Pinter
Harold Pinter is dead, and I realize that he, more than anyone, inspired my own play writing, even though I didn’t particularly care for any one of his plays (with the vast exception of “Betrayal,” which is just about perfect.) I never sat down to write something “Pinteresque,” but I always interested in the economy of scenes, the uses of rhythm and silence, and most of all, the possibility of deceit… the idea that something isn’t always what it seems, or what the characters say it is.
Here’s a true story about Pinter, told to me years ago by the great actor and director Alan Mandell, who directed the single best Pinter production I ever saw, “The Caretaker” at LATC in 1989 or so. Pinter was great friends with his mentor Samuel Beckett, and one day sent a note to Beckett in Paris asking if he could visit. Beckett assented and shortly thereafter the two were walking along the Seine. Beckett says, “What’s wrong, Harold?” Harold says, “Oh, Sam, I don’t know, everything’s rotten… my marriage, my writing… I’m so depressed!” Says Beckett: “Well, Harold you’re not as depressed as me.”
After the jump, a scene from one of my last full length plays, MALL AMERICA, in which a woman, Alison, is trying to cope with witnessing a mass shooting, and her husband is trying to comfort her. To me right now, this isn’t so much an homage to Pinter as a bad parody:
Scene 3
Allison’s house.
Allison sits in an armchair, dressed in a gown, wearing a blindfold. The table is set for a formal dinner.
A pause.
ALLISON
Jeff?
Jeff enters, wearing a tuxedo.
JEFF
Honey?
Pause.
ALLISON
I was just wondering…
JEFF
Not quite ready.
ALLISON
Can I take this off?
JEFF
I think it’ll be more fun if you don’t.
ALLISON
Okay.
Jeff goes back into the kitchen.
ALLISON
Jeff?
Jeff re-enters.
JEFF
Yes?
ALLISON
Did you leave the room just now?
JEFF
Yup.
ALLISON
Because I keep thinking there are people in the room with me.
JEFF
Nobody here.
ALLISON
I’d love to be able to see for myself.
JEFF
Trust me.
He exits.
ALLISON
Jeff?
Jeff re-enters.
JEFF
Honey?
ALLISON
I was thinking maybe I should see somebody.
JEFF
Told you. Nobody to see.
ALLISON
That’s not what I meant.
JEFF
You’ve changed your mind?
ALLISON
I don’t know. They keep calling. They say, are you sure you don’t need help? I just hate to keep disappointing them.
JEFF
Allison. You went through a terrible thing. But you don’t owe anybody anything.
ALLISON
I know.
JEFF
Lots of people got hurt. But you had nothing to do with it.
ALLISON
I was sitting right there. He could have… picked me. How come he didn’t?
JEFF
People like you, Allison. They like you right away.
ALLISON
You think he was… charmed?
JEFF
I don’t think about him. And I know it’s hard, but neither should you. They’re going to send him someplace far away. But you and me, we’re going to be here, and we’re going to be together, and we’re going to be fine.
He reaches out and touches her hand. She flinches. Then, embarrassed, she pats his, and holds it.
JEFF
You just need to enjoy life a little. Get busy. In fact… maybe tonight…
ALLISON
What?
JEFF
We could give it another try. Spin the old wheel.
ALLISON
Jeff…
JEFF
It could be what you need. I know maybe it seems too soon, after everything. But you need to embrace life, that’s what I think…
ALLISON
Jeff.
JEFF
And we’re not getting any younger! And who knows, maybe we’ll want to have more than one. You want to be able to enjoy them when they grow up. You want to be there for them.
ALLISON
Jeff. Something’s… burning.
JEFF
Oh, for dumb…
He runs back into the kitchen.
JEFF
(off-stage) Not too late! Not too late!
A clatter.
JEFF
(off-stage) You ready?
ALLISON
Oh, yes.
JEFF
Hang on. Just a…
Pause.
ALLISON
Jeff?
Pause.
You’re probably right. Yes. But… oh, I don’t know what it is. I don’t think the time is right. Things at work are… You know? Although if you want to just… you know… practice… I’m sure that would be fine.
