ONE: PROLOGUE

Spearfish, South Dakota, 1969!
Picture red earth
dead tribes
knickknacks, ghost towns—
big signs for miles
telling you, something’s comin’—
the corn palace—
a real palace made entirely out of corn,
that’s right, corn—
Ever been to the badlands?
You could go crazy
one stretch of rock looks
just like another stretch of rock.
In French the badlands means something like
this land is not so good for living in
but not many people speak French out here anymore.
Keep going, keep driving—
You’ll pass the Battle of Wounded Knee
wasn’t really a battle, more like a massacre—
it snowed a lot that day—the blood got covered up.
Drive past the Harley convention,
people riding with their beards
flapping in the wind.
Keep going, keep driving—
you’re smack dab in the middle of this country—
the Black Hills all around—
then you’ll hit exit twelve:
the Passion Play of South Dakota.

TWO: 1969—BACKSTAGE

Backstage at the Passion Play
after a performance.
J, who plays Jesus,
and P, who plays Pontius Pilate.
They’re brothers.
They’re taking off their costumes
and their makeup and drinking cold sodas.
It’s hot out.

People were crying today, front row. I was glad, for your last one.

Till I come back.

That’s what I meant.

Mom wants everyone up at the house tonight. Everyone’s real proud.

Yeah. You’ll look after Mary when I’m gone, won’t you?

’Course I will.

I wanted to give you something before I left.

He gets out a reel to reel.

No, I recorded the wind. On top of the mountain.

You’re always doing something funny.

I thought maybe you could use it, for concentration—help you study.

So, what are they teaching you—up there at the university?

Who you at now?

Saint Augustine.

Aw, Saint Augustine. Good stuff. Gotten to the part where he goes to the hooker?

Well, he goes to a hooker.

But he’s a saint.

I know. But he repents. That’s the whole thing—he repents.

I bet they have hookers overseas.

I’ll be thinking about Mary.

I know. Just kidding.
Look—thanks for the wind thing.
I mean it. I’ll miss you.

Don’t talk like that.

A crowd enters, all dressed in Biblical costume.

For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny!

You didn’t have to do this!
Mary 1 enters in her Virgin Mary costume.
She carries in a cake with candles.

It’s not my birthday.

But your birthday’ll be over there. We’re celebrating early.

He blows the candles out.
P and Mary 1 kiss.

Wanna know what I wished for?

It’s against the rules!

Okay, I won’t tell you. I’ll show you.

He gets down on his knees.

Did you plan this?

Got the ring right here!

He takes the ring out of his Pontius uniform.
Queen Elizabeth enters, slow, silent.
Everyone suspends,
P kneeling before Mary 1.

My loving people.

I am resolved to live or die amongst you all, to lay down, for my God, and for my kingdom, my honor and my blood. For I am married to England!

She takes P’s ring for a moment.

She considers the ring. She puts it on her wedding finger.

We shall shortly have a famous victory over the enemies of my God!

Queen Elizabeth places her hand on P’s head as he kneels.

Go forth into battle, my son, and go with God!

She places the ring on Mary 1’s finger.
She moves to exit.
Mary 2 snaps a polaroid. A flash.
The scene continues as before.

(To Mary 1) Take that veil off!

She does.
He kisses her.
Everyone finishes singing:
“For he’s a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny!”

Queen Elizabeth slowly processes across the stage, waving to the crowd.
She exits.
No one notices.

THREE

A backstage tour, out of time.

(To the audience) That was the day everyone remembered. The day Pontius Pilate proposed to the Virgin Mary. Here’s a polaroid I snapped—see, Pontius Pilate is kneeling down . . . proposing to my sister backstage.

I play Mary Magdalen. I’m not much of an actor. I do the play because I believe in the message. It’s a message of love. Questions?

Questions from the backstage tour ensemble:

Have you acted anywhere else?

Nah. I don’t like the city. I like being in a place where you can see the horizon. I like to see what’s coming at me. Even if it’s bad.

Who’s that? (Pointing at an imaginary photograph)

That’s a picture of my father. He started the Passion Play in America—he didn’t like how things were going over in Germany. He auditioned over one hundred women for the part of Mary Magdalen. He hired my mother. She was a vaudeville actress from Chicago. They got married and my father—uh—upgraded her to the Virgin Mary.

Did they play Christ and the Virgin Mary the whole time they were married?

Was that weird?

No, it wasn’t weird. It was just how it was.

Do you have a day job?

When I’m not in the play I work at the tollbooth out on highway sixteen. The night shift. It’s not the most glamorous job in the world. But there’s not a lot of jobs out here, not right now.

Isn’t that dangerous?

Oh, nah . . . I like to think of myself as a beacon of light on a dark night. Funny, huh? Sometimes I press a quarter into a stranger’s hand in the middle of the night and think it’s kind of like communion. Who knows if they get it. They just drive off, into the night.

FOUR

Mary 1 and P.
Mary 1 wears a bathrobe.
P is dressed in uniform.

When your alarm clock goes off in the morning, imagine it’s me telling you I love you. Beep beep beep I love you.

Okay. I brought you this to keep in your pocket.

