Arthur’s Loose Arm

This is a play for one male actor although it can be played by four actors providing there is an understanding that the supporting cast represents the mind of the main character.

The setting is the sparsely furnished room in the character’s house.

Time duration approximately one hour comprising of twelve scenes that depict the life in a typical day of the main character.

The overall theme of this play is that:

No matter what life dishes out to you, in the end it is up to you what you make of it.

You can do anything you want to, provided you want it enough. In other words the power of belief can conquer the highest mountains.

The journey in this story is of a lifetime in a day. Arthur gets up in the morning and by the time the day ends his audience will know his life story and his future prospects. Each scene is a step in that journey, and along the way the audience is introduced to the main players in his life, and will come to know him as well as he knows himself.

He starts a conversation that leads him to recount his early life using vivid descriptions that automatically flow into characterizations and his catch phase; ‘I could have been a concert pianist.’ He is full of confidence, humour, passionate loving, career potential, and value of his parental role. But then his life crashes around him and he is left alone in his self pity. This recounting of his life throughout his day is his routine and maybe a form of self flagellation; until this particular day when something happens to change the whole course of his life.

Notes:

His loose arm is a metaphor for life’s propensity to hand out an unfair deal when it so chooses.

The bottle of drink is a metaphor for the way life can take control of you when you are not strong enough to take control of it.

Characterizations:

The characters reveal each others lives in what they say to each other; in this way social and emotional issues can be reflected, and the whole story given different levels or complexities that influence people’s relationships with each other.

Arthur: is a man of strong character, loyalty and determination. He lives alone with a vivid imagination and an inner turmoil. He fills his life with jokes and humorous self flagellation, while surrounded by picture portraits of his wife and his workmates. He converses with each of these pictures in what becomes an obvious routine in his daily life. He brings his pictures to life with his expert characterizations and each of these characters challenges him in some way: these challenges are, in fact, his own subconscious challenges, in this daily self examination. He is trying to make sense of his life.

Guinevere is Arthur’s wife. She is as passionate about him as he is her. He is her soul mate yet she is her own person. She likes to play games with Arthur and dominates him as much as he dominates her. She is not the kind of woman who will accept subservience or who will be a wife because it is her duty. Even so, she is also a woman who loves her man so much and who values their relationship so much that she will never give it up.

Bluey and Darky are a couple of dry humoured middle aged workmates who answer Arthur’s questions with straight, chest thudding answers. They have a closeness to Arthur that comes from their sibling like workplace relationship. They are his big brothers; his wisdom in life; his character testing mirrors. Their loyalty to him, and his to them, is reflected in that fact that although Arthur has turned his back on the world and retreated into his own little kingdom, he has taken them with him in their influences upon him.

Felicity is Arthur’s daughter. She has the intelligence and values of both parents; the independence and fire of her mother and the determination of her father.

Arthur’s neighbours:

On the left lives Juliet; a woman living on her own and representing the lonely life Arthur leads, and he imagines his wife Guinevere leads.

On the right, Bill and Suzie are an older couple who live in passionate bliss. They represent what Arthur believes he has lost.

Scene 1: My Kingdom, My Court, my Life.

Arthur walks onto the set, which is a room in his house, carrying a bottle of drink. He puts it on the table and begins to talk to it like a friend. His right hand is in his trouser pocket and it stays there throughout this scene. He picks up two pieces of scrunched up paper from the floor and drops them into a rubbish bin.

ARTHUR: So this is it; my home – my castle! My kingdom! (Looks out of the

window) Look out there at the lands that go with it. Small, I know, but you

don’t get much in a housing development – except anonymity. But just

look out across that landscape as the sun comes up over the horizon. What

a beautiful moment! Yes, the fence is the horizon, I know; but that’s

splitting hairs.

A pause for thought

I tell a lie, there’s no anonymity. I may choose not socialize with my

neighbours, speak with them even, except for the nod of greeting when we

pass in the street; but I’m sure they know as much about me as I do about

them. Now on the left, it’s Juliet. I know her cycle of life, her habits; the

time she goes to bed the time she gets up in the morning, ― the colour of

her knickers. Thongs I think they call what she wears. And I know that

there’s no Romeo.

On the right it’s Bill and Suzie. She works in a bank and Bill’s a

graphic designer. They’re on retiring age and fastidious like you wouldn’t

believe. They built that little shed themselves; every length of wood

measured twice; every nail knocked in with precision. I even know the

colour of Suzie’s knickers. It’s a sad reflection on society that we don’t

talk to each other much and yet we can know the most intimate, sensitive

details of each other’s lives.

ARTHUR: So, there we have it! On the left Juliet’s thong flutters in the breeze, while

on the right, Suzie’s bloomers fill out like the sails of a clipper ship; and my white Y-fronts hang limply between them. These are the ensigns of the kingdoms that boarder onto each other in this little corner of the World. The inhabitants still sleep as the sun begins to light up the day, rising over the horizon; splashing its splendor over just watered flower beds and sending radiant beams of sunlight through the gaps in the trees. It could be a picture scene from a religious masterpiece in an art gallery. This is the best part of the day.

He moves away from the window and begins to make tea and toast as he speaks.

ARTHUR: But now I hold court here in the Great Hall ― just use your imagination.

I’m in from the green lands of my kingdom for my breakfast banquet.

Welcome! Make yourself comfortable and I’ll introduce you to the

members of my court.

He walks over to two picture portraits sitting on the floor as if placed there for the purpose.

Kneeling at my feet, these are my faithful defenders of the crown. Arise,

Sir Darky and Sir Bluey; my fearless warriors.

He picks up the two pictures and positions them where he can stand between them.

We have fought many battles together and these two warriors have been at

my side since I was a prince.

