{"id":3367,"date":"2005-07-15T06:29:50","date_gmt":"2005-07-15T10:29:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=3367"},"modified":"2023-08-17T07:44:09","modified_gmt":"2023-08-17T11:44:09","slug":"the-books-painting-churches-tina-howe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=3367","title":{"rendered":"The Books: \u201cPainting Churches\u201d (Tina Howe)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Next in my Daily Book Excerpt:<\/p>\n

\"PaintingChurches.gif\"Next on my script shelf:<\/p>\n

Last play from my Tina Howe collection, and this one is Painting Churches: A Play in Two Acts<\/a>\"\"<\/i>. Painting Churches<\/i> is a little bit different from Museum: A Play<\/a>\"\"<\/i> (excerpt here<\/a>) and The Art of Dining: A Comedy<\/a>\"\"<\/i> (excerpt here<\/a>) – with their big casts, and stagey settings. Painting Churches<\/i> is a family drama, it all takes place in a Beacon Hill apartment, and there are only 3 characters.<\/p>\n

Mags Church (played by Elizabeth mcGovern in the original production) is a painter, and she has come home to do a portrait of her parents. Her parents are two old eccentrics, who absolutely drive Mags nuts. Her mother: Fanny Sedgwick Church – flaky, non-stop-talking, insensitive, says the most outrageous things. Her father: Gardner Church – absent-minded, intellectual, won a ton of literary awards, becoming senile. Mags has a lot of unresolved issues with these two (basically: she wants them to totally change their personalities, she wants to erase the past, she hated her own childhood). But anyway: Mags comes back to Boston to paint her parents. She finds it increasingly difficult to “paint the Churches” – it’s too overwhelming, too annoying – she is confronted left and right by regrets, things that still piss her off, etc. If the play sounds too heavy or drippy, it really isn’t. It’s written in true Tina Howe style: fast, furious, with no one ever being able to finish a sentence.<\/p>\n

I’m going to post an excerpt from the play – a long long LONG monologue (with occasional interjections from her mother and father) that Mags has where she describes a childhood memory to her mother, wondering if her parents remembers this event. It is the event of “her first masterpiece”. It’s a horrifying story, but i just LOVE the writing. Always have.<\/p>\n

I did this monologue as an audition monologue for years – until it got too popular, and I felt that too many of us out there were doing it. It got stale, and I retired it. The trick with the monologue is that you must nail the ending – you must not get so caught up in the story that you forget where the monologue is going … and that what you are REALLY trying to say to your parents is in that ending moment. The story itself is peripheral – the theme, the subtext of the entire tale … is in her summing up lines. You have to start the monologue with that ending in mind … it has to be trembling with the emotion of the ending from the very start of it.<\/p>\n

Just now, as I was typing all of this out, I got all choked up at those ending lines. Amazing: a true Pavlovian response. I did the monologue so many times it was like I didn’t even have to work at it anymore, and that memory-response is still alive.<\/p>\n


\nEXCERPT FROM Painting Churches: A Play in Two Acts<\/a>\"\"<\/i> by Tina Howe:<\/b><\/p>\n

MAGS. (at her easel<\/i>) Remember what I went through as a child with my great masterpiece? …<\/p>\n

FANNY. You painted a masterpiece when you were a child? …<\/p>\n

MAGS. Well, it was a masterpiece to me.<\/p>\n

FANNY. I had no idea you were precocious as a child. Gardner, do you remember Mags painting a masterpiece as a child?<\/p>\n

MAGS. I didn’t paint it. It was something I made!<\/p>\n

FANNY. Well, this is all news to me! Gar, do get me another drink! I haven’t had this much fun in years. (She hands her glass and reaches for Mags’.<\/i>) Come on, darling, join me …<\/p>\n

MAGS. No, no more, thanks. I don’t really like the taste.<\/p>\n

FANNY. Oh, come on, kick up your heels for once!<\/p>\n

MAGS. No, nothing … really.<\/p>\n

FANNY. Please? Pretty please? … To keep me company?!<\/p>\n

MAGS. (hands Gardner her glass.<\/i>) Oh, all right, what the hell …<\/p>\n

[The following two lines should be said simultaneously<\/i>)<\/p>\n

FANNY. That’s a good girl!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. (exiting<\/i>) Coming right up, coming right up!<\/p>\n

FANNY. (yelling after him<\/i>) DON’T GIVE ME TOO MUCH NOW. THE LAST ONE WAS AWFULLY STRONG … AND HURRY BACK SO YOU DON’T MISS ANYTHING! … Daddy’s so cunning, I don’t know what I’d do without him. If anything should happen to him, I’d just …<\/p>\n

MAGS. Mummy, nothing’s going to happen to him! …<\/p>\n

FANNY. Well, wait ’til you’re our age, it’s no garden party. Now … where were we? …<\/p>\n

