NOTES FOR THE DIRECTOR

On the cell phone ballet . . .

 

I kept a record of conversations I overheard on cell phones as I was writing this play to use as found text in the cell phone ballet. The notion was that fragments from the ruin float up and meet Jean—and that they are almost beautiful. The problem is that when you record found text with actors’ voices, it no longer feels authentic, because the voice itself is not found. You might then consider going around and recording people’s overheard cell phone conversations. Or use messages that have already been left on your phone. If you choose to use my own text to layer over the music of the spheres, here are the most useful found bits of text that I’ve incorporated into different productions:

I’m disappointed in you—I thought you could stay on—there was more than a million dollars involved—I talked to Jack—in human resources—

You have to sign the death certificate at the top and at the bottom—that’s all—

 

I love you

 

Yes, Dr. Stevens, thank you I can come in then for the biopsy—or should we make it later? Eleven?

 

Do you know how it hurts when you pick up the phone in that tone of voice?

 

I love you.

 

Good-bye

You might consider layering these bits into a song, or spoken over a song, having them vaguely sung, or not, having non-actors record them, finding bits of your own found text, or translating some or all of it into Japanese and various other languages. And if all else fails, cut the cell phone ballet and keep the repeated voices of Jean and Mrs. Gottlieb. It rankles me to be this vague, but the cell phone ballet depends so much on the sound designer, director, and all the rest of it. As for choreography, there might be a simple pas de deux while people are on their cell phones, or the movement might be as simple as people walking through the rain carrying umbrellas while talking on cell phones. One thing I learned is that if the movement is complex, the music and voices should be simple; if the voices are complex, the movement should be simple. I wish I could tell you there is one definitive way to crack this oyster but it’s up to your collective imagination.

As for the Edward Hopper moments . . .

 

I think they are about finding one simple gesture—Jean looks toward a window—and suspends—and the lights imperceptibly shift. They are about the solitary figure inside the landscape or architecture. They are about being alone inside of or in relation to the modern.

 

 

As for the Mandarin . . .

 

You might want Gordon to speak actual Mandarin instead of English when he says, “I said in Mandarin”; here is one translation of “you don’t want people to know about your old line of work, neither do I”:

 

 

nǐ bù xī wàng bié rén zhī dào nǐ yǐ qián de gōng zuò wǒ yě bù xī wàng

 

Translation generously provided by Jason Rudd.

 

 

As for everything else . . .

 

There is a great deal of silence and empty space in this play, but the pauses should not be epic.

 

There might be an extended fight sequence in the airport in Johannesburg as they struggle for the gun.

 

I call Jean’s stories confabulations, I never call them lies . . .

 

The paper houses that fall on Jean and Dwight at the end of Part One should ideally be made of high quality or handmade paper. Go to a paper store and touch the paper.

Transitions are fluid. Space is fluid. There is not a lot of stuff on the stage.

 

Enjoy yourself.