Ah, those were the days; the days of learning!

He begins a conversation where by the turn of a head he is speaking with one or the other of the pictures. He creates a conversation with himself and his trusty knights. As it is him giving them voice, they are, in effect his inner conscience.

ARTHUR: G’day Darky.

DARKY: G’day Arthur.

ARTHUR: G’day Bluey.

BLUEY: Is it?

ARTHUR: Awe come on Bluey, it could be worse.

BLUEY: I suppose it could. I could be dead.

ARTHUR: Hang one on last night did we?

BLUEY: You might say that. We’re not young pups like you any more, burning

your candle at both ends and still having wick left to work with in the

morning.

ARTHUR: I got my diploma.

DARKY: Well done! We never doubted you. Now all you gotta do is take over the

business. He’s got potential Bluey. He could be anything.

ARTHUR: I could be a clown, a classic actor, even a concert pianist.

BLUEY: Tickle the ivories with the best of ‘em eh? But you can’t even play the

piano.

ARTHUR: No; but if I really wanted to I could learn. Strength of character and

determination is a family trait.

BLUEY: You’ll never be a concert pianist while your mind’s on tickling more than

the ivories.

And who’s Arthur’s Guinevere this week?

Which lovely young princess is in mortal danger now?

ARTHUR: There’s no princess in mortal danger.

DARKY: Ha! They’re all in mortal danger the way you wave your willy about.

ARTHUR: Get real!

DARKY: Remember son, it’s a lethal weapon. Keep your pork sword in its scabbard.

ARTHUR: And I suppose you did?

DARKY: Well - .we’re giving you the benefit of our experiences. When me and

Bluey were your age we left a trail of damage wherever we went, nothing

in a skirt was safe. In’t that right Bluey?

BLUEY: We went through a few Darky.

ARTHUR: Sure you did.

BLUEY: You don’t have a monopoly on sex and passion you know.

DARKY: Oh, I dunno Bluey, I reckon he’s the one. The Excalibur of all Excaliburs.

ARTHUR: Give it a rest.

BLUEY: What’s that on your neck? She’s been biting him! Bloody disgusting. Animals! Wrapped around each other like a couple of snakes, I’ll bet. Rolling over and over arms and legs entwined, like sex mad serpents.

ARTHUR: Ease up fellas!

He moves to a picture portrait of a beautiful woman.

And here, at my elbow, her Royal Highness, Queen Guinevere; the fairest

woman in all the land. Mother of my children ― well one anyway ― and

love of my life. The only woman I’ve ever loved or ever lusted after.

Scene 2: Snakes Entwined

As he speaks, Arthur walks away from the pictures, flips his toast from the toaster, and pours himself tea before sitting at the table.

ARTHUR: Guinevere’s a soul-mate; someone who fits you like a glove; a woman

who loves to love. Someone who wraps herself around you like a warm

blanket or as Sir Bluey says ‘A sex mad serpent.’ Once in the grip of her

smooth, hot thighs there is no escape, not that you want to. She wraps

herself around you physically and emotionally and you succumb willingly.

He picks up the bottle, looks at the label and puts it back onto the table. Then he glances back at the picture of his wife and begins to talk about her.

ARTHUR: She’s a friend.

She’s loyal.

She has fire!

You don’t fight your enemy without Guinevere attacking your enemy too;

there pouring boiling oil from the ramparts on anyone who dares to

threaten the King or his kingdom.

Arthur moves to the window and looks out.

Ah, and I see Suzie’s up and out of bed already; wandering the lands of

their kingdom while her King still sleeps. They may be on retiring age and

fastidious; but not behind the times, and wonderfully happy! They live for

today and have today’s clothes, not yesterday’s fashions; or ideals. And

they still kiss passionately! They’re living proof that young love doesn’t

have to falter at fifty! They move through life making each decade their

best, while poor Juliet can’t get her decade started, in spite of flying her

thong to attract any passing prince.

He glances out of the window again.

Suzie’s taking her passion killers down from the hoist. They’re dry, I

suppose, and there is no other reason for her to fly them.

(with surprise) Oh!

(coming away from the window) And yet another intimate revelation about a neighbour. Suzie’s night dress is too short to be reaching up like that; now we know what she doesn’t wear to bed.

ARTHUR: Queen Guinevere once left her knickers on the back seat of a bus. That’s

Guinevere. Ha! She was so wild when the bus driver evicted a couple of

teenagers for playing tonsil hockey and then turned on me when I tried to

defend them, that it was only when I said don’t get mad, get even that I could calm her down. ‘Check your back seat bus-driver!’ she told him as she slapped her knickerless arse and we got off; not that we’d done anything, but hell she was horny by the time we got home.

Arthur walks over to his wife’s portrait and begins a conversation with her.

G’VERE: Is it appropriate that as your Queen I should be so sexually demanding of

you? Shouldn’t I be your mistress, locked away in your ivory tower,

waiting for you to come and take me at your will?

ARTHUR: My consort, my lover, my companion will be one in the same. They will

be you, Guinevere, my lover, my mistress, my Queen; but not locked in

some ivory tower.

G’VERE: Then, my Lord, you will have to take me at your will; wherever,

whenever ― on whatever.

Arthur walks away from the picture to escape the memory; coming back after a moment of composure.

ARTHUR: Who loves you Guinevere?

JANE: You do Arthur; I can feel it in your scabbard!

ARTHUR: That is lust, my Queen. This is love.

Arthur turns his back to his audience and plays the lovers by cuddling himself and acting out a long passionate embrace. When he is done he moves to the table and as he does he lifts his loose arm that now swings at his side and hooks his thumb into his trouser belt as automatically as he would brush the hair out of his eyes. This is the first obvious sign of his loose arm.