All New People Read online

  World premiere by Second Stage Theatre, New York, 2011

  Carole Rothman, Artistic Director

  Cast List

  All New People was originally produced by Second Stage Theatre at the Tony Kiser Theatre, New York City, opening on 25 July 2011. It featured the following cast and creative team:

  Charlie

  Justin Bartha

  Emma

  Krysten Ritter

  Myron

  David Wilson Barnes

  Kim

  Anna Camp

  With special appearances by Kevin Conway, Tony Goldwyn and S. Epatha Merkerson

  Director Peter DuBois

  Set designer Alexander Dodge

  Costume designer Bobby Frederick Tilley II

  Lighting designer Japhy Weideman

  Sound designer M. L. Dogg

  Projections Aaron Rhyne

  Production stage manager Lori Ann Zepp

  The play had its UK premiere at the Manchester Opera House on 8 February 2012, and toured to the King’s Theatre, Glasgow before opening at the Duke of York’s Theatre, London. Produced by Howard Panter, Adam Speers and Evanna White for Ambassador Theatre Group, it featured the following cast and creative team:

  Charlie

  Zach Braff

  Emma

  Eve Myles

  Myron

  Paul Hilton

  Kim

  Susannah Fielding

  Director Peter DuBois

  Designer Alexander Dodge

  Lighting designer Paul Anderson

  Sound designer Fergus O’Hare

  Projection designer Duncan McLean

  Production manager Dominic Fraser

  Characters

  Charlie

  Emma

  Myron

  Kim

  Badger

  Kevin O’Donnell

  Ramona

  Supervisor

  Pilot 1 (voice only)

  Pilot 2 (voice only)

  Contents

  Cast List

  Characters

  Author Biography

  Great upbeat music plays as the audience filters in. A scrim covers the stage. As the house lights go down:

  Something like the song ‘The Buzzards of Bourbon Street’ by Gaelic Storm kicks in loud. The curtain rises to reveal Charlie, thirty-five, standing on a chair with an extension cord fashioned as a noose around his neck. He smokes a cigarette.

  We’re in a high-end Long Beach Island, New Jersey beach house. It is the dead of winter. We see snow outside the windows. An unlit fireplace is stage right. On a downbeat of the song, lights are full up and the music changes to sound as though it’s coming from a stereo in the home.

  Charlie looks for a place to ash his cigarette, but realizes his reach is limited by the noose. He stretches as far as he can for the ashtray on a nearby counter and tosses it in.

  Suddenly, Charlie hears the ‘bwoop-woop-woop’ of a car alarm being turned on. His eyes register his confusion; ‘Who the fuck could that be?’

  Emma (off stage) All right then, Mr Goldberg; well I just got to the house and I’ll put all the lights on for you and get the heat started so you’ll be able to have a look at the place without freezing yourselves . . . great, and you have the directions? All right, see you in a bit.

  Charlie wrestles with what to do. Just as he begins to try and loosen the cord from around his neck . . . Emma enters bundled up. She sees Charlie.

  Emma Oh my God!

  In a scramble to get the noose off of him, Charlie loses his footing on the chair and knocks it over. He begins flailing around, swinging from the noose.

  Emma Oh my GOD!!! Oh my GOD!!

  Emma runs over and picks up the chair and helps Charlie steer his legs back on to it.

  Emma Oh my God! What the fuck is wrong with you?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

  Charlie Who the fuck are you?!

  Emma Who the hell are you and why are you trying to kill yourself in the middle of one of my summer rentals?!

  Charlie This is my parents’ beach house. You have no right to just barge in here without knocking.

  Emma It’s the middle of winter at the beach! No one’s sposed to be here. I’m trying to rent the place for your parents! I certainly didn’t think anybody was gonna be in here trying to hang themselves! To Riverdance music!

  Charlie I’m not trying to hang myself!

  Emma Really?! Just going for a little swing then? Just gonna dangle by your neck for a bit and think things over?

  Charlie Would you please just get the fuck out of here?!

  Emma No I will not! You know, you might start off with a brief thank you to me for saving your life.

