The Books: “My Cup Ranneth Over” (Robert Patrick)

Next script on my script shelf:

MyCupRannethOver.jpgNext play in my little unalphabetized pile of Samuel French plays is My Cup Runneth Over., by Robert Patrick

We used to have these one-act festivals in college – student-directed student-acted one-acts – and I swear, some of the best acting I have ever seen in my life came out of those one-acts – and it’s weird – only 75 people saw these things, ever. But some of them were just unbelievable. My friends David and Brooke in Home Free. But that’s just one example. We all just poured our hearts into our projects.

My Cup Ranneth Over was one of them – my friend Jackie (brown wool leg-wraps) and I were the stars – and Christian Gamella was the director. We rehearsed this thing as intensely as if it were a main-stage production. Christian was a wonderful director – He had a lot of ideas, he had a ton of enthusiasm, and we had so much fun working on this thing. Jackie played Paula – a wanna be writer whose goal in life is to get an article in CosmoCosmopolitan is EVERYTHING to Paula. Paula is unhappy, on the VERGE of getting bitter (but not there yet) – and also (very important) kind of vulnerable. If Paula is played without the vulnerability – then she would just be a bitch on wheels, and that wouldn’t be right. Jackie TOTALLY got that balance in her character. And I played her roommate Yucca – a musician (a chick with a guitar – along the lines of Joni Mitchell, or Tracy Chapman, or what have you). Yucca is the polar opposite of Paula – Yucca is laidback (but not lazy) – she sleeps until noon because she always had gigs the night before – and she and Paula are best friends. They support each other in their goals, they are there for each other. Until, randomly – Yucca gets a call that someone HUGE caught her show the night before – and suddenly people want to tour with her, the phone starts ringing off the hook – this magazine wants to interview her, that one … she becomes an overnight success. Literally. This is the story of the play. And Paula, trying to field all of these phone calls – suddenly has to face up to the fact that Yucca’s success bums her OUT because it makes her feel bad. She cannot deal with Yucca pushing ahead in the success factor.

Of course, it’s a one-act – and it’s a comedy – so everything works out in the end. But the main action of the play is what happens on the first morning of someone becoming an overnight success? What is that like?

Playing Yucca was one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever done – and on some level I have to say that I think that’s the best acting I’ve ever done. I was completely free. I had no fear. I created somebody ELSE. Yucca was not me. But I felt totally unselfconscious being her. Etc. Etc.

Like I said: those student one-act festivals were pretty juicy. Great acting … seen by almost nobody!

Here’s an excerpt from the play – the scene that takes us to the final moment. Yucca finds herself famous – Paula tries to be a good sport about it – and they drink champagne in celebration. But Paula also has an article she’s working on, and she’s waiting for Cosmo to call her to let her know if they will take her piece or not – so there’s THAT tension with the phone lines being hung up by incoming calls. Yucca keeps trying to bond with Paula, and let her know that their friendship won’t change, etc. etc. – but she can never finish a sentence because the phone keeps ringing off the hook.


From My Cup Runneth Over., by Robert Patrick

[The phone rings. Yucca answers gracefully, sipping champagne]

YUCCA. Hello?

PAULA. [wheeling and returning to her chair] Thank God!

YUCCA. Yes, this is she. You’re very kind. You’re very kind. Were you there? Your friends are very kind. You can get other opinions in the papers. All the papers. Daily Variety you read? Isn’t that charming of them, and me a mere unknown. No, it’s a sweat-stained T-shirt not a tea-stained sweatshirt! No, I don’t have an agent. He just called me, though. Oh, you are, too? Are there two agents? That doens’t really help me, I don’t know any agent’s names. I’m sure you are. I’m sure I do. I’m sure we could. You’re very kind. You’re very kind. You’re very fast. Well, who is someone you represent then? [Awed] John Denver? You’re very kidding. How do I know that? Look, could we possibly handle this this way? If you put me in touch with John Denver and he says you are you, and you are good, then I’ll think about it, provided I think. I hope that’s reasonable and I hope I can remember it. His number? John Denver’s home phone number? Shoot. 303-236-8790? [Paula types each digit separately with one finger and hands it to Yucca] You’re very kind. Thank you.

PAULA. You’re very welcome.

