Two characters (men or women) are there, looking perplexed.
One – Do you think we were any good tonight?
Two – They clapped, didn’t they?
One – Yes… half-heartedly…
Two – True. A far cry from a standing ovation.
One – The audience got up as one at the end, but… mostly just to leave faster.
Two – There wasn’t even a curtain call.
One – True. We came back on stage anyway, but no one applauded.
Two – They were too busy grabbing their coats or climbing over stragglers to get out.
One – If the place had been on fire, they couldn’t have left faster.
Two – Maybe we shouldn’t have come back on.
One – That fake curtain call was a bit pathetic, to be honest. There we were, bowing like a pair of idiots, while no one was even looking.
A pause.
Two – Did you notice? During the play, they didn’t laugh at the bits where they were supposed to.
One – Yeah. And sometimes they laughed when nothing was funny.
Two – Some nights, the audience just has no talent.
One – Last night’s were better, weren’t they?
Two – Yes, more responsive.
One – Tonight’s lot must’ve come in from the suburbs.
Two – I’d say far-out suburbs.
One – That’s probably why they were in such a rush to leave. Didn’t want to miss the last train.
Two – No, they were truly dreadful tonight.
One – We should be allowed to choose our audience.
Two – The audience gets to choose what they come and see, so why can’t we choose who gets to see us?
One – Although… we can’t exactly interview every potential spectator before selling them a ticket. We’d never get through them all.
Two – True. And as it is, not that many people come to the theatre these days.
One – Yeah, we can’t afford to be picky. We take what we get.
A pause.
Two – Still, I thought they had a certain attentiveness about them, didn’t you?
One – Yes. They didn’t react much, but you could feel… an attentiveness.
Two – Just because people don’t laugh out loud at every line doesn’t mean they didn’t enjoy the play.
One – Some people are just quieter than others.
Two – And the fewer of them there are, the quieter they seem.
One – Yeah. And there were only about twenty of them.
Two – Seventeen, I think…
One – Well, they were very quiet.
Two –That must be it. They found it funny — they just didn’t want to laugh out loud. Out of politeness.
One – You’re right. Maybe they loved it, actually.
Two – Yeah. But still, there was no curtain call.
One – No.
Two – And no applause when we came back out anyway.
One – Maybe they didn’t see us.
Two – Maybe they didn’t want to keep us.
One – In case we had a train to catch.
Two – Actually, that’s true – we’d better not hang about or we’ll miss ours.
One – We live in the suburbs too, after all.
Two – What actor can afford to live in the city centre these days?
One – In the end, all these suburbanites – they’re our audience.
Two – At the very least, they’re our neighbours.
One – I think I even recognised one or two.
Two – Nice of them to come.
A pause.
One – Do you think one day we’ll be replaced by artificial intelligence?
Two – Who knows… AI’s already replaced subtitlers, then voice-over artists – why not actors next?
One – And the day after that… the audience.
Two – Might actually make them more intelligent.
One – And we’ll be out of a job.
Two – Robots performing a play in front of other robots.
One – Do you think they’ll laugh?
Two – If it’s robot humour.
One – What does a robot find funny?
Two – Replacing us, probably. That ought to give them a good laugh.
Blackout.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Backstage Bits
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Encore est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

One character (man or woman) is there. Another arrives (also gender-neutral).
Two – You look awful… Are you alright?
One – It’s the scene where I die…
Two – Sorry?
One – The scene we’re about to perform. It’s the one where my character dies of a pulmonary embolism.
Two – OK… And has your doctor diagnosed you with a risk of pulmonary embolism? I mean in real life…
One – No. Not that I know of.
Two – So?
One – I don’t know… Dying on stage always gets to me. Doesn’t it affect you?
Two – No.
One – OK, I’m only pretending, but… What if I actually died for real?
Two – Are you feeling unwell?
One – No, no, I’m fine, but… I feel such a strong connection with my character… What if, in the moment they die, I die with them?
Two – That would be taking your craft a bit far. Even at the Actors Studio, they never expected actors to identify with their characters to the point of dying on cue.
One – I know it’s irrational, but I’m scared to death.
Two – Theatre isn’t the bloody Colosseum. We don’t swap out actors every time someone gets stabbed or eaten by a lion. In theatre, the swords are wooden and the lions are cardboard.
