Dancing With Hamlet (sample)

​​© Copyright 2020 by Deanna Strasse
CAUTION: Professional and amateurs are hereby warned that
DANCING WITH HAMLET is subject to royalty.
All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, radio, television, public reading and the rights of translation into foreign language are strictly observed.
All questions with regard to licensing should be addressed to the author: Deanna Strasse [[email protected]]
No performance of any or all of the play may be given without obtaining in advance the written permission of the author and paying the requisite fee.
:::
Synopsis
When the matriarch of the Flack family, Rosie, decides to remarry, her three grown children are not exactly thrilled with the idea. They are mortified, however, when their father dies tragically in a car accident just a week before the big day and Rosie plans to go on with the wedding. The Flack’s only daughter, Elvira, begins to see the whole thing as a tragedy…on a Shakespearean level. In the days leading up to the wedding, someone is out to sabotage the big day, someone just wants to survive it and Elvira can’t make up her mind. Hearts will break, but the show must go on.
Characters
Elvira Flack…she/her/hers, 30s
Rosie Flack…she/her/hers, late 50s, Elvira’s mother
Beau Flack…he/him/his, 30s, Elvira’s older brother
Wilde Flack…he/him/his, 20s-30s, Elvira’s younger brother
Tony Simms…he/him/his, 50s, Rosie’s fiancé
Jean…she/her/hers, 20s-30s, the next-door neighbor to the Flack’s
(A Greek chorus of sorts also plays an integral role in the show. It must feature at least four actors of any gender or gender-identity but can have as many as ten players. The lines of “The Player” can be delivered by one actor in particular or divided among the chorus.)
Setting
The Flack family home in an unnamed Midwestern city as well as dramatic limbos in Elvira’s mind.
November. Present day.
Production History
Dancing With Hamlet was originally produced by Windfall Theatre in conjunction with Milwaukee Entertainment Group on March 15th 2018 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Carol Zippel directed, and the cast included:
Elvira…………..Melody Lopac
Wilde…………..Josh Scheibe
Rosie…………..Donna Daniels
Beau……………Cory Jefferson Hagen
Tony……………Emmitt Morgans
Jean……………Amanda J. Hull
:::
Act 1, Scene 1.
The scene is set. All is dark across Denmark. Francisco stands at their post. Enter Bernardo.
BERNARDO: Who’s there?
FRANCISCO: Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.
BERNARDO: Long live the king!
FRANCISCO: Bernardo?
BERNARDO: He.
FRANCISCO: You come most carefully upon your hour.
BERNARDO: ’Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.
FRANCISCO: For this relief much thanks: ’tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.
BERNARDO: Have you had quiet guard?
FRANCISCO: Not a mouse stirring.
BERNARDO: Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
FRANCISCO: I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who’s there?
(Enter Horatio and Marcellus)
HORATIO: Friends to this ground.
MARCELLUS: And liegemen to the Dane.
FRANCISCO: Give you good night.
MARCELLUS: O, farewell, honest soldier:
Who hath relieved you?
FRANCISCO: Bernardo has my place.
Give you good night.
(Francisco exits)
MARCELLUS: Holla! Bernardo!
BERNARDO: Say,What, is Horatio there?
HORATIO: A piece of him.
BERNARDO: Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.
MARCELLUS: What, has this thing appear’d again to-night?
BERNARDO: I have seen nothing.
MARCELLUS: Horatio says ’tis but our fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
HORATIO: Tush, tush, ‘twill not appear.
MARCELLUS: Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
(Elvira enters now, carrying a large urn)
MARCELLUS: Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio!
(Elvira stares around, confused)
HORATIO: Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
BERNARDO: It would be spoke to.
MARCELLUS: Question it, Horatio.
HORATIO: What art thou that usurp’st this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!
ELVIRA: Ummm…
(Elvira begin to exit)
MARCELLUS: It is offended.
BERNARDO: See, it stalks away!
HORATIO: Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!
(Elvira exits)
MARCELLUS: ’Tis gone, and will not answer
HORATIO: Before my God, I might not this believe
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Heaven will direct it
MARCELLUS: Nay, let’s follow it.
HORATIO: Something is rotten in the state of Illinois.
(They exit, following Elvira)
:::
Act 1, Scene 2
The lights come up on the living room of a cozy home. It’s a lively place, filled with color. A large bay window sits upstage and doors lead off towards the kitchen, the rest of the house and so on. It’s late at night in November. Beau, a young man of about twenty-seven enters from the kitchen. While this is the home where he lived all his childhood, he doesn’t feel at home here. He treats the surrounding area like a museum, looking but never touching, afraid of possibly breaking something. He stares around and eventually meanders his way to the window. Everything about his demeanor says he’s uncomfortable. Off in the distance, we suddenly hear Beau’s brother, Wilde, whistling or humming (possibly something like “Chapel of Love” or “White Wedding”). Wilde enters from the main door, with a suitcase, having just arrived. The two brothers share a look.
