the new testament
production history
The New Testament had its world premiere in August 2009 at the Open Fist Theatre Company in Los Angeles in a production directed by Bjorn Johnson.
characters
PRODUCER white or black, fifties, can be cast as either a man or a woman
WRITER white, forties, a man
ACTOR yellow, thirties, a man
setting
A restaurant near Chinatown.
time
Later this afternoon.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: If desired, the part of the “actor” can be played by someone of a different race wearing yellowface for effect. A slash in the dialogue denotes a suggested point of overlap between that line and the next actor’s line.
Silence. Darkness.
Three people sitting at a table—any configuration that you like, as long as they’re seated. It is a restaurant, after all. Most people sit.
One guy is Asian (whichever kind you like—the ACTOR), one guy is white (the WRITER), and the other person (man or woman—the PRODUCER) is probably white, too. Mix it up if you want to make it interesting.
They sit, staring at one another for a moment. The PRODUCER points at a dessert on the table.
PRODUCER . . . sure you don’t wanna try it? / It’s supposedly some kind of delicacy.
ACTOR No thanks. / No thank you.
PRODUCER Sure? It’s made with a . . .
ACTOR Yep. Totally sure. (Beat.) So?
PRODUCER Ummmmmm . . . look . . . this is . . . I don’t even know where to . . . (To WRITER.) Can you jump in here? Please?
WRITER Sure, of course. (To ACTOR.) How ya doing?
ACTOR Fine. Was.
WRITER Yeah, I know . . . this is a bitch, a real situation, it is, but hey . . .
ACTOR Of your making.
WRITER True, right, yes . . . (Toward dessert.) I’m gonna just try this if that’s okay. I love coconut.
ACTOR Great.
PRODUCER We should probably get down to the . . .
ACTOR . . . I’m not sure what this is even . . .
WRITER Hold on, I just want a quick . . .
ACTOR Look. If this is gonna be some kind of . . .
WRITER No, wait, I don’t want you thinking . . . (To PRODUCER.) Ummm, God, that’s good! Try it. Seriously. (To ACTOR.) It’s a mistake, that’s all. A misunderstanding that I’m trying to clear up. Right now, before we get too far into the . . . you know . . .
ACTOR . . . “mistake”? / Me?
WRITER Yeah. Essentially. / In this part, yes.
ACTOR My being cast?
PRODUCER Mmm. An innocent mistake. (To ACTOR.) Have a bite. It’s like twelve calories. That’s all mousse, it’s not even cream-based.
ACTOR No thanks.
WRITER Really? That isn’t cream? / Wow.
PRODUCER Taste it. / See?
WRITER No, you’re right. It’s lighter. Really fresh! (To ACTOR.) I wasn’t in town. The casting—a lot of it, anyway—was done when I was over in Europe. I was at a one-act fest . . . I get a bunch of productions in, like, Germany and Poland . . . It doesn’t matter, places. And so I was over there. Yeah. And then this whole thing happened and I got here, no sleep, and I realize what the director has done, and you know Vince, right? I mean, you’ve worked with . . . uh-huh. He’s different. He likes to . . . what does he call it? “Challenge” people. To push the . . . not even the envelope, but the perception of the envelope, just, you know, like the edge of the envelope because believe me, he likes having a hit, too. We’ve had one together, him and me, and he was . . . well, it doesn’t matter. Trust me, he liked it! So. There. (Beat.) Does that help?
PRODUCER Ummmm . . . / Listen . . . can we just . . . ?
ACTOR No. uh-uh. / Not at all.
Silence as the three parties look at one another. Waiting.
WRITER Oh. (To PRODUCER.) I don’t know what else to say. (To ACTOR.) “I’m sorry.” How’s that?
ACTOR That doesn’t really do shit, either.
WRITER No, I didn’t think it would, but at least I said it, which is, I dunno. Something. This line of work.
PRODUCER I think what he means is: we’re really so sorry about this. Very. (To WRITER.) True?
WRITER Yeah. (Beat.) I mean, it’s not really our fault—yours or mine—because Vince does not listen, he’s like a schoolboy at some picnic, running around with a . . . but yeah. I’m sorry it got to this place. Obviously I am. (Beat.) We’re all human here.
