Accidental Death of an Anarchist (NHB Modern Plays) (eBook)

(West End edition)

Dario Fo, Franca Rame (Autoren)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
96 Seiten
Nick Hern Books (Verlag)
978-1-78850-698-4 (ISBN)

Infos

An irrepressible fraudster known only as the Maniac is brought into Police Headquarters just as the officers are preparing for a judicial review of the recent 'accidental' death of a suspect in custody. Outwitting his captors, the Maniac dupes them into performing a farcical recreation of the incident, exposing the absurd corruption and terrifying idiocy at the heart of the system. Dario Fo and Franca Rame's riotous satire has been widely performed around the world since its premiere in 1970. Tom Basden's acclaimed adaptation was first performed at Sheffield Theatres in 2022, directed by Daniel Raggett, and starring Daniel Rigby as the Maniac. The production transferred to the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre in 2023, before moving to the Theatre Royal Haymarket in London's West End. 'An Italian classic reborn as an unmissable police satire' - Metro 'A glorious comedy that leaps off the stage' - The Times 'A riotous satirical farce brought bang up to date... Tom Basden's full-blooded adaptation [is] a furious but funny broadside against police malpractice... supremely, dazzlingly funny' - Guardian 'A glorious romp from the super-talented Tom Basden' - Observer

Dario Fo (1926-2016) was an Italian playwright, actor, theatre director, stage designer, songwriter, political campaigner for the Italian left wing and the recipient of the 1997 Nobel Prize in Literature. His plays include Mistero Buffo, Accidental Death of an Anarchist (co-written with his wife, Franca Rame) and Can't Pay? Won't Pay!

Textauszug

ACT ONE

Scene One

A very normal-looking room in a police station. It has a wooden desk and chair and a small filing cabinet.

There is a large Metropolitan Police crest on the wall. And a number ‘3’. And a clock, stopped at 5:15. On the desk is a telephone. There are two doors and, to one side, a large window. A view of the city can be seen from it.

The MANIAC enters, clutching a large Liberty bag. He stands, putting the bag down, and walks around the stage, smiling and waving to the audience, taking in the ambience, smelling the space. Music plays.

INSPECTOR BURTON enters, carrying a folder and laptop, and hangs up his overcoat on the back of his chair and then sits. CONSTABLE JACKSON enters after and stands by the door. BURTON looks around, confused.

BURTON. Turn it off!

The MANIAC takes out a small tape player from his bag and turns it off. He stands and begins to stretch. First the arms. Then the calves. He squats. BURTON puts his laptop on the desk. And then looks up at the MANIAC, angrily.

Sit down!

The MANIAC does so. He stretches his neck as BURTON opens the folder. The MANIAC clears his throat. BURTON looks at him. And then resumes reading.

MANIAC. Mi mi mi mi mi…

BURTON. And shut up.

The MANIAC does so.

Flight attendant, naval engineer, minor royal… quite the repertoire you’ve got, isn’t it?

MANIAC. Thank you very much.

BURTON. Heart surgeon?! Bloody hell!

MANIAC. A theatre’s a theatre, Inspector, be it West End or operating. I’m not fussy, I’ll work anywhere.

BURTON. So I see. Translator for the Russian Embassy. You speak Russian then, do you?

MANIAC. Ha! No, not a word.

BURTON. So how did you manage that then?

MANIAC. Oh don’t be obtuse, man. A good translation does not reproduce the source material word for word, it captures the essence, not the detail. And in the case of the Russian Embassy, the essence of every press release or communiqué is always ‘The accusation is outrageous and anyway you did it first…’

BURTON. All told, we’re talking… five, six –

MANIAC. Twelve.

BURTON flicks through the file as the MANIAC creeps round to read over his shoulder.

BURTON. Eight, nine –

MANIAC. It is twelve –

BURTON. Twelve arrests for impersonation –

MANIAC. But not a single charge. As you can see, my record is unsullied.

BURTON. Yeah, not for long. I don’t know how you’ve got away with it so far, but you’re getting sullied today, I promise you.

The MANIAC puts his arm around him coyly.

MANIAC. Please be gentle, Inspector, it’s my first time.

BURTON pushes him away.

BURTON. So what is it now then? Therapist.

MANIAC. Psychiatrist, actually.

BURTON finds a business card.

BURTON. ‘Senior Professor of Psychiatrics, Wadham College Oxford.’ Ha! Well that’s a crime right off. Inventing qualifications.

MANIAC. Of course it is. Fabricating doctorates, degrees, identities would be a criminal offence if I were sane. But I’m sadly not.

BURTON. You’re what?

MANIAC. I’m not.

BURTON. You’re not what?

MANIAC. Sane. I’m mad.

BURTON. Is that right?

MANIAC. It is. Certifiable. Literally, look.

He takes a framed certificate out of his bag and passes it to BURTON.

None of it is my fault. I have a serious mental illness.

BURTON. Which is what exactly?

MANIAC. The desire to act. ‘Istrionomania’ to give it its technical name.

BURTON writes this down.

BURTON. Istro… what?

MANIAC. Istrionomania. From the Italian istrione, meaning classical actor, with the hint of the ham. Istrione al proscuitto crudo if you will. The condition of compulsively needing to perform, anywhere, anyone, any time. Hence my pathological fear of the dark.