  Charlie I didn’t ask to be saved. What I want, is some fucking privacy!

  Emma Look, I don’t wanna be insensitive.

  Charlie Try a little harder.

  Emma I have no idea what’s going on with you or what your current situation is. It does seem a bit like you might be trying to hang yourself with an extension cord, but I’m fully aware that things aren’t always what they seem to be: book by its cover . . . tranny in a trouser suit . . . You may very well have been trying to . . . wire up some Christmas lights when you . . . tripped and got all tangled up in that extension cord. But if I don’t rent a house for next summer soon, I’m gonna be fired and they’re gonna try to send me back to bloody fucking England because I don’t have a Green Card or a visa and there aren’t too many jobs I can get. Pretty soon I’ll be right up there with you, accidentally hanging myself whilst merely trying to be festive. So would you please do a stranger a tiny kindness before you die and allow me to attempt to rent your parents’ ridiculously expensive beach house to this nice Jewish couple Miriam and Irving Goldberg. Please, fucker, I’m begging you.

  He stares at her a beat. Lights a cigarette.

  Charlie Go ahead.

  Emma Thank you.

  She sits there. After a beat.

  Charlie Well, where are they?

  Emma They’re not here yet. They said they were on their way. But they’re old and Jewish; it could be hours. They said they had to first pick up their grandson, Saul. Why Saul needs to come, I have no idea. Personally I think they’re gonna try and set me up with him. With Saul, a dentist. A dentist who does amateur dramatics. He probably wears Les Mis t-shirts to the gym. Jesus Christ; do you mind if I have a drink?

  Before he can answer, she pulls a liquor bottle out of her purse and takes a swig.

  Emma I’m sorry, I’m being completely insensitive and bloody fucking selfish. I suck at being human; desperation has made me evil. So I apologize . . . New chapter: why were you trying to do yourself in? And why hanging; it seems to be the most aggressive of all methods. Haven’t you any pills?

  Charlie I have pills.

  Emma Really. What have you got?

  Charlie Xanax, Valium, Klonopin.

  Emma Party, party, party. We could turn this day around for both of us real quick, couldn’t we? I’m just kidding. Well not really; but that’s irrelevant. Back to you . . . What put you over the edge?

  Charlie I really don’t wanna talk about it.

  Emma Well what’s the point in being coy about it now? If you’re gonna do it, you’re gonna do it, right? They always say that people who really wanna do themselves in are gonna find a way. (Realizing.) Maybe God sent you me and the Goldbergs for one last shot at talking you out of it. Don’t you believe in fate? I’m sorry what’s your name?

  Charlie Charlie.

  Emma Don’t you believe in fate, Charlie? Here you are, in an empty beach house, on a deserted island, in the middle of the fucking winter, moments away from ending it all, when in I walk. Does that give you no pause? Maybe God sent me to provide you with some sort o
f . . . access to the doors of your mind that remain rusted closed.

  Beat.

  Emma Sorry. I should tell you that I am super stoned right now. So if I say silly nonsense like that, you’re gonna have to forgive me.

  Charlie Sure. Look I . . .

  Emma You want me to go.

  Charlie You seem like you’re a very nice person –

  Emma Really?

  Charlie No. And I don’t wanna be rude . . .

  Emma But you’ve got things to do . . . Hmmm. You know you’ve put me into a smidgen of a moral conundrum here; you do realize that, Charlie. I don’t think I can leave.

  Charlie And why is that?

  Emma I think I may have been sent here to help. You may believe that or not depending on where you stand on God and fate and destiny and all that; it’s none of my business. But I do know that it’s a little bizarre I walked in when I did since I wasn’t even gonna show them this house because it’s outside their price range. This morning they called up and asked to see it. Out of the blue. Spooky. A religious person might think God intervened. I don’t know what you believe, but . . . Jesus or Moses or Muhammad, Vishnu, who’s the one with the arms? The elephant with all the arms?

  Charlie Ganesh.

  Emma Ganesh. I doubt it was Ganesh; don’t know what his deal was, but it doesn’t strike me as him.

