Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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SUD. That's not the play! That's the moving picture version!!! Come here.
[_He fumbles with his papers. Takes blue pencil to her part, changes his mind and uses red pencil--and puts them back of different ears._]
WOULDBY. Oh! Have you the same play ready for the movies?
SUD. I write in columns--alongside of each other. Dramatic version, moving picture, novelization--for magazines--newspapers and books.
WOULDBY. All _at once_!
SUD. Yes!
WOULDBY. What are all the pins for?
SUD. When I cut out a line one place--I keep it until I find a place somewhere else to patch it in.
[_Hands new lines to Mrs. Pencil, who is back of table center._]
WOULDBY. A great playwright has to be economical with his great ideas!
SUD. Yes, if he wants a yacht.
MRS. PENCIL [_studying her book_]. Now I see, now I see--Mr. Sud. Shall I go on?
SUD. Yes, go on!
[_Sud comes down right to Wouldby._]
MRS. PENCIL. Oh! Clem--I was so frightened when I heard about the strikers. Even if you are their leader now, they might turn and murder you.
[_Mrs. Pencil and Inkwell play center, front of table._]
INKWELL. Nonsense, I control the strikers, they come to me for orders.
I'll stop this strike as soon as old Ivory gives me my price.
MRS. PENCIL. What do the brick-layers want?
INKWELL. They want shorter hours, more pay, better light--better air----
[_Inkwell stops and looks at Sud._]
SUD. Go on--go on--don't glare at me!
INKWELL. Pardon me, Mr. Sud--but you have me say the brick-layers want better air. It doesn't sound right. You see brick-layers work out of doors and the air there is--I beg your pardon--it's in no way of criticism, sir----
SUD. Come here. [_He cuts the line, using wrong colored pencil first._]
Leave out "light and air." That's a confusion from bad typing in the serial version. Go on, Mr. Inkwell.
INKWELL [_sits right of table and Mrs. Pencil left_]. See here, Kate, you keep out of this business--I'm not going to be spied on by any woman.
MRS. PENCIL [_in whisper_]. Who is spying on you?
INKWELL [_in whisper_]. You!!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
SUD [_smacks his lips_]. Now we are coming to a big scene! There is nothing so effective as the repet.i.tion of the same words brought up to a climax. Begin again, Mrs. Pencil. "Who is spying on you?"
MRS. PENCIL. Who is spying on you?
INKWELL. You!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
INKWELL. You!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
INKWELL. You!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
SUD [_tearing his hair--going to them_]. Parrots! Nothing but parrots!
Increase the stress--build up the scene--build--build!
INKWELL. How can we build when you don't give us any lines?
SUD. What do you call yourselves actors for if you can't supply acting when the playwright uses dashes!--This is the biggest scene in the play.
[_Crosses to lower left._] The very fact that I don't give you a lot of literary lines puts me in the cla.s.s of the most forceful dramatists of the day! My plays are not wishy-washy lines! They are full of action--red-blood--of flesh and blood! Now you do _your_ part--bing-bang stuff!--shake them in their chairs out there--make s.h.i.+vers run up their spines! Make 'em _feel_ you! Compel their applause! Now go to _it!_ Go to it!!!
[_Sud sets the tempo, repeating their words._]
INKWELL. You!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
INKWELL. You!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
SUD [_shouts_]. Get it over! Get it over!
INKWELL. You!
MRS. PENCIL. I?
SUD [_shouts_]. Get it over! Mr. Wouldby, is it getting over?
WOULDBY [_looks at footlights_]. I don't see anything get over.