YUCCA. Thank you, Paula. Goodbye. [Hangs up]

PAULA. I’m not going anywhere.

YUCCA. [dreamily dialing] Daily Variety said I had American eyes: red, white, and blue. [Door buzzer buzzes] Hello. I haven’t finished dialing.

PAULA. It’s the door, Yucca. [Presses talk switch] Hello?

MAILMAN. [over speaker] It’s the mailman with some more of them heavy envelopes from Cosmopolitan.

PAULA. I’ll be right down.

MAILMAN. Hurry it up lady. These streets aren’t safe.

PAULA. Right down! [Goes to desk, turns on tape recorder] Yucca?

YUCCA. Hello. Please hold. What, Paula darling?

PAULA. My white knight is below with my daily fix of rejection slips. Whoever you talk to, remember you gave an exclusive on your clothes philosophy to Earl Wilson. [Pause] You’ve got John Denver on hold. [She exits]

YUCCA. Right. Hello? Oh, God, I’m sorry. Listen, you don’t know me, but for various reasons I call myself Yucca Concklin, and — you do? You did? That’s very kind, especially from you, especially if you are — you are? Well, why I called is this man said — he represented himself as representing you and — funny, that’s the name he gave, isn’t that a coincidence? And anyway he said he wanted you to be my agent. His. Mine. Him to be mine. Yes. You think I should? Well, I never doubted it, only my senses. Probably I will. House seats? I don’t know. No, I know what house seats are, I just don’t know if I get any. The subject never came up before. If you say so. You’re very kind. You’re very kind. [Awed] You would? Why sure. Uh — look. I don’t want to seem paranoid, but I’ve always had the intense conviction that worldwide conspiracies were working against my happiness, so could you please just say “Country Road”? [Pause] You’re very John Denver. [Paula enters in great disarray with two or three big envelopes. Yucca hangs up] John Denver wants me to go on the road.

PAULA. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

YUCCA. And I’m free after the show tonight.

PAULA. As far as I’m concerned. [Paula hands her the cassette out of the recorder]

YUCCA. Paula. How sweet. You recorded my whole first conversation with John Denver.

PAULA. I thought you might like to frame it in your new house.

YUCCA. New house?

PAULA. Or perhaps you’ll move to a hotel. Where you can call room service. When you want more room.

YUCCA. [sees envelopes] Are those your rejections?

PAULA. All I’ve thought up so far.

YUCCA. Papers! I’ve got to go out and get the papers.

PAULA. You can’t.

YUCCA. Sure. I’ll put on shoes. And an official Yucca Concklin white T-shirt. [Phone rings]

PAULA. Yucca, you can’t go out on the street.

YUCCA. Sure, I can. I’ve bled on those streets.

PAULA. Not yet you haven’t. Listen. [She drags Yucca to door and presses listen button]

YUCCA. That isn’t the door ringing, it’s the phone.

PAULA. Yucca, listen.

VOICES. Yucca. Yucca. This is her house. This ain’t her house. Yes it is. Whose house? Yucca Concklin. The big new singer. The one that wears the T shirts. Yeah, this is her house.

YUCCA. They’re talking about me.

PAULA. They’re talking about you.

YUCCA. They’re bandying my name about on the streets.

VOICES. She lives here? Yucca Concklin? Yeah, this is her house. This is where she lives. The one that they were talking about on TV!

YUCCA. [into squawk-box] TV! What channel?

PAULA. [dragging her away] Yucca!

VOICES. This is it. Three thirty three. Just like in the song. See there’s her name. Hey, Yucca!

YUCCA. Hey, yourselves!

VOICES. That’s her mailbox. There’s her name. Hey, let’s take her mailbox! [Hideous wrenching sound, then silence. Phone is still ringing]

PAULA. Yucca, what song are they talking about?

YUCCA. It must be the new one I put into the act last night.

PAULA. What’s it called?

YUCCA. “I’m just a street punk, just like you, from three thirty-three First Avenue.” I’ll take it out of the act.

PAULA. No, just take the act out!

YUCCA. What are you trying to say?

PAULA. I’m trying to say I want you to move!

YUCCA. Because you think I’m going commercial.

PAULA. Because I know I’m going crackers. This is impossible.

