Franzmann The Witness

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-78001-173-8
Verlag: Nick Hern Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 112 Seiten

Reihe: NHB Modern Plays

A dark and penetrating thriller of modern morals. Captured in an award-winning shot, Alex was rescued from Rwanda and adopted by the man behind the lens. Years later, she's back from university, returning to the Hampstead home in which she was raised. As a long-hidden secret is exposed, the distance between father and daughter stretches taut. Vivienne Franzmann's play The Witness was first performed at the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs, London, in June 2012.

Vivienne Franzmann was a teacher who took up playwriting after winning the Bruntwood Playwriting award in 2008 with her first play, Mogadishu, which also won the 2010 George Devine Award and was first staged at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, in 2011. Other plays include: The IT (National Theatre Connections festival, 2021); Bodies (Royal Court Theatre, London, 2017); Pests (Royal Court, Royal Exchange Manchester and Clean Break, 2014); and The Witness (Royal Court, 2012). She has written for Channel 4, BBC 1, Radio 4 and Radio 3. In 2014, she was awarded a BAFTA for her short film for children, Lizard Girl.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Franzmann, Vivienne

Leseproben

ACT ONE

Scene One

A living room. Hampstead.

JOSEPH and ALEX look at each other. ALEX’s bags lie on the floor.

JOSEPH. There’s something different about you.

Beat.

Your skin’s darker.

Beat.

You look different.

Beat.

Beautiful.

Beat.

You look like a beautiful young woman.

Beat.

ALEX. You look like a fat old man.

Pause. He smiles and opens his arms. She smiles and goes to him.

What’ve you been eating, for God’s sake?

JOSEPH. Fromage.

ALEX. Fromage?

JOSEPH. Oui.

ALEX. Juste fromage?

JOSEPH. I found this website. They deliver. Luxury Cheesiness for your Easiness.

ALEX. You’ve been getting cheese online?

JOSEPH. You can get fertilised duck eggs off the internet. Did you know that?

JOSEPH goes to a box, takes out a joint and lights it.

You incubate them. Jackie from number ten got five. When they hatch, the first thing the ducklings see, they adopt as their mother. Jackie’s bichon frise was watching when hers hatched. They think a bichon frise is their mum. They sleep in his bed with him. Ducklings in bed with a dog. With a bichon frise. Extraordinary, isn’t it?

Beat.

She got three Khaki Campbells and a Silver Bantam. She got a Welsh Harlequin as well, but it didn’t hatch. It was a dud.

Beat.

She tried to get her money back, but –

ALEX. Why does Jackie have ducklings?

JOSEPH. To go with her chickens, Doris, Mabel and Maud.

ALEX. Why does Jackie have chickens?

JOSEPH. Urban farming. Trifling with poultry. Growing your own. All that shit.

Pause.

You can get sperm, you know.

Beat.

From the internet.

ALEX. Duck sperm?

JOSEPH. No, human sperm. Man sperm. For dykes or ugly women who can’t get a fuck. It gets couriered on a motorbike to keep it all swimmy.

ALEX tuts.

Just think, broadband, some spunk and a Kawasaki creates a new life. That is some serious twenty-first-century evolution. Every single day, without fail, I think the internet is amazing. You could probably get duck sperm too if you rooted round a bit. Although I’m not sure a duck produces sperm. I guess it must do, although I’ve never even seen a duck’s cock, have you? Do you want some food? Haven’t got much in, but I do have a wide selection of luxury cheese.

ALEX. You knew I was coming –

JOSEPH. I can offer you Vintage Lincolnshire Poacher, Tetbury Truckle, Old Amsterdam –

ALEX. You’re going to have a heart attack.

JOSEPH. On McKenzies Oatcakes with quince and rose-petal jelly –

ALEX. You have a classic heart-attack body shape.

JOSEPH. And I have a lovely bottle of Château Cantemerle.

ALEX. You store fat round your middle. It’s indicating what’s going on inside. All your organs are surrounded by fat, being suffocated probably.

JOSEPH. I’ve got some Crunchies if you want one.

ALEX. Your essential organs are being drowned by cheese and Crunchies.

Beat.

JOSEPH. Why don’t we go out for dinner?

Beat.

Let’s do that. We could go to that sushi place you like.

ALEX. Me Love Sushi.

JOSEPH. I know you do.

ALEX. That’s what it’s called.

JOSEPH. I know.

Beat.

ALEX. I’m tired, I think I’m just going to…

JOSEPH. It must feel a bit… You know… being back. You must –

ALEX. The train was so noisy.

JOSEPH. I thought you were going to reserve a seat in the quiet carriage.

ALEX. You’re allowed to talk in the quiet carriage.

JOSEPH. Are you?

ALEX. You’re allowed to talk as loud as you want.

JOSEPH. I thought –

ALEX. You’re allowed to shout if you feel like it. You’re allowed to sit in a group of middle-aged women and shout about Martin Amis all the way to King’s Cross.

