For the upcoming New York Theatre Review benefit (Oct
2 starting at 8pm at the Brick--seeya there.) I was
asked along with some other playwrights to write a 2
minute play on the subject of critics.
Kip Fagan will direct my piece and if all goes well,
it will star Jason Grote and Alexis Soloski.
This is the play. Please do come out I think it will
be a fun time and fellow bloggers George Hunka and
Sheila Callaghan will be in attendance, the latter
performing a song. (both of them also having written pieces for the show.)
MIND OF THE CRITIC
By Adam Szymkowicz
MELINDA
Welcome to the mind of the critic. He sits in his
designated seat. He checks to make sure his shoes are
tied. He checks his fly to make sure it’s closed. He
glances through his press packet.
CRITIC
Why did I get stuck reviewing this play?
MELINDA
--he thinks. He knows it will be bad. He knows it.
Yet he has hope. A tiny glimmer. So small it’s
almost not there.
CRITIC
Why did I get stuck with this one?
MELINDA
He’s trapped. He can’t leave. The play begins.
CRITIC
Oh. This could be ok. Oh, ok. It’s fine.
MELINDA
Ten minutes in.
CRITIC
How long is this play?
MELINDA
Thirty minutes in.
CRITIC
Is there an intermission? I could leave at
intermission.
MELINDA
He looks at his program.
CRITIC
No intermission.
MELINDA
Forty minutes in.
CRITIC
Eggs
Butter
Milk
Toilet Paper
Orange Juice
Frozen Pizza
Ummm
Eggs
MELINDA
Fifty minutes in.
CRITIC
Kill me. Please kill me. I want to die. I can’t
watch this. I can’t be here one more minute. I want
to slash my wrists. I want to disembowel myself with
a garden trowel. Pull out my insides. Scrape out my
heart. Rip out my lungs from my newly cracked-open
chest. I’m going to vomit. This is unbearable.
Unconscionable. Stab me. I want to die.
MELINDA
Fifty five minutes in.
CRITIC
I can’t . . . I can’t . . this is. Oh, God.
MELINDA
He has a realization.
CRITIC
She doesn’t love me. She never loved me. How could
she lie to me all that time? (Pause) Shit! I forgot
to call Michael.
MELINDA
Sixty-five minutes in. He suddenly sees something.
An actress doing something true and painful and sad
and funny and terrible and lovely all at once. He
looks through his press packet. Who is she? She’s
amazing. He is rapt.
CRITIC
How are you doing that? Don’t stop. You’re charming.
You’re wonderful. You make being alive feel ok.
MELINDA
Then she forgets her line. Awkward silence. He wants
her to recover. He hurts for her. Another actor
tries to cover but fails. They are not making sense
anymore. The actress runs off the stage. The Critic
is crushed.
CRITIC
My girl—
MELINDA
The play continues. Or something like the play. The
critic sighs, takes notes. Checks to see if his shoes
are tied. One hundred and three minutes into the
play. The actress returns. She is humbled. She is
hunched. She is terrified but says her lines or what
the critic assumes her lines are. The critic has a
realization. He looks at the actress and sees
himself.
CRITIC
I love you.
MELINDA
And then the play is over. He claps politely.
Gathers his notes. Goes home to feed his cats and to
write his review.