WILDE: Hey, bro. I heard someone was getting married!
(Beau gives Wilde a wry look and then awkwardly exits to the kitchen. Wilde continues to hum as he walks towards the window. A moment passes and then he notices someone outside)
WILDE: Jean! Jean! (Opening the window) Hey, Jean! Look who came home! Jean! Over here! Jean! Jean! Jean! Jean! Jean! Jean!
(He continues with this obnoxious chant as he watches Jean, a pretty young woman about his age, walk up the front steps and enter from the main door)
JEAN: Well, look what the cat dragged in!
WILDE: Look who came home!
JEAN: Wilde! (She goes to hug him. It’s clear that she’s enjoying the hug more than Wilde is) Look at you! You haven’t changed a bit since I last saw you! How have you been?
WILDE: Terrible. Just rotten.
JEAN: I was right. You haven’t changed a bit. You just get in? Me, too, actually. Just this morning. Funny how things work out. I was up north with Mom. Isn’t that funny?
WILDE: Isn’t what funny?
JEAN: I don’t know. You were traveling. I was traveling.
WILDE: Yeah. Incredible. Where is everyone?
JEAN: I don’t know --
WILDE: I saw Beau moping around, but where…(His words are drenched with sarcasm) …where, oh where, is that lovely blushing bride?
(Jean clearly hasn’t picked up on the fact that he’s joking)
JEAN: Oh, your mom’s around. Two days to the wedding. You can imagine that she’s a little in over her head. But I swear in all the years I’ve known your mother, Wilde, I’ve never seen her happier. You should see her. She’s like a whole new woman.
WILDE: You’ve talked to her?
JEAN: Yeah. She should be around here somewhere. (Walking to the kitchen, calling) Rosie! (Turning back to Wilde) Anyway, she told me that you and Beau will be sharing the guest room. And Elvira will have to sleep down here on the couch.
WILDE: Weight room.
JEAN: I’m sorry?
WILDE: Weight room. She turned my old room into a weight room, right?
JEAN: Uh…yeah…
WILDE: How nice. I’m looking forward to seeing how bulked up she’s become.
JEAN: I think it was mostly for Tony.
WILDE: Ah, yes. Tony. Petite little thing. He could use a weight room.
JEAN: Would you like some help taking your stuff upstairs?
WILDE: Weight room. Guest room. Library. That’s what became of us. I became a weight room. Beau became a guest room and Elvira became a library.
JEAN: Are we really going to do this, Wilde?
WILDE: Do what?
JEAN: How old are you?
WILDE: I’m just saying --
JEAN: This is the happiest time for your mom. Just…try to be happy, okay? Forget all the melodramatic stuff. I know you and your mom are…you and your mom…but Saturday is going to be her day.
WILDE: You only get married once. Oh, wait.
JEAN: Wilde, if you saw how happy your mother is.
WILDE: I can imagine.
JEAN: Seriously, Wilde, wait until you see her --
WILDE: Why are you so perky, Jean?
JEAN: Just in my nature, I guess.
WILDE: I expected you to be a little more…(He can’t find the word)…considering everything.
JEAN: Do you want to see your mom?
WILDE: No. I’m okay.
(He looks to the coffee table where a platter of muffins has been laid out)
JEAN: Go ahead and have one if you like. They’re my special recipe.
WILDE: What are they?
JEAN: Muffins.
WILDE: I can see that.
JEAN: Honey, rosemary, Guinness.
WILDE: (Examining the muffins) Honey, rose --
JEAN: — rosemary and Guinness. Muffins. My own recipe.
(Wilde now stares at the muffins, almost frightened)
WILDE: Yeah.
(He looks to Jean who smiles and then he tentatively takes a bite)
JEAN: What do you think?
WILDE: Not as bad as I would have imagined.
JEAN: Thanks…? Anyway…welcome home, Wilde. I should go back to my mom and…I’ll be back later tonight. Rosie said she wanted to take you all out for dinner, but she also wanted to work on cleaning this place up. So I said I’d stop by and get a head start on it. So you’ll probably see me --
WILDE: Wait. What did you just say?
JEAN: Uh…well…We’re having the rehearsal dinner here, but your mom wanted to really give this place a good cleaning and --
WILDE: And you’ll be stopping by?
JEAN: Well, yes.
WILDE: You’ll be stopping by while we’re out to dinner?
JEAN: Well, yes.
WILDE: How will you be stopping by?
JEAN: I have a key and --
WILDE: What?
JEAN: I have a key. To your house. Your mom gave me a key. A while ago. Sometimes, when she and Tony are off doing something, they ask me to stop in and water the plants or feed the cats.