YUCCA. But it can’t last. [answers phone] Hello? People Magazine? Can you call back in five minutes? [Aghast] You can? [Hangs up] Okay, it can last. [Phone rings immediately]

PAULA. But I can’t. I want you to find another place.

YUCCA. It may not be real. [answers] Hello? Playboy? [Pause] Really? Can you call back in ten minutes? Thank you. [Hangs up] They want to photograph me without my T-shirt. It’s real. [Phone rings at once]

PAULA. It’s real, Yucca. You have made the jump. Turned the corner. Gone over the rainbow. Through the looking-glass. Round the bend. Taken the veil. Hit the parade. Made the grade. Started school. Crossed the street by yourself. You’re late weather and news.

YUCCA. [runs to hall door] No, I haven’t. Look, it’s over already. [Presses listen button] See, they’ve stopped talking about me.

PAULA. No, they stole the squawk-box for a souvenir.

YUCCA. But I don’t want to move. Where would I move?

PAULA. Maybe John Denver needs a roommate.

YUCCA. We’ve always stuck together.

PAULA. Stick it yourself, Yucca.

YUCCA. But I’m a success now. I’m surrounded by false friends.

PAULA. You won’t know they’re false after a while, yucca, they’ll be the only friends you’ve got.

YUCCA. Maybe I’m not a success. You can never be sure.

PAULA. [with a harsh laugh] Answer the phone.

YUCCA. [does] Hello? [curt] Time Magazine? Call back in fifteen minutes. [Hangs up. Phone rings] I can be sure.

PAULA. You can be sure.

YUCCA. All right, I can be sure. But I owe it all to you.

PAULA. And three months back rent.

YUCCA. Oh, I know, Paula, but I can pay it all back now. I can help you now. Look what all I’ve got out of our relationship. What do you want out of our relationship?

PAULA. Out of our relationship.

YUCCA. You can’t mean that. I owe so much to you. Every time I’d start to give up, I’d think of you over there, clawing away at that machine, writing articles no one wants, collecting rejection slips, people returning your stuff without buying it, without reading it, editors begging you not to waste your time, and no matter how many of thtem told you to go into social work or home economics, you kept on! Without hope or promise, all your friends laughing behind your back, editors taking sexual advantage of you, love and life and youth passing you by, and I’d say, Golly. If she can take all of that and still believe in herself, who am I to flag. That’s what I owe you!

PAULA. Well, and here it comes back with interest. That’s beautiful. That’s some of your best work! Now would you like to hear the flip side? You’ve changed, Yucca, you’ve changed, success has changed you!

YUCCA. Me? [Answers phone] Newsweek? Later! [Hangs up] Me? [Phone rings]

PAULA. Anybody else in this house had success? You’ve changed overnight. You all of a sudden expect me to get the phone for you, pour your champagne, give your interviews, sacrifice my writing time!

YUCCA. I haven’t changed.

PAULA. You have. You used to do everything for me and now you won’t even move.

YUCCA. I haven’t changed, I haven’t had time.

PAULA. And on top of everything else, you insult my work!

YUCCA. I didn’t insult it, I just said nobody wants it!

PAULA. Is that your concept of a rave?

YUCCA. I was just being honest.

PAULA. Well, that’s a change.

YUCCA. I’m always honest. You just never listen.

PAULA. I listen to you practicing on your twelve-string torture instrument night and day for five years grinding out dime-a-dozen despair. [Imitates Yucca singing] “Oh, you may be goin’ to Buffalo, but you ain’t goin’ to Buffalo me!”

YUCCA. Well, I listened to you on your [quick glance at typewriter] forty-two key racket-package and I listened to all those fumble-fingered rewrites of Sexual Politics and I never said anything.

PAULA. You never say anything! What’s too silly to be said can be sung! [Phone is still ringing]

YUCCA. I thought you liked my music.

PAULA. I do. I love your stupid music, and now you’ve got me insulting it. You’ve changed, Yucca, you’ve changed!

YUCCA. I’ve changed? Honestly, Paula. You do a few simple things for me at a time of extreme crisis, things you never do for me, by the way, and which most friends would do for each other without even asking, you scream at me because I’ve had success, which you all of a sudden act like you never thought I’d have, and after we’ve struggled and starved together ever since matriculation, you try to throw me out on the streets!

