100 Read online

  Christopher Heimann, Neil Monaghan

  and Diene Petterle

  100

  NICK HERN BOOKS

  London

  www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Original Production

  Thanks

  Introduction

  Characters

  100

  About the Authors

  Copyright and Performing Rights Information

  100 was originally produced by theimaginarybody and received its world premiere at the Smirnoff Underbelly on 1 August 2002 during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. The cast was as follows:

  ALEX

  Matt Boatright-Simon

  KETU

  Matthieu Leloup

  SOPHIE

  Tanya Munday

  NIA

  Claire Porter

  GUIDE

  Claire Porter

  Devised by

  The Company

  Director and co-writer

  Christopher Heimann

  Producer and co-writer

  Diene Petterle

  Co-writer

  Neil Monaghan

  Set Designer

  Soutra Gilmour

  Lighting Designer

  Adam Crosthwaite

  Costume Designer

  Annemarie Woods

  Movement Work

  Matthieu Leloup

  Associate Producer

  Steve King

  Associate Producer

  Hannele Brown

  Our collaborators along the way

  Ruth Baldwin, Anil Desai, Alma Fridell, Maggie O’Brien,

  William Rowsey, Gal Sapir, Christina Thanasoula

  Thanks to

  Sue Emmas and everyone at the Young Vic Theatre

  Mehmet Ergen and everyone at the Arcola Theatre

  Richard Lee and everyone at the Jerwood Space

  Rebecca Salt at Colman Getty PR

  Special thanks to

  Markolf Heimann, Christine Heimann-Bossert,

  Diethard Heimann, Hedwig Bossert, Reinhard Bestgen,

  Ruy Petterle, Hans and Carolyn Kohl, Manuela Maiguashca,

  Zoe Hassid, Susanna Bauer and Zia Trench

  Introduction

  Our journey – an unusual process

  The work on 100 started with an email from the Arcola theatre in London, in July 2001. It offered Diene and me the opportunity to put on a play as part of the theatre’s Short Cuts season of short plays – the only condition was that the piece had to be ready exactly one month later.

  Instead of looking for a play, we felt we were more interested in creating a play based on certain themes we felt strongly about. As we sat down and brainstormed, a number of starting points appeared:

  One was the question of what may be essential in life. We wondered what it would be like to stop, step out, look at our lives and reconsider our choices. We had often felt that we, as most Londoners, were running around and missing some kind of balance in our everyday lives. How would we be living our lives if we had a clear sense of what was essential, what was really important to us?

  The theme of death and dying had been of interest to both of us, for different reasons. And it also seemed to follow on naturally from the previous point: isn’t death the ultimate ‘stop’? One often hears stories of how ‘near-death experiences’ make people completely re-evaluate their lives and often make changes for the better. Why do we need to almost die to ask ourselves these questions? And can’t the idea of Judgment Day or Purgatory be understood in a similar way, as an instance that poses the very same questions?

  Another starting point was our shared love for the literary style of Magical Realism and the work of Gabriel Garcia Marquez in particular. We were inspired by the way in which reality and fantasy blend seamlessly in his novels. We also knew that while dealing with serious issues, we really wanted to bring a magical sense of wonder, lightness and fun into our piece. In fact, some of the memories in the play have been inspired by Marquez’ novel One Hundred Years Of Solitude.

  Out of these starting points we created the premise and narrative structure for 100, and outlines of characters and character journeys.

  What followed was a period of ten intense days in a rehearsal room, improvising with a group of actors. All the collaborators contributed immensely.

  At the end of these ten days, and exactly one month after the initial email, we presented 100 at the Arcola theatre as a work-in-progress piece on three evenings. We felt we had found the core of something that was very special and dear to us. The audience response was very strong and positive, too. We decided to develop 100 and take it to the Edinburgh Festival.

  While the heart of the piece was already well developed at this infancy stage, we were very much aware that we needed to fundamentally rework the piece. We felt that while the devising process was very creative, we weren’t sure it would lead us to the quality of dialogue and clarity of shape we were looking for, especially given the limited amount of time we were able to have with actors in the rehearsal room.

  Diene and I were also aware that we were not the right people to do this work alone, as we are both not native English speakers. So we began to look for a scriptwriter to collaborate with. This turned out to be a lot more difficult than expected. Over the following months we searched, while we also went through another period of script development and improvisations with a group of actors at the Young Vic theatre in London.

  Finally – and with the help of the internet – our path and Neil’s met. Together, we tried to go back to the essence of the piece. Over the following months in the run up to the Edinburgh Festival, Neil wrote several drafts from scratch. These drafts went back and forth between him, Diene and myself, being constantly reworked and developed. Our collaboration was getting more and more fruitful and it soon became clear that we had become a new creative team, a team of three. We were complete.