Jeff has emerged, carrying a large covered platter. He places it on the table.
Pause.
JEFF
Open your eyes.
ALLISON
They are open.
JEFF
Oh. Sorry.
He takes off her blindfold.
ALLISON
Oh. This is nice.
Pause.
JEFF
Yes, it is.
Pause.
Well? Aren’t you curious?
ALLISON
About what?
JEFF
What I made, silly!
ALLISON
Sure.
JEFF
Guess.
ALLISON
Jeff…
JEFF
Come on, it’s part of the fun. What’s it smell like?
ALLISON
It smells good. Just, uh…
JEFF
Please. Humor me. Close your eyes. (re: the blindfold) I could…
ALLISON
No! No. Um. Chicken?
JEFF
We always have chicken.
ALLISON
You like chicken.
JEFF
Tonight isn’t about me. What do you like?
ALLISON
I like chicken, too.
JEFF
Allison! Come on, now. This took a lot of work.
ALLISON
You didn’t have to.
JEFF
I enjoyed it. Come on, two more guesses.
ALLISON
Beef, lamb.
Pause.
JEFF
Well, okay. You didn’t get it. But you’re going to get it now.
He pulls the cover off, revealing a roast suckling pig, apple in mouth.
ALLISON
Oh, my god.
JEFF
Isn’t that something?
ALLISON
Jesus.
JEFF
Had to go all the way to Byerly’s to get it.
ALLISON
Jesus, Jesus.
JEFF
It came with instructions, thank God, because it’s more complicated than it looks, you don’t just stick it in the oven and walk away.
ALLISON
What the FUCK is that?
Pause.
JEFF
It’s a roast suckling pig. Is something wrong?
ALLISON
No. I thought…
JEFF
You love roast pork, but you never let yourself have it, because of the cholesterol. But I told you, I wanted to make this a special occasion, and I figured, what the hell.
Pause.
I had to go to Byerly’s to get it. You don’t really have to put an apple in. It’s sort of a tradition, though. I figured it’d be something we’d just do once.
Pause.
We’ll be eating leftovers for days…
ALLISON
I thought it was a body.
JEFF
Oh, no…
ALLISON
You took off the cover and I thought, oh my god, it’s one of the children on the bus, there’s the blood, but why did you put an apple in his mouth?
JEFF
Allison…
ALLISON
That’s why you blindfolded me, so I could sit here for my whole life and you could go get the body and put it on a platter with an apple in its mouth.
JEFF
Allison. Darling.
ALLISON
You SHIT. You shit.
Jeff sits next to her, defeated. Looks at the pig.
JEFF
Allison. I think maybe you should see someone, after all.
December 25th, 2008 at 5:39 pm
I have to agree with you. Pinter was my first hook into playwriting, when Shakespeare was too remote and Chekhov not quite accessible yet. My first works were very self-consciously Pinteresque, without the sense of nudge-wink humor that Jeff Hatcher would have brought to the occasion. Eventually it receded into the background. Of course, eventually my writing receded into the background too.
Pinter was the last of the giants. Mamet would never have gotten to be Mamet without Pinter, but Pinter got to be Pinter all by himself. The only true icon we have left is Sam Shepard. The rest, even Stoppard, is glorified MTV.
December 25th, 2008 at 10:18 pm
I love that Pinter-Beckett story. It reminds me of a friend of mine who confessed to Leonard Cohen that he was considering having an affair. “You have to do it,” said Cohen. “You have to risk everything, or you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened.” My friend started to take the advice seriously, but then he stopped short. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You’re Leonard Cohen. Of COURSE you would say that!”
January 1st, 2009 at 9:36 am
This reminds me of an anectdote I heard about Beckett, from a friend who used to work at Grove Books in New York ( then his publisher).
Apparently Beckett was walking with a companion in Paris on one of those brilliant crystal clear autumn days. The sun was glorious, the air was deliciously crisp. Notre Dame looked magnificent… as only it can. The companion took a deep intake of breath and said;
“Oh Sam, isn’t this the kind of day that just makes you feel happy to be alive?”
To which Beckett replied; ” Well, I wouldn’t put it that strongly”.