WILDE: You have a key?
JEAN: Well…yes…
(Wilde considers Jean and then begins to laugh. Jean, not knowing what else to do, laughs as well)
JEAN: Why are we laughing?
WILDE: Nothing. Nothing. Never mind.
JEAN: Okay.
WILDE: Can I see it?
JEAN: My key?
WILDE: Yes, your key. For the house.
JEAN: Oh. Uh…sure…(She takes out her keys, complete with a variety of quirky keychains and hands them to Wilde) It’s the silver one with the purple nail polish painted on top. I do that for all my keys. So I know which one is which.
WILDE: (Assessing the keys) Very nice. This one.? (Holding up a key)
JEAN: Yes.
WILDE: (Staring at the key) Very nice.
(A long pause while Wilde simply stares at the key. Wilde begins to laugh again. Again, not knowing what else to do, Jean joins in)
WILDE: Isn’t that just grand? Isn’t that precious? So precious. I can’t believe that.
JEAN: I know, right?
WILDE: You have a key?
JEAN: Yeah.
WILDE: A complete stranger. You have a key to my mother’s house --
JEAN: I wouldn’t say I’m a stranger, Wilde --
WILDE: I don’t have a key. She said she wouldn’t feel safe with so many keys floating around. We’ve legitimately had this conversation, Jean. I can’t believe this. She gave you a key?
JEAN: Yeah.
WILDE: She gave you a key?
JEAN: I live next door.
WILDE: I don’t have a key.
JEAN: You live two hundred miles away in Chicago.
WILDE: You’re not seeing the point.
JEAN: No, I’m afraid I’m not.
WILDE: Forget it. Forget I said anything.
JEAN: No. I’ve learned that when people say, “Forget it,” what they’re really saying is, “Please! Ask me! I beg you!”
WILDE: Jean, this time I actually don’t want to talk about it. That’s just my mother for you.
JEAN: There you go. “That’s just my mother for you.” Go on. Talk about it. Get it off your chest. You’re upset with your mother.
WILDE: Of course I am.
JEAN: So talk about it.
WILDE: I don’t want to talk about it, Jean.
(A long pause)
WILDE: I shouldn’t have to say it, Jean. My god, you should know. You know what she’s like.
JEAN: What did she do now?
WILDE: This whole thing. This whole thing. Damn it, Jean, why are you so…perky? Why are you so…happy?
JEAN: Just in my nature, I guess.
WILDE: You honestly can sit there and not think that this whole…thing is a fiasco!?
JEAN: What thing? The wedding? No, I don’t think it’s a fiasco. Your mother loves Tony. They want to marry each other. End of story. And if you’re wondering about your dad, Wilde --
WILDE: Of course it’s about Dad! (Sighs) Nobody understands.
(Jean laughs)
WILDE: What was that?
JEAN: Well, I was just giggling at you.
WILDE: And why?
JEAN: “Nobody understands.” That is so…you, Wilde.
(She rises, as if going to exit)
WILDE: Where are you going?
JEAN: I should get going.
WILDE: What does that mean, “That is so…you, Wilde.”
JEAN: Well, it is. If normal people had catchphrases, that would be yours. “Nobody understands!” You are such the youngest child.
WILDE: What does that mean?
JEAN: How long have we known each other? Practically our whole lives. And you got taller over the years. You moved around a couple of times. But you’ve always been the same. Dramatic.
(She throws herself on the couch)
JEAN : “Oh, I’m Wilde, and they got more than I did!” “Oh, I’m Wilde, and the world is so unfair!” “Oh, I’m Wilde and my mother didn’t hug me enough!”
WILDE: That is not true --
JEAN: “When I was twenty-three, my parents got a divorce, and it ruined my life!”
(Jean flops onto the floor, trying to be as dramatic as possible)
WILDE: That is not funny.
JEAN: “My entire childhood was ruined!”
WILDE: That is not funny.
JEAN: “I knew my parents weren’t compatible, but they should have stayed together and been unhappy…for ME!”
WILDE: You’re not funny.
JEAN: You’re the most dramatic girl I’ve ever met, and you’re a guy.
WILDE: How can you say that?
JEAN: You make it really easy!
WILDE: I realize that he wasn’t your father, but he’s still…he’s still important.
JEAN: Wilde, have you talked to him about all this? The last I talked to your dad, he was perfectly fine with all of this. He didn’t mind that your mom was getting remarried. He was happy that she had moved on and was starting again. Your dad is a good guy. I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around.
(Beau enters now)
BEAU: Oh. Jean. I thought I heard your voice.
WILDE: (To Jean) What did you just say?
JEAN: Your dad. He’s a good guy. I’m just --
WILDE: You don’t know. She didn’t tell you. You said you just got back from up north with your mother. You weren’t here last Sunday, were you?
