Time Stands Still (TCG Edition)

Donald Margulies

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2010
• Print ISBN: 9781559363655
• eBook ISBN: 9781559366687
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Drama
• Index: Literature

“The play’s two hours fly by as if you’ve barely taken a breath. . . . Ethical dilemmas arise like exploding mines.”–Variety

“Mr. Margulies is a skilled practitioner of fluid dialogue that is naturally funny and sensibly smart.” –The New York Times

In his “absorbing intelligent” (Los Angeles Times) and timely new play, Donald Margulies uncovers the layers of a relationship between a photojournalist and foreign correspondent—once addicted to the adrenaline of documenting the atrocities of war, and now grounded in the couple’s Brooklyn loft. Photographer Sarah was seriously injured while covering the war in Iraq; her reporter partner James had left weeks earlier, when the stress and horrors became too much for him. Now James writes online movie reviews while Sarah recovers, mourning for her Iraqi driver (and former lover) killed in the explosion, and itching to get back behind the camera. With this play—coming to Broadway this winter—Margulies revisits themes of being an artist, as characters ask: What does it mean to capture suffering on film, rather than stopping to intervene?

Donald Margulies received the 2000 Pulitzer Prize for Drama for Dinner with Friends, which has been produced throughout the world. Other plays include Sight Unseen (OBIE Award), Brooklyn Boy, and Collected Stories, among many others.

Act One

1.

A loft in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. Winter. Night. The front door is unlocked and opened, casting light from the hallway. James, hauling duffles, and camera bags, helps Sarah, on crutches, inside. Both are winded, having climbed the stairs.

JAMES: Almost there . . . Atta girl . . . Watch the step.

SARAH: I see.

JAMES: How you doing? (She nods) You’re doing great.

SARAH (Sarcastic): Oh, yeah.

JAMES: There you go . . . (He helps her into a chair) And . . . she’s down. The Eagle has landed. (Exhausted, she nods and manages a smile) That wasn’t too bad, now was it?

SARAH: Piece a cake.

JAMES: Let’s do this again sometime.

SARAH: Let’s.

JAMES: Try it with an elevator next time.

(She smiles. A beat.)

SARAH (Momentary alarm): Where are my cameras?

JAMES (Reassuring): They’re right here.

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(A beat.)

You okay?

SARAH: Thirsty.

JAMES: Water, or uh . . . ?

SARAH: Water would be great.

JAMES: One water, coming up.

(He fills a glass. She removes her stocking hat. We see more clearly the scars on her face. He hands her the glass.)

SARAH: Thanks.

(He waits for her to drink it all down.)

JAMES: Okay?

(She nods while drinking.)

More?

(She shakes her head.)

SARAH: Thank you.

(She gives him her glass.)

JAMES: Hungry?

SARAH: Do we have anything?

(He looks in the refrigerator.)

JAMES: Uh . . . No. Nothing edible, anyway.

(He sniffs a container of spoiled milk, reacts to the stench.)

Uch.

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SARAH: What.

(He pours the clotted milk down the drain.)

JAMES: I ran out of here so fast . . . I didn’t have time to empty the fridge . . . (A take-out container) Mmm! Want some six-week-old calamari? I think it’s calamari, could be linguine.

SARAH: Don’t worry about that now.

JAMES (Shows her): Look. Gonna need dental records to identify this one.

SARAH: Jamie, really, just leave it.

(He abandons the task.)

JAMES: I’ll go food shopping in the morning.

SARAH: That’s fine.

JAMES: Unless you want me to run down now.

SARAH: No. Just . . . (Gestures for him to relax)

JAMES (An idea): Hey how about a nightcap?

SARAH: I’d love a nightcap.

JAMES: Should be some scotch . . . (He finds a bottle) Yes.

(He pours two glasses. Silence.)

SARAH: Strange.

JAMES: What.

SARAH: Being here.

JAMES: I bet.

(His cell phone rings.)

SARAH: I don’t want to talk to anybody.

JAMES (Looks at his phone): It’s Richard.

SARAH: Not even Richard.

JAMES: Oh, shit, he wanted me to call when we landed.

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SARAH: You’ve had your hands full. He’ll understand; call him in the morning.

(James nods, turns off the phone, hands her the drink.)

JAMES: Cheers, baby.

SARAH: Cheers.

(They drink. Silence. She thinks of something that makes her laugh.)

JAMES: What.

SARAH: The cab driver. Just now. What a character! Wasn’t he?

JAMES: Uh-huh.

SARAH: What is it he said that cracked us up?

JAMES (Recalling): Oh, yeah, uh . . .

SARAH (Remembering): “Bottle cap.”

JAMES: Right.

SARAH: He meant “bottleneck.” “Bottle cap up ahead.” I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

JAMES: Me, neither.

(Pause.)

SARAH: Reminded me of Tariq.

JAMES: Oh, yeah?

SARAH: Didn’t he remind you . . . ?

JAMES: No. Can’t say he did.

(A beat.)

SARAH: Huh.

(Pause. She touches his arm. He looks at her.)

Thank you.

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JAMES: For what?

SARAH: For everything. For getting me home, for being there.

JAMES: I wasn’t there.

SARAH: For being there when I woke up. Thank you for that.

JAMES (A rueful smile): Yeah, well, uh . . .

(He unpacks sundries and medications. Silence.)

SARAH: What happens tomorrow?

JAMES: Tomorrow? We sleep in. However long we like.

SARAH: What else?

JAMES (Shrugs): Errands ’n’ shit.

(Pause.)

SARAH: What happens day after that?

JAMES: Day after that’s Doctors’ Day. My shrink at nine, your orthopedist at one . . .

SARAH: Goody . . .

JAMES: Neuro-guy at three-something . . . Physical Therapy at five . . .

SARAH: I’m a real fun date, aren’t I.

JAMES: Baby, you’re the best.

(Pause.)

SARAH: And what happens after that?

JAMES: After that?

(She nods. Pause.)

We put you back together again.

(A beat. He kisses her forehead.)

Welcome home.

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2.

A few days later. Late afternoon. James sits at the table typing on his laptop. Sarah, her laptop nearby, exercises her leg by raising and lowering it. We hear the sound of an arriving email.

JAMES: I just sent you something.

(Sarah checks her email. She laughs.)

SARAH: That’s good.

(Silence. The sound of a second email.)

JAMES: I just sent you another one.

SARAH: I thought you were working.

JAMES: I am.

(She reads the second email.)

SARAH (A tepid response): Very funny.

(A beat.)

(Regarding his work) This that freelance piece?

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JAMES: Uh-huh.

SARAH: What are you calling it?

JAMES: Oh, I don’t know, “The New Cinema of Crue...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Praise
• BOOKS BY DONALD MARGULIES AVAILABLE FROM TCG
• PRODUCTION HISTORY
• Acknowledgments
• CHARACTERS
• THE SETTING
• AUTHOR’S NOTES
• Act One
• Act Two
• ABOUT THE COVER PHOTOGRAPH
• Copyright Page