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Overview
Alex More has a story to tell. A struggling actor in LA, he takes a job working in the Malibu basement of a beloved megastar. One day, the Lady Herself comes downstairs to play. It feels like real bonding in the basement—but will their relationship ever make it upstairs?
A winner of the Lucille Lortel Award for Outstanding Solo Show, Buyer & Cellar is an outrageous comedy about the price of fame, the cost of things, and the oddest of odd jobs.
“Jonathan Tolins has concocted an irresistible one-man play from the most peculiar of fictitious premises . . . This seriously funny slice of absurdist whimsy creates the illusion of a stage filled with multiple people, all of them with their own droll point of view.” —The New York Times
“A gorgeous play: funny and beautifully observed and richly insightful.” —Moisés Kaufman
“Tolins’s writing is smart, sharp, and hilarious—and he paints a vivid picture that even a perfectionist like Barbra would have to applaud.” —James Lapine
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781626813984 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Diversion Books |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 100 |
| Sales rank: | 387,556 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Buyer & Cellar
(In the dark, MUSIC: the opening phrase of "The Way We Were," sung by Barbra Streisand. LIGHTS UP on ALEX MORE, somewhere north of 30, listening for a moment before he addresses the audience.)
ALEX
"Memories light the corners of my mind." Of course, the brain is basically round, so technically it has no corners. At least if you go by the first definition of "corner" in the dictionary, "where two lines or edges meet to form an angle," which is the first thing one generally thinks of when hearing the word "corner." The metaphor only really works with the fifth definition, "a remote, secluded, or secret place," which is probably what it means. And what she wanted.
(He thinks a moment, then gets down to business.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
Before I tell you this story, we need to get a few things straight. First, this is a work of fiction. You know that, right? I mean, the premise is preposterous. What I'm going to tell you could not possibly have happened with a person as famous, talented, and litigious as Barbra Streisand. This is not journalism. There will be no excerpts on This American Life. I'm an actor. Perhaps you know my work. And this is a play written by a guy named Jon who only met her once. She came to see another play he wrote and before it started, she offered him a piece of her KitKat bar. And to this day, he regrets not taking it. He was afraid of making a mess. But enough about him; nobody cares.
The second thing you need to know is that I don't "do" her. I don't do impressions in general. And anyway, enough people do her — even some women — so you don't need me to. When I tell you about the conversations we had — which never really took place — I'll just be her and you can fill in the rest.
None of this is real. I don't exist. What does exist ... is this book.
(He hoists a copy ofMy Passion for Designby Barbra Streisand.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
My Passion for Design by Barbra Streisand. Published by Viking, out in time for Christmas 2010. It says so right here in the back, under the photography credits that begin with "Principal Photography by Barbra Streisand." I know, "How'd she get her?"
According to the front flap, My Passion for Designis Barbra's ...
(reading)
"... account of the creation and construction of her newest home — the dream refuge she has longed for since the days when she shared a small Brooklyn apartment with her mother, brother, and grandparents, and a culmination and reflection of her love of American architecture and design from the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries." This is some serious shit, and we'll get into it.
But what most concerns us begins on page 190.
(reading)
"Underground ... a basement?? ... No ... a street." Here's the deal. After decades of fame and fortune and unbridled acquisition, Barbra has a lot of stuff. Who doesn't? But Barbra didn't want some run-of-the-mill basement to keep it all in. Barbra doesn't like run-of-the-mill anything, although she does, in fact, run a mill ...
(He shows the picture, pages 10–11, then cites the chapter on ...)
... page 44. No, Barbra wanted something special. Let us quote the relevant passage ...
(reading from the book)
"I had another idea for this space. Why not do a street of shops like I had seen at Winterthur?"
(looking up from the book)
Jon had to look it up, too. Winterthur is some decorative arts museum in Delaware. We're supposed to know that.
(back to the book)
"In one section of the museum, they recreated all these little stores ...a china shop, a country store ... just the way they would have looked in the early 1800s. And then they used them to display various collections. Wouldn't it be fun to do something similar?" Wouldn't it?
So that's what she did. She built a shopping mall in her basement.
(holding up the book)
Remember, this is the part that's real. There's a doll shop. An antiques store. A gift shoppe ...
(he pronounces it "shoppie")
... where they sell extra letter p's and e's, apparently. Even an antique clothes boutique, where she keeps her old dresses. All of it displayed with totalitarian precision. It's as if your grandma designed the Apple Store.
Barbra's basement is just like any other mall, except for the total lack of customers or employees. Or maybe not. What if somebody had to work down there? Jon, the playwright we don't care about, became obsessed with this idea. About an actor who gets the job. A character that I could play.
So. Here's what happened.
