Nina’s Wunderbar Breakthrough
A Short Play
By Alan Haehnel
Partial Draft
(Lights up on Otto Frungenfreud’s office, which occupies a third of the stage. The furnishings and costumes in the play suggest the time period, the 1940s. Otto is seated and addresses the couch, as if Nina were lying on it. He speaks with a heavy Austrian accent.)
Otto: Now, Nina, when I count down from five to one and ring this bell, you will no longer be in my office. You will be in a new space, a welcoming space where your ideas can come and be nurtured. Five, four, three, two, one. (He rings a bell. The lights come up on Nina, eyes closed, standing in a strange room with lots of doors.) Good. Open your eyes. Tell me what you see.
Nina: Well, it’s…kind of odd. Very quiet.
Otto: Good. No distractions.
Nina: Doors, Dr. Frungenfreud. So many doors.
Otto: Excellent. Doors mean opportunity. Do you feel at ease where you are?
Nina: It’s weird but somehow familiar.
Otto: Good, yah. Now, there is one requirement that I have of your space. It must have a large, open window (pronounced “vindow”).
Nina: A vin…oh, a window! I don’t see a window.
Otto: Create one.
Nina: I can do that?
Otto: Of course. The room is yours. Simply add a window.
Nina: I haven’t had much experience with construction, but all right. Give me a vindow! I mean a window! (Nina gestures toward a darkened area of the stage. Lights come up and a black covering whips away to reveal a window.) That was easy.
Otto: Things need not be difficult. Things can arrive naturally, organically.
Nina: That sounds very nice, Doctor. (Pause) So.
Otto: So.
Nina: What happens next?
Otto: Be in the space. Breathe. Sit.
Nina: Be, breathe, sit. Sounds like puppy obedience school.
Otto: Shhh.
Nina: Puppy school in a library. Shh.
(Pause. Finally, the doors open slightly and then close with a bang, one at a time, creating the “shave and a haircut” rhythm. For the final “two bits,” they all open and close simultaneously.)
Nina: Ah!
Otto: Oh! What happened?
Nina: Shave and a haircut, two bits!
Otto: What?
Nina (doing the rhythm): Bup bub-ba bup bup, bup bup! They just did that!
Otto: Wunderbar! You are trying to communicate with yourself, Nina.
Nina: I’m more of a words person than a doors person.
Otto: We must learn the language of your mind. That is what we have been doing these past months together, and today we are on the threshold of a breakthrough!
Nina: Breakthrough or breakdown? Because I’ve already done the latter and it wasn’t enjoyable. I ended up with amnesia so bad I couldn’t write any more and…
Otto: No more breakdowns. The room, the window, the doors–all part of putting back together now.
(A single knock comes on a door.)
Nina: A knock!
Otto: A knock?
Nina: A knock. I’m going to answer it!
Otto: Why are you going to answer it, Nina?
Nina: Because…knocked-on doors are made to be answered?
Otto: No.
Nina: Oh.
Otto: There is only one correct answer to why you would do anything in the space you have created.
(The “shave and haircut” rhythm gets knocked on all the doors.)
Nina: We’ve got a whole crowd knocking now.
Otto: And you will answer them because..?
Nina: Because I…want to?
Otto: Yes!
Nina: Yes! Gosh, that was stressful but pretty darned simple when you get right down to it. I am going to answer the door, the doors, because I…
Otto: Yes?
Nina: I changed my mind. I want the butler to answer the door!
Otto: Excellent.
(Shave and a haircut from all the doors again. The Butler enters from another door.)
Butler: I shall see who that is at the door, Miss Nina.
Nina: “Miss Nina.” Woo-hoo.
(The Butler goes to the closest door, but before he can grab the handle, the door swings open and bashes him in the head. Into the room steps an Opera Star, dressed to the nines, who sings her greeting as a mini aria.)
Opera Star: Hello! I have arrived!
Nina: Gosh, have you ever! Who is this, Doctor ?
Otto: Who is this, Nina?
Nina (to the Butler): Howard, are you all right?
Howard: I will be once the room stops doing cartwheels.
Otto: This is your world! Its inhabitants are your creations! You know them!
Nina: I do?
Otto: Did you not just call the butler Howard?
Nina: So I did.
Otto: Go to the singing guest who just arrived, Nina. Tell her you know who she is.
Nina: I know who you are!
Opera Star: Do tell!
Nina: I will tell! You are…you are…Clarisse!
Otto: Correct!
