Can someone honestly love a person whom they have deceived for thirty years? This is the central question behind Wrecks, Neil LaBute's latest foray into the dark side of human nature. Meet Edward Carr: loving father, successful businessman, grieving widower. In this concise powerhouse of a play, LaBute limns the boundaries of love, exploring the limits of what society will accept versus what the heart will desire. This collection also features rarely staged short plays, including "Liars' Club," "Coax," and the never-before-seen "Falling in Like."
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Neil LaBute
Title Page,
Preface: Stage Orphans,
Epigraph,
Wrecks,
Liars Club,
Union Square,
Love at Twenty,
Land of the Dead,
Stand-Up,
Coax,
Falling in Like,
Also by,
Neil LaBute,
Praise for the plays of Neil LaBute,
Copyright Page,
Wrecks
For Charles Isherwood — who should've known better
Production History
Wrecks had its world premiere on November 23, 2005, at the Everyman Palace Theatre in Cork, Ireland. Artistic Director: Patrick Talbot. Director: Neil LaBute. Scenic and Costume Design: Klara Zieglerova. Lighting: Paul Denby. Sound: Mark Donovan. Production Manager: Mary Michele Miner.
EDWARD CARR Ed Harris
Wrecks had its U.S. premiere on October 10, 2006, at the Public Theater in New York City. Artistic Director: Oskar Eustis. Director: Neil LaBute. Scenic and Costume Design: Klara Zieglerova. Lighting: Christopher Akerlind. Sound: Robert Kaplowitz. Production Managers: Cole Bonenberger and Mary Michele Miner.
EDWARD CARR Ed Harris
Characters
EDWARD CARR, nearly sixty, a man of business
Setting
A funeral home somewhere outside Chicago
Silence. Darkness.
Lights up to reveal a room shrouded in shadows. At the center — a casket, covered in flowers. On a table nearby are several photographs of a woman, framed.
At the back of the room, an archway opens out onto a different area, well lit. The sound of people milling about.
A man nearby — EDWARD CARR — pulls a pack of Camels out of his sensible black jacket. He lights one up as he waves away a puff of smoke. Smiles as he looks about.
EDWARD ... hard to kick, you know? Habits, I mean. This stuff — and I don't care what it is you're into, candy, the drugs, whatever — once you give yourself over to something, it's, well ... it's a devil of a deal to beat it. Believe you me.
Another puff as he listens to the sound of the folks in the next room.
EDWARD I've been doing this, sucking these babies down for ... since I was a kid and, trust me, that was not yesterday! I mean, I'm not ancient, it wasn't before television — or dinosaurs, as my grandson likes to say — but it's been a while. And I know, I know, I see the commercials and read the ads and all that, I do, but I've never been able to give 'em up for more than a day. Well, day and a half one time, but that was it. I think I even snuck one then — during my thirty-six hours on the wagon! Or "cold turkey," actually, that's what they call it in smoker's language — I had myself a drag or two even when I was cold turkey. Just couldn't help it. When you're hooked, you're hooked, not much you can do about it. (Grins.) Hey, I'd quit if they'd stop making 'em taste so damn good! Seriously ...
He looks for a place to flick his ashes — notices some potted plants nearby. Crosses and uses the dirt. He stops and looks around, listening for a moment. He takes a drag. Turns back toward that other room.
EDWARD God, listen to me in there! I sound like a complete ass, don't I? Yeah, it's okay, you don't have to say anything. I can hear myself going on like some sort of ... (Beat.) Who ever uses the word "indeed" unless you're at a funeral or something? Poor guy comes over to say "She was a wonderful woman" and I go with, "Indeed, she was." "Indeed"?! Oh well, I'm sure I meant it when I said it ... ahhh, what're you gonna do, huh? Standing in some funeral parlor with dozens of people around you, trying to cram all her lifetime into a few handshakes ... You throw a couple words like "indeed" in there and hope for the best, that's what you do ... can't be helped. (Laughs to himself.) Just trying to be honest here, get some of my feelings across, and there's not a thing wrong with that. Is there? To be open. Vulnerable. In touch with your emotions and, you know ... all that other crap. I think it's a very good thing ...
He points toward the picture of a woman on a table.
EDWARDShe taught me how. Mary Josephine. She did, absolutely. I don't know why I'm saying that, using her full name like I just did — I mean, of course I'm gonna in my thing there, my, whatchamacallit that I'm doing tomorrow? The eulogy. That's obvious that I'd do it there, but not in life. Not during our time together, uh-uh. No. She was always just "Mary Jo" to me ... or "Jo." Well, "Jo-Jo" sometimes, when I was being cute, or up in the bedroom — you don't need to know too much more about that, thank you very much! I think I come from a different, you know, generation than most people do on that particular subject, so, no. You can't open the paper today without reading about how so-and-so is doing it with what's-her-name, or how much they love doing such and such. And made themselves a videotape, which is available off the computer there, for just $19.95! Good God, what've we become? Huh? Buncha savages, just sitting around the campfire and trying to keep one another entertained! And for what? I do not give a damn how you like doing it, I really don't, or even if you do, if you like doing it at all. Who cares? Jesus, that's your business, it absolutely is, so, please, keep it to yourselves, you know? (Smiles.) At least not here, anyway. During this. That's not very appropriate ... (Beat.) My wife's dead, have a bit of respect.
Hears the sound of the group again. Listens.
EDWARD I must be doing something right in there! Listen to 'em all, crying and everything. Big laugh now and again. All shook up. Well, that's good, they should be, she was a lovely woman. Absolute heaven come to earth and squeezed into human form — hey, I'm not gifted, don't have a touch of the poet in me, first to admit that, but she was. An absolute angel.
He looks inside the room, studying the others. Smiles.
EDWARD ... yeah, they're all crying now, sure. Why not? They got an audience. Makes sense, it's what most people do. Let it all out in public and everybody gives you a hankie and their best wishes. So be it. Not me, though, no thank you. Not that I didn't cry, mind you, when she went. My JoJo. Oh no, I sounded like ... Heidi, probably. You know, that little girl from the fairy tale? Up in the Alps and whatnot, with the grandfather and all ... doesn't matter. I heard that story when I was a kid and I recall her crying a great deal. Or maybe that was the film ... with Shirley Temple in it. Now, that kid was crying all the time, any movie they put her in. They exploited the shit outta her, forgive my language, but they did; I read somewhere a piece on her, an obituary or something — maybe not, she may not even be dead, I don't really know — an article that described her childhood, all glamorous and whatnot from the outside, to the casual observer, like you or I might be — see, Hollywood has a way of doing that, from everything I've heard — but she was quite the very abused young woman. Not like Judy Garland or anything, not that bad, with the pills and all, but still ... like some orphan kid that gets passed around from family to family, that's how...
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