DARLING GRENADINE (excerpt) by Daniel Zaitchik by 3Views on Theater

Darling Grenadine Book, Music & Lyrics by Daniel Zaitchik (2.14.20)

Charles Kopelman Abrams Artists Agency (646) 486-4600 ext 277 charles@dandkartists.com

(2.14.20)

Darling Grenadine Book, Music & Lyrics by Daniel Zaitchik

Characters. HARRY LOUISE PAUL WOMAN (Florist, Waitress, Sara, Dottie, Singer, Bartender, Vet) MAN (Piano Tuner, Chef, Felix, Café Guy, Brazilian Millionaire, Bellhop, Michael) TRUMPET PLAYER (Street Musician, Paul the dog)

The world: We’re in present-day Manhattan, but people dress a little more formally and recognizable modern technology is absent. Telephones are suggested by vintage vocal microphones (on stands with wheels, so people can travel while speaking/singing.) We don’t see any cell phones, computers, etc. We move from location to location seamlessly. Projections of line drawn illustrations swiftly establish place. No need for big scene changes. The fewer props the better. Use of color should be specific and playful. For example, Harry’s red tie, his dog’s red ball, the cherries in his drinks—should all feel related, as they would in a painting. There is not always a definitive line between casual movement and dance. Although our setting is aesthetically distinct, the whimsical qualities should not make this world feel any less human. Paul the dog: The Trumpet Player voices the things that Paul “says.” Sometimes his lines may sound quite dog-like, other times they may be more melodic or abstract. Panting can be achieved through breathing in and out of the instrument. Actors should speak to Paul the dog as they would to a human—no need for a doggy baby voice. He should feel like an equal and casual participant in the conversation. *A slash mark (/) in the middle of a line indicates where the following line should begin.

(2.14.20) ACT I PROLOGUE (Empty space. Spotlight on HARRY. He’s in slacks, an untucked button-down, and a casual fall jacket—a satchel over his shoulder. The MAN and WOMAN sit in the shadows, part of the audience. LOUISE and PAUL stand on opposite sides of the space, dimly lit, both holding crimson bound scripts to their chests. HARRY smiles nervously and addresses the audience.) HARRY. Hi. (Beat.) Uh…I’m no good at hellos. (Beat.) Hellos are awful. Everyone’s always saying how they hate goodbyes. But goodbyes are easy. You know what comes next: nothing. Zero pressure. But hellos are…oof. If there were a way to impart everything about who you are immediately—that’d help. Maybe it’s a pill— yeah—“Hello—here you go”—the other person swallows it—and then they know you. All of you. Your favorite color, your most ticklish spots…in what ways you’re bound to be disappointing. There’d be no misconceptions. It’d save a lot of trouble down the road. (Beat.) I’m, uh—sorry. (He laughs uncomfortably, clears his throat and smiles.) It’s just hard to start, you know? To know where to start. (He puts his hands in his jacket pockets and looks at the floor. He feels something in one of the pockets and takes it out. It’s a slightly weathered playbill for a Broadway musical called “Paradise.” The title is written in a lavish Art Deco font—maybe with some peacock feather ornamentation. Perhaps there’s an image of a young maid with a feather duster or a bellhop with a gun. Mystery, melodrama, and romance. There’s a signature on the playbill, and below it a phone number. HARRY smiles.) Hm. (As he considers the playbill, music begins to creep in—a long suspended note on strings—and the lights become warmer. HARRY looks up. We hear a trumpet playing from another direction. A streetlamp from the past flickers on and a TRUMPET PLAYER with a tip hat is illuminated. HARRY turns his head to it him and a bouncy upright bass line begins. HARRY listens, smiling and feeling the music in his body, as line drawn projections of Manhattan start filling the space and our unique illustrative world takes shape. We’ve gone back in time three years. HARRY vocally improvises, playfully imitating the instrument. We get the feeling this is something the two of them do whenever HARRY passes by.) Bwah da da bwah da… (HARRY and the TRUMPET PLAYER tease each other with their musical lines as a line drawn tree appears, full of leaves. HARRY makes as if he’s leaving, then runs back for one more moment of harmony. He does a final silly spin, laughs at himself, throws several bills in the tip hat, then salutes the TRUMPET PLAYER and moves on.) HARRY. (to himself) Two, three, four… (The full band joyously kicks in.)

