The following season it opened in New York. This time, I wasn’t directing. And this time it was fun. I had Bob Falls, who’d directed subUrbia (you see I learned to know a director’s credits). Bob is a terrific director and, my God, what fun to be with. He never lets his sense of personal dignity prevent him from having a good time. Such a healthy attitude! We laughed and ate all day long. Again (am I lucky or what?) I had a great cast. I was a little intimidated by Phyllis Newman the first day and called her Miss Newman. She put a quick stop to that! (Her credentials and talent certainly entitle to her to some diva-esque behavior. But, quite the contrary, Phyllis is a riot.) And I had my beloved Hope Davis, who’d done such wonderful work in Pterodactyls. The New York Times’ Ben Brantley said of Hope, “There is no one quite like her on the stage these days.” He’s mostly right—he could’ve left off “on the stage these days.”
Cripes, I sound like a terribly sweet, cloying mess. So full of love and gratitude. If you met me in real life you’d see none of that. I’d be much more likely to spew venomous gossip about people I hate—and trust me that list is long and growing. But this looks awfully permanent. I do want to put my best foot forward. So call, or corner me at a party for the lowdown on who did me dirt, who’s mean, who’s talentless, who’s ruthless, whom I slept with to get this published and who slept with me to get parts in plays (well no one’s ever slept with me to get a part in a play, but I can plant the idea right here). Besides I feel pretty lucky and grateful. It’s a rare thing to be able to earn a living doing what you love. And all I ever wanted, after all, was “a life in the theatre.”
N. Silver
March 1996
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Aside from those mentioned in the introduction, I’d also like to thank the following for their help and guidance: George Lane and Mary Meagher (of William Morris, listed, please note, alphabetically), Jon Nakagawa, Barbara Zinn Krieger, Robert V. Straus, James Bart Upchurch III, Tim Sanford, Bruce Whitacre, Nancy Turner Hensley and a battery of psychiatric doctors.
THE FOOD CHAIN
The Food Chain premiered at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company (Howard Shalwitz, Artistic Director) July 15, 1994. The production was directed by the author. The set design was by James Kronzer; costumes were by Howard Vincent Kurtz; lighting was by Martha Mountain; sound was by Gil Thompson; the production stage manager was Anne Theisen. The cast was as follows:
AMANDA DOLOR
Kate Fleming
BEA
Cam Magee
FORD DOLOR
James Whalen
SERGE STUBIN
Christopher Lane
OTTO WOODNICK
Rob Leo Roy
The Food Chain subsequently opened August 24, 1995 at the Westside Theatre, directed by Robert Falls. It was produced by Robert V. Straus, Randall L. Wreghitt, Annette Niemtzow and Michael Jakowitz, in association with Evangeline Morphos and Nancy Richards. The associate producers were Kathleen O’Grady, Gilford/Freeley Productions, Andrew Barrett, Terrie Adams, Fanny M. Mandelberger, Richard Kornberg and Pope Entertainment Group, Inc. The set design was by Thomas Lynch; the costumes were by William Ivey Long; lighting was by Kenneth Posner; the sound by Duncan Edwards/Ben Rubin; the production stage manager was Allison Sommers. The cast was as follows:
AMANDA DOLOR
Hope Davis
BEA
Phyllis Newman
FORD DOLOR
Rudolf Martin
SERGE STUBIN
Patrick Fabian
OTTO WOODNICK
Tom McGowan
CHARACTERS
AMANDA DOLOR, Early thirties. A very attractive,
high-strung intellectual. She is mercurial and has a terrific
verbal capacity. It is important that she be very thin.
BEA, Mid-fifties. A Jewish matron with a heavy
Long Island accent. She is abrasive and easily offended.
FORD DOLOR, Mid-thirties. A strikingly handsome man,
Ford is a filmmaker and a man of ideas, not words.
SERGE STUBIN, Thirty. Serge is a sexual being, and as a
runway model, he must be good-looking, although it is
possible that he is less attractive than his confidence would
indicate. Although intellectually out of his league with
Amanda, Serge is far from stupid.
OTTO WOODNICK, Mid-thirties. Hugely overweight.
Otto is flamboyant, Jewish, insecure in the extreme and full
of rage. He is a verbal tornado, quite out of control.
TIME AND PLACE
SCENE 1: Amanda
The Dolor living room in New York City, late at night.
SCENE 2: Otto
Serge’s studio apartment, the same night.
SCENE 3: Fatty & Skinny Lay in Bed . . .
The Dolor living room, the next morning.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
In the interest of accuracy, I have included an alternate ending in this edition. This secondary ending was used in the play’s premiere in Washington, D.C. It is my feeling that both endings work, despite one being much darker than the other, and I have decided to include them both.
SCENE 1
AMANDA
The lights come up on the Dolor living room. It is night. The room is decorated in an extremely young, “hip” manner. There is a hallway to the bedroom, a kitchen area, the main entrance and a powder room. Amanda is pacing, smoking a cigarette. She is listening to some sad, sophisticated jazz, wearing a T-shirt and leggings or casual pants. After a moment, she goes to the phone and dials.
AMANDA (Into the phone): Hello, Bi— . . . Damn. Hello, Binky. This is Amanda. If you’re asleep, don’t get up. If you’re out, don’t call me back.
(She looks at the phone as if she’s just spoken gibberish and hangs up. She gets a New York Yellow Pages from a bookcase and looks up a number. She turns off the music and returns to the phone. She dials. This done, she presses a button which puts the call on speaker phone. We hear the ringing, and Bea is revealed.)
BEA: Hello, Contact.
AMANDA: Yes, hello.
(Pause.)
BEA (Irritated):