PRODUCER We are. / That’s a good point. To keep it on those terms—the “human factor.”
ACTOR But . . . / No, see, that’s not . . . no. Sorry.
PRODUCER What?
ACTOR That doesn’t do me any good here. Okay? You guys being sorry—I want this part. / You gave it to me already! (To PRODUCER.) You were in the room.
PRODUCER I know, but . . . / I know that. I agree.
WRITER Yeah, thanks for that. Really helps the cause here . . .
PRODUCER He’s right, though . . . I agreed with the casting, but it is Vince’s production . . .
WRITER . . . of my play! You know that! We’ve had this conversation a thousand times. It’s his version of my work. The work is mine. My contract guarantees me “meaningful dialogue” in matters of casting. So . . . (To ACTOR.) And I’m sorry, but there’s no way—that is, none, as in impossible—you should’ve been cast in that role! I am sorry.
PRODUCER Very sorry. Really. / Oh, God . . . let’s . . .
ACTOR No. / No, I don’t accept that.
WRITER Well, now you’re just being difficult. Or what’s that other word? That people use when some Asian person is . . . inscrutable? Yes. / That’s it. And you are being. That. You’re “inscrutable.”
ACTOR What? / You did not just say that . . .
WRITER Hey, you’re the one doing it! I’m just pointing it out. (Takes another bite.) This stuff really is magnificent. (To ACTOR.) I can’t believe you’re from over there—the Far East or wherever—and you don’t like coconut. (Beat.) That’s weird.
ACTOR I live in Seattle!
WRITER Sure. Now. But I mean . . . you know . . .
PRODUCER Maybe we should get back to the subject at hand. All right? (Beat.) Listen . . .
WRITER Fine. I was just making conversation . . .
ACTOR You’re an idiot. Both of you.
He stands, grabs at his jacket on the back of the chair.
ACTOR I don’t have to sit here and listen to . . . “coconut”?! I mean, what the fuck?!
WRITER . . . hey, nice mouth . . .
ACTOR I’ll go to Equity. / I’ll see my lawyer, or some—we can let them sort it out.
PRODUCER Whoa, hold on there . . . / Come on, now!
WRITER Why do you have to say crap like that? We are reaching out here. Talking.
ACTOR As you make slurs about my . . . about me . . .
WRITER When? What’d I say, that your people came from the Far East? Am I way off the mark on that one? Huh? I don’t think so. Look, you’re not French, let’s face it . . . and who wants to be, anyway, in this day and age? Being French is way past cool. / I’ve got some French in me and I hardly tell anybody . . .
ACTOR This is ridiculous. / To stand here and . . .
WRITER So, sit then. Sit and let’s talk.
PRODUCER Please do. Please.
The ACTOR looks around, makes a decision. Sits on the end of his seat.
ACTOR Five minutes. That’s what I’ll give you. / And Chinatown? Why the hell are we . . . Did you do this for me?
PRODUCER Thank you. Thanks. We appreciate it. / No! God no—it’s just a restaurant. (Beat.) Now listen, we’re very, very . . .
WRITER Hey, don’t speak for me. (To ACTOR.) I’m happy to talk about this but let’s not get all . . . you know, weepy here. Please. I’m as much the injured party as you, I don’t care what you think.
PRODUCER . . . can we not get into the . . . ?
ACTOR Excuse me? (To WRITER.) You’re what?
WRITER Actors come and go, pal—you guys are the furniture, okay? What I write is the house. Let’s not get all precious about it . . .
ACTOR I can’t believe the shit that comes out of your mouth . . . I mean, for being a . . .
WRITER Yeah? Well, maybe you should come out of the gym once a week and take a look at the world around you. Okay?
ACTOR What does that mean?
WRITER It means—and I’m not alone in this—you’re not the most beloved species on the planet, my friend. / The “act-or.”
ACTOR Oh really? / (To PRODUCER.) Is that right?
PRODUCER Well . . . we try not to be too . . . but it’s . . . Gentlemen, this really isn’t getting us anywhere, so can we just . . .
