usher for site
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           These are the opening ten or so pages of my 1930's detective-style adaptation of
the classic Poe short story.

 

 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER

                                   The action of the play takes place
                                   primarily in the Usher Mansion, a
                                   rapidly deteriorating Boston area
                                   estate built in the late 1700's. 
                                   Scenically, we are principally
                                   concerned with what can most accurately
                                   be called a Sitting Room in the
                                   mansion.  The room is ill-kept and
                                   dark, with serviceable, decaying
                                   furniture, bookshelves, lamps, etc.
                                   There are at least two entrances, one
                                   from the Library, another from the
                                   foyer.  Each passageway leads to all
                                   other parts of the house.

                                   The time is the mid-1930's.

                                   At rise, however, we are not in the
                                   mansion, we are in a small
                                   Interrogation Room at police
                                   headquarters, where DETECTIVE
                                   SHAUGHNESSY, a mature, no nonsense man,
                                   is questioning JAMES BROOKFIELD, a man
                                   in his thirties, who is dressed
                                   somewhat formally, but who is, at this
                                   moment, unkempt and in distress.

                                   The Interrogation Room (which is
                                   actually two Interrogation Rooms) may
                                   be represented merely by an old wooden
                                   chair, a table and telephone, which, at
                                   first sight, appear to be part of the
                                   mansion.  As the story unfolds, though,
                                   it becomes clear that this furniture 
                                   is of another place, as is Shaughnessy,
                                   though he will relate with James (and
                                   with Fiona, later) as the story is
                                   told.  Shaughnessy, then, will appear
                                   to be in the Sitting Room as the story
                                   progresses, but will be unseen there by
                                   everyone. When the play switches to
                                   "Interrogation Room Mode," the light
                                   change is abrupt and instantaneous. 
                                   Wherever the actors happen to be at the
                                   moment, when the lights change, those
                                   who are in the Interrogation Room are,
                                   in fact, in the Interrogation Room,
                                   while other actors onstage disappear in
                                   the darkness that remains.
                                   The light changes back to the Sitting
                                   Room should be swift, though perhaps
                                   not so abrupt.

                                   On occasion, Shaughnessy will speak
                                   with characters in the Interrogation
                                   Mode as the Sitting Room action
                                   progresses, with no lighting
                                   adjustment.  These exchanges will be
                                   swift and incidental.

                                   Costuming this piece is challenging. 
                                   Every effort should be made to move the
                                   story swiftly, accommodating costume
                                   adjustments only when and if they are
                                   necessary.

                                   At rise, Shaughnessy is active,
                                   anxious, and driven. He is first
                                   generation American, but the trace of
                                   his mother's brogue will remain with
                                   him throughout his life.  James is
                                   stunned and somewhat inarticulate at
                                   the start.

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            Are you comfortable, Brookfield?   Anything I can get for you
            before we begin?

                                   JAMES
            No, detective, no.

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            I don't know if they told you when they brought you in...My
            name is Shaughnessy.  Michael, if you need to know, but I
            don't like people gettin' all chummy with me.

                                   JAMES
            I...wish I could convince you how...pointless this
            investigation is...

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            Pointless, is it?  I get dragged out of a warm bed at two
            a.m. in the morning and you're tellin' me I'm on a pointless
            errand?  Let me tell you somethin', lad.  The Boston Police
            Department learned a long time ago you pull Michael
            Shaughnessy away from the toasty left thigh of Mrs.
            Shaughnessy after eleven p.m. for a pointless errand at your
            own peril.

                                   JAMES 
            The story you want me to tell you is better left untold, if
            only I could...

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            Well, if I'm not dealin' with a deaf man.  Haven't I been
            transpicuous enough for you this morning, Mr. Brookfield? 
            Let me try some plain English.  I will decide whether your
            story is better left untold.  That's me.  Michael
            Shaughnessy.  And I will make that decision after you tell me
            your damn story and not before!  It's my hope and the hope of
            the Boston Police Department that your story will provide us
            with a reasonable explanation for the two charred bodies on
            slabs in the morgue next door.

