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Topic: Futurism Revisited.
Topic: Futurism Revisited.
Ron Campbell
soarfeat@gmail.com
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Luigi………….late 20’s
Guido………...late 40’s
SETTING
A Theatre.
(Lights come up on two clowns, Luigi and Guido, back to back in the
center of the stage. They are leaning on each other.
Counterbalanced. After a longish pause Luigi leaps up, causing
Guido to fall over.)
LUIGI
GUIDO
Where?
LUIGI
GUIDO
When?
LUIGI
Right now.
GUIDO
We can’t.
LUIGI
Why not?
GUIDO
LUIGI
Here we are. In our prime both in physical ability and mental acuity.
We balance each other perfectly. My boundless energy and
inquisitive nature and your tattered grandeur and studied
insouciance.
The stage is set, the curtain drawn, let’s make art!
GUIDO
We can’t.
LUIGI
Why not?
GUIDO
We need something.
LUIGI
We need something?
What could we possibly need?
Text?
We don’t need text.
Words are overrated ciphers, the blunt instruments of the past.
Language itself is a bygone remnant of a calcified society in love with
its own reflection. The text is a crutch for stagnant minds to cling to.
Not us.
Ours will be a theatre of pure emotion. Unfettered by the restraints of
specificity. We-
GUIDO
No!
It’s not that. There is something else we need.
LUIGI
I know! MUSIC!
-But not the so called music of the past, played on antique
instruments regurgitating the metered cadences of a thousand dreary
symphonies.
Not the rhythmic dirges of forgotten litanies of the past exhumed to
our ears to lullaby us all into a lifeless trance.
Oh no.
Ours will be a music that reflects the future before it happens.
And into this undiscovered soundscape we shall venture armed only
the freedom of no preconceptions.
(Luigi starts acting out blind deaf people sniffing for guidance.)
GUIDO
No. That is not what I’m talking about. There is something that we
need. Something without which all our efforts, no matter how
cacophonous, will be rendered into feeble navel gazing exercises.
LUIGI
Of course. Props!
What is theatre without props?
But we must be selective. Spare. Judicious in our decisions.
I suggest balloons.
GUIDO
Balloons!
LUIGI
Of course. Balloons are the perfect metaphor for our theatre of the
future. Limp prophylactic vessels made buoyant with our own hot air
until they burst the confines of themselves and… Pop!
GUIDO
No not balloons.
LUIGI
Buckets of confetti?
GUIDO
No.
LUIGI
A giant spoon?
GUIDO
…Maybe.
But we need something first. Before we can do anything else.
LUIGI
I know. Costumes!
We shall festoon our bodies with curlicues of felt and lace, the
feathers of endangered species and the pelts of free range
marmosets. We shall habardash ourselves with fantastical headgear.
Flying buttresses of the finest filigree shall adorn our craniums and
we shall wear prosthetic limbs to better showcase our sartorial multi-
sleeved splendor. We shall raise our hems to unheard of heights and
mock the finest mock turtlenecks to multi colored shreds. It shall take
five dressers and a small crane to dress us.
Upon our entrance people will rend their own garments in shame as
their minds try to comprehend the magnificence of our costumes!
Heretofore un-imagined color combinations shall dazzle the eye and
obliterate any vestige of complacency that may remain in the
audience’s minds. We shall accessorize so cleverly all the women in
the first ten rows will faint in a fit of pure envy.
GUIDO
LUIGI
GUIDO
GUIDO
LUIGI
GUIDO
LUIGI
GUIDO
LUIGI
GUIDO
Repetition.
LUIGI
Repetition?
GUIDO
Yes. Repetition. Repetition is our foe. I repeat: Repetition is our foe.
It is repetition that lulls us into a sleep of re runs and retrospect.
If we are to create art we must obliterate repetition!
LUIGI
(During the next section they find their way back to leaning,
counterbalanced on one another as they were at the beginning of the
piece.)
GUIDO
By thinking.
LUIGI
Consternating
GUIDO
Theorizing.
LUIGI
Mulling it over.
GUIDO
Thinking it through.
Hmmmm.
(There is a longish pause. Luigi suddenly jumps up. During the
following dialogue the lights slowly fade to black.)
LUIGI
GUIDO
Where?
LUIGI
GUIDO
When?
LUIGI
Right now.
GUIDO
We can’t.
LUIGI
Why not?
GUIDO
(Blackout.)
END OF PLAY