WRITER Pretty much. And I need you guys! Ask the common person who goes to the movies or buys HBO or maybe goes to see a play, like, oh, maybe every eight months . . . They think you’re a bunch of overpaid jackasses who can’t keep it in your pants for more than six minutes at a time. You don’t like what’s happened here? Huh? Go cry on a sack of money. Most people work for a living . . .
The ACTOR looks back and forth at the defiant WRITER and the sheepish PRODUCER. Stands.
ACTOR Amazing how fast five minutes goes . . . (To PRODUCER.) I’ll see you in court.
WRITER Not before I see you doing The Mikado.
The ACTOR starts to lunge at the WRITER, and the PRODUCER jumps to his/her feet, blocking him.
PRODUCER Stop it! Both of you!
Before the ACTOR can get away the PRODUCER wraps an arm around his shoulder. Holding him tight.
ACTOR Please let go of me . . . / Stop it!
PRODUCER Come on, now, please . . . / Let me just lay out the offer we were going to . . .
WRITER Let him go . . . For God’s sake, you’re just embarrassing everybody with your . . .
PRODUCER Stay out of this for a minute! (To ACTOR.) We have an offer for you. A real offer of substance—can’t you please just hear it out? Please?
WRITER The guy’s a hothead . . . It’s like dealing with North Korea. I mean . . .
The PRODUCER holds onto the ACTOR for dear life—after a moment, he calms down and listens. Still breathing hard.
ACTOR I’ll speak with you . . . (To WRITER.) Not to him.
WRITER Oh, sure, the one with the money you’ll listen to. That sounds about right.
PRODUCER Just eat the dessert for a second, okay?! Can you just . . . ?
The WRITER is about to say something else but lets it go. Takes another bite of dessert.
WRITER This thing really is amazing—there’s a layer of lemon zest or something in it, and then . . . I dunno, I’d say “cake” but that’s not right . . . it’s almost like a flaky . . .
The others look over at him—waiting for him to finish.
WRITER What? It’s good, I can’t help it. I’m an artist—I appreciate art. (To PRODUCER.) Go ahead, say what you were saying . . .
PRODUCER All right, listen—obviously this is a very delicate situation and we’re not trying to offend you here, or the community at large or whatever. / Your race. Anyone.
ACTOR Fine. / All right, and?
PRODUCER And . . . we are willing to offer you another part in the company. Of equal value if at all possible . . . or we might be willing . . .
ACTOR How are you gonna do that? Huh?
PRODUCER Well . . .
WRITER Hey, there’s some good roles in there . . .
ACTOR Yeah, but . . . that’s not . . .
PRODUCER Right, and we feel that you might be . . . a man of your talents and, and . . . of your many qualities might be excellent as . . .
ACTOR You cast me as Jesus! Jesus! What part is gonna be equal to that? / Tell me . . .
The WRITER and the PRODUCER nod at each other—they are trying to think on their feet but it’s not happening.
PRODUCER Yes, that’s true, but . . . / Well, there’s many . . . Judas is good . . . or, ummmm . . .
ACTOR Oh, I see! I had the lead, but now you’ll let me play the bad guy! / No, I get it . . .
PRODUCER That’s not the . . . / He isn’t so bad . . .
ACTOR He betrays Christ! He’s the villain!
WRITER Yeah, and?
ACTOR So, it’s okay for the Asian guy to play that, to be all . . . but not Jesus! Right?
WRITER No, that’s not . . . You’re being a bit simplistic. / It’s a revisionist piece, anyway, and Judas has a number of real insights throughout that are . . . Didn’t you ever see Jesus Christ Superstar? Black dude stole the show—plus, in this one he’s got all the laughs! Seriously, all.
ACTOR Oh really . . . / I don’t care! I’m Jesus!
WRITER But we didn’t cast you! I mean, I didn’t and that’s all that matters to me. (Beat.) I’m sorry, but you can’t play the son of God. Nope. Can’t. Is not gonna happen . . .
ACTOR And why not? (Beat.) Go on, tell me . . . I’d like to hear you say it. (Beat.) Why not?