(2.14.20) SCENE 1: HARRY & PAUL & LOUISE (Projection: SEPTEMBER. A bar sign appears: “STANDARDS.” As the bar takes shape, HARRY tucks in his shirt, takes off his casual jacket and throws it into the darkness as a stylish slim suit jacket comes flying on from the opposite direction. HARRY catches it and puts it on. It matches his pants. From another direction someone flings a loosely tied skinny red tie. HARRY slips it over his head and tightens it, buttoning the top button of his shirt. Suddenly he’s cool and well dressed in a fitted suit. He pushes his hair back and breezes into the bar. Chairs on tables, broom out, etc. Setting up the bar will become part of the movement of this number. A PIANO TUNER is working on the piano. He has a lunch box and a mouth full of peanut butter sandwich.) PIANO TUNER. Heya, Harry. HARRY. (patting his shoulder) Oh good, Frank, thanks for comin’—she needs some love. Middle D’s dead. PIANO TUNER. I’m on it. (HARRY plunks the middle D – it makes a hollow sound. He sticks his tongue out and smiles.) HARRY. Where’s my handsome brother? PIANO TUNER. He’s in back.

(A FLORIST arrives at the door with yellow flowers.)

FLORIST. Hi, Harry. Sunday delivery. HARRY. Claire, you clairvoyant florist. How’d you know I was feelin’ so yellow today? FLORIST. Oh yeah? And why’s that? SONG: SWELL HARRY. I met someone swell and we go so well— PIANO TUNER. Like PB & J? HARRY. No way, like tonic and Tanqueray I instantly fell… FLORIST. Could that somebody tell? Did it show on your face? HARRY. It showed all over the place… Swell, I met somebody swell Swell, my heart started to swell Swell, I finally got my swell Swell: that pinkish-winkish spell PIANO TUNER. Did you stay out late? Do I hear wedding bells? FLORIST. Do you think it was fate? HARRY. Oh, I shouldn’t "kiss-met" and tell

(2.14.20) But whoa, I’m feeling so… Swell, I met somebody swell Swell, my heart started to swell Swell, I finally got my swell Swell: that pinkish-winkish spell

PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. Swell, you met somebody swell Your heart started to swell You finally got your swell That pinkish-winkish spell

(HARRY plays the middle D again. Still nothing. He squishes his face at the PIANO TUNER in jest. The FLORIST drops flowers into empty vases. PAUL comes out from the back with a broom. HARRY swipes a flower from the FLORIST, bites off the stem and sticks it in PAUL’s lapel.) PAUL. (light) You’re insanely late. HARRY. You’re insanely gorgeous. It’s disarming. My arms are falling off. I met someone. PAUL. So I heard. PIANO TUNER. Note that spring in his step. PAUL. That’s cuz the floors are coming up. The laminate’s buckling again. HARRY. (bouncing on the floor) You’ll love her. Louise. She’s this goofy little juicy strawberry thing. PAUL. That’s very nice, Harry—I’m sure she’d appreciate that description. (PAUL hands HARRY a broom to help out. HARRY turns the situation into a little dance. The PIANO TUNER and FLORIST dance too. PAUL is charmed. HARRY turns the room yellow.) HARRY. Met someone swell We go so well… (HARRY points to PAUL, implying “your turn”) PAUL. (giving in to the game) Like butter and scones— HARRY. No, no—like summer and ice cream cones (PAUL throws his hands up.) Now things are OK PAUL. All my troubles set sail All your troubles set sail… Cuz my baby is made of— (handing it off to PAUL) Saltines and ginger ale Saltines and ginger ale Whoa… PAUL. Whoa… HARRY. Now I feel all polka-dottie-oh, like bubbles that pop and blow-ee-oh The swell, I met somebody swell I’m all twiddle-diddle thumbs, a stick of that licorice chewin' gum It's swell That pinkish-winkish spell