MAGS. My first masterpiece …<\/p>\n

FANNY. Oh, yes, but do<\/i> wait ’til Daddy gets back so he can hear it too … YOO-HOO … GARRRRRRDNERRRRRRR? … ARE YOU COMING? … (Silence<\/i>) Go and check on him, will you?<\/p>\n

GARDNER. (enters with both drinks. He’s very shaken<\/i>) I couldn’t find the ice.<\/p>\n

FANNY. Well, finally<\/i>!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. It just up and disappeared … (hands Fanny her drink.<\/i>) There you go. (Fanny kisses her fingers and takes a hefty swig<\/i>) Mags. (he hands Mags her drink<\/i>)<\/p>\n

MAGS. Thanks, Daddy.<\/p>\n

GARDNER. Sorry about the ice.<\/p>\n

MAGS. No problem, no porblem.<\/p>\n

(Gardner sits down, silence.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

FANNY. (to Mags<\/i>) Well, drink up, drink up! (Mags downs it in one gulp<\/i>) GOOD GIRL! … Now, what’s all this about a masterpiece? …<\/p>\n

MAGS. I did it during that winter you sent me away from the dinner table. I was about nine years old.<\/p>\n

FANNY. We sent you from the dinner table?<\/p>\n

MAGS. I was banished for six months.<\/p>\n

FANNY. You were<\/i>? …. How extraordinary!<\/p>\n

MAGS. Yes, it was<\/i> rather extraordinary!<\/p>\n

FANNY. But why?<\/p>\n

MAGS. Because I played with my food.<\/p>\n

FANNY. You did?<\/p>\n

MAGS. I used to squirt it out between my front teeth.<\/p>\n

FANNY. Oh, I remember that! God, it used to drive me crazy, absolutely …crazy! (pause<\/i>) “MARGARET, STOP THAT OOZING RIGHT THIS MINUTE, YOU ARE NOT A TUBE OF TOOTHPASTE!”<\/p>\n

GARDNER. Oh, yes …<\/p>\n

FANNY. It was perfectly disgusting!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. I remember. She used to lean over her plate and squirt it out in long runny ribbons …<\/p>\n

FANNY. That’s enough, dear.<\/p>\n

GARDNER. They were quite colorful, actually, decorative almost. She made the most intricate designs. They looked rather like small, moist Oriental rugs …<\/p>\n

FANNY. (to Mags<\/i>) But why, darling? What on earth possessed you to do it?<\/p>\n

MAGS. I couldn’t swallow anything. My throat just closed up. I don’t know, I must have been afraid of choking or something.<\/p>\n

GARDNER. I remember one in particular. We’d had chicken fricassee and spinach … She made the most extraordinary …<\/p>\n

FANNY. (to Gardner<\/i>) WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?! (Pause<\/i>) Mags, what are<\/i> you talking about? You never choked in your entire life! This is the most distressing conversation I’ve ever had. Don’t you think it’s distressing, Gar?<\/p>\n

GARDNER. Well, that’s not quite the word I’d use.<\/p>\n

FANNY. What word would<\/i> you use, then?<\/p>\n

GARDNER. I don’t know right off the bat, I’d have to think about it.<\/p>\n

FANNY. THEN, THINK ABOUT IT!<\/p>\n

(Silence<\/i>)<\/p>\n

MAGS. I guess I was afraid of making a mess. I don’t know; you were awfully strict about table manners. I was always afraid of losing control. What if I started to choke and began spitting up over everything? …<\/p>\n

FANNY. All right, dear, that’s enough.<\/p>\n

MAGS. No, I was really terrified about making a mess; you always got so mad whenever I spilled. If I just got rid of everything in neat little curlycues beforehand you see …<\/p>\n

FANNY. I SAID: THAT’S ENOUGH!<\/p>\n

(Silence<\/i>)<\/p>\n

MAGS. I<\/i> thought it was quite ingenious, but you didn’t see it that way. You finally sent me from the table with, “When you’re ready to eat like a human being, you can come back and join us!” … So it was off to my room with a tray. But I couldn’t seem to eat there either. I mean, it was so strange settling down to dinner in my bedroom<\/i> … So I just flushed everything down the toilet and sat on my bed listening to you: clinkity-clink, clatter clatter, slurp, slurp … but that got pretty boring after awhile, so I looked around for something to do. It was wintertime, because I noticed I’d left some crayons on top of my radiator and they’d melted down into these beautiful shimmering globs, like spilled jello, trembling and pulsing … (overlapping<\/i>)<\/p>\n

GARDNER. (eyes closed<\/i>) “This luscious and impeccable fruit of life
\nFalls, it appears, of its own weight to earth …”<\/p>\n

MAGS. Naturally, I wanted to try it myself, so I grabbed a red one and pressed it down against the hissing lid. It oozed and bubbled like raspberry jam!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. “When you were Eve, its acrid juice was sweet, Untasted, in its heavenly, orchard air …”<\/p>\n