Clarisse: In the flesh, darling, in the flesh and full-throated as ever! (singing) Clarisse DeMontague!
Nina: Figured it out, Howard.
Howard: Well done, Niss Mina. Nin Missa. Er, Miss Nina.
(Two knocks come on the other doors.)
Nina: Howard, are you up to…?
Howard: At your service, my lady.
(Howard goes to answer the next door. As soon as his hand gets to the handle, though, the door opens quickly and he gets clobbered again. Behind the next door is a harried husband in a tuxedo.)
Husband: Where in the world have my cufflinks gone to?
(Two more knocks from all the doors. Howard stumbles to the next door. Same business as before for poor Howard. Behind this third door is the wife of the harried husband, also dressed formally.)
Wife: Where did you last put your cufflinks, Dear?
Husband: If I knew where I last put them, I wouldn’t be looking for them, would I?
Wife: Not necessarily. If you knew where you last put them, that would be a handy reference point but not necessarily where they are at the moment.
Opera Star: Cufflinks. What a singable word.
(She sings the word “cufflinks” operatically. Two more knocks come from the remaining un-opened doors. Howard goes to the next one. He reaches for the handle but stops himself, pulls back his hand to consider his actions. The doors swings open suddenly, bashing the hapless Howard again. This open door reveals a disheveled man covered with grime and grass clippings.)
Disheveled Man (Cockney accent): I have trimmed the hedges, weeded the flowers and made the garden look loverly. I have come to collect me wages for the day.
(Two knocks come from the final three doors. Howard approaches the first one very carefully, starts to reach out for the handle, thinks better of it, goes to the other side of the door, reaches for the handle again. But the door opens in the other direction and Howard gets another bashing. The door opens to a bratty young girl.)
Bratty Girl: I don’t want to stay with the nanny again! I’m twelve years old and if I can’t go out with you to your fancy event then at least I can stay home alone!
(Howard is teetering by this point, nearly knocked out, and happens to get too close to the next door when it opens and, inevitably, takes another bite out of his health and dignity. This door opens to show the Nanny.)
Nanny: I understand and respect your need for independence, but you are still a young lady in need of supervision and guidance.
Husband: Those monogrammed cufflinks have been in my family for nearly a century. You know that!
Wife: I also happen to know, dear, that if you persist much longer in searching for these holy grails to adorn the ends of your arms, we are going to be late.
Opera Singer (singing): The holy grails of cufflinks, cufflinks, cufflinks!
Disheveled Man: I’m not in the habit of working for nothing, especially not for the likes of you people what thinks you’re better than everybody else.
Bratty Girl (tantrum): I don’t need a babysitter! I am the most mature one here and I’m going to hold my breath until I die if I have to stay here with Nanny!
Opera Singer (singing): Cu-u-u-u-uff links!
(Two knocks come from the final door that has not yet been opened. Howard freezes, terrified. All eyes turn toward the door. Howard shakes his head, squares his shoulders, and approaches.)
Nina: Howard, you don’t need to…
Howard: I am fine. Fully capable of dulfuting my dillies. Fuldilling my fruities. Cully frapable of…I can do this.
(Two knocks again. Howard reaches for the handle, putting his other hand up in front of his face to protect against the coming damage. But it doesn’t come. He looks at his hand on the handle in wonder. Everyone else continues to stare. Howard smiles and opens the door. Behind it are three angry protesters carrying signs: “This is our land!” “Go back to where you came from!” “No Robbers Here!!” As soon as the door opens, one of the protesters thrusts his arm forward with the sign and knocks Howard flat.)
protester 1: We know what you’re up to!
protester 2: You won’t get away with this!
protester 3: Down with the land grabbers!
All 3 protesters: We’ll fight for our rights! We’ll fight for our rights! We’ll fight for our rights!
(All of the characters simultaneously start to ad lib in accordance with their particular ways of being, creating a chaotic scene for several seconds. A loud knock comes on the door of Otto’s office. All of Nina’s characters go silent and turn to stare at the doctor’s side of the stage.)
Howard: Oh, no.
Nina: We’re out of doors!
Otto: Do not allow yourself to be disturbed, Nina.
Nina: But that knocking?
Otto: It is nothing, not relevant to your world. (The knock comes on Otto’s door again.) Go away!
Howard: I will get it. It may not be of this world, but once the room stops doing loop-de-loos, I will get it.
Nina: I don’t understand what’s happening, Doctor Frungenfreud.
(A gruff voice comes from the other side of Otto’s door.)
