photo by Joe Mazza and Brave Lux

Friday, August 3, 2012

The Dead Line

Part of 31 Plays in 31 Days.                        
            The Dead Line
            By Jacob Juntunen
STUDENT sits in PROFESSOR’s office.
            PROFESSOR
So how was your summer? Did you finish the research for your thesis play?
            STUDENT
That’s what I wanted to talk about.
            PROFESSOR
I don’t know if I like the sound of that.
            STUDENT
I did all the secondary research—
            PROFESSOR
Sure.
            STUDENT
Had a really solid idea for the plot—
            PROFESSOR
The one from the Pullman Grant application?
            STUDENT
Basically.
            PROFESSOR
Too bad you didn’t get that.
            STUDENT
Yes. Exactly. Because, if I had, I would have made it to the archive before last week. I’m going to need an extension on the first draft.
            PROFESSOR
How much do you have written?
            STUDENT
See, that’s the thing, at the archive I learned—
            PROFESSOR
How many pages?
            STUDENT
None. Exactly.
            PROFESSOR
You have some inexactly written?
            STUDENT
Actually, yes, you see, the archive made my plot impossible—
            PROFESSOR
How so?
            STUDENT
Well, I thought the women working at Auschwitz went to the recreation lodge throughout the duration of 1944, but it seems like they went once. For eight hours. A day trip.
            PROFESSOR
So what’s the problem?
            STUDENT
My plot was based on these women visiting with SS officers over this very specific period of time—
            PROFESSOR
And why can’t you write that?
            STUDENT
It’s not what happened.
            PROFESSOR
You’re writing fiction, aren’t you?
            STUDENT
But based on a historical—
            PROFESSOR
Listen. History is in service to your narrative here, and you need a thesis play. The deadline is inflexible if you want to graduate before your funding runs out.
            STUDENT
There’s got to be some wiggle room—
            PROFESSOR
None.
            STUDENT
But, see, here’s the thing, this is a huge topic, the tone has to be just right—
            PROFESSOR
I agree.
            STUDENT
So I’ve got to work within the facts.
            PROFESSOR
I don’t see that.
            STUDENT
I feel like the dead are watching me, like I owe it to them—
            PROFESSOR
What you owe is emotional truth, everyone takes liberties with history, look at Shakespeare.
            STUDENT
Right, look at Shakespeare. He didn’t write history plays, he wrote propaganda plays for the ruling regime—
            PROFESSOR
He manipulated history to find the truth within lies; that’s what an artist does.
            STUDENT
But his lies supported Elizabeth’s reign, I can’t just throw out these facts—
            PROFESSOR
Of course you can. We’re dramatists, not historians, and if this were a commission you’d have to turn in a product.
            STUDENT
But if we ignore history, even the dead won’t be safe.
            PROFESSOR
You’re really stuck on dead people.
            STUDENT
That’s who I’m writing about!
            PROFESSOR
There’s a deadline to apply for graduation. In order to make that deadline, your thesis committee must see a script and see it develop. If you have no draft for us by the deadline—
            STUDENT
But there’s a line of dead people behind this whole project: my Polish ancestors, my wife’s family who died at Auschwitz, the perpetrators who were human, too, despite what we want to think about them—
            PROFESSOR
So which deadline do you care about? The one towards your degree and everything you’ve worked for during your years here, or this ethereal list of people who aren’t in your life?
            STUDENT
They’re why I’m here.
            PROFESSOR
I’m why you’re in this program—
            STUDENT
No, I mean, they’re why I’m on this earth.
            PROFESSOR
If there’s no draft, I don’t know whether we can grant you a degree this year. Maybe never Write the play you proposed.
            STUDENT
I am. I’m writing the truth behind the lies I unintentionally told in my proposal.
            PROFESSOR
Fine. As long as I have pages on my desk by Monday.
            STUDENT
I have to continue research—
            PROFESSOR
The time for that is past. Without any text, we’ll have to reconsider your funding.
            STUDENT
Well. You’d better have that meeting with the powers that be, then. Send me an e-mail if I need to start applying for jobs.

Jacob is head of playwriting at Southern Illinois University, Carbondale. 
Read his full lengths
here.

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