The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee Read online

  Also by Daniel Karasik:

  The Crossing Guard & In Full Light

  The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee © Copyright 2013 by Daniel Karasik

  Playwrights Canada Press

  202-269 Richmond Street West, Toronto, ON, Canada M5V 1X1

  phone 416.703.0013 • [email protected] • www.playwrightscanada.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced, downloaded, or used in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for excerpts in a review or by a licence from Access Copyright, www.accesscopyright.ca.

  For professional or amateur production rights, please contact the publisher

  Cover design by Brooke Banning

  Book design by Blake Sproule

  The Alegreya serif typeface used was designed by Juan Pablo del Peral. The typefaces is used under the SIL Open font license version 1.1.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Karasik, Daniel

  The remarkable flight of Marnie McPhee / Daniel Karasik.

  A play.

  Electronic monograph in multiple formats.

  Issued also in print format.

  ISBN 978-1-77091-127-7 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-77091-128-4 (EPUB)

  I. Title

  PS8621.A6224R46 2013 C812'.6 C2012-907944-8

  We acknowledge the financial support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council (OAC)—an agency of the Government of Ontario, which last year funded 1,681 individual artists and 1,125 organizations in 216 communities across Ontario for a total of $52.8 million—the Ontario Media Development Corporation, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.

  For cousin Marni-without-an-e, who was nine years old at just the right time.

  Shoot the Puck

  After reading the first draft of The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee, I knew Daniel had captured something special. The play was busting at the seams with Marnie's voice and I was completely taken by it. The yearning these four characters felt for things they believed lost, forgotten, or unattainable was as palpable as Marnie's sometimes-aware, sometimes-unaware wit. The play was screaming to be shared with an audience.

  I also had no idea how to do it. Carousel Players is, at its heart, a touring company. While we do present our work in theatres, 95% of our performances take place in school gyms. By going into schools, we reach all different kinds of children regardless of their backgrounds or socio-economic status. We perform ten times a week under varying acoustic and lighting conditions; our sets need to be assembled by four actors and the stage manager in fifty minutes or less and taken down in twenty. Realizing the bold and lyrical ending in The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee was going to be a real test of resourcefulness and imagination. Ultimately, I knew that a good creative team would sink its teeth into the challenge (and by the way, the designers, production team,, and touring cast really did rise to the occasion on this one), so I invited Daniel to one of the shows we had on the road. I wanted him to have a sense of the environment in which we perform our plays. What happened that day is something I still refer to in all of my work.

  We were touring a hockey-themed play. At the climax, the protagonist is about to score a crucial goal, but he steps out of the action and tells us what is going through his head. That day, the actor took a short pause before speaking. Suddenly, two hundred eight-to-twelve-year-olds were screaming "Shoot the puck!" They had gotten ahead of him; the play had moved on. "Shoot the puck" is the phrase we now use whenever we suspect the audience may be getting ahead of us.

  The beauty of Marnie is that the audience never has the chance to get ahead of its young hero. She bridges all of those thoughts and changes so quickly that we need to be on our toes to keep up with her. Her decisions and discoveries drive the action forward relentlessly, setting her up for that moment in space when she finally realizes that— Well, you will have to read the play to find out. But I will say that the truly remarkable thing Daniel has accomplished in his play is that, amid Marnie's breakneck pace, he affords us the time to listen to each other breathe. Those moments of filled silence in fluorescent-lit gyms are truly magical. There is more than one way to shoot the puck.

  —Pablo Felices-Luna, Artistic Director, Carousel Players

  The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee was first produced by Carousel Players on January 27, 2011, at the Sullivan Mahoney Courthouse Theatre in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada. The creative team was:

  Marnie: Sarah English

  Mom: Andrea Scott

  Dad: Graeme Somerville

  Alan: Colin Doyle

  Director: Pablo Felices-Luna

  Set and costume design: Michael Greves

  Lighting and sound design: Gavin Fearon

  Stage manager: Kevin Olson

  The play was subsequently produced as Marnie fliegt, translated into German by Barbara Christ and directed by Kerstin Kusch, at the Hans Otto Theater in Potsdam, Germany, as part of the theatre's 2012/2013 repertory season.

  Characters

  Marnie McPhee, would-be astronaut, nine

  Mom, her mom

  Dad, her dad

  Alan, her brother

  Notes

  An ellipsis (…) appearing on its own or before a line of dialogue indicates a silent, momentary response to what has just been said or not said.

  The reference to "Mississauga" in the play's last scene can be replaced with the name of an outlying suburb near you.