  But whoever your God is, I think may have channeled an intervention through two cranky old Jews from the Newark suburbs. I think I’m here to help. So why did you tie a noose around your neck my new friend?

  Charlie To put it as simply as possible: I’m not happy.

  Emma Who is? Have you ever met anyone that’s happy for longer than fifteen minutes every once in a while? If they told you they were, they were full of shit. Who told you you were owed happiness?

  Charlie I don’t think I’m owed anything.

  Emma A man gives his child a million dollars and says, ‘Son, this is everything I’ve worked for, go enjoy your life.’ The kid comes back the next day and says, ‘Thanks for the million, Dad, but I’d also like a fucking robot sidekick.’ Is that kid a dick?

  Charlie What the fuck are you talking about?

  Emma Isn’t that you? You’re the dickhead kid asking for a robot sidekick when you’ve already gotten a million dollars. God gave you life and you’ve come back to whine for happiness. Life should be enough. Take life and walk . . . be grateful.

  Charlie OK look, I can see that you’re a little out of sorts, so I’m gonna say this as kindly as possible. I don’t give a fuck about God. Now I suppose it’s obvious, I’ve got a couple things on my mind. But don’t you fucking dare stroll in here and just splatter your religion all over the room, OK?

  A cell phone rings.

  Emma You know I’m not really sure what the etiquette is in this situation. Should I not get that?

  Charlie Go ahead.

  Emma Normally I wouldn’t; and I agree with you that it’s a little weird because of the nature of what you’re sharing. But the truth is, I’m expecting an important delivery and this pertains to that.

  Charlie Go ahead.

  She answers. Attempts to be covert.

  Emma Hello? . . . Myron; thank God. Look; can you come by the big house in Loveladies. Well I came over here to show these people the house and it turns out someone’s trying to hang himself in the living room . . . No, I’m not shitting you . . . Yes I have to get this all sorted out before they arrive; I imagine it will be a bit hard for them to envision playing Jenga in the summertime if they think some suicidal ghost is gonna be swinging over their heads . . .

  She notices Charlie staring at her.

  Emma OK, I should go.

  She hangs up. He stares at her.

  Emma You know, even as I said that I realized it was crass. That was my friend, Myron.

  Charlie Awesome.

  Emma So you were saying . . .

  Charlie I wasn’t saying anything. Look, would you mind terribly waiting outside for your friend?

  Emma It’s freezing outside! I can be quiet. I won’t say another word.

  Charlie I don’t think that’s possible.

  Emma No. I can do that.

  Charlie I’m pretty sure you can’t. I’d literally bet my life on it.

  Emma We could have like a meditation.

  Charlie No meditation. Just quiet. No talking. You’ll just wait for your friend in silence. You’ll get whatever it is he’s delivering and then be off on your merry little way.

  Emma No. You’re right. Peace and fucking quiet. Amen. I talk too much when I’m nervous. Sorry . . . I don’t know why I’m so nervous . . . I mean I know why I am, I suppose, the circumstances are . . . unique. But I can handle it.

  Charlie OK.

  Emma I just can’t quite . . . stop . . . talking.

  Charlie OK, well . . . let’s start now.

  Emma Yes. I agree.

  Emma paces a bit. It’s clear silence is hard for her. She looks at photos, then crosses to a piece of African art that sits on a stand behind the couch. It consists of hundreds of tiny beads woven together. She fondles it, and almost immediately the beads begin to fall all over the floor, making a ton of noise and destroying the artwork. When it finally stops, they both stare at each other.

  Emma I can fix that.

  Charlie Just please leave it.

  Emma Don’t be silly, it won’t take long. I’m just gonna need some thread and a magnifying glass.

  Charlie Please just leave it alone.

  Emma No, no, no. This is so embarrassing. I’ll have my friend Myron come in and help me fix it. He’s good with the arts and all that; taught high school drama for ten years. Watches tons of movies. He’s completely in love with me and I may have to marry him to stay in the country, but talk about a last resort; I have absolutely no attraction to him sexually, but I love his mind. He’s one of those people who so beautifully straddles the line of insane and sane. (Beat.) Maybe that’s your problem.

