Some time ago, it was suggested to me that these three one-acts could, theoretically, be altered to form one full-length three-act play. I was skeptical. Although the idea intrigued me, there were a few big obstacles: 1.) There was originally no connection between the plays; none of the characters were the same; and 2.) There was some overlap in the events and personality traits of some of the different characters. For instance, Violent Content is about a man's struggle (and failure) to cope with the loss of a friendship. The Last Five Minutes of Sleep is about the exact same thing, only the path taken by the protagonist is quite different than the one taken in Violent Content. Eventually, I realized that there were enough common threads (and enough differences) to link the plays together. Each play had one social misfit–a young gay man trying to come to terms with religion, unrequited love, and his own identity. I decided that it might as well be the same character in all three plays. I chose Jake from Violent Content. He would replace Martin in Minority Status Quo and Nathan in Sleep. For the sake of continuity, I would bring Zeke and Gabe into the third act, replacing the protagonist's imaginary friend, Nebuchadnezzar. Violent Content is the only segment which would remain mostly untouched.

So I went about the task of altering Minority Status Quo and The Last Five Minutes of Sleep to make Jake the star of each play, and to make the three plays form a sort of chronology: a year in the life of Jake, you could say. And I think it comes together surprisingly well...although not too surprisingly, since they appear in the order in which I wrote them and they all–to some extent– represent stages in my own life. The transitions between the plays (or "acts") are a bit awkward, but so are all life's transitions, and I don't think they are too jarring. Several months go by between the first and second acts. A lot happens, as it's explained in the dialog of Acts Two and Three. The transition between the second and third acts is a bit more tricky, like a serial, and I don't doubt that a few audience members might briefly feel tricked or manipulated by the way I've sown these two parts together, but I could think of no other way to do it. I have done it in a way that is, I believe, very honest, sincere, and plausible.

The final obstacle I had to overcome was the fact that, stylistically, these three plays are very, very different. Minority Status Quo is the most straightforward–thus most accessible–play in the group. Apart from the interpretive animal dance, what you see is what you get. And it actually ends on a positive note. While Minority Status Quo has a sort of unblemished idealism and naive sense of optimism, Violent Content is the nihilistic expression of stark reality, and is a much more somber work. And somewhere in between those two extremes is the Third Act, The Last Five Minutes of Sleep, which is every bit as dark as Violent Content, but much more surreal and symbolic. The line between reality and depraved fantasy is blurred, and it is the protagonist's inner world–not his relationship with others–that is explored. I can easily see these plays as a journey which begins hopefully, but soon finds those hopes shattered and replaced with painful truths and the internal illusions that Jake employs to help him cope with those truths. It is a downward spiral, to be sure. But, as we find out towards the end, it is not without a silver lining.

Due to the lack of compatibility between word processing programs, and the time elapsed between the initial writing of the plays, there are some discrepancies in formatting between the acts. The most noticeable of these is the placement of parenthetical stage directions. They are at a different tab stop for each act. I know, I know–you ask, "Why don't you change them so that they all match?" I was going to, but found out it's not as easy as you think.

I will now talk a bit about each installment for the benefit of anyone interested in staging this work.

ACT ONE (MINORITY STATUS QUO)

(If it sounds like I'm tooting my own horn, I assure you that this is the only thing I've done that I brag about; I've done some work that was pure shit–who hasn't?–and am willing to admit when something is not successful.)

It was more relevant in 1995 than it is now. It was written about the same time my hometown of Oregon City passed an anti-gay initiative. I took it personally. I was pissed off, and I was going to let as many people know it as I could. Well, the Oregon Citizens Alliance no longer exists. And to many people, a discussion about the conflict between Christianity and homosexuality might seem redundant. All I will say about it is that I believe this play faces the issues more honestly and sincerely than anything else I have seen or heard. Maybe it's because the conflict between the Christian character (Wendy) and the gay character (Jake) represents my own very real internal conflict. Some people, when they saw the production, had the misconception that this was an anti-religious play. Nothing could be further from the truth. My goal was to reconcile the opposing viewpoints, and the fact that I was unable to do so suggests to me that these issues are still very real.

It is very important that Wendy not be portrayed as fanatical or looney in any way. (The same goes for the character of Isabelle in Act Three.) No gay stereotypes either. I abhor "camp humor". These characters and situations were written with as much honesty as I could possibly muster, and they should be portrayed the same way, from the heart.

One of the more challenging aspects of this production was the use of original music. For the animal dance sequence, we used a piece of original "noise" that was produced by the actor who played Zeke and some of his friends. This worked out well since, in the play, it was going to be Zeke playing some of his band's original music for Jake and Wendy. But since I knew that original music would not necessarily be available for future productions, I have replaced the call for original music with Zeke's recent acquisition of a Coil CD, Coil being a band whose music most closely resembles the mood that I want to evoke. To further evoke the mood in the 1995 production, I used a red strobe. Don't worry too much about the animal dance "making sense"...I wrote that scene in a whimsical flight of fancy, and it is meant to be a brief escape from the heavy philosophical debate. It is a little preview of the surreal dream-like quality of the third act.