  If/when the references to Hilary Duff, Tom Cruise, and Celine Dion become dated, they can be replaced with the names of more of-the-moment celebrities. Same goes for the allusion to Spider-Man 3. The joke built into the Celine Dion reference shouldn't be replaced by a substitute joke unless you're absolutely sure it's as funny as the original. If you lack this certainty, the line can and probably should be cut.

  1

  Early one Friday morning in the McPhee house…

  MARNIE, in the basement, runs on, followed by MOM, DAD, and ALAN:

  MOM

  Because you're part of this family!

  MARNIE

  No no no, I don't believe it!

  MOM

  Well, it's true!

  MARNIE

  I don't believe it!

  ALAN

  What's the big deal, let her keep thinking she's a Martian, I wish I had such illusions.

  MARNIE

  I come from Mars!

  DAD

  Mars is a long way away.

  MARNIE

  I know! That's why I'm special! Because I come from Mars!

  MOM

  This is getting out of hand.

  DAD

  You come from your mother, actually, it's a matter of anatomy.

  ALAN

  Can we not go there, please?

  MARNIE

  I'm nothing like you people!

  DAD

  Maybe we should google Mars, you can see the difficulty in getting from there to here.

  MARNIE

  No no no!

  MOM

  Can we all sit down and talk about this?

  MARNIE

  I don't believe in sitting!

  ALAN

  For religious reasons, probably.

  MOM

  Marnie—

  MARNIE

  I DON'T WANT TO BE JUST LIKE
YOU!

  They freeze.

  MARNIE turns to us, steps out.

  Yikes.

  The others drift off.

  This is what I like to call a steeeeeeeky, steeeeeeeky situation.

  Allow moi to explain.

  Moi—that's French, because I'm Canadian—je swiss Marnie, Marnie McPhee, the free, with glee, that's me—I like words that rhyme because I'm a poet, professionally, like Dr. Seuss or Dr. Shakespeare, and not like an amateur poet, who doesn't know grammar, which is something I know, because I'm a professional—at least that's my plan, for when I grow up, which might happen.

  But!

  That's when—if—I'm older.

  Right now, though, while I am le kid, I'm going crazy.

  Apparently I'm part of my family. This is a problem because my family is so, so weird.

  My mom runs around all day visiting my grandmother and buying groceries and she never ever sings, which is sad, because she could've become an opera singer—and almost did!—before deciding to become a boring mom instead.

  My dad's an engineer (which doesn't mean he makes engines, which is what people think when they're three, but not anymore! because people get smarter) and all day long he's got his nose in a book, and he's always telling me about the time he almost became an astronaut, before deciding to become a boring dad instead.

  And then there's Alan, who's my older brother, but only because we have the same parents; otherwise we're not related. Alan is a boy, so he's gross, but also he's in love with a grown-up woman, so he's really gross, and weird, and also gross. Alan is sixteen. The woman he's in love with, which makes him really extra gross, is twenty-one. He doesn't get that if they get old, which might happen, she'll be like 127 when he's twenty-two. And he's always whining about his gross stupid love, and he never wants to play Marnie Sits On Alan's Head (which is a really good game), because he'd rather mope and be a boring older brother instead!

  Don't you see, don't you get it?! If I'm "part of this family" (quote unquote, Mom), if it's true, if I'm like all of them and not from Mars, that makes me weird too! It makes me dooooooomed: to grow up and be just like them, weird like them, unspecial like them.

  And for so so so so long I thought they were perfect.

  How could they let me down like this by not being perfect?

  What can I do, what can I do?!

  Maybe I'll run away, I'll be a "runaway," like in this book I read, Runaway, where this girl leaves her house and goes to live under a bridge with trolls who are evil but then nice, but then evil again, but then nice forever. That would be good.

  But if I run away my parents will find me, and they'll be angry, or sad, probably some combination of angry and sad, angrad, sangry—and, more importantly, they'll find me and take me back home and my plan will be foiled.

  Where can I go where nobody, not even somebody with X-ray vision, can possibly find me?

  She sees one of her dad's old textbooks that lie scattered on the basement floor.

  Wait a minute…

  She goes to a textbook, flips it open, pages through it.

  What if I…

  She looks up at us in wonder.

  What if I built a…

  A…

  A…

  Yes!

  Wooooooohooooooo!

  She does a crazy dance of joy.

  She notices the audience is still there, waiting.

  Oh. You want to know what I'm talking about?

  Well… maybe I'll tell you.

  If you're nice.

  2

  Later that afternoon…

  MARNIE

  Okay! Everyone's back from work and school! Therefore, it's time to begin my mission!—which is… shhhhh, because it's a secret, sort of: in order to buy materials for my Really Big Escape Idea, I need to acquire millions of dollars!

  Mom! Dad!

  Calling offstage to DAD:

  MOM

  I'm going out to take dinner and groceries to my mother, call me if you want me to bring you back something to eat.

