The Dark Philosophers

Carl Grose, Told by an Idiot Theatre Company

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2011
• Print ISBN: 9781849431460
• eBook ISBN: 9781849436458
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: British Drama

National Theatre Wales and Told by an Idiot bring their critically acclaimed celebration of Gwyn Thomas – one of the most distinctive Welsh voices of the last century – and an outstanding Welsh cast to the Edinburgh Festival. Taking as its inspiration Thomas' ink-black comic tales, The Dark Philosophers is a funny, violent and passionate depiction of a community teetering on the brink of humanity. Using Told by an Idiot's trademark anarchic physicality and inventive storytelling, this adaptation brings out the bleak, wild humour in tales laced with sex, murder and Thomas' devastating Valleys wit.

The Rhondda Valley, South Wales. Somewhere in the 1930s.

Outside an old pub.

Bird song.

Here is the Welsh author, GWYN THOMAS (in half-mask), sitting next to his younger self, YOUNG GWYN. GWYN’s FATHER emerges from the pub, an empty pint glass in his hand.

GWYN’S FATHER: (Calling into the pub.) There’s nothing wrong with a joke, so long as it’s a damned good one! Line me up another!

He throws a dart.

GWYN’S FATHER: I need another drink, son.

YOUNG GWYN: Me too, dad.

GWYN’S FATHER: I shall bring you one. Wait here.

GWYN’s FATHER disappears through the pub door. Both GWYNS listen at the door. GWYN’s FATHER appears with a bottle of lemonade.

GWYN’S FATHER: Off you go. No listening at the door again.

GWYN THOMAS: I can’t think of a healthier place to have your ashes scattered. No noise, no smoke, no traffic. A treat of a view for enduring this joke of a life, don’t you think, Gwyn? Gwyn?

GWYN’S FATHER: Gwyn?

GWYN THOMAS: Yes, dad?

GWYN’S FATHER: (To YOUNG GWYN.) I won’t be long. Drink your lemonade. And don’t get dark thoughts.

GWYN’s FATHER goes back in the pub.

A collection of coal-smudged characters enter for a funeral. It isn’t a sombre affair but rather one of pleasant acknowledgement. These people know each other. An urn is passed between them as “All Through The Night” is sung.

SONG: Sleep my child and peace attend thee

All through the night

Guardian angels God will send thee

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping

Hill and vale in slumber steeping

I my loving vigil keeping

All through the night!

All through the –

The urn’s contents are thrown up into the sky. Coal dust is in the air. The characters look ominously upwards. Then run as –

A hundred tons of coal suddenly crashes down from the sky.

GWYN THOMAS brushes the dust off his lapels and takes in the world around him.

Now we’re in The Terraces.

GWYN THOMAS: Ah! I know this place.

Enter LEWIS, NO DOUBT, BEN, THE MACNAFFY ELEMENT. They all talk loudly, passionately, with great urgency and desperation (their first lines) – then stop.

GWYN THOMAS: We… in the Terraces tended to live operatically, in shouts. Of the withdrawn or the secluded, there were few. Oh, there was a little of the sly and terrifying madness that simmers on a low flame as in many other places. But on the whole, our freaks were forthright and friendly.

LEWIS: People think I’m a dense crap working for Oscar. Perhaps they’re right! But what can I do?

NO DOUBT: I got a nasty crack from a tumbling rock one month previous.

MACNAFFY: Flesh is what I’m after. Hot and heavy and on top of me. I’m only happy when I’m feeling crushed, see?

BEN: Look at me. I’m so thin I’m liable to fall through the cracks in the pavement if I’m not careful!

GWYN THOMAS: With calamity running at a steady rate, silence and withdrawal were taboo. So we made our own music.

BEN: (Starts to sing beautifully.)

When I from Havana severed so long a –

(Takes a step forward and disappears through a crack in the pavement.)

Goooooooooooooooooooo!!!

GWYN THOMAS: We in the Terraces, terrified of looking inward and becoming too engulfed, frantically watched others. We observed. And we discussed.

MR and MRS WILSON sit at a table.

MR WILSON: You can’t judge the whole world by the wretchedness of the Terraces, Mrs Wilson.

MRS WILSON: That’s your bloody father talking that is, Mr Wilson!

MR WILSON: You been living on a diet of politics and dry toast for too long!

MRS WILSON: Definitely your father! It’s either that or your glands.

MR WILSON: Don’t you blame my father, Mrs Wilson! And don’t you blame my glands!

They argue furiously, in silence.

GWYN THOMAS: We spent our time philosophising over the behaviour of our fellow man. It kept our minds off things. Oh, we liked our philosophy the way we liked our tea. Dark.

HANNAH: It’s a blessed relief, this job you’ve found, Danny. Now mind your back and bring home coal.

GWYN THOMAS: Hannah! (Clutches his heart.) Hannah was strong-looking. With the most beautiful face that had ever been seen in all the valley.

HANNAH sings the 1930’s song, “Body and Soul”.

SONG: I’m lost in the dark

Where is the spark for my love?

GWYN THOMAS: Oh yes, the front doors of the Terraces stood open. It served to reduce the smell of damp rot in these murky dwellings. It allowed for folk to flow to and from the houses. It allowed for gentle song to drift and mingle…

SONG: The heavens opened and closed

As well I might have supposed

And I am lost in dis-abandon

So far removed from all that I had planned on…

GWYN TH...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Characters
• Chapter