One – You never know… All it takes is once…
Two – Exactly. And this is the fourth show. Your character has already died three times. He dies every night at around ten thirty-five. And yet, here you are.
One – That must be it, then. Fourth show syndrome.
Two – Fourth show syndrome? What’s that supposed to be?
One – Molière died after the fourth performance of The Imaginary Invalid. And do you know what he died of?
Two – The lung.
One – Exactly. The lung.
Two – Yes, well… we’re not in the seventeenth century anymore.
One – You think people don’t die of pulmonary embolisms these days?
Two – They do. But at least actors don’t get excommunicated anymore. You’ll get a proper burial among good Christians.
One – That’s a comfort, thanks…
Two – I’m joking. But I didn’t know you were so superstitious.
One – I should just stop playing characters who die, that’s all.
Two – In every tragedy, the hero dies at the end. Doesn’t leave you many options.
One – Then I’ll only do comedies.
Two – The Imaginary Invalid is a comedy. Argan isn’t meant to die in the end. And yet Molière still died playing him.
One – You’re right. I’d better give up comedy too.
Two – If you give up tragedy and comedy, what’s left for you in theatre?
One – Film.
Two – People don’t die in films?
One – At least you only die once. In theatre, you die every night.
Two – Even in film, it depends.
One – What do you mean, it depends?
Two – If they get the shot in one take, you only die once. But if they do multiple takes…
One – Right…
Two – If they do four, you could still die on the fourth. Like Molière…
One – I’ll try to get it right first time, then.
Two – That’s optimistic…
One – I know…
Two – Or there’s always television.
One – Television?
Two – On telly, it’s low-budget. They can’t afford to do lots of takes. Usually the first take is the one they keep.
One – Television? Me? I’d rather die.
The other checks their watch.
Two – Well, perfect timing. That’s our cue. Ready?
One – OK…
Blackout.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Backstage Bits
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Scared to Death est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

Two characters (men or women) are there, waiting for something.
One – You don’t look well. Got stage fright?
Two – No, I’ve gone blank…
One – What do you mean, blank? Memory lapse? We haven’t even started yet…
Two – I can’t remember which play we’re supposed to be doing.
One – It’s Sunday. Don’t we do Hamlet on Sundays?
Two – Yes, but we do two shows on Sundays. Matinee and evening. Hamlet and A Streetcar Named Desire.
One – Matinee’s Hamlet, evening is Streetcar, right?
Two – That’s just it, I’m not sure anymore.
One – Well now I’m doubting it too.
Two – We’re doing so many plays. I’m in thirteen at the moment.
One – I’m in fifteen.
Two – And we know all the lines, down to a T.
One – It’s just that, right now, I’ve got no idea which one we’re meant to be doing.
Two – Hamlet, or not Hamlet?
One – That is the question.
Two – What time is it exactly?
One – No idea. I had a quick nap and my watch stopped.
Two – I left mine at home.
One – But are we doing the matinee or the evening show?
Two – Not a clue… I haven’t seen daylight in ages.
One – If it’s the evening show, we must have already done one. We should know which.
Two – I’m doing three a day at the moment. One at 3pm, one at 7, and one at 10.
One – Same here. I even do a children’s show at 10 in the morning.
We hear the bell that signals to the actors they’ll be going onstage shortly.
Two – Too late to ask what play we’re doing now. Did you hear the bell? We’re on in one minute.
One – But the audience… they know what they came to see.
Two – Of course. So what do we do?
One – Here’s my suggestion. We go on. We do the first two lines of Hamlet, and watch the audience’s faces. If they look surprised, we switch to Streetcar.
Two – You think…?
One – Let’s give it a shot.
Two – OK.
A pause.
One – Who’s there?
Two – Nay, answer me! Stand and unfold yourself!
A pause.
One – They look surprised, don’t they?
Two – OK. Let’s switch to A Streetcar Named Desire…
One – Let’s go back to the beginning and pick it up from there, alright?
Two – OK.
A pause.
One – Who’s there?
Two – Nay, answer me! Stand and unfold yourself!
One – Hey there, Stella, baby!
Two – Don’t holler at me like that. Hi, Mitch.
A pause.
One – Yeah, it flows quite well.
Two – It could work.
