Luna Park

Short Plays and Monologues

Donald Margulies

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN:
  9781559362061
• eBook ISBN:
  9781559367516
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Drama
• Index: Literature

Drawing from his own, specific experience, Margulies has indeed created what he calls “a window to the world” at large. The bits and pieces and detritus of our culture have been used to construct a powerful drama about a new and devastating age of anxiety in the United States. July 7, 1994 ranks as an important work by a gifted and growing American playwright."—Chicago Tribune

This new anthology by Donald Margulies collects his best short plays and monologues written over the past 24 years. Taken as a whole, the work is an extraordinary representation of a particularly American reality of the twentieth century. His language is exquisite and deceptive in its simplicity, wherein the larger questions of our daily existence emerge and are clarified. The volume contains three major one-act plays including July 7, 1994, the hit of the 1995 Humana Festival at the Actors Theatre of Louisville; Pitching to the Stars, a darkly comic look at the writers lot in Hollywood; and Luna Park, an elegiac look at the American past and the immigrant experience, based on a short story by Delmore Schwartz. The volume also includes fifteen other short plays and monologues.

Donald Margulies is the author of numerous plays, including Dinner with Friends and Collected Stories, both being filmed for television by HBO and PBS. Mr. Margulies lives with his wife and son in New Haven, Connecticut, where he teaches playwriting at Yale University.

Also available by Donald Margulies

Dinner with Friends

PB $11.95 1-55936-194-8 • USA

Collected Stories

PB $11.95 1-55936-152-2 • USA

Sight Unseen and Other Plays

PB $16.95 1-55936-103-4 • USA

SHORT PLAYSFATHER AND SON

Father (fifties) and Son (twenties) seated at a table in an apartment, looking over a checkbook and check ledger.

FATHER: And what do I put here?

SON: The amount.

FATHER: I get it.

SON: You put in the amount, then you subtract it from the balance.

FATHER: Which is the balance?

SON: The balance. The total you start out with.

FATHER: I get it. So the amount goes here.

SON: Right.

FATHER: And then I subtract the amount from the balance.

SON: Right.

FATHER: So let’s say I’m paying Con Ed. Here I write “Con Ed” and where it says amount, I put in how much the check is for.

SON: Right.

FATHER: And then I subtract the amount from the balance. How’m I doing?

SON: Great.

FATHER: This isn’t so hard. All those years I thought your mother was doing something so hard and mysterious. This isn’t bad at all. I’m doing okay, right?

SON: You’re doing great.

FATHER: I’m not such a bad student, am I?

SON: No, it’s just that I’m such a good teacher.

FATHER (Laughs): So anyway, what do I do after I subtract?

SON: Nothing.

FATHER: So what’s this number here?

SON: Your new balance.

FATHER: Oh. And then what do I do? I go on to the next check?

SON: Right. And you just do the same thing for each check.

FATHER: I get it. So let’s say I write a check out to the phone company.

SON: It’s the same procedure.

FATHER: I write in the amount, subtract it, and then I wind up with . . . I forgot what you called it.

SON: The new balance.

FATHER: Right. And that’s all there is to it. That’s how you balance a checkbook. Gee.

SON: Well, I gotta go.

FATHER: What time is it?

SON: It’s almost seven.

FATHER: Gee, I had no idea.

SON: I don’t want to get home too late. The trains are crazy.

FATHER: No, of course not. It’ll probably be dark by the time you get home.

SON: Yeah, I know.

FATHER: Well, let me just ask you something.

SON: What?

FATHER: What if I want to write you a check?

SON: What do you mean?

FATHER: Do I have to write your whole name in here? (Meaning the ledger)

SON: No.

FATHER: I don’t?

SON: No. Nobody’s gonna be looking at the book but you.

FATHER: So if I wrote you a check, all I really have to write in here is “Mickey,” right? I don’t have to write Michael Weiss or anything.

SON: No.

FATHER: I see. I can just write “Mickey” and that’ll do.

SON: Dad, I really should go.

FATHER: Of course.

SON: (Kisses him): Take it easy.

FATHER: Naturally. How’m I doing?

SON: You’re doing great.

FATHER: Hey, how’s your girlfriend?

SON: Fine.

FATHER: She gets more beautiful every time I see her.

SON: Yeah . . . well, I’ll speak to you soon.

FATHER: You gonna get the train right here?

SON: Yup.

FATHER: And that’ll take you straight to your house?

SON: Uh, yeah, then I walk two blocks.

FATHER: Uh-huh. Okay.

SON: So, you can call me, too, you know.

FATHER: I will . . .

SON (Kisses him): So take it easy.

FATHER: Hey, Mick?

SON: What?

FATHER: Come on, I’ll take you home. (Stands)

SON: No.

FATHER: I don’t want you on the trains. You could get killed.

SON: I ride the trains all the time, don’t worry about it.

FATHER: Let me just get my stuff, go to the john . . .

SON: Forget about it. 60 Minutes is almost on.

FATHER: So what, I can live without Mike Wallace.

SON: But you love 60 Minutes.

FATHER: Ah, it’s stupid lately. Let me pee.

SON: No, Dad, I’m going.

FATHER: What’re you gonna do, such a long train ride.

SON: I’ve got the puzzle, I’ll be fine.

FATHER: The crossword? Your mother was crazy about crosswords. She’d know all the answers one-two-three. (Pause)

SON: Look, this is really silly, Dad, what are you gonna start shlepping to the city for?, you’ve got a great spot.

FATHER (A beat): Are you sure?

SON: Yes.

FATHER: Go already, then. I’d have to stop for gas anyway, so go.

SON: Yeah.

FATHER: You better get going.

SON: So long. (Kisses him, they hug)

FATHER: Your mother would have loved your haircut.

DEATH IN
THE FAMILY

A telephone conversation.

Mickey is in his twenties; Irving is in his fifties.

MICKEY: Hello?

IRVING: Mickey, this is your Unc.

MICKEY: He...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Copyright
• CONTENTS
• Dedication
• NOCTURNE
• LUNA PARK
• MONOLOGUES
• SHORT PLAYS