  On the first day of rehearsal, four weeks before the Edinburgh Festival, it became apparent that our script wasn’t ready enough to be the basis of the rehearsal process. The script at this point reflected a very fertile ground with intriguing possibilities but it was far from a finished product. We decided to go back to creating a very detailed precise narrative outline of the play. Based on this outline we started a parallel process of improvising in the rehearsal room while writing the play simultaneously, with both processes feeding off and into each other. Our new company of actors were seasoned improvisers and their creative juices were just what 100 needed to fulfil its potential. Their flexibility, generosity and calm support kept the boat afloat. Matthieu Leloup ran daily sessions of movement work, creating a great sense of ensemble and alertness in the company, which informed the improvisation process. Having been involved with 100 since the very beginning, his contribution inside and outside the rehearsal room was a defining influence to the piece.

  It was in this period that our unusual writers’ collaboration became most intense and probably most creative. It felt like all three of us were constantly pushing each other further and surprising each other. At some point we even had the ocean as an obstacle, as Neil went on a holiday he’d planned long before 100, only to realise he was to spend most of his time in Chicago on a borrowed computer, adapting the results from my improvisations in the rehearsal room and Diene’s narrative structure development in the office. Gradually all the elements came together until final adjustments to the play were being made in the car driving up to Edinburgh (two days before we opened!)

  At the Edinburgh Festival, the play sold out even before the reviews came out and won a Fringe First award for ‘innovation in theatre and outstanding new production at the 2002 Edinburgh Festival’. The entire creative period had been an incredibly vibran
t, inspiring, intense and utterly exhausting process and at the time of writing, we’re about to embark on an extensive international and national tour – ready to start it all over again . . .

  (This published version of 100 has been slightly reworked since Edinburgh).

  Notes on the production

  The setting of 100 is a fluid interchange between a magical void space between life and death where the characters struggle to choose, and the worlds inside their memories.

  One of our starting points for this production was the question of what exactly is this idea called ‘the magic of theatre’.

  I now think the magic lies in the fact that as an audience we can believe in something that we know isn’t true. The moments of magic are the ones where we see a character, space or object suddenly transform into something else, purely through the actor’s craft playing with our imagination – while to the eye, ‘in reality’, nothing much has really changed.

  The simultaneous existence of these two (contrasting) worlds, ie. the meeting of actors and audience here and now, and the belief of the audience in the created imaginary world, is what may constitute the unique feature of theatre.

  So I decided to explore this ‘magic of theatre’ through creating a flow of transformation of objects, characters and the space by the simplest means. How little do we need to suggest for images to appear in the audience’s inner eye?

  Once again going back to the theme of what is essential (this time in theatre, rather than in life) I set myself a certain parameter: to make a show using only bamboo sticks. All the effects of the play were to be created only by the actors (supported by lighting), without any scenery or props other than the sticks . . . and one orange.

  Consequently, whenever a character in the play begins to recall his or her memory, the other actors transform with bamboo sticks into the scenery and characters of this memory.

  For example: as Ketu begins to recall his memory, the lights slowly fade up around him. In a bright warm morning light, we see the other actors as trees holding the bamboo sticks like dangling vines. The image of a rainforest is evoked through the use of the bamboos, together with a soundscape that the actors create with their voices. Ketu enters the image and as he uses his stick as a paddle, the trees begin to advance upstage in his direction, in sync with the rhythm of his paddle movement. He is travelling on the Amazon! As he passes through the trees, ie. as the trees move upstage of him, they transform with a single movement from trees with vines into characters with paddles. Instantaneously the space transforms and we now see a group of natives in boats, within the forest as a backdrop that has already been established in our imagination.

  The worlds we create are as fragile – and beautiful – as soap bubbles: one wrong movement, one actor who is not fully connected with the image and the bubble bursts, leaving us only with an actor holding a stick. The demands of this work – its need for mutual awareness and co-operation, for care and humility – are in themselves crucial to the meaning of the piece.

  CHRISTOPHER HEIMANN

  Characters

  in order of appearance

  KETU

  SOPHIE

  ALEX

  GUIDE

  NIA

  Although the play was originally performed by a cast of five, it could be played by a larger cast.

  Within the ‘memory scenes’ the performers help to act out episodes from each other’s lives, transforming into characters and objects as necessary.

  Void

  The lights fade up from black. We are in a seemingly vast space, largely empty and without recognisable dimensions. Light floods in from an unknown source. This is the Void, an otherworldly place, perhaps outside time and space. The stage area contains four, apparently randomly placed, boxes.

  After a few seconds we become aware of movement.

  KETU appears, like a shadow in the outermost edge of the space. Apparently in his mid to late thirties, his movements have something distinctly animal about them. He is clearly confused and disorientated.