WRITER Ummm . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t bring my copy of The Last Supper with me today, I was traveling light, but if you’d care to go upstairs into any room—that’s any, of the, say, ohh, three hundred plus rooms here at the Hilton—you will find a nice little Bible waiting for you in the chest of drawers. Crack it open, glance at any of the many pictures inside of Jesus. The Savior. Of all mankind, buddy. Even you and your bunch—he’s not a Chinaman. Okay? I don’t wanna get into a pissing contest with you or anything, but he’s not. He’s not a black man, he’s not a lady, and he isn’t some alien from Mars. It’s just a cold, hard fact and you can lash out . . . do your little dance and point fingers, blame whoever you want for being born who you are but the fact remains: he looked like this. (Points to own face.) Like me. He did and that’s just the way it goes. (Beat.) I mean, God, you’re making this so demeaning and ugly and if the shoe was on the other . . . you would not cast me to act in a show about . . . well, whoever. Buddha or somebody like that. Was he a god for you guys? I don’t even know now, I’m so worked up about this—I believe he was. Or some kinda religious deal. The Dalai Lama. I’m not sure which type you are. Korean? I don’t know and that doesn’t immediately make me a racist. It doesn’t. I didn’t see your resume so I’m just out here guessing—I knew a Korean girl in college that I got very close to and you have a similar look to hers. The bigger forehead thing and a bit of a—anyway—that’s all I’ve got to say. There. (Beat.) It’s, like, imagine Brad Pitt in Raisin in the Sun! Crazy, right? You’d never do something as stupid as that, would you? / Right?
ACTOR That’s not even . . . / . . . the same . . .
PRODUCER God, I’d produce that in a second! I mean if he’d do it. That’d sell like a . . .
WRITER Not. Helping. (To PRODUCER.) Shhhh!
PRODUCER Sorry . . . so. / (To ACTOR.) I am prepared to make an offer. To you. Right now.
ACTOR Oh-my-God . . . / You did not just say all that shit to me. I am going to pretend that I fell asleep and, and . . . I had a really disturbing dream that is about to be over. Is over, right now, because . . .
WRITER So, go on then, get all smart about it—can you deny what I’m saying? Huh? Jesus was not some . . . Indonesian guy! He just wasn’t.
ACTOR I’m not Indonesian! Jesus Christ!
WRITER Exactly! That’s his name—“Jesus Christ.” Not “Jesus Fujihama-Kurosawa!” Sorry.
ACTOR You are such a fucking . . . moron . . .
WRITER . . . and now the name-calling starts . . .
PRODUCER Guys, can we please just . . . please!
ACTOR How can you write such beautiful stuff? Hmm? How?! WRITER It’s called “talent,” okay? I mean . . .
ACTOR But such lovely language and ideas and, and . . . you’re this . . . no, no, no! It’s not right! / It’s impossible!
WRITER Oh, please. / I say one thing about you as a person—I didn’t make you Asian, it’s not my fault—and you gotta go straight at my work and my, my, whatever! Saying shit about my ability to, to, to . . .
ACTOR This can’t be happening!
PRODUCER Let me just lay out the proposal that we have for you here . . . / But it’s very . . .
ACTOR No! No! / And why shouldn’t I be able to play Jesus, anyway? Why not? Color-blind casting is a regular part of the American theater—it’s practically passé!
WRITER That’s right! It is, and I don’t want to be passé! Okay? Do you mind? It’s my show!
ACTOR That’s just ignorant. You’re a foolish . . .
WRITER Says you. An out-of-work Asian guy. (To PRODUCER.) Can’t we just throw some money at this guy and make him go away? Sandy?
The PRODUCER shakes his/her head—the WRITER throws his hands up in the air.
ACTOR No. You can’t. (Beat.) I have a contract.
WRITER Lucky you. Only thing keeping me from asking you outside to settle this.
ACTOR Go ahead. I’m a black belt, shithead.
WRITER Wow. What a surprise . . . an Asian who knows karate.
ACTOR Oh-my-God! Is everything that comes out of your mouth offensive?!
WRITER About seventy percent.
PRODUCER . . . that might be a little low . . . (Gets a look from WRITER.) Come on, Steve, I’m not saying anything new here. You’re a bit of a . . . (Beat.) What?! I’m just mentioning . . .
The WRITER throws the PRODUCER another look—“whose side are you on?”