                                   JAMES
                          (rises)
            No one needs to know what happened at that house!

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            I need to know, Brookfield.  The City of Boston needs to
            know.  God help me, I always knew nothin' good would come out
            of that house.  Usher.  The whole family.  So-called.  Nobody
            ever knew what they were up to.  All that money.  Kept to
            themself.  Anti-social.  Goddamn spooky is what they were,
            you ask me.  And now here we find you weepin' in the cold in
            the middle of the night like a little baby outside
            this...conflagration.  Two dead.  Suspicious circumstances. 
            What you need to know is that right now there's not a person
            in the world more important to you than I am.  So do your
            damnedest not to annoy me anymore, all right?  I don't intend
            to spend the rest of this night arguing with you over the
            merits of your testimony.  You will tell me what happened up
            there.  You will tell me the truth.  And you'll tell me right
            now!  From the beginning!  
                          (Shaughnessy sits)
            And remember, I'm Irish.  I love a good story!

                                   JAMES
                          (as he speaks, he moves into
                           the principal area of the
                           Sitting Room)
            Well, I arrived at the Usher house three weeks ago.  Three
            weeks ago tonight, in fact...I had been invited, but I...for
            reasons I....I was early...

                                   MADELINE USHER appears in the sitting
                                   room.  She is in her mid-thirties,
                                   though she may appear older, more
                                   weathered.  She was certainly once a
                                   beauty but, at this point, time and
                                   circumstance have served to check her
                                   youthful attractiveness.  She wears
                                   formal dress which is at least twenty
                                   years out of date, and which, perhaps,
                                   belonged to her mother. 
                                   James is now, for all intents and
                                   purposes, in both the Sitting Room and
                                   the Interrogation Room.  As a result,
                                   Shaughnessy remains part of the scene,
                                   unseen.

                                   As Madeline enters, she appears to be
                                   somewhat taken aback.

                                   MADELINE
            Oh, Jimmy, Fiona told me you were here.  But...Roderick said
            you wouldn't arrive until six...

                                   JAMES
            I apologize, Madeline, but I was worried about the snow
            they're predicting, so I caught an early train.  I hope he
            won't be upset.

                                   MADELINE
            Oh, he'll probably be upset, but that would be the case
            regardless of any schedule alteration on your part.  Roderick
            is...Roderick.  Please!  Sit down.

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            She was nervous.  Why?

                                   JAMES
            I didn't know why.  At the time.
                          (he sits with Madeline)

                                   MADELINE 
            Now, tell me--is life in New York City as gay and evil and
            hedonistic as it's painted in the newspapers?

                                   JAMES
            Well, if it is, nobody's inviting me to the right places.

                                   MADELINE
            I can't imagine that an author with your reputation is
            ignored by the social register.

                                   JAMES
            On the contrary, Madeline, an author with my reputation is
            shunned by the social register.  When the social register
            meets, they denigrate my work over caviar and bootleg
            champagne, then they go home and huddle in dark corners of
            their studies and inhale my potboilers two a night.  They are
            hypocrites, but they do buy my books!
                          (Madeline laughs)

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            I knew I recognized your name!

                                   MADELINE
            Your books are not potboilers.  They are thrillers.  And they
            are well constructed and grammatically elegant.

                                   JAMES
            So you've indulged in my lurid tales of gangsters and gun
            molls?

                                   MADELINE
            I have the books on pre-order from the publisher.  I have
            them read within three days of publication!

                                   JAMES
            Bless you!

                                   MADELINE
            I'm so happy for your success, Jimmy.

                                   JAMES
            And I yours, Maddy.

                                   MADELINE
            Success!  Inheriting a fortune is not a banner of success,
            James Brookfield.  Earning a fortune, as you have--that is
            success.