Voice: Hey, Doc, we know you’re in there. We gotta have a word with you.
Another Voice: Yeah, it’s urgent!
Otto: Nina, I will count backwards from three and ring the bell. You will lapse into deep sleep until I count backwards from three and ring the bell again.
Nina: But Doctor, I thought you said we were making progress. Have I done something to get…
Otto: Three, two, one! (He rings the bell.)
(Nina and all the characters in her world close their eyes and slump in place. The lights go down on them. Otto opens the door. Two gangsters stand there–Carl and Bugs.)
Otto: What is the meaning of this? Did you not see the sign on the door that says “Do not disturb, session in progress”?
Bugs: I didn’t see a sign.
(Carl holds up the sign in question.)
Carl: I did.
Bugs: Really? Sign stealing? That’s not what we’re here for.
Carl: I didn’t steal it. (Carl hands the sign to Otto.) I relocated it.
Bugs: You’re hilarious.
Carl: Look, Doc, we’re here to check up on an investment, see?
Otto: Investment? What are you talking about? Who sent you?
Carl: Our client is extremely interested in the progress you are making with your client.
Bugs: Patient.
Carl: What?
Bugs: He’s a doctor. He’s got patients, not clients.
Carl: What is with you? Always got to be crossing me lately. Anyway, Doc, yeah, this one, on the couch, asleep, your client, your patient, your canary in a cage, whatever…
Bugs: Canary.
Carl: So I’m riffing a little; do you mind?
Otto: It is no one’s business how I am doing with my patient. Get out!
Carl: Oh, now there you’re wrong, Doctor Frankensteiner.
Bugs: No, no, this here is Doctor Otto Frungenfreud, one of the foremost psychoanalysts of our day. Get it right.
Carl: Bugs, come here.
Bugs: I don’t need to come there.
Carl: You need to come here.
Otto: You both need to get out! I am with a patient!
Carl: Okay, whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I do not enjoy this amount of resistance to what I am attempting to do.
Otto: What are you attempting to do?
Carl: I will get to that after I have had…
Bugs: We have been sent by the studio to apply pressure on you, Doctor Frungenfreud, to speed up the process of curing Miss Nina Brookline of her amnesia in the hopes that her former, highly impressive creativity as a screenwriter will be rehabilitated back to its former lucrative status, thus allowing the aforementioned studio to rake in as much dough as possible and to stop having to pay you your justifiable but nonetheless quite high hourly rates.
Carl (to Bugs): You proud of yourself?
Otto: Ah, so the studio thinks it can apply a little muscle to the situation.
Carl: Just spilling it all out there like that, you think that was a good tactic?
Bugs: I happen not to like this particular gig. I happen not to be in the mood for games.
Carl: What are you so uptight about?
Bugs: Sue me, but I have a lot of respect for the work of both of these two people who we have been sent here to…
Carl: Lean on?
Bugs: Persuade.
Carl: Well, a job’s a job, so you better tuck away your respect and get to it.
Otto: So, are you two going to break my legs if I don’t cure Nina according to some schedule the studio has set?
Carl: Sounds like a possibility to me.
Bugs: Knock it off, I’m telling you. Doctor, if you don’t mind, we are just here to observe and then report.
Otto: Well, for your information, I do mind very much, but if you will not interfere, I suppose I will have to tolerate your presence. May I get back to caring for Nina now?
Bugs: By all means.
Carl: Yeah, by all means and every means, get her fixed up pronto, right?
Bugs: You are totally uncultured, Carl.
Carl (indignant): What?
Otto: Nina, it is time to come back. Three, two, one.
(He rings the bell. The lights come up on Nina’s portion of the stage. Everyone awakens suddenly.)
Nina: Well, that was a new experience, a nap within a…!
(Suddenly, lightning flashes and thunder claps. All the characters quickly exit through their respective doors, tripping, falling, and running into one another as they go. Nina stands, facing front, eyes wide open, transfixed. Within seconds, the stage is back to its original state.)
Bugs: She looks electrified. I think it’s a breakthrough.
Carl: A breakthrough?
Nina: A breakthrough!
Otto: A breakthrough!
(Another lightning flash and thunderclap. Clarissa opens her door and sings a long, dramatic note to accompany the moment, then shuts the door.)
Nina: It’s all clear to me now, Doctor Frungenfreud!
Otto: What is clear, Nina? You must speak your revelation!
Carl: I think we’re in the money.
Bugs: That is a completely premature supposition.
Otto: Shut up!