(The LIGHTS change and Alex launches into his story.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
I was living the life of an actor in L.A., going to auditions, doing equity-waiver shows, making money as a "cast member" at Disneyland. I was the Mayor of Toontown for a while, but there was a scandal. I was filling in for a friend as Roger Rabbit, and some eight-year-old kid eating a churro looked right at me through the giant mesh eyes and said, "Hot enough in there, loser?" So I threatened to shove a churro up his ass. Really quietly, but he told his mom, and she had like no sense of humor and, well, I got fired. There's a reason they call it Mouse-schwitz. I had an acting teacher who said I need to demand respect, but it seems like if you do, you get fired. It's fine; I hated the drive to Anaheim anyway. I live in a studio apartment in Los Feliz, which is close to the 5, but still ...
And, hey, I thought, leaving the Magic Kingdom would give me more time to do L.A. theater! Which is exactly as tragic as it sounds. I dreamed of working at the Taper or the Geffen, but that's like a totally closed whatever. Instead I got offered a role in a new play at the Zephyr, you know, by the Johnny Rockets on Melrose. I would play a guy who comes out to his mother, who doesn't accept him. I know, but the director was in the same acting class — well, school — as Doris Roberts and she was going to play the mom. So I had to say yes because who knows who would come to see it? But then Doris Roberts ended up not doing it because she read the script, and my mom was played by Dee Wallace Stone. The mother in E.T. Totally nice.
(He SIGHS.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
I was broke. I was uninsured. I was nowhere. I started to wonder why I ever left Wisconsin.
The day after my last performance in Accepting Steven, I got a call from Vincent in Human Resources at Disney. He felt bad about what went down in Toontown and wanted to help me out. We also had made out once on the Matterhorn, which was really hot because of the decapitation risk. I never told Barry about that. We'll get to him.
Vincent had gotten a weird call at the office. Somebody needed a person with Main Street, U.S.A. experience for a job on the west side. He remembered that I did some time stocking shelves at The Mad Hatter, and he knew I'd worked at Banana Republic. (He kept cracking jokes about getting into my Banana Republic, which is how we ended up on the Matterhorn.)
"But what's the job?"
(Throughout the play, Alex plays every role, performing both sides of conversations.)
VINCENT
I'm not totally sure, but it's in Malibu.
ALEX
Shit, that's further than Anaheim. The gas alone ...
VINCENT
Hey, it's near the ocean with rich people. You said you wanted to get in good with the Geffen.
ALEX
The Geffen Playhouse. Not David Geffen himself. Do people actually refer to him as "The Geffen"?
VINCENT
I've heard it. So can I tell them you're interested?
ALEX
I don't know ...
VINCENT
Come on. Let me help you. Whatever the job is, it's gotta be better than working the Lilo & Stitch Aloha Breakfast.
ALEX
They want me back?
VINCENT
No. But I do. And so does my Matterhorn.
ALEX
(to audience)
I know. Ick. But I needed money and a job's a job. So what if it kept me from auditions? I never get any anyway. At least I could tell my agent I was busy. In Malibu!
(LIGHTS change. MUSIC.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
Okay, there is no fast way to someplace in Malibu. Even from someplace else in Malibu. So I was in a really foul mood long before I found the address. I pulled my unwashed, used Jetta up to the gate that looked oddly like an old-fashioned but brand-new barn door and pushed the button on the intercom.
(He presses the button and waits.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
I hate gates at the end of people's driveways. I mean, who the fuck do you think you —?
(A TONE from the intercom.)
SHARON
Yes?
ALEX
Hi, it's Alex More. I'm here for the interview.
SHARON
Oh, good, you're almost on time.
ALEX
Yeah, sorry, there was traffic.
SHARON
There's always traffic. Never say that again. Go to the barn, to the left, past the mill.
(LIGHTS change. MUSIC.)
ALEX
And the gates opened. And suddenly, I was in another world, like when Dorothy steps from sepia into Technicolor. The grass was Irish golf course green. The leaves on the trees shimmered in the breeze like sequins on Liza Minnelli. A babbling brook slowly turned the giant, red mill while fish, all of them a tasteful black and white, swam happily, but not too fast. I steered my Jetta along an irregular stone road, and yet the ride was smooth. It was like a dream until ...
(We hear the SOUND of chickens flapping their wings and clucking in alarm.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
I nearly ran over a chicken! Who has chickens in Malibu?
The house manager's name was Sharon, and she looked like she'd been through it. Picture Cloris Leachman right after she found out Phylliswas cancelled. She looked especially disgusted when she saw my dirty car and had me park it quickly behind some bushes, like we were hiding from the Nazis. Sharon then took me inside the enormous barn, to a tiny office off the gigantic kitchen.
SHARON
The lady of the house needs someone to work in the mall in her basement.
ALEX
I'm sorry?
SHARON
Downstairs. There's a mall with shops where she keeps her things. Sometimes she likes to go down there, but she doesn't like to be alone.
ALEX
So I would ...
SHARON
Take care of the inventory. Work the floor. Greet the customer. Just act normally. Vincent says you've worked retail.
ALEX
I have.
SHARON
Well, it's like that. It's all about making it feel real. The lady of the house likes every detail to be true. Truth is very important to her.
ALEX
To me, too.
SHARON
Good. So what happened in Toontown?
ALEX
(to audience)
This woman doesn't mess around.