JOSEPH. Are you?

ALEX. Yes, if Martin Amis is your second cousin, apparently. But you can’t speak on your phone.

JOSEPH. Could’ve been worse. They could’ve –

ALEX. When I got on the Tube, there was puke all over the seat. At first I thought someone had spilt one of those Innocent Smoothies, but then I smelt it –

JOSEPH. How revolting.

ALEX. So I moved and I sat next to this man who started singing Rihanna songs and asking me where I was from.

JOSEPH. Sounds like the journey from Jalalabad to Kabul.

ALEX. Whatever.

Pause.

JOSEPH. Why didn’t you travel back with Lily?

ALEX. She’s staying over the summer. She’s got a job.

JOSEPH. That’s a shame.

ALEX. I don’t see that much of her anyway. She met this boy.

Pause.

JOSEPH. Shall I take your bag up to your room?

ALEX. I’ll do it in a minute.

Pause.

JOSEPH starts humming ‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna, and sings the first couple of lines from the chorus.

Don’t.

He sings another line.

Stop it.

He sings another line.

It’s not becoming for a man of your age.

He continues to sing. He pulls her up.

Get off. I mean it.

JOSEPH. Don’t you like it? What about this? (Sings a few lines from ‘Rude Boy’ by Rihanna.)

ALEX. How do you even know that?

JOSEPH. Got my finger on the pulse, got my –

ALEX. I’m going to unpack my stuff.

JOSEPH. What about food?

ALEX. I’ll get a sandwich later.

She goes to go.

JOSEPH. I’ve got something for you.

He goes to a drawer and pulls out a small box.

(Handing it to her.) To celebrate.

ALEX. Celebrate what?

JOSEPH. Your first year.

ALEX. What about it?

JOSEPH. I’m proud of you.

ALEX. There’s no need.

JOSEPH. I always knew that you could do it.

ALEX. I haven’t done anything.

She opens it and takes out an antique necklace.

It’s beautiful.

She puts it on. He helps her.

JOSEPH. We always planned to give it to you now.

ALEX. Thank you.

JOSEPH. At the end of your first year. It was Meg’s grandmother’s.

She rummages round in her bag. She pulls out a parcel and hands it to him.

What for?

ALEX. Because.

JOSEPH. Because what?

ALEX. Just because.

JOSEPH. Just because what?

ALEX. Because aside from the cheese thing, you seemed to have coped remarkably well.

JOSEPH. What is it?

ALEX. Open it.

JOSEPH. Give me a clue.

ALEX. Open it.

JOSEPH. It feels squidgy.

ALEX. Open it.

JOSEPH. Is it something to wear?

ALEX. Do you want me to do it?

JOSEPH. I could do with some new clothes. I’ve had this since –

ALEX. Give it here.

JOSEPH. I’m savouring it. Concentrating the mind on the present moment, as the Buddhists would have it.

ALEX. Just bloody open it.

JOSEPH opens it. It’s a hoody with ‘King’s College’ on the front. He holds it up.

JOSEPH. I love it.

He tries it on. She helps him.

ALEX. If I’d known about your saturated fat intake, I would’ve got an extra-large.

JOSEPH. It’s perfect.

ALEX. It suits you.

JOSEPH. Thank you

He hugs her. Pause.

ALEX. Has everything been alright? Here on your own, has –

JOSEPH. Getting used to the utter lack of mess and filth everywhere has been terrifically hard, but –

ALEX. Dad…

JOSEPH. It’s been fine. Everything’s been fine.

ALEX. I knew it would be.

Beat.

JOSEPH. And what about you?

ALEX. Yep, good.

JOSEPH. Are you sure?

ALEX. Yes, I’m sure.

JOSEPH. Are you sure you’re sure?

ALEX. Yes, I’m sure I’m sure.

JOSEPH. Yes, but are you sure that you’re sure that…

ALEX.…sure that you’re sure. Yes, Dad, I’m sure.

Scene Two

ALEX is sitting on the sofa. She is reading a book, listening to her iPod. A muffled yell offstage. ALEX’s iPod runs out of juice. She takes it off and plugs it in to recharge. She reads her book. She takes a cushion and tries to put it over her head, balancing it while she reads. She is able to do this for a short time until it falls off. She gets up and puts on the radio; Radio 4 comes on. She retunes it to a pirate radio station. She turns it up. She lies on the sofa and attempts to read her book. The music is ridiculously loud. JOSEPH enters in his pants and turns the radio off.

JOSEPH. What time is it?

ALEX. Nearly two.

JOSEPH. I said to wake me up at twelve-thirty.

ALEX. I forgot.

JOSEPH. You said you’d wake me.

ALEX. I was reading.

JOSEPH. I’ve missed Loose Women.

ALEX. Holy shit.

JOSEPH. And I’ll be up all night now.

ALEX. Well, if you will have a nap in the middle of...