  MARNIE

  Mom.

  MOM's distracted, getting ready to leave.

  Mom. MOM! MOM!

  MOM

  Yes, Marnie, what is it.

  MARNIE

  So, I need to acquire millions of dollars, and I had this idea for how to acquire them, and I was wondering…

  MOM

  I don't have time right now, Marnie, your grandmother's waiting for me.

  MARNIE

  But I really want to learn how to sew!

  Which she pronounces "sue."

  MOM

  It's pronounced "so."

  MARNIE

  Whatever.

  MOM

  I'll show you next week when I have a bit more time.

  MARNIE

  But no, but I need to learn now, for commercial reasons!

  MOM

  For what reasons?

  MARNIE

  Commercial reasons! Commercial. Like when you sell something: commercial. Also when you advertise for it on TV. Same word. For those reasons. I need to learn how to sew so I can sell my sewage and make millions of dollars!

  MOM

  I really don't think you need millions of dollars, Marnie. If you want to buy a snack from the vending machine at school I can give you a loonie—

  MARNIE

  Please, don't make me laugh! Ha. Ha. What I need to buy costs much more than a loonie. I need a million loonies!

  MOM

  What is this you've got your eye on?

  MARNIE

  Oh, nothing.

  MOM

  Your father and I can talk it over, and I believe somebody's got a birthday coming up pretty soon…

  MARNIE

  Three months?! That's like the distant future!

  MOM

  I hope it's not a horse. Your father and I can't afford a horse.

  MARNIE

  It's not a horse.

  MOM

  That includes ponies.

  MARNIE

  It's not a horse including ponies. It's a…

  MOM

  Yeah?

  MARNIE

  …it's a lot of scrap metal.

  MOM

  Hmm.

  MARNIE

  A lot of scrap metal. A lot.

  MOM

  A lot.

  MARNIE

  So much. This much.

  MOM

  I see. That is a lot.

  MARNIE

  I told you.

  MOM

  And what do you intend to do with that much scrap metal?

  MARNIE

  Oh, good question! Good question! But you don't have to worry about it, because I'm going to make the money myself. Through commercial sewage. What you make when you sew.

  MOM

  It's pronounced "so"!

  MARNIE

  I know! So I'm going to sew a lot of sewage.

  MOM

  We'll talk about this later.

  MARNIE

  Why not now?

  MOM

  Because your grandmother needs more toilet paper!

  MARNIE

  Why can't she go to the store?

  MOM

  Because she can't walk!

  MARNIE

  Sew what?

  MOM

  I don't have time for this right now, Marnie.

  MARNIE

  Why don't you sing anymore, Mom?

  MOM

  What?

  MARNIE

  …

  MOM

  I don't have time, Marnie. I just don't have time.

&
nbsp; To us:

  MARNIE

  Okayyyyyy…

  I'll just have to get my millions of dollars from another source! And this other source can provide me not just with millions of dollars but also with information!

  Dad!

  DAD

  Right. Uh-huh. Yeah.

  He's paging through a scrapbook of his glory days in aeronautics. Oblivious.

  MARNIE

  What are you reading?

  DAD

  Ancient history. This is me in astronaut school. And this is me beside the spaceship I was supposed to go up in. It was in the newspaper, see?

  MARNIE

  Anyway, Dad, what I wanted to know is, a) do you have millions of dollars I could borrow, and b) how do you build a—

  DAD

  Careful.

  MARNIE

  What?

  DAD

  Look away from the scrapbook. Look at me.

  MARNIE

  O… kay?

  DAD

  You have to be careful you don't stare at the small print without blinking. You've got to look away.

  MARNIE

  Why?

  DAD

  Because it can ruin your vision.

  MARNIE

  My vision is 20/20, remember? It's, like, forty.

  DAD

  You need to keep it that way. Lots of jobs you can't do without 20/20 vision. Fighter pilot. Soldier. Astronaut.

  MARNIE

  Okay.

  DAD

  Promise me you won't become a fighter pilot or a soldier.

  MARNIE

  I… promise?

  DAD

  Good.

  MARNIE

  Actually, speaking of astro-things, didn't you pass the aeronautics exam when you were a kid seven hundred years ago?

  DAD

  That's right. Uh-huh. I was at the top of my class. Aerospace engineering.

  MARNIE

  Right! So, Dad, that's why I was wondering if you could tell me how I can—

  DAD

  It's okay though. Most astronauts never go into space anyway. They spend all their lives… waiting. Wondering if they'll get a chance. If they'll miss theirs. And then… then you've just wasted your life. Haven't you. Waiting for a chance to do that and then not getting it. No. Much better not to be in that field.