WRITER Whatever! (Beat.) Listen, bud . . . I don’t give two shits about color-blind casting or what’s fair or any of that crap. I did not put your family in an internment camp or come up with the idea of slavery or . . . who knows what? What’s the South African thing that I always mix up with “apathy”? (Thinks.) “Apartheid!” That wasn’t me, so just get down off your high horse, okay?
PRODUCER Look, let me just lay out our plan so I can . . . I want us to remain friendly here! Even if money is exchanged, we’d like to, you know, still be . . .
WRITER Why do we have to buy this guy off? Huh? Why can’t we just say what we feel to a person without having to pay for it? It’s such a crock of . . . It’s wrong, that’s what it is. (To PRODUCER.) It’s blackmail, pure and simple, let’s at least call it by its real name. “Blackmail.”
PRODUCER No, now let’s not get all . . . No one’s said anything about . . .
ACTOR It’s not blackmail!—I’m simply fighting for what’s right here! Not my dignity or the idea of, you know, the theater as a place where the imagination can run and be free . . . not for any of that . . . this is a simple case of right and wrong!
WRITER . . . I have a meeting at one, so can you get to the point?
ACTOR The point is this! Here is the goddamn point—I was hired, by a director who is directing this play, interpreting it in his own way and being paid by you, the producer of said show, to do just that. (Beat.) Now, I may be a quirky choice, I might be, that’s true, I might be . . . a surprising choice, who knows, but maybe I’m an inspired choice, that’s what I think—when he cast me I didn’t get all excited just because I booked the job, I was thrilled that someone today was willing to take a chance like this. To put a foot down against tired old values and a stock way of seeing things. (Beat.) I want to play “Jesus” because Jesus is love and anybody should be able to play that. Any person on earth is supposed to be able to reach to those heights, and so why not me? Hmmmm? Why shouldn’t I, in this day and age, how come it shouldn’t be someone of my background out there as much as anyone else? This is what we need. The world, I mean. (To WRITER.) Your words are so beautiful in this thing . . . you show such understanding and warmth . . . Why can’t you see this? Why don’t you realize how much good could come from our production as it puts its hands out to the audience and says: “This is the face of Jesus today. This is the true power of God. Without color. Without judgment . . . ” (ACTOR gets a little teary now.) I’m sorry, but this obviously means a great deal to me.
The WRITER and the PRODUCER sit, looking at him. Silence as the words of the ACTOR wash over them for a moment.
PRODUCER Well . . . that was really impassioned, thank you for that, Lee. / No, I mean it.
ACTOR It’s how I feel. / Can’t help it . . .
WRITER Are you gay?
ACTOR Excuse me?
WRITER No, I’m just curious—the way you went on and on there, it just made me wonder. Are you?
ACTOR You can’t ask me that.
WRITER Since when is that a secret? Most gays I know have practically tattooed rainbows on their asses, they’re sooo excited to tell you about their . . . you know . . . all that faggy stuff about ’em. This and that and their favorite designers . . . and . . .
ACTOR So?
WRITER And now I ask you and you don’t wanna say anything about it?
ACTOR Look, an actor’s sexuality shouldn’t have anything to do with playing a part, or . . .
WRITER I didn’t say it did. I just asked you a question . . . Do-you-like-guys?
PRODUCER Gentlemen, this might not be the time . . .
WRITER . . . are you gonna finish that dessert?
ACTOR Then when is? Huh?! When are you supposed to confront ignorance and prejudice and, and . . . blind intolerance?! You tell me . . . you’re the one with all the Tonys, so why don’t you tell me when? (To PRODUCER.) You’ve got a chance to do the right thing here—to continue doing what you already felt in your heart, but you have to be a little bit brave, just this much—(shows this with his fingers)—come on, Sandy, it’s not so far to go, to do a good and honest thing, just a little further! If you do, so many people will applaud you and get behind all of your work, not just this play but everything you do. / They honestly will . . .
PRODUCER But . . . / You need to understand the fine print of my . . . the complications of . . . It is not a simple case of me being able to do anything I want. (To ACTOR.) If it was just me then there might be a . . .
ACTOR Please! I’m begging you now, not just for me but for everyone, people of all faiths and creeds and colors . . . all of us . . .