Nina: I thought you wanted me to speak!
Otto: No, no, not you, Nina. That was just…(whispered to the gangsters) You see? Your presence could ruin the moment and destroy everything!
Nina: Doctor?
Bugs: Moments are fragile. Don’t ruin ‘em!
Carl: You don’t ruin ‘em!
Otto: Shhh!
Nina: Doctor, I’m confused.
Otto: Nina, you are on the cusp of an incredible, (for the gangsters’ sake) fragile, (back to Nina) wondrous moment. Put into words what is happening for you, please.
Nina: I know who all these people are, these characters, my characters! I mean, Howard’s name just slipped out…
Bugs: Freudian.
Carl: Did you belch?
Otto: Shush!
Nina: But Clarisse’s was so hard to recall. Not anymore! I know every one of them. (Each time Nina mentions a character’s name, the character opens his/her door and strikes a pose typical of that person’s attitude.) Marcus (tuxedoed husband); Ellen (Marcus’s wife); Katrina (bratty girl); Constance (the Nanny); Jack (disheveled man); the protesters (three at once, with signs); and, of course, Clarisse.
Clarisse (sung): Shiny little cufflinks!
Otto: You have named them all! Bravo, Nina! A breakthrough of the highest order!
Nina: I feel so relieved, Doctor.
(Howard opens his door just enough to slide out. He clears his throat.)
Howard: Am I needed, perhaps?
Nina: And Howard, of course! The never-forgotten Howard!
Howard: Occasionally forgotten Howard. At your service.
Nina: It’s wonderful to know them, to name them, to recognize them as mine! Plus!
(The characters all go back behind their doors, shutting them to create the “shave and a haircut” rhythm once more. Howard is last. When he goes to shut his door, though, it sticks. He pulls on it a couple of times, smiles sheepishly, then pulls again with all the vigor he can muster. The door closes suddenly, smashing Howard in the process.)
Otto, Carl, Bugs: Plus?
Nina: I know their story!
Carl: Tell us their story, Nina!
Nina: Was that you, Doctor?
Otto: Of course, of course, that was me trying on the accent of a highly obtuse and unwanted American person. Do tell us, tell me, their story, Nina.
Nina: So, we begin with Marcus and Ellen driving to the opera. (Marcus and Ellen enter through their respective doors. Howard enters as well, looking a bit shaky from his latest door encounter, bringing a couple of chairs which Marcus and Ellen sit in, facing front, pantomiming driving in a car.) They’re late, of course, and arguing as they go.
Ellen: We’re going to miss the opening aria.
Marcus: We are not going to miss the opening aria.
Ellen: Many people think the final aria is the best part of this opera, Marcus, but I like the opening aria best.
Marcus: It’s not my fault we’re late.
Ellen: You’re going too fast for this road.
Marcus: Do you see what is on my cuffs? Do you?
Ellen: Please put your hands back on the wheel, dear.
Marcus: The cheap pair of cufflinks your father bought at a flea market, that is what I am forced to wear to the opera tonight. Disgraceful!
Ellen: Marcus, why aren’t you slowing down?
Marcus: I’m trying! I’m trying!
Nina: Unbeknownst to Marcus, the brake lines on their car have been cut.
(Howard takes out a tube and a pair of scissors. He cuts the tube in half, then makes a spurting motion with his hand.)
Howard: Brake fluid, brake fluid, brake fluid.
Nina: So Ellen and Marcus careen off a cliff to their death!
(Howard goes behind Ellen and Marcus’s chairs and leans them forward as they scream. They fall on their faces, the chairs landing on top of them. Howard looks at them for a second, then makes a sound and gesture to indicate a large explosion.)
Nina: And thus were all arguments of cufflinks, arias and other worldly affairs abruptly ended for the selfish Marcus and his long-suffering wife, Ellen.
Howard: Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle, ssssst.
Nina: On the very same night and only hours later, at the opera, Clarisse is about to launch into the triumphant ending of her most famous operatic role.
(A spotlight comes up on the dead bodies adorned with chairs. Clarisse enters through her door and strides down, clearly intent on entering the spotlight.)
Clarisse: These corpses are in my light. (She trills her “r” pretentiously.) Rrrrremove them.
Howard: Sing over there.
Clarisse: Rrrremove them.
Howard: Sing over…
Nina: Howard.
(Nina gestures that Howard should do as Clarisse demands. He sighs heavily and, with great difficulty and many dirty looks at Clarisse, does the job of getting rid of the chairs and bodies. When the area is clear, he makes a grand and sarcastic gesture inviting Clarisse into her spotlit area.)