One – And if they still look surprised?
Two – I don’t know.
One – We could alternate the lines.
Two – Alternate the lines?
One – One line from Hamlet, one line from Streetcar, and so on.
Two – We can try.
A pause.
One – Who’s there?
Two – Hey there, Stella, baby!
One – Nay, answer me! Stand and unfold yourself!
Two – Don’t holler at me like that. Hi, Mitch.
A pause.
Two – Yeah… But the play’s going to be twice as long.
One – Two plays for the price of one. Who’s going to complain?
Two – True.
One – And in the evening?
Two – Same thing, but we start with the other play.
One – That’ll probably give a whole new meaning to both masterpieces.
Two – We’ve just invented the theatrical exquisite corpse, haven’t we?
The bell rings again.
One – This time, we’ve got to go.
Two – So we’re starting with A Streetcar Named Desire…
One – Didn’t we say Hamlet…?
Blackout.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Backstage Bits
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Exquisite Corpse est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

One character (man or woman) is present. Their phone rings, they answer the call.
One – Yes, Cindy… Who? Oh, right, I’d completely forgotten about him. What a pain… No, no, let him in, otherwise he’ll never leave me alone…
A pause, during which they check their phone screen. Another character enters (also gender-neutral).
One – Ah, my dear friend! Come in, come in.
Two – Thanks for seeing me like this, unannounced.
One – Well, I am your agent. My door is always open…
Two – I’ve been trying to get an appointment for the past three weeks. No success…
One – Sorry. I’ve been very busy lately.
Two – So I decided to just show up. Without an appointment.
One – And you did the right thing. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?
Two – It really has
One – I think the last time was… Actually, I can’t remember at all…
Two – Wasn’t it at the funeral of that actor who starved to death after waiting three years for his agent to get him a role? Even just a bread-and-butter one…
One – Still joking, I see. Good to know you haven’t lost your sense of humour.
Two – Don’t count on it lasting, just so you know.
One – So then, what brings you here today?
Two – What brings me here? You’ve been promising me a film role for months. I’m still waiting…
One – It’s tricky at the moment. Things are tough, you know…
Two – You just told me you were very busy.
One – Lots of projects have been shelved due to lack of funding. Even ones with big names…
Two – And what about the French cultural exception? Those cosy subsidies the whole world admires — while they balloon the national deficit?
One – Subsidies are drying up, believe me. Back in the day, all you needed was to know a secretary at the Ministry of Culture to get advance funding. You could shoot any old rubbish and screen it in empty cinemas without risking a cent. These days, you practically have to know the Minister — and the Minister changes every three months!
Two – Or we could just try making good films. Ones people actually want to see. Ones that pay for themselves.
One – Unfortunately, in France, success is synonymous with vulgarity.
Two – Exactly. “Popular” or “mainstream” have become dirty words. And it’s with the taxes of the poor that we make films that impress the bourgeoisie.
One – You know what they say: subsidised culture, a culture of subsidies…
Two – Still, films are being made, right?
One – Yes… Mostly comedies. Frankly, a load of old rubbish.
Two – I’d rather be in rubbish than not act at all. Plenty of great actors built their careers on rubbish films.
One – Yes… But comedy…
Two – What?
One – Well, let’s be honest. You’re not exactly what you’d call a comic actor.
Two – Oh really? And why’s that?
One – I don’t know… It’s just that… when people look at you, laughing isn’t exactly their first reaction.
Two – What about television, then? Arte only shows depressing stuff. Surely you could find me something that suits me.
One – Arte… It’s mostly co-productions. With the Germans, mainly. And when it comes to gloomy actors, believe me, the Germans are already well stocked. Do you speak German?
Two – No.
A pause.
One – I might be able to get you an advert. At a push.
Two – An advert?
One – Given the current climate… It’s better than nothing. You’d still be on telly.
Two – An advert for what?
One – Strasbourg sausages.
Two – I’m vegetarian.
One – Then it really would be acting…
Two – An ad for sausages… And what’s the role?
One – A bloke eating sausages. In Strasbourg.
Two – Right…
One – Interested?
Two – Let’s go with the sausages.
One – Of course, there’ll be an audition.
Two – Of course.
One – And they say agents are useless!
Blackout.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Backstage Bits
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article To Earn a Living est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.