander. Don't you see? |
| | Shoves papers back at him and turns away, sobbing. |
| HE: | Now Cassie. (Pause.) It's all right. I'll read it over again. |
| CASSIE: | For a social studies teacher you're not too bright, are you? (Beat.) The serpent of the priestess... (Gives him a push.) strikes swiftly -- |
| HE: | Cassie. |
| CASSIE: | To defend the Oracle of Delphi. |
| HE: | Well, I have news for you. According to legend Apollo slew the Python and brought the oracle under his power. |
| CASSIE: | And reciting legend is keeping things in historical perspective? |
| HE: | Legend is part of living history. It's stories that are handed down from generation to generation. |
| CASSIE: | Not necessarily true, but still history, right? |
| HE: | Well, legend is born out of the imagination of a people. |
| CASSIE: | Imagination and creativity, right! |
| HE: | (Laughs.) If Apollo could get hold of you now he would put you over his knee and -- |
| CASSIE: | But you are not Apollo. |
| | She grasps his hand and spins him around once, then jumps away from him and runs across the stage. HE hesitates, then follows into the darkness. They reappear under the now dimly lit scaffold. It seems as if CASSIE, weaving back and forth among the steel struts, is among the trees of a forest. HE watches as she keeps wheeling and leaping until she is out of breath and collapses on the ground on the riverbank. |
| This river... My head is spinning. I can't see the current. Which way is it going? It's losing its sense of direction. Or am I? |
| HE: | (Uncertainly.) It's going... that way. It's going east. |
| CASSIE: | Oh? |
| HE: | Southeast. Imagine yourself at the banks of the Euphrates. |
| CASSIE: | Us. |
| HE: | Where Alexander went. |
| CASSIE: | Alexander the Great. |
| HE: | Four years after violating the Oracle of Delphi. |
| CASSIE: | After violating the priestess of the Oracle of Delphi. |
| HE: | An old fairy tale. In Alexander's time the chosen priestess, the Pythia, was an old woman. |
| CASSIE: | What a pithy... But then some men like older women. |
| HE: | Old and wrinkled... and pithy. |
| CASSIE: | They were alone. |
| HE: | What has that to do with it? |
| CASSIE: | We are alone. |
| HE: | Ah. |
| CASSIE: | At the banks of the Euphrates -- a river steeped in history. |
| HE: | Oh, so you did pay attention in class. |
| CASSIE: | Does that mean we are now steeped in history? |
| HE: | Well, you are. |
| CASSIE: | Not me. I get C's in history; you know that. |
| HE: | But your name. |
| CASSIE: | Black? |
| HE: | Your first name -- Cassandra. |
| CASSIE: | It's just Cassie. Well, I guess they both start with a C. |
| HE: | Cassandra, the prophetess. First blessed, then cursed by Apollo. |
| CASSIE: | Apollo again? |
| HE: | Dragged from the temple of Athena and raped by Ajax, then enslaved by Agamemnon. |
| CASSIE: | Those are all A's. I wished I could have a few of them. How about it, master? |
| HE: | Not the way you convolute history. |
| CASSIE: | Convolute? |
| HE: | Twist, screw up -- |
| CASSIE: | Well, then let me convolute you. Your first name. What is your first name. No, let me guess -- I've heard rumors. Adam? Alfred? Andrew? Or something more exotic like Angelo? |
| HE: | Angelo? That's Italian. |
| CASSIE: | I know, wrong period, but still the classics. Don't you think there is a ring to it? Angelo. |
| HE: | Quite out of character. Just look at me. |
| CASSIE: | (Emphasizing the A's.) Angelo and I are alone. |
| HE: | It's getting late. |
| CASSIE: | Late? For what? |
| HE: | Can't you hear the crickets? |
| CASSIE: | The air is still warm. |
| HE: | And before long the owls will come out. |
| CASSIE: | Whoo, whoo! (Pause.) If you keep me warm, I'll take off my blouse. |
| | Blackout. |