Between Breaths

By Robert Chafe

Dr. Jon Lien is a risk-taker and respected researcher, working for over twenty years in the dangerous waters off Newfoundland to rescue massive humpback whales and save the fishing gear in which they’re trapped. With his head down in freezing waters and armed only with a snorkel and knife, Lien saves the lives of over five hundred animals and earns the hard-won respect of Newfoundland’s fishermen. But his toughest battle comes at the end, as his body is slowly conquered by a relentlessly progressing paralysis and dementia.

Between Breaths moves backward in time, from Lien’s final moments to his very first whale intervention. As his life becomes further and further confined, his mind stretches back in memories of release and salvation. Based on a true story, Robert Chafe crafts a raw portrayal Newfoundland’s “Whale Man” in this beautiful and poignant play about the parts of ourselves we hold on to after everything else has gone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Playwrights Canada Press
• Release date: Apr 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781770919037

Robert Chafe

Robert Chafe is a writer, educator, actor, and arts administrator based in St. John’s, Ktaqmkuk (Newfoundland). He has worked in theatre, dance, opera, radio, fiction, and film. His stage plays have been seen in Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, and in the United States, and include Oil and Water, Tempting Providence, Afterimage, Under Wraps, Between Breaths, Everybody Just C@lm the F#ck Down, and The Colony of Unrequited Dreams (adapted from the novel by Wayne Johnston). He has been shortlisted three times for the Governor General’s Literary Award for Drama and he won the award for Afterimage in 2010. He has been a guest instructor at Memorial University, Sir Wilfred Grenfell College, and the National Theatre School of Canada. In 2018 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Memorial University. He is the playwright and artistic director of Artistic Fraud.

Book preview

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Also by Robert Chafe

Plays

Afterimage

The Colony of Unrequited Dreams

Oil and Water

Robert Chafe: Two Plays (Butler’s Marsh and Tempting Providence)

Under Wraps

Short Stories

Two-Man Tent

Between

Breaths

Robert

Chafe

Playwrights

Canada

Press

Toronto

For Iris

Contents

Also by Robert Chafe

Contents

Preface

Production History

Characters

Between Breaths

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

Landmarks

Cover

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Start of Text

Page List

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Preface

In July of 2010 I finished the first draft of my play Oil and Water. Rarely do I have full confidence in my work so early, but that time around I truly felt I had knocked it out of the park. Artistic Fraud was hosting dramaturge Iris Turcott in St. John’s for a week-long workshop on the script, though I hardly thought it necessary. I thought what I had was brilliant and stage ready. I remember picking Iris up from the airport, waiting for her inevitable confirmation of my greatness. She infuriatingly talked about everything but: the bumpy landing, her need for a smoke and a coffee. Once we had that squared away and we were in the car, I couldn’t wait any longer and I asked her about the script. She pursed her lips under her big face-shielding shades and said, If we have one good scene by Friday I’ll be happy.

It was Sunday. It was going to be a long week.

Iris and I had worked together in earnest on only one project before. We had known each other for about ten years but had never become close collaborators until 2008 or so. I stood mostly in deference to her unarguable greatness on that first project (Afterimage), but with my balloon of confidence so savagely burst I was now feeling a bit more spikey. We fought a lot during that first workshop of Oil and Water. She reiterated her points in ten different ways, but I had been so solidly set on my first draft that I couldn’t fairly process any kind of substantial changes. I was literally beating my head against walls like a petulant child. Iris was weirdly patient throughout, arguing and raising her voice when needed, but otherwise sardonically smiling through her smoke rings like she somehow enjoyed it all. I was at the end of my rope.

After four days of this she finally barked, Listen, dummy, every time you’ve told me this story in person, you’ve cried like a baby. This story moves you for some reason, it’s gotten inside you, but that is not in the play yet. Figure out what the fuck is going on for you and put it in the play!

I went home and despaired. I cried. I looked up alternate careers online: film editing, legal. I wrote an email to Iris and Jill (Keiley, my director and long-time collaborator) telling them they best find another writer to craft this play. I erased that email before sending. And then I opened my third-storey window and stuck my laptop out. And then I took my laptop safely back in and closed the window. And then I went to bed. And then I got up at two a.m. and I wrote a scene.

The next morning I sat and sulked while the scene was read aloud, and when it was finished the table was silent. Iris was at the other end looking at me, nodding her head in affirmation. I had apparently done something good.

I ended up being prouder of the version of Oil and Water — the version Iris had helped drag out of me kicking and screaming — than I had been of