MAGS. I mean, that radiator was really hot! It took incredible will power not to let go, but I held on, whispering, “Mags, if you let go of this crayon, you’ll be run over by a truck on Newberry Street, so help you God!” … So I pressed down harder, my fingers steaming and blistering …<\/p>\n

FANNY. I had no idea about any of this, did you, Gar?<\/p>\n

MAGS. Once I’d melted one, I was hooked! I finished off my entire supply in one night, mixing color over color until my head swam! … The heat, the smell, the brilliance that sank and rose … I’d never felt such exhilaration! … Every week I spent my allowance on crayons. I must have cleared out every box of Crayolas in the city!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. (gazing at Mags<\/i>) You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking prettier! You’re awfully attractive when you get going!<\/p>\n

FANNY. Why, what a lovely thing to say.<\/p>\n

MAGS. AFTER THREE MONTHS THAT RADIATOR WAS … SPECTACULAR! I MEAN, IT LOOKED LIKE SOME COLOSSAL FRUITCAKE, FIVE FEET TALL! …<\/p>\n

FANNY. It sounds perfectly hideous.<\/p>\n

MAGS. It was a knockout, shimmering with pinks and blues, lavendars and maroons, turquoise and golds, oranges and creams … For every color, I imagined a taste … YELLOW: lemon curls dipped in sugar … RED: glazed cherries laced with rum … GREEN: tiny peppermint leaves veined with chocolate … PURPLE …<\/p>\n

FANNy. That’s quite enough!<\/p>\n

MAGS. And then the frosting … ahhhhh, the frosting! A satiny mix of white and silver … I kept it hidden under blankets during the day … My huge … (she starts laughing<\/i>) looming … teetering sweet …<\/p>\n

FANNY. I ASKED YOU TO STOP! GARDNER, WILL YOU PLEASE GET HER TO STOP!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. See here, Mags, Mum asked you to …<\/p>\n

MAGS. I was so … hungry<\/i> … losing weight every week. I looked like a sscarecrow what with the bags under my eyes and bits of crayon wrapper leaking out of my clothes. It’s a wonder you didn’t notice. But finally you came to my rescue … if you could call what happened a rescue. It was more like a rout!<\/p>\n

[The following 2 lines said simultaneously<\/i>]<\/p>\n

FANNY. Darling … Please<\/i>!<\/p>\n

GARDNER. Now, look, young lady …<\/p>\n

MAGS. The winter was almost over … It was very late at night … I must have been having a nightmare because suddenly you and Daddy were at my bed, shaking me … I quickly glanced towards the radiator to see if it was covered … It wasn’t<\/i>! It glittered and towered in the moonlight like some … gigantic Viennese pastry! You followed my gaze and saw it. Mummy screamed … “WHAT HAVE YOU GOT IN HERE? MAGS, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?” … She crept forward and touched it, and then jumped back. “IT’S FOOD!” she cried … “IT’S ALL THE FOOD SHE’S BEEN SPITTING OUT! OH GARDNER, IT’S A MOUNTAIN OF ROTTING GARBAGE!”<\/p>\n

GARDNER. (softly<\/i>) Yes … it’s coming back … it’s coming back …<\/p>\n

MAGS. Daddy exited as usual; left the premises. He fainted, just keeled over onto the floor …<\/p>\n

GARDNER. Gosh, I don’t remember any of this …<\/p>\n

MAGS. My heart stopped! I mean, I knew it was all over. My lovely creation didn’t have a chance. Sure enough … out came the blow torch. Well, it couldn’t have really<\/i> been a blow torch, I mean, where would you have ever gotten a blow torch? … I just have this very strong memory of you standing over my bed, your hair streaming around your face, aiming this … flame thrower at my confection … my cake … my tart … my strudel … “IT’S GOT TO BE DESTROYED IMMEDIATELY! THE THING’S ALIVE WITH VERMIN! … JUST LOOK AT IT! IT’S PRACTICALLY CRAWLING ACROSS THE ROOM!” … Of course in a sense you were right. It was<\/i> a monument of my cast-off dinners, only I hadn’t built it with food … I found my own materials. I was languishing with hunger, but oh, dear Mother … I FOUND MY OWN MATERIALS!<\/p>\n

FANNY. Darling … please?!<\/i><\/p>\n

MAGS. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen … OUT SHOT THE FLAME! … I remember these waves of wax rolling across the room and Daddy coming to, wondering what on earth was going on … Well, what did you know about my abilities? … You see, I had … I mean, I have<\/i> abilities … (struggling to say it<\/i>) I have abilities. I have … strong abilities. I have … very strong abilities. They are very strong … very very strong …<\/p>\n

(She rises and runs out of the room, overcome as Fanny and Gardner watch, speechless. The Curtain falls<\/i>)<\/p>\n

\n