The Virgin Mary.

So I can keep you in my pocket.

Yeah, me and her.

He picks up an army bag.
He kisses her.

He leaves.
She waves.

FIVE

Mary 1 and Mary 2, in bathrobes,
helping each other put on makeup for the show.
Mary 1 is dressing as Eve.

Hold still. You got a smudge.

He’s gonna be fine.

So buck up. You gotta put yourself in God’s hands.

I hate to sleep alone. My feet get cold. I put socks on and then my feet get hot so I take them off under the blankets but then my feet get cold again in the night. It’s unnatural, cold and unnatural, this solitary sleeping.

Maybe you should get a cat. When I’m cold I just put a cat on my feet.

I’m allergic, remember?

Oh, yeah. I think allergies are so weird, don’t you? Some people are allergic to their own skin. Why would God create allergies?

Maybe God didn’t create allergies. Maybe they just happened.

Mary 2 shrugs.
She makes a final touch to Mary 1’s makeup.

God created everything. Even bad things. Right? You’re ready to go on, babe.

Mary 1 walks onstage.
An ensemble member playing Satan, dangling an apple, approaches her.

I—a friend—and for thy good is the coming. Bite on boldly, be not abashed.

I’m sorry—it’s just. It’s not the same as my husband does it.

SIX

Mary 1 alone, in her bathrobe.
The sound of wind.
She is afraid.
J enters.
She jumps.

Thanks for coming. I got scared. The wind’s so loud. Banging around—sounds like other things. I saw a snake today out back.

I don’t know.

Did it have a triangle head or a square head?

Didn’t get that close to it.

I’m sure it was harmless.

Didn’t look harmless.

You want me to just sit here while you sleep?

Okay. Only I can’t sleep.
I made some hot chocolate. Want some?

She goes to get it.

(Shouting from off) How’s school?

Pretty good.
I’m taking some acting classes, actually.

(From off) They have acting classes? At the university?

(From off) Why would you study acting out of books?

We get on our feet too. Today we imagined we were smelling lemons. It was amazing.

Mary 1 enters with the hot chocolate.

I actually smelled a lemon and there was no lemon there to smell.

Huh.
Well, I don’t see why you’d study acting at a college.
You already know how to act.

Kind of. What we do is community theater, Mary. We all have other jobs.

You want to have acting be your job?

Where? New York?

Or Los Angeles.

I just don’t picture you on television. That’s all.

Because I know you. You’re not supposed to know people on television.

Someone has to know them.

You want some fancy cigarettes?
Might help you sleep better.

I don’t smoke that stuff.

You mind if I have a little?

No. You smoke that a lot?

Not very often. Just in the afternoon, mostly.

Hope you don’t do it before the play.

I think Jesus would appreciate really good marijuana.

He was a peaceful man.

He takes out a joint and begins smoking it.

Just got the first one.

What’s he say?

Nothing about boot camp. Only those crazy made-up stories he likes to tell.

I don’t know if he’d want me to—

I’m his brother!

She takes out a letter from her bathrobe pocket.

Dear—Oh, I—I’ll skip over that part.
Um—
Once upon a time there was an iron who fell in love with a wrinkle.
It was a tragedy. The end.
Once upon a time there was a lightbulb
who fell in love with the darkness.
It was a tragedy. The end.

He’s crazy, my brother.

Don’t say that.

Smells interesting.

Sure you don’t want some? You’re all wound-up. You’ll be up all night.

Maybe I’ll try one little bit. Can’t hurt.
Don’t tell your brother.

She takes a drag, smoking it like a cigarette.

Here—like this. That’s how they do it in Woodstock.

He shows her how to smoke it like a joint.

How would you know?

I’ve seen pictures.

Today, after I did my snake scene, I saw a snake. In the backyard! Isn’t that weird?

Yeah, that’s the reason I came over, remember?

Oh, yeah. I forgot. (She laughs)

The weird thing is that while I was looking at it, it was pretty, not scary at all. It was only after I saw it I was scared. What’s scary about a snake is not the Bible stuff—I think it’s that a snake doesn’t have legs and arms and still it can kill you. I’m not afraid of bears because you can wrestle with a bear, you understand how it thinks, how it wants to hit you ’cause it’s angry. But how can you understand something with no arms and no legs that wants to kill you—no wrestling, no holding each other—just one bite and it’s gone. Your whole life.

You’re stoned.

No, I’m not.
Must be the hot chocolate.

Right. Don’t you have that wind tape? Supposed to help you sleep?

I don’t like the wind. It makes me afraid.

What are you afraid of, d’you think?

The wind makes me feel lonely.

I think I’m stoned.

You’re stoned too.

I’m not stoned, I’m loney.

You’re not loney, you’re stoned.

I’m not loney, I’m stones.

That’s right, you’re stones, loney.

Wait. Who are you?

I’m just the guy who came over to stop the wind.

They kiss some more.
The sound of a gunshot.

SEVEN

P, in his uniform, drags a huge, bloody fish across the stage.
He holds a smoking gun.
A smear of blood across the stage. A red sky. Elizabethan fish puppet music.
A bright light—

P collapses.
Queen Elizabeth enters.