(to Sharon)
If you must know, something bad went down in Toontown. I forgot that I was working in an artificial environment. That takes a special kind of discipline, to never spoil the illusion. I won't make that mistake again.
(to audience)
Sharon stared at me a long time, then pushed a huge stack of paper across the desk.
SHARON
Sign this.
ALEX
What is it?
SHARON
Confidentiality agreement.
ALEX
Should I talk to a lawyer?
SHARON
No.
ALEX
(to audience)
I picked up the pen and stared at the document.
(to Sharon)
Look, before I sign anything, you gotta at least tell me who I'm working for.
(to audience)
Sharon sighed and looked at me with a mix of conspiratorial wonder and fear of what lies ahead, the way Judi Dench looks at James Bond. Finally she said, in almost a whisper ...
SHARON
Her name is Barbra.
ALEX
I signed.
(LIGHTS change to Barry's apartment.)
BARRY
No fucking way!
ALEX
(to audience)
I had to tell Barry. How could I not tell my boyfriend?
BARRY
You're going to remember everything, you hear me? How many megapixels is the camera on your phone? Maybe we can wire you for sound ...
ALEX
(to Barry)
Barry, stop. I wasn't supposed to tell you.
BARRY
Well, thank God you did. Thank God, and I don't believe in God. You can't handle this alone.
ALEX
They made me sign a confidentiality agreement.
(Barry GASPS.)
ALEX (CONT'D)
Sharon said it's standard for working with celebrities.
BARRY
Well, I can understand that, with the tabloids and all those idiots wanting to know private details. I feel for them.
ALEX
You wanted to wire me for sound.
BARRY
Totally different. I have an artistic and historical interest.
ALEX
(to audience)
I should mention that Barry is an underemployed screenwriter and habitual TCM watcher. So to him ...
BARRY
This is the greatest thing that has ever happened. Ever.
(LIGHTS shift. MUSIC.)
ALEX
I started on a Monday. I arrived early, parked and camouflaged the Jetta, and then Sharon took me down the back staircase into the mall. Not having been to Winterthur, I could only compare it to the Paris Hotel in Las Vegas. You know, where the shops are on the way to the self-park garage? It's not as grand as the Forum at Caesars Palace, and it's not outside like Main Street, U.S.A. at Disney or The Grove. (Do you ever shop at The Grove? I love The Grove. It totally transformed L.A. If anybody ever says, "Hey, let's go to The Grove," I'm like, "Yes!" even though I can't afford anything they sell there.)
Anyway, the lack of natural light in the windowless basement makes it difficult to pull off the illusion that you're actually in a quaint European arcade. But then, she doesn't really go for that. There are no painted skies and clouds like on the ceiling at Caesars. No, the ceilings in Barbra's mall are a tasteful off-white — a little too gray to be cream and not as white as egg shell. Putty? Linen? Putty linen? It's very elegant for a basement mall. You can hardly see the smoke detectors.
SHARON
Do you feel claustrophobic?
ALEX
(to Sharon)
Not yet.
SHARON
You will. The days will pass slowly or quickly; that's up to you.
ALEX
I notice there are no clocks anywhere. Like a casino.
SHARON
She doesn't like to be confronted with how much time she spends down here. I doubt you will either.
ALEX
(to audience)
Sharon took me to the antique clothes boutique — herringbone floors and lavender walls with gold trim. Mirrors on the closet doors, gold chandeliers, and brightly lit, full-size display cases. It was like a dress shop in Gigi stocked with clothes from Funny Girl. Including ... is that ...?
SHARON
She sang "People" in that one. Onstage. The one from the movie is not as good.
(Alex's eyes go wide. MUSIC as he regards the dress as if it's the Holy Grail. He then breaks the mood. MUSIC out.)
ALEX
(to audience)
Okay, here's the thing. When I started this job, I was not that big a Barbra queen. Not into Judy, either, although I did enjoy it when Barry would sit me down for a tutorial. I appreciated this stuff as part of my gay birthright, my heritage. I felt about Barbra Streisand the way Jews feel about the Passover Seder. And Barbra Streisand. But at that moment, when I stood before the "People" dress, I felt a kind of rapture that could only be described as religious ecstasy. I was a little girl in Fatima, blinded by a vision of the eternal.
SHARON
Come here, I'll show you how to clean it.
ALEX
(to audience)
Steam, feather dusting, and a vinegar solution for the mirror and base.
SHARON
I'm going now. There are things to do in the main house. Good luck.
(A shop bell RINGS, marking Sharon's exit.)
ALEX
And then I was alone, with the Irene Sharaffs and the Cecil Beatons, with outfits that looked vaguely familiar from album covers, movies, and television specials I didn't even know I saw. A sailor suit top with a tie, a mink hat for tugboat travel, a black velvet Back to Broadway number. If someone had told me the Ark of the Covenant was behind the chaise, I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised. It was thrilling.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Buyer & Cellar"
by .
Copyright © 2014 Jonathan Tolins.
Excerpted by permission of Diversion Publishing Corp..
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