The Ferryman

Jez Butterworth

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781848426382
• eBook ISBN: 9781780018997
• Topic: Literatura
• Subtopic: Arte dramático británico

'Vanishing. It's a powerful word, that. A powerful word.'

County Armagh, Northern Ireland, 1981. The Carney farmhouse is a hive of activity with preparations for the annual harvest. A day of hard work on the land and a traditional night of feasting and celebrations lie ahead. But this year they will be interrupted by a visitor.

Developed by Sonia Friedman Productions, Jez Butterworth's play The Ferryman premiered to huge acclaim at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in April 2017, before transferring to the West End and then Broadway. The production was directed by Sam Mendes.

It went on to win the Evening Standard Theatre Award for Best Play, and the Critics' Circle, Olivier and WhatsOnStage Awards for Best New Play. It also won the 2019 Tony Award for Best Play.

ACT ONE

The Carney home. 5.30 a.m. End of August 1981.

A farmhouse kitchen, in rural Northern Ireland, harvest time.

Flagstone floor. Wooden beams. Washing hanging high in rows. At the back, a large coal-fired range.

A sink and crockery board. A steep wooden staircase leads upstairs. On the walls are pinned countless children’s drawings, photographs, swimming awards. A John Deere 1981 calendar. A rota for feeding the animals, on which are stuck photographs of children. An old, torn Rolling Stones poster from when the Stones played Belfast in 1965 (also covered in children’s drawings, etc.). On another wall, almost completely obscured by pictures of children from communions, sports days, swimming galas, dancing competitions, is an old, very weathered Irish flag.

A door stage-right to the larder. A boot room at the back, beyond through which entrances are made from outside – so people are seen putting on coats there, sometimes boots, before entering and leaving to the yard outside.

Above the central fireplace at the back is an old farmhouse clock, next to which is a large dusty framed picture of Big Jack Carney. Along the shelf, under him (backed by a long knitted Celtic FC scarf), is an array of old soccer programmes, egg timers, an old squeeze box, an old hand-held fire extinguisher, an old biscuit tin, a foot-high dusty plastic model of George Harrison with his French horn from Yellow Submarine (painted in psychedelic colours). Dozens of candles. Some birthday cards. A framed photograph of Brigitte Bardot in Helen of Troy, another of George Best.

The shutters are closed. The curtains drawn. The room is full of smoke.

A tape playing on a big ghetto blaster. The Rolling Stones, quietly.

On the table, candles burn. A full ashtray. A bottle of Bushmills, two inches left.

Either side of the table, sit CAITLIN CARNEY and QUINN CARNEY, both smoking, both playing Connect Four.

QUINN. You’re on a ship with The Rolling Stones, The Beatles and Led Zeppelin. It hits an iceberg. There’s only room in the lifeboat for you plus one of those legendary combos. Three seconds. Go.

CAITLIN. Led Zeppelin.

QUINN. You have three seconds.

CAITLIN. I don’t need three seconds.

QUINN. You’d save Led Zeppelin.

CAITLIN. I just did.

QUINN. The Stones. The Beatles. They’re all going to drown. All those geniuses. And Bill Wyman. All gone. Because you saved Led Zeppelin.

He lights a cigarette off a candle, puts it down too near a table lamp, which catches fire.

CAITLIN. Stop me before I kill again.

QUINN. Well, Cait Carney. You’ve made a terrible mistake. An unrightable wrong.

CAITLIN. The lamp’s on fire.

QUINN. Don’t change the subject.

CAITLIN. I’m just pointing it out.

He goes to the drawers and roots around.

QUINN. Okay, let’s just. May I? Please. Just quickly. (On his fingers.) Sticky Fingers. Beggars Banquet. Let It Bleed… The Stones could…

He finds what he’s looking for. A small fire extinguisher.

Fuckin’ John, Paul, George and Ringo could be sat there with you in the boat doing the whole of Sergeant Pepper, just for you, while you row ’em to safety. But no. Because you saved Led Zeppelin. You’re sat there, in the lifeboat, listening to four wee pricks singing about Hobbits…

With one blast, he puts the fire out.

CAITLIN. You never said anything about music. You said who would I rather be stuck in a lifeboat with. If it’s between Jimmy and Robert and all those other spotty wee fucks? If I can pick ’n’ mix, Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, George Harrison, and Keith Richards. But he’s going to have to have a fuckin’ good wash first.

She drops in her counter.

One. Two. Three. Four.

She writes it down.

QUINN. Wait. Wait. What have you done? It was my go.

CAITLIN. That’s seventeen plays one.

She releases the counters.

QUINN. You’re a fuckin’ cheat, Cait Carney.

CAITLIN. I don’t have to cheat to beat you. Sure, I could beat you with a blindfold on.

QUINN. A pound.

CAITLIN. Done.

He gets up, fetches a tea towel. And blindfolds her.

QUINN. Here we go. Now we’ll see. Now we’ll find out who’s the real champion. Who’s got what it takes to put four coloured circles in a row. Before the other fella. Now then. Ready? I’ll go first.

CAITLIN. It’s my turn to go first.

QUINN. This is a new competition. The last one was abandoned. (Fast, off her look.) Shall I flip a coin? Heads or tails…?

CAITLIN. Tails.

He tosses an imaginary coin.

QUINN. Bad luck. It’s heads. Best of three?

CAITLIN. Fuck it. I’ll still win.

QUINN. Well, let’s even it up. Let’s make it an even playing field now. I don’t want you griping after, saying it was unfair and all…

He gets another tea towel. Blindfolds himself.

Ready. Go.

They take turns. Until –

CAITLIN. Stop. I’ve won.

QUINN. How the fuck do you know that?

CAITLIN. Trust me. You’ve lost. (Preparing to remove the blindfold.) Ready? One, two –

QUINN. Wait! I don’t want to take this off because I know I’ve fucking lost.

CAITLIN. Of course you’ve lost.

QUINN. Let’s just stay like this. Let me just dream for a moment… Imagine what it feels like to have won. I just want to stay like this…

He lifts his glass.

CAITLIN. Cheers.

QUINN. Cheers.

They try to clink glasses. The music plays.

Caitlin Carney. Would you like to dance?

CAITLIN. Why thank you, Quinn Carney. That would be wonderful.

They stand. QUINN goes over and turns the music up. And with their blindfolds on, they dance around the kitchen.

QUINN Jaggers along as the music builds.

QUINN. Where are you?

CAITLIN. Over here.

He finds her.

QUINN. There you are.

They dance to the music. Together. Close.

In the dance, they separate.

QUINN takes his blindfold off and looks at CAITLIN, dancing.

He seems transfixed.

Enter MERCY CARNEY ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Dedication
• Epigraph
• Characters
• Setting
• Prologue
• Act One
• Act Two
• Act Three
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information