PAULA. [running to hall door] You’ve bled on ’em, now live on ’em. [Into squawk-box] Look out, world, here comes Yucca Concklin! [Phone is still ringing]

YUCCA. I haven’t changed. You’ve changed.

PAULA. You just hung up on Playboy, People, Time and Newsweek. You never did that before.

YUCCA. I only did it so I could beg you not to throw me out.

PAULA. Don’t do me any favors.

YUCCA. Watch out or I won’t!

PAULA. Just answer the phone!

YUCCA. It’s afternoon now, it’s your turn. If you don’t want things to have changed, you answer it!

PAULA. All right. I’ll keep up the empty shallow, hollow … [Answers phone] Hello? [She listens, pales] — Yucca, it’s for you.

YUCCA. Paula, I’m obviously in hysterics. Can you take it?

PAULA. I can take a lot, but not this.

YUCCA. Oh God, who is it, National Geographic?

PAULA. It’s Cosmo-Fucking-politan.

YUCCA. It can’t be! I guess it can. What does Cosmopolitan want with me?

PAULA. Margaux Hemingway broke an eyebrow.

YUCCA. [takes phone] Look, can you hold? Oh, my God. [Grabs Paula by the arm]

PAULA. What is it? What did they say?

YUCCA. They said for me they’d hold anything. I’m sorry, Paula.

PAULA. I’m thrilled for you, Yucca. I’m tickled, I’m delighted, but will you please let go of my arm, give Cosmopolitan your fiftieth exclusive interview of the day, then bundle up your banjo picks and move!

YUCCA. I don’t wanna move. I’ll never be here anyway. I’ll be on the road with John Denver.

PAULA. Oh, rub it in!

YUCCA. Paula, you’re jealous!

PAULA. Gee, that would explain so many things.

YUCCA. You’re jealous of me!

PAULA. I’m ecstatic for you, Yucca, but my cup ranneth over about two minutes ago!

YUCCA. I don’t want you to be jealous.

PAULA. Then let go of my wrist so I can cut it. That’s the alternative.

YUCCA. We’ve always had this very special feeling of trust between us, respect for one another’s talents and abilities. We’ve always believed in each other, haven’t we? Haven’t we? We haven’t? All right, I never believed in myself but I always knew you did and that’s what pulled me through. Has that feeling just gone?

PAULA. Yucca, this is embarrassing.

YUCCA. But has it?

PAULA. It’s just too humiliating to live together, Yucca. I’m jealous — and for Christ’s sake, of you!

YUCCA. What do you mean, of you? What’s wrong with you? Me, I mean? What’s not to be jealous of?

PAULA. I don’t want to fight, Yucca.

YUCCA. Okay, but has the feeling gone?

PAULA. Only from my left hand! [Yucca releases her] Thank you, Yucca. I’m very glad for you.

YUCCA. You’re being unreasonable.

PAULA. It isn’t unreasonable to be glad for a friend.

YUCCA. All right.

PAULA. I just cannot spend the rest of my life thinking up clever quotes for your interviews, Cora Sue Concklin.

YUCCA. You what?

PAULA. I said …

YUCCA. I heard you. [Into phone with great and growing style] Hey, Cosmo? Shoot. I want to be a star because I’m lazy, and stars only come out at night. I thought Yucca was my full name because my folks always looked at me and said, “Yuck”. I wear T-shirts because I’ve always liked getting into men’s underwear. Overnight success? I just hope it’s not over tonight. My ambition? I want to go gold before I go grey. You want to print a cover story on me? Won’t that hurt? But, seriously, I’d love it … on one condition. It must be written by my roommate, Paula Tissot. She writes. I believe you are familiar with her work. That’s the one. Now, come on, be fair — give the kid a chance. She knows me better than anyone. In fact, she used to be my best friend. Here — I’ll give her to you … [She extends the phone to Paula, who sits looking at it.]

CURTAIN

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1 Response to The Books: “My Cup Ranneth Over” (Robert Patrick)

  1. Ali says:

    Thanks a million. This article helped me so much with my English assignment. Thanks.

    My English assignment was to write a 3-4 page summary on this play Cup Ranneth Over. It was very confusing and I could not understand the story. Your website helped me to understand the story, and helped me to get a good mark.

    Thanks again.

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