WRITER Hey, Bruce Lee, just so you know? Creeds and faiths are pretty much the same deal. Not exactly, but almost, so . . . ACTOR I’m not talking to you right now!
WRITER Yeah, but you shouldn’t make yourself look stupid if you can help it . . .
ACTOR Fine! You know what I’m saying! (Back to PRODUCER.) People will accept this, if we play it with the proper sensitivity . . . the correct amount of gravitas that any play of this nature deserves. They know we’re not just fucking around here—they can see we’re doing something really new and special and that all our hearts—most of them, anyway—are in the right place. It could really be something momentous, a rare thing.
WRITER Yeah?
ACTOR Yes! I feel it. In my very bones . . . and in my soul. That deep inside me.
WRITER Right, but no offense, you guys eat dogs for lunch and many of us in the West here find that disgusting, so . . .
ACTOR I’m not Korean, you prick! I’m of Chinese descent but I was born in Idaho! I-da-ho. You got that? / My God . . .
WRITER Huh. / Interesting . . .
PRODUCER All right, look, can we all just decide to take a step back here and see if we can find some common ground? Please?
WRITER I like egg drop soup—does that count?
ACTOR You’re a fucking dick, you know that?
WRITER Kinda.
PRODUCER Listen, guys, this isn’t helping us—we have to find a way to ...
WRITER Okay, fine. (Turns to ACTOR.) How you feel about Othello?
PRODUCER Steve, can we just . . . ? (Beat.) You always bring this up when we get into a conversation about . . . / It doesn’t matter . . .
WRITER No, hold on . . . / It’s a legitimate thing I’m asking here! In light of all the rest of what’s going down. (To ACTOR.) So? How do you feel about white guys playing that part?
ACTOR Ummm, I dunno. It’s complicated. It’s a beautiful play. I do love Shakespeare—I got the chance to play “Prince Hal” for Anne Bogart at Columbia when I was a senior.
WRITER . . . figures. (To himself.) A chick.
ACTOR Excuse me?
WRITER Nothing. Go ahead.
ACTOR It was amazing. Great production.
WRITER So, you were “Hal,” English prince who becomes the King of England. That “Hal”?
ACTOR Yes. That one. (Beat.) Any problems with that?
PRODUCER Guys, let’s . . . just . . .
ACTOR No, he asked me. I want to hear what he has to say. (To WRITER.) Go on.
WRITER It’s fine. It’s whatever you want, that’s the beauty of theater, right? It’s all a big illusion, so I guess that just makes it open season for people like you to . . . play your kinda parts and then whatever else you feel like grabbing from . . .
ACTOR What does that mean? “People like me”?
WRITER It’s all fake! We know it is, so it’s no big deal if you wanna add insult to, you know, injury . . . go play the king or, or the “queen,” for that matter, because . . .
ACTOR I’m not gay! / Stupid bastard . . .
PRODUCER This isn’t helping! / Can we stop now?!
WRITER I didn’t mean that! I’m saying if it was a movie it’d be different—which is kind of odd, when you think about it, they’re just pictures run past our eyes so fast that it seems real but it’s not—but we demand a certain kind of truth there. If ol’ Anne whatever-her-name-is was making a film she couldn’t get away with that shit, that’s what I’m saying . . . (Beat.) But it’s just a play, it’s all just make-believe, anyway, right? So let’s go get bombed out of our skulls in the lobby bar and “pretend” that all this is possible—theater is just so full of shit now it’s almost entirely lost its ability to, to connect with people . . . its audience. And stuff like this—I’m sorry but an Asian “Jesus”—it is just paving the way for folks to turn and walk the other way. To say “forget this crap, it’s bullshit . . . ” (To PRODUCER.) So, do what you want. You love the idea so damn much, I’m not gonna stand in your way. I’m just the guy who was pacing in the wings pointing out how fucking absurd the idea is. A yellow Jesus! I mean, please! Just . . . please. Okay? You guys do it and be cutting-edge and so cool and all that, but just remember this conversation and that one guy—me—one of us had the balls to shake his head and be that voice of reason. The unpopular one . . . the fascist who actually has a point when everybody stops screaming in his face and takes a look around—I’ll be the one who is standing there shrugging his shoulders and saying “I told ya so” when we close out-of-town. When the only place you can sell a ticket is Guam, I’ll be that guy reminding you that the gods were looking down and they did not approve. (To ACTOR.) You are not “Jesus,” I’m sorry, dude, but it’s true. Facts are facts.
