a theater trial of one act in five scenes
To the spirit of Aeschylus and the ever evolving heritage of Athenian democracy
Cast of Characters:
Special Note: Because the speaking parts are lengthy and the language is emotionally and intellectually rich, a director might decide to double the cast—a Hunchback and his Other, a Crippled Dancer and her Other, a Bound Woman and her Other—alternating opportunities in recognition of the substantial demands, if not as an act of mercy on individual skill and memory.
Dance of Fear (to Figlio Perdato, music by Beethoven—Allegretto, Symphony 7—performed by Sarah Brightman)
Dance of All Betrayals (to Lost Unto This World by Emmylou Harris)
Dance of the Damned in the Hour of Judgment (to Sinner Man performed by Nina Simone)
Sound of Silence, Simon & Garfunkel
Six banners on poles, three chairs and three demon masks
A different banner is help up, paraded and shown the audience at the beginning of each scene, as indicated in the text.. Players will regularly occupy the chairs when not speaking or physically performing. Players will occasionally don the masks of their respective demons. However, masks should not be worn during any of the speaking parts. But there is this similarity: each of the masks is topped with a crown of thorns. The demons thereby are represented as expressions of torment.
All players are on stage. Bound woman will speak, followed by the display of the first banner.
Bound Woman (BW): PREAMBLE & APOCALPYSE AMERICA
In the beginning… slavery and wars: …America. Wars against the indigenous populations, the Indians, the Indian Wars, in New England, the South East, out across the O-hi-o, down along the arterial Mississippi, over the sky towering Rockies and across the Great Plains to the Far West, -Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Chief Joseph headlong for Canada-, deep to the red stone sun and colored dry sands of Southwest-, Mengas Coloradas, Cochise, Geronimo,- the wars against First Nations, the People, the Indian Wars; two wars against Mother England and pre-industrial Father Time; a Civil War that took more American lives than all other American wars combined, except, of course, the Injun Wars, the genocide in the soil we feed from; a war or two with Imperial Spain and colonial Mexico, and two, big, total wars in Europe and wide across the blue yonder of the Pacific, meaning peace, against Nippon, Japan—internment camps here at home and looking backward, Andersonville, the world’s first concentration camp—then Korea, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia; wars in Central American, more Indian Wars, and the Caribbean, the West In-dies, wars against peoples of color, the poorest of the earth, Somalia, harvesting the legacy of slavery, then the war in Kuwait, between Sadaam and the Bush gang, oil war northwest of Bethlehem, with the flyover massacre on the Highway of Death-, you gardens of Babylon, the Hanged Man fell from your deck and now the invasion of Soviet ravaged Afghanistan, and now the invasion of sanctioned Iraq… nuclear tank shells and tactical nuclear campaigns: America. In 200 and 30 odd years of nationhood, from sea to cluttered sea, a hell of a lot of bloodletting, winnowing shot and violent death, for a country with high principles but low dealings, of pride that is too often arrogance and shame that breeds pandemic viruses in the fearsome flesh of aggression, and casts in terror’s terms of state a giant shadow; napalm, bunker busters, and a smiling face -from Outer Space to Abu Grebe, from Bunker Hill to Wounded Knee, from gun shots ringing out across the world to Watts in flames and ghetto hells, from the Tet offensive and Khe Sanh to the siege of Sadr City and you and I, citizens of the red, white and blue, and the melting pot of the republic, gridlocked on the endless Trail of Tears, in this flawed, staggering and in our end-days violated and betrayed democracy, conceived in wars and bitter slavery, slavery! I have said it more than once and headed, at lightning, break neck speed, toward spiritual death -o Jesus in a money box! give us your poor, your oppressed, your down trodden hungering, and we will plant them, sons and daughters patriotically in Arlington rows, in the seedbeds of counter revolutions, roots torn from memory, in junk heaps and garbage dumps of greed, in the nightmares of this collective dream and the bone-yard-ash of Apocalypse O- let freedom ring! in the crucifixion of everyman’s right- life, liberty, in pursuit of this Earth place, this audacity …America
Girls, Guns & Hot Rods:
by Jami Beck