Dirty Story and Other Plays

John Patrick Shanley

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2006
• ISBN:
  9781559366212
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Drama
• Index: Literature

*Doubt still setting all time attendance records at its Broadway Theatre *Won most of the major Tony Awards including Best Play, Best Actress, and Best Director

Dirty Story

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This play is dedicated to Professor Terence Patrick Moran, a tremendous enemy of bullshit.

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Production History

Dirty Story was originally produced by the LAByrinth Theater Company (John Ortiz and Philip Seymour Hoffman, Co-Artistic Directors; Oliver Dow, Executive Director; Robin Kramer and John Gould Rubin, Producers; Stephanie Yankwitt, Associate Producer) in New York City, opening on February 18, 2003. It was directed by John Patrick Shanley; the set design was by Michelle Malavet, the lighting design was by Jeremy Morris, the sound design was by Elizabeth Rhodes, the costume design was by Mimi O’Donnell and the stage manager was Mary E. Leach. The cast was as follows:

BRUTUS	David Deblinger
WANDA	Florencia Lozano
FRANK	Chris McGarry
LAWRENCE/WATSON	Michael Puzzo

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Characters

Brutus
Wanda
Frank
Lawrence/Watson

Place

New York City.

Time

The present.

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Act One

Scene 1

Music: Mongo Santamaria’s take on “Watermelon Man.” A park. Two outdoor chess tables. A trash can. A little bench, center. Brutus is drinking coffee, playing a game of chess alone. Across the way, another man, an aging English patrician, Lawrence, also plays chess alone; he’s listening to music on a headset. Lawrence raises a sign which reads: FICTION. He lowers it. The music segues into street sounds. Wanda enters. She’s pulling a six-foot palm tree in a luggage carrier. She approaches Lawrence.

WANDA: Mister Chiappa? Brutus Chiappa?

LAWRENCE: I don’t even want to be here.

WANDA: I’m sure you don’t.

LAWRENCE: I just want to go home.

WANDA: I’m sure you do. But are you . . . (“Brutus Chiappa?”)

LAWRENCE (Overlapping): Please! I just want to go home to my chair, my dog, and my mother!

WANDA: You’re not Brutus Chiappa, are you?

LAWRENCE: No.

BRUTUS: Are you Wanda?

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WANDA: Yes?

BRUTUS: I think you want me. I’m Brutus.

WANDA: Oh. Hi. I’m Wanda. (To Lawrence) Sorry.

LAWRENCE: I just want to go home. And I’m going to go home in a little bit.

BRUTUS: Never mind him. He has nothing to do with anything.

WANDA: Brutus?

BRUTUS: Yes.

WANDA: Oh, I’m sorry. There’s no picture on your book jackets.

BRUTUS: It’s not worthy of further explanation.

WANDA: Nice to meet you.

BRUTUS: You have a large plant.

WANDA: Yeah, good buy on Sixth Avenue. It’s all the real estate I can afford. Am I interrupting something?

BRUTUS: Nothing to be done about it.

WANDA: I could come back.

BRUTUS: That’s ridiculous.

WANDA: I just noticed you’re playing a game of chess.

BRUTUS: Yeah.

WANDA (Indicating Lawrence): He is, too.

BRUTUS: I don’t know that man. We just happen to be sharing a public space.

WANDA: Is it something people do now? Play chess alone? In proximity to other people playing chess alone?

BRUTUS: I don’t know what people do. I can only speak for myself.

I like to play alone.

WANDA: It seems funny. I mean two people who want to play chess so close by each other. Seems silly they’re not in the same game.

BRUTUS: Simply because two people are physically near each other doesn’t mean they should be friends.

WANDA: Chess isn’t about friendship, it’s about combat.

BRUTUS: Even conflict requires common ground. Come on, sit down.

I don’t like to look up at people.

WANDA: Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Thank you. (Sits) I have been deeply affected by your poetry, your essays, your books for a long time now. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.

BRUTUS: I don’t mind meeting. I’ll go to meetings. I’m willing to meet with anybody. Have you heard different or something?

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WANDA: No. I just want to acknowledge that it’s an act of generosity to

take the time to give a graduate student the benefit of your experience.

BRUTUS (Rummaging in a valise): You seem a little old to be a graduate

student. I was out of graduate school and established in the world by the time I was . . . How old are you?

WANDA: I’m still quite young.

(Brutus pulls a manuscript out of his bag, gets up with his coffee.)

BRUTUS: By the time I was twenty-six. Here. (Hands her the manuscript and heads for the trash can)

WANDA: For some of us, being a student is a lifelong occupation.

BRUTUS: I have a nephew like that. His parents are suicidal. (Throws his coffee lid in the trash)

WANDA: I didn’t mean I don’t work. I pay my way.

BRUTUS: You don’t get a little scholarship money or something?

A little subsidy?

WANDA: Some. It’s based on merit.

BRUTUS: You’re a tomboy.

WANDA: What?

BRUTUS: All right, all right. I read your . . . What do you call it?

A homily? (Sits on the bench)

WANDA: A novel.

(He pours his coffee into the palm tree. She reacts.)

BRUTUS: It was wretched, it was ignominious, it was a shonda.

I lament that you wrote it. It takes seventeen trees to make one ton of paper. You might think about that the next time you consider writing.

WANDA: Oh, I’m sorry if it wasn’t good.

BRUTUS: It wasn’t good.

WANDA: Could you clarify in what way it wasn’t good?

(He gets up.)

BRUTUS: Don’t you read the paper? Hasn’t anybody told you the news?

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WANDA: What?

BRUTUS: Fiction is dead. (Tosses his empty cup in the trash)

WANDA: You don’t really believe that.

BRUTUS: Fiction is a fabrication. A lie. An unfounded fantasy. We’re

not interested anymore. We don’t care. We don’t want to suspend our disbelief. Fiction is dead.

WANDA: But then what’s alive?

BRUTUS: Nonfiction.

WANDA: All fiction is dead and all nonfiction without limitation is alive?

BRUTUS: Correct. But all nonfiction is not of interest. One wishes to

be in some sense surprised. The pages should set off a border skirmish. “I knew that but I didn’t know I knew it.” That kind of thing.

(Brutus wanders over to Lawrence’s game and steals a peek. Lawrence covers his game.)

LAWRENCE: Oh no you don’t!

BRUTUS (Making an answering gesture): Oh yes I do!

(He swings back to his table and seat.)

We want work which is both credible and fantastic. In short, it should smack of accuracy, but fall short or long of agreed-upon truth. Like plausible gossip.

WANDA: I’ve always thought of gossip as a social evil.

BRUTUS: It ho...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Dirty Story
• Where’s My Money?
• Sailor’s Song
• Copyright Page