ACTOR You just don’t get it . . . you’re so . . .
WRITER No, you don’t! You’re stubborn and you’ve got an ego the size of . . . Mongolia. (Beat.) Sorry. That was uncalled for. You are one talented guy, I get that—I enjoy you on your show, I watch it regularly—and you can be a lot of different people, true, transform your persona into a variety of folks, but not Jesus. Not the son of God and redeemer of all mankind. It just doesn’t matter how you twist or turn it, you cannot be him. I’m sorry, but you just can’t . . .
The men stop now, staring at each other. Quiet descends.
WRITER A line has to be drawn somewhere and this is right about where I draw it—somewhere out there is an audience who wants to see Genghis Khan play Henry V, then okay, that is cool by me, but I’m the guy who wrote this play and I get a say. I get to step up and put my foot down and the time for that is now. The Jesus in my play is one of those . . . you know . . . he’s a white dude! And don’t do the whole “look where he’s from . . . probably looked like Cat Stevens” game with me, either. Don’t-give-a-shit. In my world, he’s white. Blue eyes and some . . . longish hair. He’s cute, but not too cute. Not girly . . . (Beat.) That’s what I’m trying to say to you here, Lee, and it’s not anything for you to take offense at: that guy is not you. It’s so simple, really, and unless you’re up for playing him in whiteface, then I’m of the mind-set that you should take the very generous offer of our fine producer here and back out of the party with as much grace and “by your leave” as you can muster. All right? Enjoy your hiatus . . . (Beat.) Can we sign something now and get this going or what?
Silence. The ACTOR looks at both of the other people and then puts out a hand. Snaps his fingers.
ACTOR Fine! Let me see it, then . . . come on.
The PRODUCER sits up and gropes around in his/her pocket; he/ she pulls out an envelope. Removes a document from it and hands it over to the ACTOR, who scans it.
WRITER Nice, huh? Healthy little donation to your retirement fund there . . .
ACTOR It is. Very nice. (Beat.) Wow.
PRODUCER We’re trying to show you some respect. I know it seems like we’re . . . but we are.
ACTOR No, I can see that, it’s . . . My goodness.
WRITER We should’ve done this in the beginning. Right from the . . . you know? (To PRODUCER.) This is how shit gets done. With cash.
ACTOR . . . right . . . okay, I’m . . . huh.
PRODUCER And I’m happy to speak with my colleagues about you for my next show . . . We’re doing a revival starting in San Diego around this time next year, so . . .
ACTOR Really? What is it?
PRODUCER Oh, it’s, ahhh . . . a musical.
ACTOR Yeah? Which?
PRODUCER Flower Drum Song. / But that’s not the reason that I’m . . . / I wasn’t implying . . .
ACTOR Oh. / Uh-huh. / Yeah. Sure.
The ACTOR shakes his head, mumbles something to himself, then turns to the PRODUCER and WRITER. Smiles.
ACTOR . . . all right. / Okay, I’ll do it.
WRITER What? / You will? For sure, without all the . . .
ACTOR Absolutely. Without question.
WRITER Perfect!
PRODUCER Oh, great. Whew! What a relief . . .
WRITER Shake on it? / (To ACTOR.) Come on, a handshake is everything where I grew up. It’s totally binding . . .
ACTOR Ummmm . . . / Sure . . . of course. Why not?
The two men shake hands wholeheartedly. The PRODUCER is quick to grab back the document and smooths it out. A pen appears magically in his/her hand.
PRODUCER This is really . . . if you’ll just sign on the two lines there, we can get the . . .
ACTOR No need.
PRODUCER Excuse me?
WRITER No, you gotta sign. That’s part of the whole . . . thing. For us. You have to sign.
ACTOR Why?
WRITER Because you’re . . . we need to have a . . .
ACTOR I already agreed to do it.
WRITER Yeah, exactly! So you have to . . .
ACTOR No, I’m sorry. You didn’t understand—I’m agreeing to play the part. Jesus. / In makeup. White makeup.