PAUL/PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. Bubbles that pop and blow-ee-oh Swell… You finally got your swell Stick of that licorice chewin' gum Swell… That pinkish-winkish spell

(2.14.20) (HARRY sits at the piano and plays. The others gather around.) HARRY. La la la… PAUL/PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. (HARRY conducts) La la la… HARRY. Met someone swell and we go so well MAN. Like PB & J? HARRY. No way, like tonic and Tan… (PAUL heads behind the bar. The PIANO TUNER keeps fiddling.) PAUL. Like tonic and Tan… HARRY. Like tonic and Tan… PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. Like tonic and Tan… PAUL. Like tonic and Tan… HARRY. Like tonic and Tan… PAUL/PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. Like tonic and Tan… HARRY. Like tonic and Tan… HARRY/PAUL. …queray PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. Hooray HARRY. Hooray PAUL. Hooray (PAUL slides a gin and tonic down the bar to HARRY. HARRY plunks the middle D and it finally plays.) HARRY/PAUL/PIANO TUNER/FLORIST. Hooray! (HARRY shakes the PIANO TUNER’s hand and kisses the FLORIST on the cheek as they leave, handing them wads of cash. He reaches over the bar to grab a cherry.) PAUL. Hey—hands outa the cherries— (he playfully slaps HARRY’s hand away.) So where’d you meet this supposed Louise? HARRY. Outside her theatre. She’s in the Broadway revival of “Paradise.” PAUL. Paradise? HARRY. You know, the one with all the maids and bellhops and the Brazilian Millionaire— PAUL. Oh right, Katrina’s show? HARRY. Yeah. Louise is her understudy. I caught the matinee yesterday.

(2.14.20) (HARRY takes a “Paradise” playbill out of his pocket and we’re suddenly transported to the stage door. Note: this is a different playbill prop—clean, with no signature or phone number. LOUISE comes out the stage door, passing HARRY.) HARRY. Hi, Louise. LOUISE. (turning back) Hi… (searching for a name) HARRY. Harry. I’m a friend of Katrina’s. I’m a—I’m a composer. LOUISE. Harry! Yes, right—Harry. The composer. Of course, sorry. HARRY. Oh, no! We haven’t met— LOUISE. Oh, great—Ha. Well, you just caught me pretending we had. That’s embarrassing— HARRY. No, no. It was very convincing. Top-notch deception. You obviously chose the right career. LOUISE. Eh, jury’s still out on that one. Nice to meet you, Harry. (She starts to move on.) HARRY. Would you sign my program? LOUISE. Oh, I'm just in the chorus. HARRY. But they give you all the little special funny bits. LOUISE. I guess. HARRY. I love your little special funny bits. Did that sound weird? LOUISE. Only because you drew attention to it. HARRY. Excellent. (He hands her the playbill to sign. DOTTIE and MAN come out the stage door and pass HARRY and LOUISE.) DOTTIE. You comin’, Lou-Lou?

HARRY. Hey, great show.

LOUISE. Yeah, Dottie—I’ll meet you guys.

MAN. Thanks. Sorta sleepy audience today, huh?

DOTTIE. K. (As they head off, yelling back to LOUISE) He’s cute. (To HARRY) You’re cute. (The MAN hits her.) LOUISE. Oh, god—sorry—she always just says things she doesn’t mean. HARRY. (Beat.) Oh. (He furrows his brow.) Look, I know this is…but—do you wanna grab a bit—a bite—a bit of a bite to eat? LOUISE. Oh, that’s—thank you, but we’ve got two shows today, so. HARRY. You’ve got two shows today? Wow. That's a lot of shows. LOUISE. Well, it usually ends up being around two.