BEAU: Wilde --
WILDE: (To Jean) Were you?
JEAN: Was I what?
WILDE: You weren’t here. You don’t know.
JEAN: Don’t know what?
BEAU: Wilde, don’t lose your temper. I’m sure Mom was going to tell her --
JEAN: She was going to tell me what?
WILDE: That bitch! She didn’t even think to tell you!?
BEAU: Wilde!
(Rosie’s voice is heard from upstairs)
ROSIE: Tony?!
WILDE: Mom! (He crosses to the stairs)
ROSIE: Wilde? Is that you?
BEAU: (Crossing to the stairs as well) Yeah! Wilde is here, Mom. He just got in.
ROSIE: Is Tony around?
BEAU: No. Tony stepped out I think.
ROSIE: No, that’s fine! I’m about to make my entrance! Are you ready? Prepare yourself, Wilde! I’m coming down!
BEAU: Jean is here, too, Mom!
ROSIE: Oh, Jean, good! Are you ready? Beau’s already seen this!
JEAN: Ready for what, Rosie?
(Jean begins to cross towards the stairs)
ROSIE: Wait! I don’t want you to see yet! Just wait there! Are you ready? All of you! Back away from the stairs! I’m about to make my entrance!
(Everyone crosses back, allowing Rosie her full catwalk)
JEAN: What is it?
(Rosie begins to make her descent from the stairs. Rosie Flack is edging closer and closer to sixty, but she likes to pretend that’s not true. She is dressed in very white wedding gown that probably came from the prom section of the store rather than wedding. It’s a little too tight and a little too low cut. Wilde and Jean are both speechless. Beau smiles wearily)
ROSIE: Well? What do you think?
JEAN: (Biting her tongue) You look magnificent, Rosie! Oh my word! You look…stunning! I can’t…I can’t think of words. You look…look at you.
ROSIE: It’s not too much?
JEAN: Oh, no. Go big or go home I say. This is going to be the happiest day of your life. You should feel like a million bucks.
WILDE: Happiest day of your life?
JEAN: Well, one of them, anyhow.
ROSIE: Wilde, you haven’t said a thing about your mother’s dress.
(Wilde just stares at her)
ROSIE: Wilde? What is it?
WILDE: You didn’t tell her.
ROSIE: Didn’t tell her what?
BEAU: Wilde, shut up.
WILDE: Afraid it would ruin your day? Your special day? God, Mom!
JEAN: Wilde, what is it?
ROSIE: What are you talking about?
WILDE: Jean doesn’t know! She doesn’t know about Dad! You’d think that would be somewhat important information to relay to someone, but I can see where it would overshadow your special day.
JEAN: What didn’t she tell me?!
(At this moment, Elvira enters, carrying the large urn we saw before. All eyes are on her, especially Rosie’s. There is an eerie silence)
ELVIRA: Well, hello to you, too.
ROSIE: Elvira. What is that?
ELVIRA: What’s what?
ROSIE: What do you have there? In your hands.
ELVIRA: Oh, nothing. Just Dad’s ashes.
(The silence is deafening)
ROSIE: I thought…they wouldn’t be done with…with that until --
ELVIRA: They called just this morning. Apparently, cremation business is really slow over there so they got to him sooner than expected. I just went to pick him up.
(Elvira walks to the coffee table, setting the urn prominently at the center of the room. All eyes are on it)
ROSIE : Not on the coffee table, dear.
ELVIRA: Where would you like him then?
ROSIE: I don’t know. Just not there.
(Everyone is still staring at the urn)
ROSIE: Elvira, I’m serious. Put it somewhere else.
ELVIRA: Okay. Fine.
(She picks up the urn and considers everyone on the room)
ELVIRA: It’s actually a lot heavier than I expected. Would you like to try holding it?
(Rosie suddenly bursts into tears and exits upstairs. There is a moment of silence. Without another word, Wilde exits out the front door. Jean considers Elvira and the urn)
JEAN: His…his…ashes? Dennis? That’s…that’s Dennis? Dennis Dennis? Your dad Dennis? He…he’s dead?!
BEAU: Car accident. This past Sunday.
JEAN: That was four days ago.
BEAU: Yes.
JEAN: She…she’s going forward with the wedding?
BEAU: Yes.
JEAN: She didn’t…(Looking at where Wilde exited)…she didn’t mention anything to me. (Back to Elvira and Beau) They’re…they’re still getting married on Saturday?
BEAU: Yeah.
JEAN: Oh.
ELVIRA: Yeah. Oh.
(The lights fade)
:::
Want to read more?
If you’re on New Play Exchange, check out my collection by searching “Deanna Strasse”.
Contact me at [email protected] to purchase PDFs of full scripts.

---