The Twilight Zone

Rod Serling, Charles Beaumont, Richard Matheson, Anne Washburn

• Editore: Oberon Books
• Anno: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781786824011
• Edizione: 1
• Argomento: Literatura
• Categoria: Arte dramático americano

Between light and shadow, science and superstition, fear and knowledge is a dimension of imagination. An area we call the Twilight Zone. Adapted by Anne Washburn (Mr Burns) and directed by Olivier Award-winner Richard Jones, this world premiere production of the acclaimed CBS Television Series The Twilight Zone lands on stage for the first time in its history. Or its present. Or its future. Stage magic and fantasy unite as the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

Act 1

(Whispers in fragments from all over.) not this exactly, but some kind of sound bed

(Strange uncertain sounds.) not this exactly, but some kind of sound bed

Footsteps in snow, very loud

The sound of wind brushing lightly over a field of snow - magnified

The faint sound of the aurora borealis: radio waves and chiming

From the back of the theater something: something: something

Among the aurora borealis: a faint music

The sound of the prickle of snow in the wind

From the back of the theater: something: something

The music, among the aurora borealis, intensifies

We hear the sound of a man’s breath, in winter

We are hearing a man paused in a snowfield enrapt by the stars and troubled by the dark

Maybe we begin to see the inhabitants of the diner in backlit glimmers; forms but not figures

Very close: the crackle of a radio: an unintelligible (but loud!) communication; he answers (in our ears!)

PERRY: 10-4

Footsteps crunching on snow, fainter this time

Up a brief series of wood steps, a bit of stomping on a mat

The sound of a door handle turning, a faint bell jingle

That music, we heard in the aurora borealis, rendered in a period orchestration, a lethargic sounding female singer

Does the light flare behind him for a moment? For a moment do we catch a glimpse of the aurora borealis, a starfield, something stranger?

A state trooper enters a diner.

All eyes turn towards him.

He stands for a moment, eyeing each person in turn.

HALEY breaks the spell:

HALEY: Coffee?

PERRY: That bus out there – whose is it?

DRIVER: Mine, Officer, what’s the problem?

PERRY: The bridge ahead. It’s been declared ‘impassible’.

DRIVER: ‘Impassible’?

PERRY: Ice flow stacked up against the supports. Another pound of weight and it could be driftwood.

DRIVER: (He would like to utter a stream of profanity; he contents himself with:) That’s rough.

PERRY: Looks like you’re kind of marooned. ‘Til morning anyway.

ROSS: But I must be in Boston at 9 am! I’ve got a very important meeting!

DRIVER: You can start walking, Mister, but you’re gonna need snowshoes.

PERRY: You might as well all get comfortable and get a little hot food in you.

ROSS: Oh that’s just great. That’s fine, isn’t it? Get comfortable, and get a little hot food in me. Precious consolation for missing my meeting. (He laughs sardonically.) That’s a fine little bus line you work for, isn’t it? They care so much about their schedules, don’t they.

DRIVER: I wouldn’t be too hard on them Mister. They’ve got no control over the snow, bridges.

ROSS harrumphs.

There is a long pause while PERRY eyes the passengers, one by one; for the most part they return his gaze, with mild apprehension or puzzlement.

After a moment:

HALEY: Something wrong, Perry?

PERRY: There a back door to this place?

HALEY: Sure is.

A beat.

PERRY: Maybe you wouldn’t mind going back there and locking it.

A beat.

HALEY: It’s already locked.

PERRY: Thanks. Tell me, who was it was in here before the bus stopped?

HALEY: Why…nobody. I haven’t served anyone since 11 o clock this morning.

A beat.

PERRY: Driver, you got a passenger manifest?

DRIVER: Passenger manifest? What do you think I got parked out there a 707? Mister, that’s a fourteen year old bus and business is lousy. My boss would run rum across the border if there was profit in it. We don’t ask passengers their names. We kiss them gently and help them in we’re that glad to have them.

PERRY: How many did you have?

DRIVER: How many? Six. Unless one fell out a window when we hit a bump. Six’s what I picked up, and six’s what I’m supposed to deliver.

PERRY: No-one fell out. Someone jumped in. There are seven here now.

There is a small prickle of sound from the jukebox.

DRIVER: That’s funny. I know I had six people. I counted heads before we took off. There were six.

PERRY: Then how do you account for the seven?

DRIVER: That one beats me. One of them didn’t get off the bus.

A beat.

PERRY: Which one of you wasn’t on the bus?

There is a pause.

RESPECTABLE: Oh this is ridiculous. Surely we were all o...