I cannot fathom why any subject would be willing to die for any leader other than a monarch. What man would die for a leader who was not rushing to the battlefield with him—their blood soaking into the dust together. On the battlefield the monarch and the nation’s blood are one! (She touches P) Are you wounded, soldier?

I—I killed a fish.

May God keep you.
Carry him off the battlefield!
Now!

Big beautiful fish puppets enter.
The Carpenters, dressed as Elizabethan courtiers, carry P offstage on
an old-fashioned stretcher.
The Queen examines the smoking gun, curious.
She carries it offstage.

EIGHT

Mary 2 in her tollbooth, alone.
Night. Rain. Cars on the other side of the highway
pass by, their headlights across her face.
She sings a song to herself.
She sings to the tune of “Away in a Manger”:

(Making it up as she goes along)
Away in a tollbooth
No room for his bed
No cars for an hour
To rest his sweet head—
I look for an angel—
I look for a—car
But no one comes by me
For hour upon hour.

Mary 2 looks out the window.
Mary 1 appears. Mary 2 is startled.
What are you doing here this time of night?

Naw. No cars for an hour. You’re soaking wet.

I had to talk to you.

If you thought you were——and you didn’t want to be——what would you do? Would you get a—? What would you do?

But you’re married. So it doesn’t matter if you’re—

I know, but just say I didn’t want—

Mary, that’s—

A sin. Are you—?

I don’t know.

Breasts? Vomit?

Well, you’re married. So—

I know.
But if I—would you forgive me—if I—?

You’re my sister.

And you won’t tell?

That I forgave you for something I don’t know about?

No—I won’t tell. But have you—already?

No. Thought maybe I’d get some kinda sign.

The beams from a car approach.

(Thinking that it’s a sign from the natural world) Oh my God—

Car coming. Duck down.

Mary 1 kneels down, making the tollbooth look almost like a confessional. A car approaches. We see neither the car nor the passenger, only light.

Here’s your change, sir. Have a good night.

The car drives off.

I hate when they don’t say good night.
No one’s got any manners these days.

NINE

J and Mary 1 at rehearsal, the next day.
J on the cross.
Mary 1 kneeling down by it.

(As Jesus) Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!

(As the Virgin Mary) Why, why is my son slain?

There needs to be more—um—anguish from both of you.

I just—I don’t know if I can do this moment out of context. Without the arc of the whole play, you know, to get me there.

The arc of the play.

Yeah. I’m serious. You have to go through the whole play to get there.

We can’t run the whole show right now.

Then what are you suggesting?

It’s just that—I’ve known these lines forever—and it feels stale—and I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like you’re giving me any direction.

Is this what happens when you go to college? You turn into a prick.

I just want the play to be good.

So how do you want me to play this moment.

(Turning to Mary 1) Can you speak his language?

(To J) You want it to feel real, right?

Well, have you ever been betrayed?

That’s too bad. Do you know anyone who’s been betrayed?

Then why don’t you use that.

Okay. That’s fine. Use it. Let’s go.

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!
No. It wasn’t right. I wasn’t feeling it.

No! It wasn’t better! You’re still acting ! My father—he never acted—he just told the story. There was no—effort. There was no—acting.

It’s not really appropriate for one actor to give another actor notes. If any direction needs to be given, I will give it. Now, let’s try that again.

I don’t want to rehearse this moment, okay? I’ll get it right, in performance, when it happens.

Fine. Let’s move on. Mary, let’s have your line.

(No emotion) Why? Why is my son slain?

Why don’t you try rocking back and forth on that line. Hold your arms to your chest.

(With no emotion, rocking back and forth) Why? Why is my son slain?

(To Mary 1) What’s wrong with you?

He’s not even saying his lines!

If we can’t get along in a theater when the world is falling apart then how can you expect anyone to get along in this world? There’s a war on. Why don’t you do it again. And think about that.

I don’t want to think about—

Now take a deep breath—

J and Mary 1 take a breath.

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!

Why, why is my son slain?

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!

Why, why is my son slain?

Mary 1 weeps.

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!

Why, why is my son slain?

Okay.
(To J) You can get down from the cross now.

J gets off the cross.

(To Mary 1) Can you repeat that in front of an audience?

Good. It’s going to be a long day. Take five minutes. I have to talk to the lighting designer. We have to tech the ascension.

The Director exits.

Look, I’m sorry, okay. That never happened.

What never happened?

Don’t talk to me.

Mary, I’ve been in love with you since the seventh grade or longer and I’ll never say another word about it.

The Director and ensemble enter.

Lights up! Get on the platform!

J gets on the ascension platform.

Everyone in the tableau!

The ensemble makes the ascension tableau.

Can we hear the music?

Music swells. A reprise of the heavenly choir music from Part One.

Now, slowly move your arms up towards Jesus! In time to the music! (To the crew) More light! No we want it back-lit! On the scrim! More smoke! (To J) Are you rigged? Are you strapped in? Now lift him up.

Now the clouds part. The clouds part. Now look up at Him! Smile up at Jesus! That’s right! Now everyone freeze! And—blackout.