Nina: Just as Clarisse begins the first note of what is sure to be her most celebrated moment on the stage to date, a rope is cut on the rigging high above her.
(Howard runs out gleefully with a length of rope and a pair of scissors. Clarisse looks at him. Howard puts the rope between the blades of the scissors. Clarisse continues to stare daggers at him. Howard takes great delight in slowly cutting the rope until it falls away in two pieces.)
Nina: A statue from Scene 2 plummets from above, heading straight toward Clarisse!
Clarisse: I’ll sing over there.
Howard: Oh, no! (rolling the “r’s” to mimic Clarisse) You stay rrrright therrrre!
(Clarisse turns to look at Nina. She shrugs. Clarisse gestures that she could move elsewhere. Nina shakes her head. Howard runs off and comes back out with a big statue and a chair. He climbs onto the chair with the statue and poses himself above Clarisse, ready for the kill. Clarisse looks up at her impending doom, makes one more silent plea to Nina, who rejects her with another shrug. Clarisse then looks up again, makes a face at the jubilant Howard, then squares her shoulders courageously.)
Nina: And thus does the statuesque Clarisse come to her dramatic end.
(Howard brings the statue down in slow motion as Clarisse just begins to let out her glorious final singing note. When the statue at last makes contact with Clarisse’s head, she lets out a loud, theatrical shout and throws her arms wide, knocking Howard off the chair with the statue. As Howard writhes in pain, Clarisse dies in histrionic, operatic fashion. Each time she revives for one more fatal note, she ends up knocking the struggling Howard down as well. Clarisse manages to get her death throes to take her out her door, which Howard leans against, exhausted. The door opens enough to bash him in the back of the head. He falls.)
Nina: So. Two people going to the opera, one performing in the opera, all dead. A triple murder!
Carl (whispered to Bugs): Opera is dangerous.
Otto: Shh!
Nina: I’m hearing shushing noises, Doctor. Are your pipes acting up?
Otto: No, no, something else is piping up that shouldn’t be. Continue. You are making superb progress.
Nina: I am?
Otto: Yah, yah. Now, you have made an excellent beginning. Can you see the rest of the story playing out?
(The doors start to shake.)
Nina: I…I think so. I’m getting flashes of scenes, brief little bits.
(Before each character speaks, they burst out of their door, say their line, then slam the door shut again, all in quick succession.)
Katrina: But where are my parents?
Jack: I’m not who you think I am.
Constance: Come on, I’m telling you, come on!
(The three protesters come in without their signs.)
protester 1: We know what you’re up to!
Protesters 2, 3: Yeah!
Jack: She’s not who you think she is.
Constance: It’ll all be fine. Just listen to me!
Protester 2: Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want!
Protesters 1, 3: Yeah!
Katrina: I want to go home!
Otto: One thing at a time, Nina.
Nina: I’m trying. I can’t get it all organized! I’m going crazy!
Katrina: Mommy!
3 Protesters: Yeah!
Jack: Surprise!
Constance: Stop!
Otto: Nina!
Nina: Help!
Katrina, Jack, Constance, 3 protesters: Boo!
(The doors, now all shut again, begin shaking again.)
Otto: Nina, I am going to bring you out. We must end this for now.
Nina: No, no, you said I’m making progress.
Carl: That’s right, Doc, let her make progress.
Otto: Only if you can find a way to center yourself. Think of something calming. Something calming.
Nina: Like…like what?
Otto: You once mentioned a giant stuffed animal your father won for you at the fair.
(Howard runs out and comes back in with a huge stuffed animal. He has a hard time bringing it through the door. As Nina speaks, Howard brings it to her.)
Nina: Yes, yes, I remember that. It was so enormous and fluffy. It took my father I don’t know how many tries at the arcade to win it for me. We put it in my room and, after a while, every time I looked at it, I just thought of how much trouble I had made for my father!
Otto: All right, all right, never mind the animal. Forget the animal.
(Howard chucks the animal aside, accidentally ripping one of its legs off. The doors shake harder.)
Nina: Oh, Doctor, I’m not feeling any calmer!
Otto: Ah, ah, recall with me the memory of the wonderful tea that your grandmother used to serve on the lovely, elaborate tea set. Yah, how she would bring it to you in the afternoon when you would visit her.
(Howard runs out and comes back in with an elaborate tea set, trying very hard not to spill it as Nina talks. At one point, he trips over the stuffed animal and almost loses the whole thing, but he manages to keep it steady.)
