Just Wrought

Recovering playwright, once won a STRANGER Genius Award for theater. Now writing a bloated novel about… G-d help me! Theatre.

Tag: new play

  • Putting the Fail back in “Experimental”

    Putting the Fail back in “Experimental”

    Artists love to talk about being “experimental”, and it rightfully drives scientists nuts.  We artists obnoxiously brandish that word whenever what we really mean is “avant garde” or “edgy”or “provocative” or “abstruse”.  Any actual scientist understands that true experiments have rules and consequences. Experiments are tests of hypotheses hoping to become theories; and theories, in order to prove useful, must be falsifiable.  In other words, true experiments by definition contain the possibility of failure.  However, all too often in the arts, especially theatre, work gets described as “experimental” that is, in fact, incapable of being “falsified”, because it never had a truthful purpose in the first place. Consequently, the worst kind of “experimental artist” will blame the audience for every failure of meaning or impact.

    I promise I will not be doing that this coming Monday evening at the Bathhouse Theater on Green Lake. Instead, with the help of my truly gifted colleagues Susanna Burney, Amy Love, William Salyers and John Q. Smith I will be performing a bona fide artistic experiment by reading aloud my very latest play Philosophical Zombie Killers.  I attempt things in this script I have never seen tried before in the theatre, and thus the ominous likelihood looms that some of these things I am trying can, and most likely will, fail. 

    I am not asking you to come see my greatest latest triumph, which I happen to have dubbed “experimental” cuz it sounds cool.  I am asking you to come see my latest experiment, and help me make it better, by watching where it fails, and letting me know.

    Saint Denis

    Here are the details:

    The graduate level seminar is about human conscious-ness. Or at least that’s what you thought when you signed up for it. Now someone’s telling you that you’re 45 years old and you’re dying. You certainly didn’t sign up for that. Now this alcoholic professor is asking you to explain consciousness to him. And this depressed ex-cop from Missouri is telling you about the epidemic of decapitations in Seattle. And this weird lady from Omnisoft just wants you to admit that there’s no such thing as consciousness and no such thing as you for that matter. Could she possibly be right? Might make dying easier. Who said you were dying?

    Who:       Susanna Burney, Amy Love, William Salyers and John Q. Smith

    What:     Philosophical Zombie Killers by Paul Mullin

    Where:   The Bathhouse Theater in Green Lake

    When:    October 15, 2012, 7pm

    How:      Pay what-you-will, including nothing at all. You’re doing us a favor by giving it a listen.

    Reserve seats at Brown Paper Tickets: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/278468

  • Happy Columbus Day from THE GOOD SHIP MANHATTAN

    Happy Columbus Day from THE GOOD SHIP MANHATTAN

    In honor of this dubious-at-best holiday, I offer a relevant excerpt from my play The Good Ship Manhattan.  (Fair warning: for the most part this is a near exact transcription of a conversation that actually happened.  Politically correct, it was not.)


    . . . . GREG:  You gotta live in the real world.

    RICHARD:  Yeah.  And apparently you gotta shit in it too.

    GREG:  Please.  Cry me a river.

    RICHARD:  I’m just saying.

    (Pause, as Greg takes a healthy gulp from his single malt.)

    GREG:  So are all ex-social studies teachers big whiney liberals like you?

    RICHARD:  Actually, my 11th grade American History teacher was a flag-waving, ignoramus Nazi wacko such as yourself: Mr. Capezio.

    GREG:  Oh, he was a wop, too, hunh.

    RICHARD:  I don’t hold it against the wops.  Some of this country’s greatest Leftists were ginnys: Sacco and Vanzetti, LaGuardia, Columbo.

    GREG:  Columbus.

    RICHARD:  No, I said “Columbo”.  As in Peter Falk, as in a joke?

    GREG:  Yeah, and I’m saying “Columbus”.  As in Christopher.

    RICHARD:  Please.

    GREG:  Please what?

    RICHARD:  Do not talk to me about Columbus.

    GREG:  We’re talking about great Americans.  How do you do greater than actually finding the place?

    RICHARD:  Oh boy.

    GREG:  What?

    RICHARD:  Where do I start?

    GREG:  Oh don’t tell me.  You got a beef with Columbus.  You’re one of these idiots out here protesting the fucking parade.

    RICHARD:  Do you know anything about Columbus?

    GREG:  Uh… yeah, I know a little something about Columbus.

    RICHARD:  Like?

    GREG:  Like Fourteen Hundred and Ninety two.  Sailed the ocean blue.  To tell the liberal schoolteachers, “fuck you”.

    RICHARD:  Landed on Haiti.  Immediately enslaved the entire population.  Effectively wiped them out with disease, torture and execution.  Encouraged his men to hunt them for sport.

    GREG:  You wanna compare him to a Nazi now?  That’s you people’s favorite thing to do, isn’t it?

    RICHARD:  Well, let’s see… he rounds up an entire race of people, puts ‘em in camps and proceeds to annihilate ‘em in a holocaustic blood-fest, all in the name of Queen and Cross.  I wouldn’t say it’s an unfair comparison.

