When I direct a play we have a routine of tongue twisters that we say before most rehearsals and all performances, mainly as a bonding activity rather than an articulator-warm-up and as most things in the course of rehearsals it can be challenging at first, it develops it’s own rhythms and pronunciations, gets incredibly tedious, and then becomes a sort of joyous tradition. I know this will happen with a good cast – a cast that’s game and willing and fun.
The first tongue twister we always say is:
What a to-do to die today at a minute or two till two.
A thing distinctly hard to say yet harder still to do,
For there’ll be a tattoo at twenty till two -
A rat-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-too -
And the dragon will come when he hears the drum,
At a minute or two till two today,
At a minute or two till two.
Love it. Really gotta open your mouth for that tattoo, a thing baby actors hate to do because they’re paying more attention to other people than what they should be concentrating on.
(There’s an all-purpose mind-trick for you: if you’re thinking about what you’re doing rather than what other people are thinking about you, you’ll be far less self-conscious. This helps actors a lot – don’t think about the audience, think about your character’s inner monologue. In the same family with “Don’t think about purple elephants.” What are you thinking right now? Probably seeing purple elephants, at least for second. Instead of thinking about what you don’t want to think about – like purple elephants or what people think of you – think of something else entirely.)
In any case, back to the play. I’ve said that tongue twister a lot and one day when we were doing it I suddenly thought how I’d love a story about a dragon and a drum. And I always say, write the play/novel you want to read. So I lay in bed that night, thinking about it. What goes with dragons? Princesses. But I don’t like the idea that they need rescuing from the dragon. How can I do that differently? Make them not need rescuing. There’s the title: No Rescue Required!
I decided I wanted three princesses: a smart one, a warrior, and a sexy one. Not that the same woman can’t be any combination thereof, but it was a starting place. In the fact, all three were sexy smart fighters in three very different ways. Two of my favorite names have always been Persephone and Penelope and the next “p” word that popped into my head was Popcorn (They’re MY princesses.) and so Seph, Nell, and Pop were born.
If they didn’t need rescuing, someone had to try. Enter the utterly ignorant and inept Prince Mungo, as silly a name as I could conjure. I had two actors I knew I wanted to work with so the girls got a father-figure in Jacopo and a scholar-lady in Zenia Teagarden.
I also needed a dragon to come to a drum because that was the point in the first place. I was going to be directing the play in a poor community theatre – no “Disneymoney” for a dragon on stage. He would have to be off-stage. He would have to be heard. He would have to be a secret, such that Mungo would not stumble on him and try to kill him. And the princesses would not need his help. I’m not giving it away, but that is in fact how it worked out.
I don’t know how common this is, but I begin a play by putting some general characters in a place and let them start talking. I often have no idea whatsoever is going to happen until it does. Then I write draft after draft after draft. For instance, after the first conversation with the girls I realized that Nell and Pop were close and Seph was the outlier, both by disposition and choice. She believes she’s better than everyone else, so Nell and Pop are often aligned against her.
I didn’t invent the idea of a modernized/anachronistic/upset-the-tropes fairy tale by any means, but I did get to do my version of one and really, it just made that tongue twister that much more special every time I’ve said it since.
Here’s an early scene from the play, for your entertainment.
No Rescue Required, by Emily Fitzgerald
Act 1, Scene 2
A man carrying a tiny electric tea candle sneaks into the space. Mungo is dressed for stealth and armed with a sword, which is out and ready. He is clearly breaking in. He crosses downstage of the couch.
Pop enters the space, sword also drawn.
POP: I hope you enjoyed your stew this evening.
The lights come up suddenly, startling him. She advances toward him and he backs up.
MUNGO: Wh-what?
POP: You had stew for dinner, your last meal, as it turns out. I hope you enjoyed it.
MUNGO: How do you know I had stew?
POP: I smelled you as soon as you crossed the wall.
MUNGO: You smelled me?
POP: You’ve got a few things to learn about sneaking into other people’s homes, asshole.
MUNGO: Are you a princess, by any chance?
POP: Bet your ass.
MUNGO: Are you sure?
POP: Of course I’m sure.
He puts his sword away. She doesn’t move.
POP: What the hell?
MUNGO: I’m just surprised, is all. That you’re a princess. He crosses to stage left arm of the couch and leans, tries to be charming: I’m Mungo. My friends call me Jack.
POP: Mungo? Is that even a name?
MUNGO: Why do you think I want them to call me Jack?
