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“Passion: An American Tragedy” A New Musical by Dave Winnyk
Music #1: Prologue
(Lights up. Owen is alone Center Stage. He is dressed in a cap and gown.)
Owen: Getting out/ on my own/ first time/ alone. Gradua-/ -tion day/ today/ can’t wait/ to leave/ this tormented hell/ now!/ Can’t wait to get a-/ -way hey hey hey!/ way hey hey hey!/ can’t wait to get away! Owen, 22 years old, June 16th, 1998, fresh out of Thee Ohio State University, class of the millennium with a degree in English and 357 pages of a novel. It’s my baby. It’s not finished or anything and I’m sure I’ll have to rewrite it a few times when it is finished, but it is something. Something substantial, something that says I have a shot at making it. I want to finish it as soon as possible and get it published. You know, get it out there and let the people read… and purchase hundreds of copies. My parents want me to go to grad school. My parents want me to pay for grad school. I’ve had no job for the past 4 years. I am a poor college graduate. As you can see there’s a conflict of interest. Now where most of you would say “Fuck your parents! You’re 22 years old be and man and do what you want!” I’d say “My parents pay for my food, my taxes, my car, and basically everything… so fuck me.” Leaving fa-/-mily behind/ published/ books signed./ Paying for/ everything/ I’m broke/ can’t cope/ with all the shit/ going on now/ need to figure it/ ow ow out!/ ow ow out!/ I need to figure this out!
(Cut to an office. Travis is sitting in a chair in front of the desk and Dean is behind the desk also sitting.)
Dean: I’m sorry Professor Engram but the board has decided to revoke your professorship here as Thee Ohio State University’s mathematics department head. Even though we are revoking your professorship, we would be happy to recommend you to any university where you send in an application.
Travis: May I speak freely to you, Dean Lewis?
Dean: of course.
Travis: I mean really honestly. Man to man.
Dean: What’s on your mind?
Travis: I just wanted to say that working here the past 5 years has been the biggest piece of bullshit that I’ve ever seen or smelled in my whole life!
Dean: Travis, please!
Travis: No! You please! I’ve done more for enhancing the education at this place for the past 5 years than you have with your whole twenty fucking seven years! (Beat.) What are your grounds for termination?
Dean: Here is your formal termination letter.
Travis: (Beat. Reading.) “Not imparting useful knowledge to the thinkers of tomorrow.” Umm… I call bullshit!
Dean: The board decided that you were spending too much time working on your own theories instead of teaching.
Travis: That is a lie!
Dean: You spent classes brainstorming ideas for your own work instead of teaching the required material.
Travis: The required material is horseshit! They can learn the required material on their own. I was teaching these kids how to make their own theories and how to not give up. I was teaching these kids things they can’t learn on their own!
Dean: That is not your job, Travis! Your job is to teach the course materials.
(The office slowly begins to fade and a restaurant scene is slowly built up. Travis tears up the letter.)
Travis: This place is to creativity as day time television is to good shows! It’s vapid! You all want to bread the same kind of conformist bullshit that I refuse to teach! God forbid this place breads a free thinker. (Beat.) No, you know what this is? It’s a witch hunt! It is the Salem fucking witch trials! You are like the Nazis and I am Sid the fucking Yid! This is un-fucking believable!
Dean: Travis, stop! Remember the recommendation!
Travis: Oh, the recommendations. I’ll tell you what you can do with the recommendation! You can shove it up your filthy, smelly, shit-filled-
Customer: I asked for spaghetti. This is clearly angel hair. Take it back and make it right!
Travis: Coming right up ma’am I’m very sorry about the mix up.
Customer: You should be.
Travis: (at Center Stage.) Travis, 30 years old, totally fucked. I couldn’t find another teaching gig after I got canned, so now I’m waiting tables at an Olive Garden in Columbus and working on my theory, but not for long. I’m going to New York City in a few months, October to be exact, to receive a grant from New York University, so I can finally focus on just my theory. You see it’s a solution to a nasty little something called the Poincaré conjecture. Imagine if you have a rubber stretched around an object like this roll. The Poincaré conjecture states that we could take this rubber band, without tearing it or leaving the surface of the roll, and condense it down to a single point, but if we took a non-whole object like the cylinder on this cheese grater, there is no way that we could condense the rubber band to a single point without it ripping or leaving the surface of the cheese grater, simple, right? Try proving it. I think I’m onto something though. (Students begin singing under Travis.) It seems to be some sort of a Ricci flow but I’ve only got it to work in a few special cases.
Students: Gradua-/ -tion day/ Celebra-/ -tion day/ table/ twenty.
