Nightsong For The Boatman by Jovanka Bach

By John Stark Productions

On an isolated wharf lit by a bright moon two men are engaged in a Jacob and the Angel-like struggle shooting dice. Murlie, with a tough-guy accent, looks like a denizen of the docks as does his soft-spoken, shaved head buddy Dunbar. When Harry loses, he's sure the dice are loaded -- we're sure, too. But what are the stakes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Stark Productions
• Release date: Aug 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311448613

John Stark Productions

Jovanka Bach is a playwright and novelist who had award winning plays staged in the U.S. England and Canada. Positive reviews in the N.Y. Times of her off Broadway plays at the Barrow Group Theatre have prompted John Stark Productions to film Chekhov and Maria, which has been aired on Super Channel Canada, PBS TV and Russian TV.

Book preview

NIGHTSONG FOR THE BOATMAN

BY

JOVANKA BACH

John Stark, Producer.

23663 Park Capri #129

Calabasas, Ca. 91302

[e-mail]

818 222 6031 – phone, fax

Copyright: Library of Congress, 2004

www.johnstarkproductions.com

ACT 1

Night Time. Outdoors. The present.

A circle of light picks up HARRY APPLEMAN, a 62 year old man - slim, bearded - intense and intellectual - now very drunk.

He's reeling and throwing dice with MURLIE, a stocky man of about 40, whose movement is lithe, sinuous. He's dressed like a longshoreman. A knitted skull cap is pulled close to his ears.

Murlie circles Harry, enjoying himself, like a panther circling his prey.

MURLIE

(calls - his voice echoes as if from a distance)

Try it again, Harry!

He scoops up the dice and hands them to Harry, continuing to circle. Harry tosses.

HARRY

Eight.

MURLIE

Not bad.

With swift, snake-like motion, he scoops up the dice and tosses.

MURLIE (CONT'D)

Nine. Last try, Harry.

Drops the dice into Harry's hands.

HARRY

(tosses)

16.

(elated)

Ha ha. 16!

MURLIE

(sly encouragement)

Al-right.

(he tosses)

Seven come eleven. Too bad, Harry.

HARRY

(drunkenly)

Cheat - bastard! Those - are loaded!

Murlie backs off, laughing. His voice echoes as if from a distance.

MURLIE

For guys like you, the dice are always loaded - Harry.

(fades into the surrounding blackness)

HARRY

(angry - desperate)

Come back - two games out of three-

MURLIE

No dice - sorry, bub.

HARRY

Give me some time. Please - some time.

MURLIE

(disappearing into the darkness)

Midnight - next week - same day - at the docks. dock Z - got it - Z.

HARRY

I'm not ready!

MURLIE

Seven come eleven, Harry.

HARRY

This is a raw deal-

MURLIE

You - or a volunteer. It's all the same to us.

HARRY

Who can I convince?

MURLIE

(pointed)

That's your problem - you owe us, bub. See you - soon.

(disappears into the dark)

Harry staggers, moaning

.

HARRY

Shit! Fuck! Why did I play? Why?

(shouts into the darkness)

Al-right! If that's the way you want it. I'll go - go like a man!

He tries to stand courageously, but loses his balance and stumbles.

Lights dim.

Time: About ten years earlier. Yellowish lighting indicates the past.

Place: A poetry reading. Harry - well groomed, more youthful and confident recites from a lectern. Directly, before him, sits SHEILA SWIT, A beautiful woman of 25, wrapped in a poncho, easy sandals on her feet. A soft skirt cuddles her thighs. Her hair is a wanton cascade of honeyed curls. She's enraptured by Harry. He, likewise, is mesmerized, and recites directly to her

.

HARRY

High noon, in the depot,

blackness blights the light

like a soot-tarred hangman

astraddle the sky -

having taken victims,

waiting for justice.

There she sits

all innocence and guile

fired by prurient purity,

unsure of her destination,

parted lips pursed upward,

longing for the tarred man's

kiss.

Sheila rushes up to him.

SHEILA

Incredible! I'm chilled, shaken - I can't explain - Mr. Appleman, do you mind -

She hands him the program to autograph.

HARRY

I'm flattered that someone your age should care

.

SHEILA

Age? What does that mean? Nothing. The spirit - the soul - That's what people connect with.

HARRY

How wise. The youth of today should not be underestimated.

(hands back her program)

Haven't I seen you at other readings?

SHEILA

Yes - since college - English 1B - when I first read your Nightsongs - I've been hooked. I come to as many of your readings as I can. But I've always been too nervous to talk to you-

HARRY

Well, what made the difference today?

SHEILA

Your poem - I mean it was like - like a - a special force just pushed me forward -

HARRY

(obviously flattered)

That's the best review I ever had. Tell me, what do you do - when you're not a critic, that is?

SHEILA

Footloose - for the time. I've just broken up with this guy - an architect - we weren't right really. He was too much into city Planning

-

HARRY

And not enough into Zen?

SHEILA

Something like that

.

HARRY

So that's what you've done after college - just live with an architect.

SHEILA

(laughs)

Oh, no. I dated others before - and I did editing - but I don't like 8 to five - so I freelance now - and I -

(feeling awkward)

I write some poetry - or try to - I'd like to be a lot better at it.

HARRY

I'll help you

.

SHEILA

You will - really?

HARRY

Yes, I would