The Books: “Say Goodnight, Gracie” (Ralph Pape)

Next in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Next on the script shelf:

Next play on the shelf is Say Goodnight, Gracie. >by Ralph Pape.

I love this play. On one level, it’s a piece of fluff – there is no plot – it’s just five people sitting around, getting stoned out of their minds, and talking. But on another level, it’s really about a specific moment in time – a specific generation – a generation that went through much, and is now at its turning point. The play takes place in 1976. There are five characters – Jerry, Ginny, Steve, Bobby, and Catherine. They are going to their high school reunion – and they all convene at Jerry’s apartment. They live in New York City. They have various jobs … writer, aspiring actor … Catherine, who is the loopy girlfriend of Bobby, is a stewardess. Instead of going to the reunion, they end up sitting around, smoking pot, eating junk food, and talking. Some of it is funny – some of it is nonsensical – you can tell they are all drugged out – but then some of it is poignant and open and revelatory.

I have a fondness for this play.

One of reasons is the following monologue, said by Catherine. It’s a knockout monologue. Ralph Pape outdid himself here. It’s fantastic. Catherine is the outsider in this old group of friends, she is “the girlfriend” of one of them … and she is one or two steps away from being a complete flower child. The rest of them are all stressing out about various things – turning 30, not being able to get jobs, what are they doing with their lives … and none of that stuff seems to concern Catherine. She floats through life in a flower-child make-love-not-war energy shield.

Here’s the setup for the monologue. They’re all sitting around on the floor, and they are all high. It is very important to remember how deeply stoned everybody is. The conversation that comes before Catherine’s monologue is disjointed, interrupted by requests for more soda, or more chips … People blurt out things randomly, and then subside, not following through on the thought … Catherine hasn’t said much since she first arrived. That is also important to realize. Catherine comes into the room on the arm of her boyfriend, she is a babealicious broad, dressed to the nines … and while the rest of them all talk and bicker and converse … she sits back. Is she observing? Is she even listening? Is she conversing with her inner eye, is she meandering through fields of joy within her soul? Who knows.

But then – out of nowhere – she starts to speak. What she says has nothing to do with what just came before. It comes out of nowhere. And she speaks for two pages.

They all sit in stunned stoned silence, listening to her.

When this monologue is done right (and it’s hard, man … this is a very tough one) – the audience is on the floor with laughter. Basically … she takes a global crisis and turns it into an excuse to behave like a raging ‘ho. But the funny thing about it is her delivery. HOW she describes it. She’s talking about it as though it’s some spiritual thing … or at least she should be … That’s what makes it funny. She describes her transformation into a raging ‘ho as though it is some soaring journey of spiritual awakening. It’s hilarious. But that’s the important thing in playing it: do not play her as a ‘ho. Play her as a hippie-dippie flower child. And therein lies the humor.

Also – remember: she has not said a word at this party up until this point. And then ….

EXCERPT FROM Say Goodnight, Gracie. by Ralph Pape.

CATHERINE. I was in high school during the Cuban missile crisis. When the blockade went into effect, they led us downstairs into the basement, and the nuns stood around and everyone had to say the rosary because pepole really believed that a nuclear war could have broken out that morning. I didn’t want to stay there. I didn’t want to die like that. I was near a flight of steps that led upstairs and when no one was looking, I snuck out. I just … wanted to be outside. I had never been disobedient or questioned authority before that moment.

BOBBY. [appreciatively] All right … !

CATHERINE. It was cold outside and there was an incredible blue sky and no wind. There were no people. I walked around the empty schoolyard. I was so afraid. There were tears in my eyes because I really believed I was looking at everything for the last time. It was so beautiful. I felt like a little girl. I began to touch things. The brick wall of the school. The iron railing of the fence that ran around the yard. The bicycle rack. Everything was so cold and yet so beautiful. I filled my lungs with air. I was alive. I had never admitted to myself how much I loved just being alive. And I knew if I survived, I would never forget that morning when i wanted to touch and feel everything around me. I was sixteen at this time. A virgin .. After the crisis had passed, I still felt like I was moving through a very beautiful dream. I had a date with Greg Sutton, the captain of the basketball team, very soon after. That night, without even realizing that I was saying the words, I begged Greg to fuck me. He couldn’t believe it. He was probably a virgin, too. I said, Greg, all of us are on this earth for only a short while, and we can’t be afraid, we have to open ourselves up to every moment … so Greg fucked me in the back seat of his car that cold winter’s night at the drive-in. Moonlight shone through the windows. I can’t begin to describe what it was like. I can only ask you to imagine it. In and out. In and out. In and out. I wrapped my legs around him and I remembered how beautiful and precious the world had seemed to me that morning and I grabbed at him repeatedly and plunged my tongue deep inside his mouth. My breasts were heaving up and down. I was so hot and wet. It was indescribable … I can only ask you to try to imagine this. Anyway, after that night, Greg must have done some bragging to his friends, because the next week I was literally besieged with requests for dates. All of which I accepted. Greg became jealous, but I explained to him that I needed to reach out and touch everyone for myself, just as, that morning, I had wanted to touch every leaf on the big oak tree outside the school when I thought the world would perish in a fiery holocaust. Before the term was over, I ahd gone to bed with over twenty different boys. And my geometry teacher, Mr. Handfield. That summer, I took a house with some girls down at the Jersey shore. College boys were in and out of that house every night, and I denied myself nothing. At long last, I became a stewardess and travelled all over the world and had innumerable sexual experiences with men of every race and culture imaginable … also, I was able to see the clouds close up, which I had always wanted to do. I wanted to reach out and touch them. I still do. Perhaps some day I will … But I have never lost the joy of just being alive ever since that morning in 1962. Bobby always tells me I’m the most passionate person he knows, in or out of bed, and he understands why, although I love him, I have to have the freedom to reach out and touch and commune with my fellow human creatures. Because we are all on this earth for only a very short while … And I just can’t get depressed by that …

[Pause]

BOBBY. Could I have a glass of soda?