                                   JAMES
            I've hardly earned a fortune...

                                   MADELINE
            Not yet, perhaps.

                                   JAMES
            Nevertheless, you're living well.  There is success in that.

                                   MADELINE
                          (a trace of a beat)
            Yes.

                                   JAMES
            Do you have any idea why Roderick asked me to visit?  I
            hadn't heard from him--or you, for that matter--in years.

                                   MADELINE
                          (carefully)
            I have no idea what his intentions are.  He mentioned
            casually you were visiting, nothing more.  If I were to
            guess, I'd say he was interested in some kind of business
            venture and he wants you to be part of it.

                                   JAMES
            Ah!  He wants me as an investor, perhaps?  Now that the King
            of the Potboilers is rolling up a bank account?

                                   MADELINE 
            All I can say, dear Jimmy, is that my brother Roderick has
            spent his life managing the estate and my father's money.  He
            has done little else.  So I would have to wager that his
            beckoning you here out of the blue has less to do with
            nostalgia and more to do with finance.

                                   JAMES
            I take it he...avoided that Wall Street mess a few years ago. 
            I didn't have two nickels to scratch together at the time, so
            it didn't affect me at all!

                                   MADELINE
            Roderick will not discuss business with me, Jimmy.  We are
            close...but not when it comes to managing the affairs of the
            estate.

                                   JAMES
            I see.

                                   MADELINE 
            I must say, though, that...I was astonished when he told me
            you were coming.

                                   JAMES
            Oh?

                                   MADELINE
            Roderick...is not a very social person.

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            What'd I tell ya...

                                   MADELINE
            He's like father in that way.

                                   JAMES
            Well...whatever the reason, I'm glad he invited me.  And I'm
            glad to see you again, Maddy.

                                   MADELINE
            He's...not well, you know.

                                   JAMES
            Roderick?

                                   MADELINE
            I thought he might have written you.  He's...weakened, Jimmy. 
            Over the past year.  Physically.  The Doctor has no
            explanation worth considering.  Roderick has become...very
            delicate.

                                   JAMES
            Delicate?

                                   MADELINE
            Sensitive.  To sounds.  To the weather.  To food.  He eats
            only the blandest, most unappealing meals, otherwise his
            stomach erupts.  He allows virtually no music in the house. 
            No phonograph records.  The only musical sound he can bear is
            what he scratches out in the study on his own violin.

                                   JAMES
            I did notice a decided aversion to anything...modern as far
            as the decor here is concerned.  It was like stepping into a
            James Whale movie.

                                   MADELINE
            Who?

                                   JAMES
            A new...filmmaker...the Frankenstein picture?  Never mind. 
            Do you think his...health problems have anything to do with
            the house?  The estate?

                                   MADELINE
            He won't talk to me about it.  He is quite adamant about
            that.  I'm the woman, you know.  I know nothing of such
            things.  In his mind.  But...things haven't been going well. 
            That I do know.

                                   JAMES
            So...perhaps my visit here has less to do with investment and
            more to do with some kind of...rescue?

                                   MADELINE
            Jimmy...

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            He was deep in debt.  We all knew that downtown.

                                   MADELINE
            I just don't know.

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            Huge loss in '29.  Huge.  That was the rumor.

                                   MADELINE
                          (beat, she rises)
            Did you ever think...Jimmy....

                                   JAMES
            What?

                                   MADELINE
            When we were children.  Here in town.  At school.  Did it
            ever occur to you that...

                                   JAMES
            What, Maddy?

                                   MADELINE
            You're teasing me.

                                   JAMES
            No!  What are you asking me?

                                   MADELINE
            My twin brother and his best friend!  Is that all it was to
            you?  Was there no spark of interest from the best friend in
            the twin sister?

                                   JAMES
                          (beat, smiles)
            Ah.  Well...we were all...what?...sixteen when I left for
            Dartmouth?  What did we know of such things at that age?