Nina: Oh, yes. How nice that tea smelled, of cinnamon and sugar, all those lovely hours spent with my grandmother listening to my every thought and dream. (Howard hands her a cup.) She would send me home with it, and every sip would transport me to instant calm and acceptance. Except for that time my bratty cousin put terrible hot peppers in it! (Nina throws the tea out, dousing Howard.) Ever since then, the smell of cinnamon makes me so anxious!
Otto: The tea is gone! Out with the tea!
(Howard quickly gathers up the tea set and tries to run off with it, but again he trips over the stuffed animal and goes sprawling, tea set and all. The doors, which calmed during the positive parts of the tea segment, are rattling ever more loudly.)
Nina: I’m sorry, Doctor Frungenfreud! I’m a mess! Every positive thing I try to think of turns into a disaster! I can’t get myself under control!
Otto: Nina, it is all right. Calm yourself!
Nina: I’m trying! I can’t! (As Nina goes on, Bugs pulls a small book out from his jacket pocket and opens it, showing a passage to Otto.) This is my life, what led to my breakdown! I want to be relaxed and productive! I want to be helpful to people!
Bugs: Try it. Read it.
Nina: Even when I thought my creative self was coming back, it turned into chaos again. I just can’t make people happy! I can’t!
Otto (reading): “Nina Brookline is the film studio’s secret weapon, turning out scripts that not only highlight the actors’ natural talents, but also bring us stories of intrigue that alternatively puzzle and delight us as film-goers.”
Nina: Wha…what are you saying, Doctor?
Otto: These are not my words, Nina. They are from your biography: “Nina Brookline, the Darling Writer of Hollywood.”
(Bugs flips the pages to another section, showing Otto where to read.)
Nina: Biography? Someone wrote…? I remember that. I remember that! And…and they liked me, didn’t they?
Otto: “If Nina can continue to add to her illustrious canon as she has been in the early part of her career, it will be not only Tinseltown who owes her a great debt, but the entire world.”
Nina: Gosh.
Otto: “Let me be the first to put the words in print: Nina Brookline, thank you.”
Nina: That’s so…that’s so…
(Howard has been listening to the words from the biography while hugging the severed leg of the stuffed animal. He breaks out into sobs.)
Howard: Beautiful!
Carl: Where did you come up with that?
Bugs: I brought it with me; I’m a big fan. I thought I could get her to autograph it.
Nina (suddenly alert and confident): It’s all there now, clear as day: The story is called “Opera Operative.” After the initial murders, we learn that Jack, whom we thought was the British gardener, is, in fact, a detective.
(Jack enters.)
Jack (cockney): Hello, Guvnah. Might you be in need of somebody to mind your posies? (American) And whether you know it or not, you’re in need of somebody to figure out what’s going on behind the shrubberies of this strange household of yours.
Nina: Because after the murders, Jack has done some digging and discovered that the extensive family fortune of Marcus and Ellen Wrightcroft…
(Marcus and Ellen enter.)
Marcus and Ellen: We’re dead now but we were rich!
Nina: Because of their love for the opera…
Marcus and Ellen: We’re dead now but we loved the opera!
Nina: Was willed to none other than Clarisse DeMontague, the opera star!
(Clarisse enters.)
Clarisse: I’m dead now but I was going to be…(singing) rich!
Nina: So now, with Marcus and Ellen and Clarisse all out of the way…(Marcus, Ellen and Clarisse all exit through their doors.) the sole remaining recipient of the Wrightcroft fortune would be their only daughter, Katrina!
(Katrina enters.)
Katrina: My parents are dead! Waaa! (sudden shift) Where’s my money?
Nina: But the stipulation was that Katrina, being young and immature…
Katrina: I’m going to hold my breath until I get my money!
Nina: Would have her vast fortune managed by none other than…
(Constance enters.) Constance!
Constance: Who, moi? (She walks around the set as she talks. Jack sneakily follows.) What a terrible tragedy it is that Katrina’s parents should have died so young. I feel horrible.
Jack: I don’t buy it.
Constance: On the other hand, how fortunate for Katrina that she is already under my loving care.
Jack: There’s something fishy going on.
Constance: Out of deep concern for Katrina, I feel it would be best to take her away into a remote jungle enclave, far from the judgmental public and (She turns to look at Jack, who ducks away.) the prying eyes of the law.
Jack: I get more loving presence from a snake.