BURTON. What… Why?

MANIAC. Well because blackouts are very death to the actor. I am always on, Inspector. So it’s essential that the lights are as well.

BURTON. Jesus… you’re kidding me. You’re like this all the time?

MANIAC. I’m afraid so, yes. All the world’s a stage for me. I think of daily life as a kind of théâtre vérité in which the rest of the cast are made up of non-actors who are unaware that a show is taking place. Which is lucky because I couldn’t afford to pay them.

BURTON. Looks like you could afford it now though, doesn’t it? You could afford to build a bloody theatre with the money you’ve been making as a so-called therapist.

MANIAC. Psychiatrist! How dare you!

BURTON. What’s the difference?

MANIAC. Psychiatrists can charge far more.

BURTON. Right, yeah… Five grand per session.

JACKSON. Fucking hell.

MANIAC. I know. Very cheap really when you consider my training…

BURTON. What training’s that? Drama school?

MANIAC. Almost. Mental hospital. Twenty years at sixteen different institutions, among the thousands of patients like myself. I’ve studied them up close, not just nine-to-five like your average workaday shrink, but twenty-four-seven. I’ve eaten with them, showered with them, slept with them. Among them, I’ve not – I’ve very rarely slept with them. QED I am prodigiously good at knowing what makes people tick. Or tock. Or quack, depending on the condition.

BURTON. I should hope so. Thirty-five grand you’ve charged people so far.

MANIAC. But, my dear Inspector, I had to charge that much. For my patients’ sake.

BURTON. Oh it was for their sake, was it?

MANIAC. Of course. The more you cost, the more you’re worth. The more people think you know what you’re doing. Was it not Freud who said, ‘To truly cure the mentally ill, add some zeros to your bill.’ It has enormous health benefits, I assure you, particularly for the doctor.

BURTON. But you’re not a doctor, are you? And you’re certainly not… (Reads.) ‘Antony Bile: MA, Senior Professor of Psychiatrics, Wadham College Oxford.’

MANIAC. I never said I was.

BURTON. Of course you did. You’ve got a bloody business card.

MANIAC. Business card? Who said it was a business card?

BURTON. Well what is it then?

MANIAC. It’s very clearly a script.

BURTON. A what? A script?

MANIAC. The pages are small, I grant you, but the formatting is unmistakable. Look at the punctuation. (Reads.) Antony Bile, colon, indicating that what follows is of course my line.

BURTON. Okay, go on then, so you say… M-A.

MANIAC. I say ‘Ma’. Well I shout it. It’s capitalised because I’m shouting you see. ‘MA!’ I’m calling my mother. And then I turn to the members of our group, hence the comma, to signify a shift of perspective and say ‘Senior Professor of Psychiatrics’ to get his attention and then another comma as I turn to the spire that looms up ahead, ‘Wadham College Oxford.’ We’re approaching by bus, you see. This is all perfectly clear in context.

BURTON. You really expect me to believe this is from a play?

MANIAC. Of course, I’ll perform if for you.

The MANIAC acts sitting on a bus. And seeing something.

‘MA, Senior Professor of Psychiatrics, Wadham College Oxford!’

BURTON. That’s fucking rubbish.

MANIAC (offended). Well you clearly haven’t seen much theatre. I can give you a crash course if you like. We’ll start with the Greeks and work our way west.

BURTON. Yeah, yeah, I know what this is. I’m not an idiot, you know?

MANIAC. Oh, are you not? Good for you.

BURTON. I’ve seen this before.

MANIAC. Quite possibly. It was first staged in 1970.

BURTON. You’re acting alright. You’re acting like a loony so I let you go. I bet, underneath it all, you’re saner than I am.

The MANIAC takes a stethoscope from his bag and launches himself at BURTON over the desk.

MANIAC. Well I wouldn’t know. Let’s have a look at you and find out. Pop your trousers on the desk for me –

BURTON pushes him away.

BURTON. And it won’t work. Not with me. I’m going to finish this statement and see that this gets taken seriously.

MANIAC. Fantastic. Let me help! I can type sixty words a minute, as long as the words are ‘A’ or ‘I’.

The MANIAC tries to start typing on the laptop keyboard.

BURTON. Sit down or I’ll cuff you –

MANIAC. Ah bless. No, I’m sorry, you won’t. Section 136 of the Mental Health Act. Without an assessment from an AHCP (appropriate healthcare practitioner)...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 22.6.2023
• Mitarbeit: Anpassung von: Tom Basden
• Verlagsort: London
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Lyrik / Dramatik ► Dramatik / Theater
• Schlagworte: Absurd • Broadside • captors • Classic • Comedy • Corruption • court • custody • Drama • Farce • farcical • fraudster • Funny • Furious • Italian • Judicial Review • Justice • lyric hammersmith • malpractice • Maniac • modern drama • modern plays • PLAYS • Police • Recreation • romp • Satire • stage • Suspect • Theatre Royal Haymarket
• ISBN-10: 1-78850-698-7 / 1788506987
• ISBN-13: 978-1-78850-698-4 / 9781788506984