(2.14.20) HARRY. That makes sense. (Beat.) You really are very funny and, uh, special in the show. LOUISE. (She stops signing and really looks at him.) That’s very nice. Thank you. (She hands the playbill back.) There ya go. You have a dog? HARRY. Huh? Yes, I…do?— (He looks behind him, confused.) LOUISE. Oh, I’m not sure I even meant to say that out loud. I just—I noticed the fur on your jacket. / Sorry. HARRY. Oh, shoot—that’s not / a great look— (he starts wiping the fur off his jacket) LOUISE. No, no, sorry—I love dogs— What’s his name?

HARRY. He’s shedding his summer coat at the moment.

HARRY. Paul. LOUISE. Aw. Paul. HARRY. He’s a Labrador. LOUISE. Oh, labs are the best. / We had one growing up. Lenny. You know, I actually have a little—whatsitcalled—if you—

HARRY. Yeah, they’re great dogs. Ah, oh…Thank you.

(LOUISE takes a lint roller out of her bag and starts rolling it on HARRY’s sleeves. A silent moment of just this.) LOUISE. There. HARRY. I feel I should leave you my phone number after that. LOUISE. Sorry, that was— HARRY. No, I enjoyed it. It’s just I usually like to buy a woman a drink before that kind of intimacy. Here. (He writes his number on the playbill and hands it back to her.) Now you have to call me because you’ll need to return that souvenir. It will be very valuable one day. LOUISE. Yes, I’m sure one day it’ll be worth tens and tens of cents. Bye, Harry. (LOUISE exits as HARRY turns back to PAUL and does a weird little dance. We’re back in the bar.) PAUL. She lint rolled you? HARRY. She lint rolled me. PAUL. Is that a euphemism? HARRY. No, but it felt like one. PAUL. Hm. So, what? She called you? HARRY. Can you believe it, she did. I’m seeing her tonight. Gotta go.

(2.14.20)

(HARRY reaches over the bar again, successfully steals a cherry, pops it in his mouth, and heads to the door.) PAUL. So much for helping me budget the renovations I guess? HARRY. Oh, shoot, I forgot. PAUL. Shocking. HARRY. (on his way out) Get whatever you want, baby bruddah. Just send me the bill. (PAUL sighs as the bar disappears and HARRY and LOUISE circle towards a small table. The WAITRESS and the CHEF throw a floral tablecloth over it and we are suddenly in a cozy Italian restaurant. Romantic lighting. Wallpaper with flower buds.)

(2.14.20) SCENE 2: HARRY & LOUISE’S FIRST DATE (HARRY and LOUISE sit.) HARRY. So did the director give you all those little bits or did you come up with ‘em on your own? LOUISE. Oh a little bit of both I guess. I just tried to figure out who this third-maid-from-the-left might be—make her someone, ya know? I didn’t know if anyone even noticed. There’s a lot going on up there.

HARRY. Mm-hm.

HARRY. Of course they do. (The WAITRESS sets down drinks.) LOUISE. Thank you.

HARRY. Thanks, Diane.

