lips trembling and longing to kiss, and teeth to bite

Over the weekend, the Goucher Theatre Dept put on a production called Showcase of Scenes from Students in the Lighting Design and Directing Classes. Students produced sixteen scenes from famous and interesting plays. B and I attended the five last ones on Sunday evening. Julia's boyfriend Ben directed a very funny scene from Christopher Durang's play Betty's Summer Vacation. He was also lighting designer for a scene from Shaw's Pygmalion. Julia was Abbie in the second scene of Act Two of O'Neill's Desire Under the Elms, a difficult role which she handled very well.

Here are links to all five scenes that showed on Sunday. The beginning of the Second Act of Waiting for Godot was very well done, Vladimir particlarly fine. Betty's was very funny, as I said, and Eleemosynary both funny and quite touching. Julia and the other two characters in the O'Neill made the most of a difficult scene, Julia surprisingly forceful.

- Betty's Summer Vacation, Christopher Durang
- Pygmalion, G B Shaw
- Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett
- Eleemosynary, Lee Blessing
- Desire Under the Elms, Eugene O'Neill

Here's the last part of the scene in which Julia played Abbie:

Desire Under the Elms
ACT TWO SCENE TWO

EBEN--(threateningly) Git out afore I murder ye!

ABBIE--(quite confident now) I hain't a mite afeerd. Ye want me, don't ye? Yes, ye do! An' yer Paw's son'll never kill what he wants! Look at yer eyes! They's lust fur me in 'em, burnin' 'em up! Look at yer lips now! They're tremblin' an' longin' t' kiss me, an' yer teeth t' bite! (He is watching her now with a horrible fascination. She laughs a crazy triumphant laugh.) I'm a-goin' t' make all o' this hum my hum! They's one room hain't mine yet, but it's a-goin' t' be tonight. I'm a-goin' down now an' light up! (She makes him a mocking bow.) Won't ye come courtin' me in the best parlor, Mister Cabot?

EBEN--(staring at her--horribly confused--dully) Don't ye dare! It hain't been opened since Maw died an' was laid out thar! Don't ye . . . ! (But her eyes are fixed on his so burningly that his will seems to wither before hers. He stands swaying toward her helplessly.)

ABBIE--(holding his eyes and putting all her will into her words as she backs out the door) I'll expect ye afore long, Eben.

EBEN--(stares after her for a while, walking toward the door. A light appears in the parlor window. He murmurs) In the parlor? (This seems to arouse connotations for he comes back and puts on his white shirt, collar, half ties the tie mechanically, puts on coat, takes his hat, stands barefooted looking about him in bewilderment, mutters wonderingly) Maw! Whar air yew? (then goes slowly toward the door in rear.)

This scene, from another production, shows Abbie and Eben before Cabot, her husband, has left to sleep with his cows, and before Abbie has gone to her step-son Eben's room to seduce him.

---

Here's the beginning of the Second Act of Waiting for Godot.

An image from another production showing Estragon's boots at the beginning of the scene.

Lucky's hat at same place.
The tree has four or five leaves.
Enter Vladimir agitatedly. He halts and looks long at the tree, then suddenly begins to move feverishly about the stage. He halts before the boots, picks one up, examines it, sniffs it, manifests disgust, puts it back carefully. Comes and goes. Halts extreme right and gazes into distance off, shading his eyes with his hand. Comes and goes. Halts extreme left, as before. Comes and goes. Halts suddenly and begins to sing loudly.

VLADIMIR:

A dog came in–

Having begun too high he stops, clears his throat, resumes:

A dog came in the kitchen
And stole a crust of bread.
Then cook up with a ladle
And beat him till he was dead.

Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb–

He stops, broods, resumes:

Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb
And wrote upon the tombstone
For the eyes of dogs to come:

A dog came in the kitchen
And stole a crust of bread.
Then cook up with a ladle
And beat him till he was dead.

Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb–

He stops, broods, resumes:

Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb–

He stops, broods. Softly.

And dug the dog a tomb . . .

He remains a moment silent and motionless, then begins to move feverishly about the stage. He halts before the tree, comes and goes, before the boots, comes and goes, halts extreme right, gazes into distance, extreme left, gazes into distance. Enter Estragon right, barefoot, head bowed. He slowly crosses the stage. Vladimir turns and sees him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ESTRAGON:
The best thing would be to kill me, like the other.
VLADIMIR:
What other? (Pause.) What other?
ESTRAGON:
Like billions of others.
VLADIMIR:
(sententious). To every man his little cross. (He sighs.) Till he dies. (Afterthought.) And is forgotten.
ESTRAGON:
In the meantime let us try and converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping silent.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

VLADIMIR:
We have our reasons.
ESTRAGON:
All the dead voices.
VLADIMIR:
They make a noise like wings.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
VLADIMIR:
Like sand.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
They all speak at once.
ESTRAGON:
Each one to itself.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Rather they whisper.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
VLADIMIR:
They murmur.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What do they say?
ESTRAGON:
They talk about their lives.
VLADIMIR:
To have lived is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
They have to talk about it.
VLADIMIR:
To be dead is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
It is not sufficient.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
They make a noise like feathers.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
VLADIMIR:
Likes ashes.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
Long silence.
VLADIMIR:
Say something!
ESTRAGON:
I'm trying.
Long silence.
VLADIMIR:
(in anguish). Say anything at all!
ESTRAGON:
What do we do now?
VLADIMIR:
Wait for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah!

---

This is the beginning of Eleemosynary by Lee Blessing

ECHO: Eleemosynary. E-L..E-E-äM-O-SäYäN-A-RäY. Eleemosynary. It's my favorite word. Not just because I won with it, either. It was always my favorite. Eleemosynary . 'Of or pertaining to alms: charitable.' It's from the Latin, of course, but it's our word now. We're responsible for it. Eleemosynary. Like a small song.

This is my grandmother. She had a stroke. She can't really talk. I can hear her, though. At least I think I can. She's seventy-five years old. I know she doesn't look it. That's not how I see her. My grandmother believed she could fly using only a pair of homemade wings and the proper classical training. In 1958 she made a ten-minute movie -- fully professional -- of herself and her daughter, my mother, trying it out. Sometimes I think all my troubles began in 1958.

Spelling the words becomes easy, really -- almost a nuisance N-U-I-S-A-N-C-E nuisance. What I really concentrate on is the meaning of the word -- or more than that, the feel of it. Lots of words have a special feel. Words like prink and zenana. Words like dysphemism and autochthonous. Spelling them is nothing compared to just feeling them. Beautiful words for ugly things. Limicolous. L-I-M-I-C-O-L-O-U-S. Limicolous. Means, 'dwelling in mud.' Or this one: Esurient. Just means hungry. But the way it feels. I used to stop right in the middle of spelling it. Esurient. E-S-U-R- IäThere are words I'd give my life for.