Mouth to Mouth (NHB Modern Plays)

Kevin Elyot

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781780015910
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

A brilliantly acerbic tragi-comedy from the author of My Night With Reg.

At a homecoming party for Dennis and Laura's teenage son, the reappearance of an old family friend throws up secrets from the past and paves the way for fresh disaster.

Kevin Elyot pins down the pretension and self-centredness of his characters with unerring and hilarious accuracy.

'Marvellous... subtle and haunting' - Daily Telegraph

'A portrayal of loss and pain whose power and subtlety will haunt you long after you leave' - Sunday Times

MOUTH TO MOUTH

For my mother



The whole art of living is to make use
of the individuals through whom we suffer.

Proust



Mouth to Mouth was first performed at the Royal Court Theatre, London, on 1 February 2001. The cast was as follows:

FRANK	Michael Maloney
LAURA	Lindsay Duncan
GOMPERTZ	Adam Godley
DENNIS	Peter Wight
PHILLIP	Andrew McKay
CORNELIA	Lucy Whybrow
ROGER	Barnaby Kay

Director Ian Rickson

Designer Mark Thompson

Lighting Designer Hugh Vanstone

Sound Designer Paul Arditti

Choreographer Quinny Sacks

Composer Stephen Warbeck

Musician Sabbo

The production transferred to the Albery Theatre, London, produced by Royal Court Theatre Productions, Ambassador Theatre Group and Bill Kenwright in association with Karl Sydow, on 17 May 2001, with the following cast changes:

GOMPERTZ	Ian Gelder
ROGER	Ray Stevenson



Characters

FRANK, forty-six

LAURA, forty-five

GOMPERTZ, thirty-five

DENNIS, forty-three

PHILLIP, fifteen

CORNELIA, twenty-eight

ROGER, thirty-four

Setting

The action takes place in a house and a restaurant.



A tango. Lights up on:

The Kitchen

FRANK and LAURA sit by the open French windows which look out onto the garden. Adjoining the kitchen is a pantry, also in view. Sunlight streams in. FRANK has a huge bandage over his left eye. LAURA’s wearing sunglasses. She’s smoking. The tango music cross-fades with the sounds of summer gardens: the steady rhythm of a sprinkler system, an intermittent distant strimmer, children playing and birdsong. Also, from another part of the house, we hear a piano: a faltering rendition of the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations.

FRANK. . . . so I’m – I’m having it off tomorrow.

Beat.

They said it should do the trick, but I might have to have another put in; depends if I keep taking the tablets. We’ll see. It’s so lovely here.

He lifts his face to the sun.

You could almost forget you’re in Balham.

For a moment he’s distracted by something in the garden. LAURA looks at him. He returns his attention.

It was odd, I must say, walking into the operating theatre. I mean, you don’t usually do that, do you? Usually you’re wheeled in totally out of it, but I just walked in totally compos mentis. Of course, once it had started, I didn’t have a clue what was going on. She asked if I was okay, but I was concentrating so hard on not panicking, I don’t think I answered, and the only time she told me what was happen ing was when she put it in and stitched it up, then it was over. Incredible, isn’t it? You drop in after breakfast and you’re home by lunchtime. (Re. the garden). I’m sure someone . . .

Beat.

What I can’t work out is whether or not she popped the eyeball out of its socket. The thought of lying there with one of my eyes dangling on my cheek . . . It’s no good, you know. I was given the impression it was going to be alright, but I can tell by the way they are with me that it’s not quite going according to plan.

LAURA squeezes his hand.

Funny how things turn out, isn’t it? We thought it was just going to fall into our laps.

Beat.

Laura . . .

She looks at him. Beat. He kisses her hand. They gaze out at the garden.

God, I need this break and if it doesn’t work out, well . . .

Beat.

I had dinner with my doctor last night. It’s quite nice really how we’ve sort of meandered into a friendship. He thinks I’m mad. He says it’s just a blip. I mean, I’d put up with it all if I was sure it was working: the bad dreams, the way I look – but no, I’ve had enough. Tantamount to suicide according to Doctor Gompertz, but I look at it as a way of taking control.

LAURA lights another cigarette from the one she’s smoking.

You’ll miss this place, won’t you? Anyway . . .

Beat.

He does go on. He lost his partner ages ago now, but he always comes back to it. Gets himself into such a state, especially when he’s had a few, and I never got round to talking about –

Pause.

Well, there was something – that I particularly wanted to talk about which is why I’d arranged to meet him in the first place, and I – I never got round to it.

He’s distracted again by something in the garden.

Look, down the bottom there, I’m sure . . . Probably just a shadow. I thought – for a second, I thought it was –

The kitchen table suddenly shifts about a foot. He leaps to his feet and stares at it. LAURA tenses.

Jesus!

Pause.

Better be off.

She looks at him.

. . . In a bit.

He sits down again.

Laura, there’s something –

The sound of a motorbike approaching. They freeze. The piano stops. The bike gets closer. LAURA starts to remove her glasses. Blackout as the bike gets louder. It cuts out as the lights snap up on:

A Restaurant

FRANK and GOMPERTZ at a table. They have drinks and menus. FRANK has the dressing over his left eye. GOMPERTZ has his face in hi...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Foreword
• Dedication
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information