    GREG:  And who was it exactly that stopped the Nazis?  Hunh?… 

    GREG:  The Americans.    RICHARD (simultaneously):  The Russians.

    GREG:  Bullshit!

    RICHARD:  Ever heard of Stalingrad?  Got any idea what the casualty rate was for a Soviet infantryman?

    GREG:  All I know is, if it wasn’t for us, the Brit’s would be speaking German right now.

    RICHARD:  That’s the standard Hollywood fantasy.  Unfortunately utter bullshit.

    (The bartender, Ursula, steps closer to listen.)

    GREG:  Yeah, I know: nothing I learned in history class is true.

    RICHARD:  Well–

    GREG:  There’s no such thing as George Washington.  He never crossed the Delaware.  We never kicked ass on the Redcoats and won our independence.

    RICHARD:  I’m not saying that.  I’m saying there’s always more to the story.  Like if it hadn’t been for the French, we’d all be–

    URSULA:  What?  Speaking English right now?

    RICHARD:  What?  That makes no sense.

    GREG:  Makes sense to me.

    URSULA:  That fact is, the French only brought their full support to bear once they were convinced the Continental Army would ultimately beat the British.

    RICHARD:  Which they could only do because Britain was over-extended with her empire stretched across the globe.

    URSULA:  Agreed.  But you can’t deny that the symbolic victories Washington won at Trenton and Princeton after crossing the Delaware– as this gentleman mentioned– and the subsequent winter of drilling and reinforcement at Valley Forge, effectively transforming a motley crew of rag-tag citizens into an inspired fighting force, had nothing to do with the ultimate victory of the Continentals and the formation of the United States that you call home.

    (Ursula steps away to another part of the bar.)

    GREG:  Holy fuck!

    RICHARD:  Whatever.

    GREG:  You think she’s ever modeled?

    RICHARD:  Reductionist claptrap.

    (He drains his glass.)

    GREG:  How much would you pay to fuck her right now?

    RICHARD:  I wouldn’t pay your money to fuck her with your dick.

    GREG:  Yeah.  Okay, teach. . . .

  • Louis Slotin Electronic

    Louis Slotin Electronic

    Did you know that the only way you can get my play Louis Slotin Sonata is to order it as an e-book available  here? That’s an offer so exclusive I can’t even take advantage of it. (I don’t have a Kindle or any other kind of e-reading device.) So until Houghton Mifflin decides to publish the deluxe coffee table edition of the script, this is the only way of owning it.

    If you don’t know the play, here’s a synopsis:

    At 3:20 PM on Tuesday, May 21, 1946 Louis Slotin‘s hand slipped– a small, practically insignificant blunder, except that Slotin was the chief -bomb builder at Los Alamos, and at that fateful moment he held in his hands a plutonium bomb core named “Rufus”. The slip caused a chain reaction that in turn released a deadly “prompt burst” of radiation. Slotin and others saw a blue glow and felt a momentary flux of heat on their faces. Slotin flung the shell to the floor but it was too late. The damage was done. In the milliseconds it took for the plutonium to spit its deadly neutrons, Louis Slotin became a walking dead man.

    With a structure inspired by classical music’s sonata allegro form, LOUIS SLOTIN SONATA traces a brilliant scientist’s last nine days, as his body and mind gradually succumb to the chaos wrecked by radiation. Reliving the moment of his accident again and again, Slotin slowly makes his own unique way to redemption.

    If you do know the play, please consider adding your review to the Amazon page.  It would help me out a lot.

    * WINNER of the LA Weekly Award for Best New Play
    * WINNER of the Backstage West Garland Award for Playwriting
    * Nominated for Theatre LA’s Ovation Award for Best Writing – World Premiere Play
    * Pick-of-the-Week, The New York Times
    * Excerpted in The Best Men’s Stage Monologues of 1999, Smith & Kraus.
    * WINNER of The Seattle Times Footlight Award for Best New Play

    The New York Times “…a crafty narrative… irresistibly gripping….  as a historical episode suitable for dramatizing, you can’t do much better.”

    The Los Angeles Times “…a rare bird– a new play that wraps intellectual complexity, emotional depth and theatrical derring-do in one tight and memorable package. It’s bleak, it’s cheeky– it’s dazzling…. Be there!”

    WBEZ Chicago Public Radio “… Intellectually thrilling and rigorous. It really is a must see.”

    Backstage West “…a powerful play, full of ideas, extremely verbal, creatively written and extraordinarily presented… imaginative, gut-wrenching, thought-provoking, and unexpectedly, highly amusing.”

    The LA Weekly “… drama and symbol couldn’t be more delicately interwoven.”

    The Seattle P-I “…Like the crazed geniuses in science fiction, Mullin mixes gobs of this and gobs of that and then — Good heavens! It’s alive! It’s powerful!”

    The Seattle Times “…a tumultuous, tour-de-force staging that spreads plenty of intellectual and emotional fallout.”

  • Creepy Sneak Peek

    Creepy Sneak Peek

    No.  I don’t think the revision process of my play about human consciousness is taking any toll on my mental health. 

    Why do you ask?