Constance: Come, Katrina, time for us to leave for the remote jungle enclave where you can be far from the judgmental public and (same action as before) the prying eyes of the law.
Jack: A big, old, filthy rattlesnake.
Katrina: I don’t want to go! I want to stay here in the mansion and wear black and mourn my parents and spend lots and lots of their money!
Nina: And with that, Katrina…
(The door for the protesters flies open.)
Protesters: Hey!
Protester 1: What about us?
Nina: What about you?
Protester 2: It sounded like you were going to move on to the next plot point leading to the climax and leave us in the dust.
Nina: Oh, yes. You’re nameless protesters, carrying signs and otherwise bothering the Wrightcroft family to show that their wealth was ill-gained, thus allowing the story to make a mild social commentary. You also provide an opportunity for the executive producer’s niece to make an appearance.
Protester 3: Hi Mom, it’s my big break!
Protester 1: Down with writers!
(Protesters 2 and 3 join in with the chant, then exit behind their door.)
Nina: Where was I? Oh, yes!
Katrina: I don’t want to go to some jungle enclave! I want to stay here in the mansion and wear black and mourn my parents and spend lots and lots of their money!
Nina: And with that, she runs out of the house and into the thick forest! (Katrina faces forward and pantomimes running.) Following Katrina in hot pursuit comes Constance! (Constance comes up beside Katrina, also pantomimes running.) Following Constance in hot pursuit comes Jack!
(Jack comes up beside Constance, and now all three of them are “running” like crazy.)
Nina: All running through the thick forest! Howard!
(Howard, who has fallen asleep on the stuffed animal, wakes with a start.)
Howard: What?
Nina: The thick forest!
Howard: Really?
Nina: Howard! (Howard glumly but quickly exits, then comes in with a giant bunch of branches. He fumbles with them a bit, then runs over to Nina and whispers to her.) I guess so, if they’ll do it.
(Howard runs to the door of the 3 Protestors, knocks on it, steps to the side to avoid disaster.)
Howard: Hey, give me a hand!
(The 3 Protestors open the door quickly.)
3 Protestors: Get lost!
(They shut the door.)
Howard (knocking again): Come on!
(The 3 Protestors open the door as before.)
3 Protestors: Forget it!
(They shut the door.)
Howard (knocking again): You’ll get more screen time. (pause) And you’ll get to smack people in the face!
(The 3 Protestors open the door as before): We’re in!
(Howard runs down to the pile of branches with the 3 Protestors right behind him. He hands branches to each of the three, stations each one in front of the still running Katrina, Constance, and Jack, and proceeds to signal to them, as if conducting a symphony, when to slap the branches into the characters’ faces.)
Protestor 3: Look, Mom, I’m a forest!
Katrina: She’s not taking me away from my house to some stupid, remote jungle enclave, not if I can help it! I don’t even know what an enclave is!
Constance: Katrina, come back! I know what’s best for you! Katrina!
Nina: And all the while, the intrepid Jack bushwhacks his way through the thickest part of the forest, desperately trying to keep Constance in his sights.
3 Protestors: Bush. Whack. Bush. Whack.
Jack: Dirty, filthy, annoying, ridiculous, sneaky, conniving snake.
(All three stop running, breathing heavily. The 3 Protestors hold the branches up in front of them.)
Katrina: Oh, I can’t! I can’t. I’m too tired.
Constance: Katrina, stop! I was wrong! I see that now. (Protestor 2, in front of Constance, whacks her with a branch.) Ow!
Protestor 2: Oops.
Katrina: Have to…have to rest. I’ll hide here and hope she doesn’t find me. (to Protestor 1) I’m the helpless ingenue. Cover me.
Protester 1 (handing her branches to hide behind): Take two; they’re small.
Constance: Let’s just talk, all right? I only want what’s best for you. Please, tell me where you are.
Nina: Just then, the ever-observant, bloodhound-like Jack notices a torn piece of cloth on the forest floor.
Jack: What is this torn piece of cloth on the forest floor? Hm. I smell perfume, a distinctive fragrance I’ve only encountered on one individual. Constance. She dropped this.
Constance: Katrina, you must be exhausted and scared out here. Stay where you are and I’ll come to you.
Jack: There are two other scents on this scrap, obscure yet vaguely familiar. What are they? Come on, now, Jack–think!
Protestor 3 (smacking Jack): Bush. Whack.
Katrina: I don’t want to live in the remote jungle, Constance! Why are you doing this?