                                   MADELINE
            Why, Jimmy...disingenuousness does not become you!

                                   JAMES 
            Besides, I think if I had shown even a trace of interest, the
            twin brother would have annihilated me.  He was very
            possessive of you, you know.

                                   MADELINE
            I don't think that's a proper answer.

                                   JAMES
            Well, it's the answer I'm offering at the moment, if you
            don't mind.

                                   MADELINE
            You never married, Jimmy?

                                   JAMES
            It's not as if the Grim Reaper's knocking at my door.

                                   MADELINE
            Is there anyone special in your life now?

                                   JAMES
            As a matter of fact, there is.  Her name is Cecile.  She's a
            painter.

                                   MADELINE
            Ah!  A struggling Greenwich Village artist!

                                   JAMES
            Well, more like a well-off Upper East Side caricaturist. 
            Family money.  You know...

                                   MADELINE
            Oh, I do.  Believe me, I do...

                                   JAMES
            Well...

                                   MADELINE 
            Tell me, has she...

                                   JAMES
                          (enjoying this)
            Has she what?

                                   MADELINE
            Has she...read every word you've ever written less than three
            days after publication?

                                   RODERICK USHER enters.  He is also, of
                                   course, in his mid-thirties, though not
                                   nearly as robust as James.  In fact, as
                                   Madeline has mentioned, there is a
                                   sickly quality to him.  His presence,
                                   however, is startling.  When he enters
                                   the room, the room belongs to him.

                                   RODERICK
            Madeline!

                                   MADELINE
                          (instantly cowed)
            Roderick...I didn't hear you...

                                   RODERICK
            Obviously.  James...I thought you were...

                                   JAMES
            I arrived early, Roddy.  I'm sorry.  I anticipated the snow
            storm.  I worried the trains would be cancelled.  I hope it's
            not an imposition.

                                   RODERICK
            Not at all.  Not at all.  
                          (brusquely)
            Madeline, may I speak with you in the library?

                                   MADELINE
            Of course.  
                          (starts to leave)
            Good to see you again, Jimmy.

                                   JAMES
            You too, Maddy.

                                   MADELINE
                          (at door)
            Roderick, could we perhaps...

                                   RODERICK
                          (sharply)
            Now, Madeline!

                                   Madeline leaves.  As he speaks,
                                   Roderick moves to a bell pull and rings
                                   for a servant.  FIONA, the native Irish
                                   maid, enters and takes Roderick's coat
                                   from him.

                                   RODERICK (CONT'D)
            Can I offer you something to drink, James?

                                   JAMES
            A brandy, perhaps, would be nice.

                                   FIONA
                          (entering, heavy brogue)
            Would you like me to take that coat for you, sir?

                                   SHAUGHNESSY
            It figures.

                                   RODERICK
                          (as Fiona takes the coat)
            I'll only be a minute.  Madeline and I have some urgent
            business to discuss.  Fiona, get Mr. Brookfield some brandy.

                                   FIONA
            Yes, sir.
                          (she starts to leave)

                                   RODERICK
            And Fiona?

                                   FIONA
            Yes, sir.

                                   RODERICK
            What was that noise coming from your room last night?

                                   FIONA
            Noise, sir?

                                   RODERICK
            That...crackling, irritating cacophony of woodwinds and
            brass?

                                   FIONA
            Ah.  That'd be Paul Whiteman, sir.  On the radio.  From the
            Waldorf Astoria Hotel.  I've become fond of the jazz, sir.

                                   RODERICK
            I see.  Well, from now on, after eight, no radio, Fiona.

                                   FIONA
            Even if I lower the sound, sir?
                          (no response as Roderick stares
                           her down)
            After eight, no radio, Fiona.  Yes, sir.
                          (to James)
            I'll be back presently with the brandy, sir.
                          (she leaves)

                                   RODERICK
            Excuse me, James.
                          (he leaves as well)
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