POP: I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. I don’t need to know your name to run you through where you stand.
MUNGO: You know, I never got that.
POP: What?
MUNGO: It’s not like you’re going to run me through somewhere else. I presume it’ll be “where I stand.” And a flying fuck seems really challenging, maybe impossible.
POP: I’m starting to not like you.
MUNGO: I don’t want to fight.
POP: Then why the fuck did you sneak into my home with a drawn sword?
MUNGO: You curse a lot for a princess.
POP: Guess you don’t know a lot of princesses.
MUNGO: That’s true. You guys are sorta thin on the ground these days. But the sword was because I was afraid I’d run into the Monstrous Scourge before I ran into one of you.
She stands straight, point of the sword on the ground, hands crossed comfortably over the top of the hilt.
POP: Ok, why are you sneaking into our house?
MUNGO: I’m a suitor?
POP: A suitor with a stealth approach. Not likely.
MUNGO: I’m a bounty hunter?
POP: Better try, but I’m just not buying a “Mungo” as a mercenary type.
MUNGO: It’s Jack.
POP: Nah - you’re a Mungo if I’ve ever seen one.
MUNGO: You haven’t.
POP: And yet. Try again, Mungo.
MUNGO: My dad won’t let me sue for anyone’s hand or come into my inheritance until I kill something big?
POP: That I could believe. You’re not his favorite kid are you?
MUNGO: How would you know that?
POP: He sent you somewhere you guys think there’s a Monstrous Scourge. And named you Mungo.
MUNGO: My mother did that actually.
POP: She hates you too?
MUNGO: Largely, yes.
POP: You were this annoying since birth?
MUNGO: Largely, yes.
POP: Ok then.
MUNGO: So will you take me to the Monstrous Scourge so I can kill it?
POP: No.
MUNGO: Please?
POP: No.
MUNGO: Why not?
POP: Maybe you could slow down and think this through with me. If there was a Monstrous Scourge running loose in here, do you think I would be alive?
MUNGO: You look pretty tough.
POP: That I would’ve lived here all my life? Like, as a tender babe? Would my two sisters live here, who barely know which end of a sword is pointy?
MUNGO: Why do you live here? How do you live here with a Monstrous Scourge?
POP: Now you’re asking the right questions.
Seph and Nell run in, Nell in odd fighting stance, book at the ready. Seph slows down and begins to move sinuously when she sees there’s a man in the house.
POP: I despair of both of you.
NELL: What?
POP: It’s the middle of the night, there’s a commotion, and you come unarmed?
NELL: You’re armed.
POP: You didn’t know that, did you?
NELL: You always are.
POP: Point. But still!
MUNGO: So hi, I’m Jack.
Seph sidles up. Throughout the flirtation Nell and Pop make faces and mutter to each other, exasperated.
SEPH: Jack. I’ve always wanted to meet a man named Jack.
MUNGO: What a wonderful coincidence.
POP: His name is Mungo.
NELL: What kind of name is Mungo?
POP: A stupid one?
SEPH: You will always be Jack to me.
MUNGO: Will I?
SEPH: Oh yes. Tell me Jack, are you, by any chance, a prince? Perhaps incognito rather than in your usual courtly finery?
MUNGO: How did you know?
SEPH: I know about princes.
MUNGO: Do you?
SEPH: Oh yes. And I’d like to know far more about them.
MUNGO: How about just one in particular?
POP: Before you get down to it, could we possibly focus on the fact that a strange man broke into our home, armed with a sword?
NELL: And smelling of stew. Why are you here?
MUNGO, with a heroic pose, foot on the stage left end of the couch, sword pointing to the sky: To murder the Monstrous Scourge so I can woo a princess and get my inheritance.
Seph, audibly, swooning/moaning.
MUNGO: I just need someone to show me to the Monstrous Scourge.
POP: We just discussed this. How could we live here with a Monstrous Scourge running around waiting for you of all people to save us?
MUNGO: There really isn’t one?
POP: No!
NELL: Nope.
SEPH: Well –
Pop slaps the shit out of Seph. Or pops her on the butt with the flat of her sword. Whatever works.
SEPH, looks murderous: Not at all.
MUNGO: Something’s afoot.
POP: This insightful since birth, too, huh?
MUNGO: Largely, yes.
Jacopo enters and steps to downstage left.
JACOPO: Who made stew? Seeing Mungo. You?! What the fuck are you doing here?
MUNGO: Hi Dad.