Constance: Katrina! Katrina, keep talking. I’m almost there. We’ll figure this all out together.
(Jack sniffs the cloth deeply.)
Jack: That’s it! Katrina, get away from Constance! Run!
Katrina: Who’s that?
Jack: I’m Jack, the gardener except I was never a gardener at all. I’m a detective!
Constance: Don’t listen to him, Katrina! He’s an imposter! I’m almost there.
Katrina: Who’s taking care of the posies? I’m so confused!
Jack: Run, Katrina! Constance murdered your parents! Run!
(Constance grabs Katrina.)
Constance: I’ve got you!
Katrina: What are you doing?
Constance: Jack the gardener, Jack the detective, whoever you are, I’m here with Katrina. She’s safe with me, so get lost!
Jack: Oh, safe, is she? And this rag that fell from your pocket smelling of your perfume, brake fluid and plaster of Paris–I suppose all that proves that she’s just as perfectly safe as her parents were, as Clarisse DeMontague was?
Katrina: Brake fluid and plaster of Paris–what is he talking about?
Constance: Quiet, you brat!
Katrina: Constance?
Jack: Run, Katrina!
Constance: If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay right where you are.
Katrina: Ow! You’re hurting me!
Constance: Back off, law man, or this blade I always carry with me is going to cut off the last of the Wrightcroft family right here and now!
(Protester 2 whips the branches at Constance.)
Protester 2: Bush! Whack!
Constance: Hey!
(Katrina breaks free from Constance.)
Katrina: I’m coming, Jack!
Constance: Get back here!
(Katrina runs into Jack’s arms.)
Jack: There, you’re truly safe now.
Constance: You’ll never catch me alive!
(Constance runs off the Protesters following, continuing to provide the forest branches effect, until Constance exits out her door.)
Katrina: I can’t believe it. Constance killed my parents and Clarisse the opera star?
Jack: Yes, yes she did.
Katrina: And she got away?
Jack: Yes, yes she did.
Katrina: What kind of a world is this?
Jack: A confusing one, Katrina, where trust can rise like the sun, bringing warmth and light, then fall just as fast, plunging us into midnight.
(The doors all open; the characters behind echo the word “midnight.” They slowly close their doors.)
Nina: Thus ends “Opera Operative.” The final credits roll.
(Jack, Nina and Howard all exit through their doors.)
Carl: Boy, that would make a good movie!
Bugs: It did make a good movie.
Carl: Huh?
Otto: Congratulations, Nina! You recalled your story!
Nina: I did, didn’t I? This is wonderful. Now all I have to do is type it up and bring it to the studio…
Otto: Nina.
Nina: I’m sure they’ll like it. Don’t you think they’ll like it?
Otto: Nina.
Nina: Plus, having Constance escape leaves room for a sequel, and I’m already getting an idea for how that would go. In fact, all kinds of stories are coming to me now, just a whole flood of them! I’m cured!
Otto and Bugs: Nina!
Nina: What?
Otto: You already wrote “Opera Operative.” It was a smash hit.
Nina: It was?
(The three protesters come out of their door.)
Protester 1: Best film of the year!
Protester 2: A blockbuster!
Protester 3: An epic achievement, especially the forest! Hi, Mom!
(The three protesters duck back in and close the door.)
Bugs: See?
Carl: I missed it. Shucks.
Otto: As was the sequel, as were the eight other films you wrote for the studio. Every one of them…
(The three protesters enter again.)
Protester 1: Fabulous cinema!
Protester 2: Moving-making magic!
Protester 3: Every film-goer's dream, especially the forest!
(They exit behind the door. After a second, it opens again and Protester 3 pokes her head out for a second.)
Protester 3: Hi, Mom!
Nina: Huh. So my amnesia’s cured, but all these stories bursting in my brain right now are ones I’ve already created.
Otto: Correct, Nina, and what’s more…
Carl: There’s more?
(As Otto speaks, the characters all come from behind their doors and surround Nina in a semi-circle.)
Otto: What’s more is that if you look carefully at each of the characters in “Opera Operative” and compare them to the characters in every other film you have written, you will notice something very interesting.
(Nina peers at the characters, circling around them. The characters lock eyes with Nina and move when she is, creating a melodramatic, ridiculous dance.)
Nina: I am looking at the characters in “Opera Operative” and thinking about all the other characters in my other screenplays and comparing them and I am noticing…aha!
This is not the end of the play! If you’re interested in the rest, email me: haehnela@gmail.com. Thanks for reading. I hope we can work together!
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