His mother, Morgan, is a portrait of grief, her own stillness also a powerful subject of the play. While the dominatrix and the midwife flail about trying to find ways to exorcise their guilt, she simply survives. And in this way she is still present when her child returns and she can open her arms to him at last. If he is the eternal wanderer, then she is the eternal woman waiting for him to return home.
The play’s classical antecedents are clear. Its contemporary resonance is profound. This is no more a simple play about a stillborn child than the Odyssey is a story about a man who has angered the gods. This is a play about being Lost, with Time running out. This play is about how we all walk the path without a map, seeking help from strangers and learning as much as we can, all the while preparing for the end. That it is both graceful and eerie I will leave you to discover for yourself. Still is a stunning achievement by a young writer of great promise.
All writers have what we at Juilliard call their “stuff”—that is, the topic that draws the best writing from them, the situation that scares them the most, the subject that made them want to write in the first place. If this subject, the appearance of the unbearable and unpredictable into the life of an innocent who might as well be every member of the audience, is Jen Silverman’s “stuff,” then we can look forward to many more great plays from this year’s Yale Drama Series winner.
Marsha Norman
Still
Characters
(3F, 1M)
| CONSTANTINOPLE | He is a giant newborn baby, dead. He should be played by a fully grown, very tall man. He is slippery, as unclothed as possible. Unearthly, disturbing, and charming |
| MORGAN | Constantinople’s mother, 41, fierce, grieving, all angles |
| DOLORES | 18, at odds with the world, from time to time a dominatrix |
| ELENA | A young 30, a midwife, strongly principled, scared |
Time: Now
Places: A rundown hotel on the outskirts of a city Morgan’s basement
Playwright’s Note: Actors must not cry in any moments except those that are specifically indicated. Then (with the exception of Constantinople’s wailing, in Scene 9) they never give themselves over to expressing grief fully—all crying is subtle and understated. There is no moment in which these characters let themselves become sentimental. It is crucial that actors find and play the dark humor and moments of real joy.
There is no intermission.
Scene One
A light on CONSTANTINOPLE.
He looks around. He looks at us.
He’s delighted.
He has a plastic hospital bracelet around his ankle.
CONSTANTINOPLE Wow.
Hi.
You’re really beautiful.
I … That’s great. How beautiful you are. That’s … wow.
I’m not good with words yet. I’m learning them.
I learned a new one today. “Audacious.” I overheard it. I don’t know how to use it yet.
(beat)