Travis: Oh great, they’re in my section. I guess I’d better get over there. (Beat. Travis moves to table.) Hi there! How are you guys doing tonight? My name’s –
Owen: Professor Engram?
Travis: Sort of? Owen?
Owen: Yes!
Travis: It’s been so long! Congratulations!
Owen: Thanks! So what the hell are you doing here? University not paying you enough?
Travis: Sort of… I got canned.
Owen: What the fuck? Why?
Travis: Dean Lewis said I wasn’t spending enough time “Imparting useful knowledge to the thinkers of tomorrow.”
Owen: I call bullshit!
Travis: Exactly what I said!
Owen: To the dean?
Travis: I may have been a little hot headed.
Owen: You always were. (Laugh and than a beat.) Well, fuck the system! You were- are- a great teacher.
Travis: I know. Listen I get off in about an hour. I’ll play waiter for your table and then I’ll play ex-professor and we’ll have a few shots at the bar across the street.
Owen: It sounds great but you can play friend.
Travis: Give me about 5 shots of Jäger and I’ll play anything your heart desires.
(They laugh as lights fade on them and come up on Iris Center Stage.)
Iris: Today is the day!/ I finally get my chance./ Today is the day!/ An e-mail/Open casting call for dance/ New York/ Broadway/ Need girls/ Right away.
Today is the day! Mom! Dad! Guess what! I was checking my e-mail and you know that theatre e-mail list service I was telling you about? I got an invitation to go to a dance audition in New York on Broadway! Isn’t that so amazing!?!
(Lights come down on Iris and back up on Owen and Travis at Center Stage.)
Owen: Travis and I talked over Jägerbombs, scotch, and cigarettes. We talked about Hegel, Poincaré, sports, sex, music, art, and then, as the bar was going into the last call, Travis started talking about his grant at NYU and I started talking about my dreams of getting published.
My home life/ I couldn’t stand./ My love life/ was kind of bland./ I have to leave this one-light town/ cause I am feeling so down./ I want to get away./ Get me out of this place!/ Put me on a ship to outer space/ I’ll take a new name and face/ Just get me out of this place!/ He said “Won’t you come with me/ to New York City?”/ The grass is greener/ on the other side/ of the Hudson River/ and that’s where we’ll abide.
Travis: In a luxury house/on the East Egg./ For
Owen: My books/
Travis: My equations/
Both: The people will beg!/ Get me out of this place!/ Put me on a ship to outer space!/ I need a new name and face!/ Get me the fuck out of this place!/ Yes I’m going to be/ in New York City!/ I’m leaving this town!
Iris: What do you mean I can’t go?!?
Both: I’m out of this place!
Iris: This could be my big shot!
Both: I need a new name!
Iris: But Dad!
Both: I need a new face!
Iris: But Mom…
Both: You will see me in-
(Lights Down on Travis and Owen.)
Iris: Wait! Iris, 18 years old, wild bird… stuck in a cage. I need this. No you don’t understand. I need this! I’ve been dancing since I was 5 years old. College isn’t my thing. Dance is! I’m so sick of my parents wanting me to save me from being me! They want me to become everything that a girl should become, a house wife. God, that idea makes me so sick! I want to be independent! I want my dreams! I want the feeling I get when I dance! The feeling of giving everything you have, talent, form and beauty, to the audience and not knowing if they loved it or hated it till you hear that thunderous applause. I need that feeling to survive… I’m 18 years old! I’m legally an adult, why can’t they treat me like one? (Beat.)
But what about me?/ This isn’t about them!/ This is about an audition/ that can make things happen./ I don’t care about the money./ I don’t care about the fame./ I care about my passion/ I just need to make my name!/ Want to shoot for the stars./ Want to become something!/ Not just another person/ but someone who follows their dreams!.
I’m going to that audition whether they support me going away or not! I don’t need them anymore,
I’ll be fine on my own!/ Cause I’m sick of feeling useless/ sick of being told “No!”/ I don’t want their absolution/ I can make it on my own!/ And if I end up failing/ try to reach my dreams and fall/At least I gave it a shot,/ At least I gave it my all!/ And I know this may seem ridiculous to you/ but these are my dreams and they’re what I’m going to do!
(Lights up on Owen and Travis.)
All: We’re leaving this town./ We’re out of this place./ They’ll remember my name./ They’ll remember my face!/
Owen and Travis: We’re leaving this town!
Iris: I’m sick of feeling usless.
We’re out of this hell!
Sick of being told “No!”
I’ll lose everything,
I don’t need an absolution
But my passion I refuse
I’ll do better on my own
To sell!
I’ll do better on my own!
All: Take me away!/ Get me!/ To New York City!
(Lights down.)
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