WAITRESS. You got it. HARRY. Did you always know you wanted to be on a stage? LOUISE. Well, it wasn’t something I even knew was an option early on. I’m from Indiana, my parents had a hardware store, so…as a kid I was more an expert in duct tape and door knobs. (HARRY laughs.) But my mom had this record collection—she’d always have a record playing at the store. So I think at some point I just started singing along. HARRY. And the rest is history. LOUISE. Mm, the rest is…an uphill climb. Is it too late to become a heart surgeon? (Beat.) So you’re a composer. And you write shows or—? HARRY. Oh, no no no—nothing so fancy. I’m a commercial composer mostly. I score ‘em, write jingles—stuff like that. LOUISE. Oh, wow. Anything I would recognize? HARRY. (He takes a breath, leans in, then:) Doo-doo-doo-doo Doo doo doo doo . . . LOUISE. No! Buh-buh-buh-buh Betty’s Burgers! You wrote the Betty’s Burgers jingle? HARRY. All four notes. LOUISE. They’ve been using it for years. It’s everywhere. HARRY. Yeah, Felix—my agent—loves me for that one. It bought me my apartment, this suit, all this plastic surgery— LOUISE. (laughing) That’s crazy. Four notes. So did you grow up around music? HARRY. Yeah, yeah I did. My dad was a Broadway conductor actually. (He takes a sip of his drink.) LOUISE. Oh my gosh, really?

(2.14.20) HARRY. Yeah, the first time he took me to visit a theatre, I was looking up at the lights, backing up towards the lip of the stage, and I fell into the orchestra pit. Hard. LOUISE. Ow. HARRY. He used to say I fell into the orchestra pit and I never came out. LOUISE. Ha. So there must be other things you’re working on, right? Besides your legendary jingles? HARRY. Well, some nights I play tunes at Standards, but that’s just for fun— LOUISE. Oh—Standards, yeah—I’ve seen the sign, but I’ve never been in— HARRY. We’ll need to fix that. It’s Paul’s bar. LOUISE. Your dog has a bar? HARRY. Ah, right—let me clarify: Paul is also my brother. LOUISE. That provided no clarity. HARRY. Two Pauls. The person’s my brother, the dog’s a dog. When I met him at the shelter he was already named Paul. How could I not have taken him home? LOUISE. Sounds like it could get confusing. HARRY. Horribly. LOUISE. Well, you could have changed his name— HARRY. He’s a 30 year old man, I think he may have grown attached to it. (LOUISE laughs. The WAITRESS returns.) WAITRESS. You want another, Harry? HARRY. Why not. Oh—you don’t mind, do you. LOUISE. Of course not. WAITRESS. How bout you, honey? You still working on that? LOUISE. (blushing) Oh. I’m fine. Thank you. WAITRESS. Sure thing, honey. (She walks away. LOUISE is left blushing, looking down. HARRY notices.) HARRY. What just happened? LOUISE. What? Oh no, am I that transparent? HARRY. You got a crush?

(2.14.20) LOUISE. (covering her cheeks) Oh god. No, no. It’s so silly. It’s nothing. HARRY. Tell me, I like silly nothings. SONG: EVERY TIME A WAITRESS CALLS ME HONEY LOUISE. Every time a waitress calls me honey, I die of happiness Can’t remember when the whole thing started or why, but nonetheless It’s always been this way, when sweet words come my way I die There. HARRY. Uh-oh. Sweet words are in my genetics. Darling? Baby? Sweetheart? Do we need to call the paramedics? LOUISE. No. It doesn’t work with you. HARRY. It has to be a waitress? LOUISE. Not necessarily. It has to be a stranger. HARRY. I’m not a stranger? LOUISE. Not anymore. HARRY. (pleased) Oh. LOUISE. When it’s a stranger my heart starts to flutter It’s a stranger—I get all soft, I turn to butter It’s somethin’ to do with people likin’ you just because you’re alive Yeah - when someone likes me just for bein’ alive The doorman: “There you go, my dear” The checkout girl: “Here’s your change, sweetheart” I die… HARRY. (squinting) Let’s get to the root of this— LOUISE. (shrugging) It’s just a little casual tenderness. Probably not even intentional. But it’s nice—cuz life isn’t usually very tender at all, is it? HARRY. Is that a fact. LOUISE. Depends who you ask. It’s something warm when nights are chilly Something soft when days are hard It catches me off guard It’s small—it’s almost nothing at all But it’s gentle and good And makes you feel the way you always wish you could