WRITER . . . what? / Are you . . . ? No, no, no, no . . .
ACTOR Should be very interesting. / Very.
WRITER What? No! / You’re not serious!
ACTOR Deadly.
WRITER But . . . but! (To the PRODUCER.) He can’t do that! He can’t just . . .
ACTOR Can and did. / It was your idea, so thank you . . .
WRITER No, it’s . . . / Yeah, but I didn’t . . . shit!
ACTOR You shook on it, which is binding. Says you.
WRITER Yeah, but I didn’t mean . . . (To PRODUCER.) Help me out here!
PRODUCER You did say it to him, Steve, I mean, you know . . . technically . . .
WRITER So what?! It’s his word against ours . . . / Come on . . .
PRODUCER Oh. / So now you want me to lie about it?
WRITER Fuck yes! Of course!
PRODUCER No, that’s not how I . . . That would be . . .
ACTOR . . . I don’t think you want to do that . . .
PRODUCER . . . that is not something that I’m . . .
WRITER That’s what producers do, lie! You’re a born liar, just like the rest of us! We lie on paper, actors lie onstage, and you . . . you people lie to everybody else! That’s the way it works!
PRODUCER Not for me it isn’t. (Beat.) Sorry, no . . .
WRITER Yeah, well, then fuck you! You hear me? Hmmm? Fuck you!
PRODUCER No, Steve, I’m . . . You seem to be the one who just got fucked. You and you alone.
ACTOR Well put, Sandy . . .
WRITER Shut the hell up, asshole! Just shut up! (Beat.) Get that Pearl Harbor, didn’t-I-just-pull-a-fast-one grin off your fucking face and listen to me! (Points.) I don’t care what this motherfucker says, I will fight you to the goddamn Supreme Court if I have to! I mean, are you kidding me? Huh? Are you fucking kidding me? No way is there gonna be some slantyeyed Jesus in my play and that’s that! That is how it will never be, you got me?! Maybe in some Off-Broadway bullshit show you do or, or out there in the real world—maybe Christ himself’ll come down from on high and prove me wrong, riding a golden rickshaw and laughing in my face—but not in one of my shows! I am God here, me, I am the creator and what I say goes and I say never! Never, never, not ever! Never!
The ACTOR calmly stands and pulls on his coat. Looking at the WRITER.
ACTOR You’re absolutely right—it will not be that way because I, as promised to you, will be wearing whiteface. And contact lenses—do you prefer blue or green? (To PRODUCER.) He said “blue” earlier, didn’t he?
PRODUCER . . . I believe so . . .
ACTOR So I’ll need those . . . and not the scary Lil’ Kim kind, okay? I’d rather have the more expensive ones that look real, so I would get hopping on that . . . and then the hair. Longish, right? (Pointing.) He said “longish” hair, for the part, wasn’t that it? Cute but not too cute . . . not girlish. I think I’ll just keep growing my own, so let’s see if we can make that work . . . and the rest will just sorta find a way into the process.
That’s how I usually do it, so let’s just go from there. (To WRITER.) And you . . . you should open an atlas sometime. Take a look. The Middle East? It’s in Asia. Yeah. Christ was Asian. (Smiles.) We good? Great. Thanks for the chat—see you at rehearsals. (Holding up his fist.) Peace.
The ACTOR hesitates another moment, then turns and leaves slowly. Singing “I Enjoy Being a Girl.”
Long silence. The PRODUCER turns to say something to the WRITER, who quickly holds up a hand.
WRITER . . . ah-ah-ah. Not a word. Not one word.
The PRODUCER stops, turns away. The WRITER stares out. After a moment, without looking over, the PRODUCER says:
PRODUCER Coconut? (Offers up the plate.)
The WRITER turns slowly to his PRODUCER, eyes blinking as he tries to stop himself from speaking. Just manages it.
Without warning, the WRITER turns the dessert over on the table. Splat! The cream (or whatever the hell it is) goes everywhere. He wipes at a bit of mess on his jacket, then stands up.
WRITER . . . “coconut” is a word.
The WRITER turns and walks off. The PRODUCER watches him go.
He/she reaches over and picks up some dessert with one finger. Touches it to his/her tongue. Waits.
Silence. Darkness.