The set design was quite unique and innovative (not mine), considering that we had to plop our set down on top of the main-stage set, which was a forest. (The play was Betty the Yeti.) So we had no walls. We used two three-foot high knee-walls to simulate real walls. Above the knee-walls were a half dozen posters, the tops of which were stapled to thin strips of wood, which were hung from the ceiling. It actually made it look like there were walls there! On the end of one of the knee-walls was a door flat. All this was a bitch to set up and strike between one-acts, but who cares about that?

ACT TWO (VIOLENT CONTENT)

This play (or this "act") is a series of monologues by Jake, with an occasional interruption by Gabe. This format can be very challenging, forcing both the director and the actor playing Jake to constantly come up with new ways of getting the audience's attention. Which is not to say that the role of Gabe is a piece of cake; it is not. If anything, Gabe is the greater challenge because he has little chance to endear himself to the audience, to be more than just The Asshole (or the Victim, whichever your point of view).

If done badly, this play could easily stay at one note throughout the whole performance– anger countered with defensiveness, more anger, blah, blah, blah...When in truth, I think there is much more complexity of emotion felt by both characters, as they try different tactics to reach each other. And that is really what the play is about: communication. And their inability to really listen to and understand each other.

I don't know how to do the hair scene. According to the script, Gabe has long hair, some of which Jake cuts with a knife and stuffs into Gabe's mouth, forcing him to swallow. And I don't know how that will be done, if it even can be. I suppose Gabe could wear a wig. And after Jake stuffs the hair into Gabe's mouth, Gabe can pretend to swallow, only to spit it out when Jake's looking the other way. But I don't know. I may have to change or cut this scene; it depends on how resourceful a director is, whether he's up to the challenge.

For the last few years, there has been an inordinate amount of trendy crime movies, where criminals flash guns around as if they are a natural extension of their hands, so cool and slick and flashy that it seems they were born for the sole purpose of threatening others with firearms. I don't want this play to evoke those movies in any way. There are some moments when Jake seems to be in control and have the upper hand, but those moments don't last long. For the most part, Jake is unsure of himself, and he most certainly isn't hip or trendy.

ACT THREE (THE LAST FIVE MINUTES OF SLEEP)

The biggest issue that needs to be addressed is that Jake goes from fantasy to reality back to fantasy again, sometimes in the blink of an eye. Clear ways must be found to illustrate the transitions between fantasy and reality. It is not my goal that the audience be confused. His "audience" is not real. I've imagined the scenes where he talks to the audience to be some fantasy interview: Jake is famous for some unknown reason and now people are asking his opinions on social issues. He could be on TV. When Zeke and Gabe appear, they are a combination of memory, fantasy, and looking-glass self: sometimes they tell him what he wants to hear, sometimes they do what he wants them to do, but sometimes they reflect his perception of a harsh and judgmental society. They are his fantasy friends, but they are also the critical voices that hold him back and make him believe he's worthless..

A director could get rather creative with the appearance of Zeke and Gabe in this third Act. Remember, they are what Jake chooses to make them. Gabe should have short hair now, since that's the way Jake prefers Gabe.

I think there's room for some humor here, more so than in Act Two. There's humor in Act One, contained in the dialogue. Here it's more concealed but can easily be brought to the surface through the absurdity of Jake's fantasies and some of his beliefs and habits.

There are two sources of hope: his mother who loves him, and the possibility of a new friendship with a guy named Nick, who is discussed briefly. When Jake gets off the phone from talking to Nick, he is immediately confronted by the voices of his past, and the trappings of his current lifestyle of fantasy and delusion.

For the record, the scene where Jake beats the crap out of his mother is not supposed to be taken literally; it is symbolic of the emotional burden that Isabelle must carry. I believe that's made clear in this revised draft.

The second half of the final scene is composed of rapid, overlapping dialogue, which needs to build to a climax where Jake screams and the voices are silenced. This scene was inspired in part by the interrogation scene in Pinter's The Birthday Party. This is purely experimental on my part, and it will require an actual reading of the lines to see if it works or not.

If Minority Status Quo dealt with religion and friendship, and Violent Content was about anger and unrequited love, Sleep is the part that talks about sexuality and self-discovery. Here, Jake lives in his own little world, safe and, more importantly, free. Of course, by the end, Jake learns that he isn't all that free here, but until then, it's important to convey the wide open spaces of Jake's imagination and his rich fantasy life. That's why I have Jake and Gabe practically take it all off at the top of scene four. And Jake has a sort of foot fetish in scene two. These are not gratuitous; they are Jake's inner world, a world that goes to extremes to compensate for the fact that it's make-believe. He lives on the edge in his head because he has no life in reality. If he didn't do this, he would die of boredom. That's why it's important to cast actors in these roles who are very uninhibited and will not be afraid to push the boundaries.

--Matt Russell

April 7, 1999

Act One: Minority Status Quo

Act Two: Violent Content

Act Three: The Last Five Minutes of Sleep

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