  Charlie I’m insane?

  Emma You’re too sane. Insane you’d be walking around Manhattan yelling at pigeons and talking to statues – I once watched a homeless guy in Union Square Park have a thirty-minute heated discussion with a statue of Gandhi. Just screaming at fucking Gandhi! Telling him to eat a fucking sandwich. And no one’s doing anything. Not one person in that park had Gandhi’s back except me. So I walked right up to him and said, ‘Listen you crazy fuck! Leave Gandhi alone. Have some respect! He is a man of peace. If he wanted to eat, he’d eat.’ He called me a cunt and roller-bladed off. Anyway, my point is, you’re not that kind of crazy. You’re probably too sane. You think too much; that’ll drive you crazy.

  Charlie Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot.

  Emma Yes. But I was a bit backed up from our meditation.

  Charlie What is your name?

  Emma Emma.

  Charlie Charlie.

  Emma Yes I know. Sad Charlie. It’s nice to meet you. And just in time too, huh?

  Charlie Emma, I killed six people.

  Emma What’s that now?

  Charlie That’s why I’m gonna kill myself. I murdered six innocent people. You asked what put me over the edge . . . the straw that broke the camel’s back . . . It was that. That’s what it was.

  Silence.

  Charlie You have less to say now.

  Emma That’s a pretty heavy piece of straw sad Charlie. You’re not gonna murder me are you?

  Charlie I haven’t decided yet.

  The doorbell rings.

  Emma Oh, fuck. The Goldbergs!

  Beat.

  Would you mind terribly not mentioning this to them? Something tells me this whole . . . murder/suicide thing might put them off a bit.

  She drapes the noose against the wall and quickly crosses to the door. She opens it to reveal Myron. He is in his late thirties and wears a fireman’s uniform.

  Emma Welcome!

  Myron Hey, baby.

  Emma Oh, Myron, it’s just
you. Thank God. Come on in. This is Charlie; this is his parents’ house.

  Myron No it isn’t. This isn’t your house.

  Charlie How do you know?

  Myron Because I know a lot of things.

  Emma You said this was your house.

  Charlie I did say that.

  Myron This is Kevin O’Donnell’s house. Super-rich stock broker guy. That’s not you. Sweetheart, how do you not know whose house you’re renting out?

  Emma Our office handles over a thousand houses on this island, Myron. Do you think I’ve got everybody’s family memorized? Do I look like the fucking Lion King?

  Myron Elephants are the ones with good memories, not lions.

  Emma Whatever.

  Charlie He’s right.

  Emma About the lions?

  Charlie No. Kevin’s my friend. This is his house. Are you a fireman?

  Myron No, I’m a gay stripper. What’s with the noose?

  Emma Charlie’s planning on killing himself.

  Myron Fuck, that’s right! Exciting. I was just sitting at the station staring at the wall. This is already better.

  Emma And one more thing, Myron . . . moments ago he also told me he killed some people.

  Myron Emma are you stoned?

  Emma Quite.

  Myron This guy hasn’t killed anybody. He’s fucking with you.

  Charlie You just met me. How could you possibly know what I’m capable of? How do you know I’m not seconds away from blowing your fucking head off?

  Myron I’m a vibe guy, OK? I get vibes. And your vibe, frankly, reeks of pussy. I think you’re making shit up to try to get laid. And there’s nothing wrong with that; I do it all the time.

  Last week I told some girl in Atlantic City I was at the Normandy invasion. Now that would have made me at least eighty-nine years old, but she bought it. She blew me behind a shoe-shine booth outside Caesar’s; said it was ‘for the troops’.

  Emma What a lovely story.

  Myron The next night I even upped the ante: pretended to have a nightmare and started yelling ‘The Gooks are coming, the Gooks are coming!’ That drove her ape-shit. So I’ve played this game; I know how it works.

  Charlie The Japanese weren’t at Normandy.