  Then SOPHIE appears, a woman in her late twenties / early thirties. She, too, is disorientated.

  The two try independently to make sense of their new environment.

  KETU discovers SOPHIE. He stares at her. She returns his gaze for a moment.

  ALEX runs onstage. He is a young man, self-assured and brash, with a childlike quality that makes him attractive and likable.

  All three look at each other.

  Ketu

  1 . . . 2 . . .

  ALEX turns and looks around, trying to work out where he is.

  Ketu

  3 . . .

  SOPHIE looks at KETU.

  4.

  Sophie (to ALEX)

  What’s he doing?

  Alex

  At a guess . . . counting.

  Sophie

  Counting what?

  Alex (looks around)

  The seats?

  Ketu

  5.

  Alex

  Apparently not.

  KETU is confused. Lost in thought for a moment.

  (To KETU, helpfully.) 6?

  KETU wheels around, seeing ALEX for the first time.

  Ketu

  What?

  Alex

  Nothing. Just . . . joining in.

  KETU looks at ALEX as if it is ALEX that is mad. KETU examines one of the boxes. ALEX looks around again.

  Sophie (a realisation)

  I’ve been here before.

  Alex

  Oh?

  Sophie

  I think so yes. This . . . sensation . . . it’s familiar.

  Alex

  Where exactly is here?

  Sophie

  I . . . I don’t know.

  SOPHIE tries to think.

  Ketu

  7.

  Sophie

  I wish he’d stop that!

  Ketu

  8.

  Just then KETU comes up to SOPHIE. He looks at her closely.

  Sophie

  Hello.

  KETU flinches and rubs his neck. KETU is confused by the sensation.

  What’s wrong?

  Ketu

  What?

  Sophie

  With your neck?

  Ketu (offended)

  There’s nothing wrong with my neck . . . you don’t like my neck . . . you don’t have to look at it!

  The two part. SOPHIE slowly reaches for the top of her head.

  Sophie

  I have a cut . . . here.

  She traces her hand along the extensive incision.

  Alex

  What?

  Sophie (not wishing to pursue the thought)

  Nothing . . . it doesn’t matter!

  KETU comes to a realisation, he sniffs the air.

  Ketu

  There is no smell.

  They all look at their surroundings.

  Alex

  This isn’t right. This is not right at all.

  They all look at each other.

  Just then a voice is heard from the darkness.

  Guide

  Good . . . this is very encouraging. Very encouraging.

  The others are startled. KETU dashes and hides behind a box. A figure enters the space. He appears to be a man in his fifties. As we shall see, he is something of a chameleon. He is able to change his physical and vocal characteristics with remarkable speed. He is the GUIDE. Though at times he appears more of a jester or a clown. Unlike the others, he appears to belong to this place.

  I’m sorry to have left you alone all this time . . . there’s a bit of a backlog. Well, backlog’s the wrong word really . . . since time doesn’t exactly . . .

  Alex

  Who the hell are you?

  Guide

  I’m coming to that . . .

  The GUIDE takes centre stage.

  If I could have your attention for a moment . . . I have a short presentation.

  Alex

  Look this is very
interesting but . . . !

  The GUIDE suddenly changes tone and physical character. He appears more sinister.

  Guide

  You have something better to do? Eh? Somewhere more important to be?!

  ALEX is chastened. Clearly he doesn’t.

  Good . . . then I shall begin.

  A beat.

  Welcome . . . to death.

  Silence.

  Welcome. You will shortly be embarking on your transit. This can be a disorientating experience but we shall do all we can to make your final journey a safe and pleasant one. Please listen carefully to the instructions and follow them . . . (Darkly.) to the letter!

  You are to select one memory from your life. You will then record your selection with the camera provided.

  He points towards the ‘magical’ camera, an invisible device.

  As the memory is captured the mechanism will flash.

  There is a sudden flash. The others blink and look away for a moment.

  At this time all other memory data will be deleted. If these criteria are met within the allotted timeframe, you will be united with your selected memory for living and reliving throughout eternity. Thank you for your attention.

  They all look at him astonished. The GUIDE then remembers something.

  Oh, and I encourage you to decide quickly . . . as the next group will be here very soon.

  Silence.

  So. Are we clear?

  Alex

  Clear?

  Guide

  Mmm . . . I thought I was clear. And rather good as a matter of fact . . . (He preens.) Combining an authoritative tone with an approachability that would put the listener at ease. Didn’t you think?

  Alex (coldly)

  Where’s the door?

  Guide

  The what?

  Alex

  Where’s the fucking door?!!

  Guide (laughs in his face)

  Do you have any idea how absurd it is to threaten me?

  Alex

  I’m not dead.

  Guide

  So certain . . . Ever been dead before?

  Sophie (tentatively)

  I have . . . briefly.