Plays / Drama

According to Contemporary Authors Online, playwright David Mamet worked in "a canning plant, a truck factory, at a real estate agency, and as a window washer, office cleaner, and taxi driver." Such life experiences no doubt influenced Mamet's impeccable skill at realistic dialogue that is vulgar yet vibrant. And the play that embodies his visceral style the most is his 1984 Pulitzer Prize winning drama, Glengarry Glen Ross.

This two act play by David Mamet depicts the seldom seen life of high-pressure real estate salesmen. We witness the men hustle others (and fool themselves) as they try to make an honest living using every deceitful tactics they can muster.

If you haven't met these intense characters from Glengarry Glen Ross, please, allow me to introduce you. You'll thank me for it later. I promise.

A lonely woman named Jean is innocently sitting at a cafe when a man's cell phone rings. And rings. And keeps on ringing. The man doesn't answer because, as the title suggests, he's dead. Jean, however, does pick up, and when she discovers that the cell phone owner has quietly died in the cafe, she not only dials 911, she keeps his phone in order to keep him alive in a strange yet significant way. She takes messages from the dead man's business associates, friends, family members, even his mistress.

This is the basic premise of Sarah Ruhl offbeat comedy, Dead Man's Cell Phone, a send-up of film noir plots complete with social commentary about our failed attempts to become fulfilled by the promises of technology and social media.

Learn more about this thoughtful, fascinating play, Dead Man's Cell Phone.

If you have a flair for impromptu Elizabethan dialogue and you don't mind wearing corsets or codpieces, a job at a local Renaissance Fair might be the perfect part time job -- especially if you've got the extrovert gene.

Renaissance Faire employees do their best to stay in character. Even the maidens selling "steak-on-a-stick" enthusiastically engage in Elizabethan dialogue. Guests are encouraged to interact with the performers. In fact, many "regulars" purchase a "Faire Pass" that allows them to attend every day of the Renaissance Faire. Then, they spend their entire weekends embracing their 16th century persona. If you would like to try "getting into character" at the Faire, you'll want to know the lingo.

Learn more about acting jobs and audience participation at Renaissance Fairs.

To say that Harold Pinter's plays are unhappy is a gross understatement. Most critics have labeled his characters "sinister" and "malevolent." The actions within his plays are bleak, dire, and purposely without purpose. The audience leaves bewildered with a queasy feeling - an uneasy sensation, as though you were supposed to do something terribly important, but you can't remember what it was. You leave the theater a bit disturbed, a bit excited, and more than bit unbalanced. And that's just the way Harold Pinter wanted you to feel.

You won't find me spending a lot of time debating about the authorship and identity of Shakespeare. It seems like the son of a glove maker named William wrote the most awesome plays in the English language, and the "evidence" that has been put forth to the contrary is less like reality and more akin to The DaVinci Code.

At the same time, it's a great story idea, isn't it? The notion that such a famous man might have been an imposter -- it's very dramatic. Last year's film Anonymous postulated that Edward De Vere was the mastermind behind the plays. There's also a drama titled The Riverbank Code that details the incredible true story of how the U.S. Courts, for ten days, legally claimed that Francis Bacon wrote all of the works attributed to Shakespeare.

Even I became hooked with the concept, in my own ridiculous way. My latest one act comedy, "Shakespeare in Shambles" imagines that none other than Queen Elizabeth wrote all of the Bard's beloved work.
Believe it or not, many are convinced that Elizabeth I is actually the Dark Lady of the Sonnets mentioned in the Bard's later poems.

One final link to consider... Whether it's about his plays or the mysterious man himself, Shakespeare is ripe for parody. If you're looking for irreverent sketches, all themed after Shakespeare's work, then you'll definitely want to check out this collection of ten-minute plays: The Bite Sized Bard.

Sure, this might be one of the most overused audition songs in the history of theater. But dang it, it's still one of the best showtunes ever written. "The Impossible Dream" (also known as "The Quest) is the show stopping solo sung by Don Quixote, the most tragi-comically mixed up hero ever created. Even though the original novel pokes fun of Quixote, reveling in his obliviousness, in the musical version, Man of La Mancha the audience favors Quixote's imagination versus the brutal reality of the everyday world.

Of course, a song is only as good as its singer. In the mid-1960s, Richard Kiley originated the role, bringing a classical flair to Mitch Leigh and Joe Darion's music. He became so iconic in the role, he revived the character on Broadway in two revivals during the 1970s. For some reason, the film version featured Peter O'Toole; he must not have had the singing chops for the role because the film makers dubbed his voice for each song. My all-time favorite portrayal of Quixote is by Brian Stokes Mitchell.

If you want to be truly inspired, watch his performance of "The Impossible Dream," filmed live at the 2002 Tony Awards.

One of the most recent comedic hits to land in the West End and then skip across the pond to Broadway is Richard Bean's whimsical One Man, Two Guvnors. Fill with far-fetched plot twists and secret identities, this farce features an amiable (albeit idiotic) hero who finds himself working for two different bosses. Plot complications ensue, as does the laughter. Check out the New York Times review for more about the storyline and the audience's rollicking response.

One Man, Two Guvnors is actually rooted in very old material. Bean adapted his farce from an 18th century play, Servant of Two Masters, written by Commedia del Arte master Carlo Goldoni. Although many new jokes have been added to Bean's play, the zany, impromptu spirit of the original Italian comedy is still in tact.

Students in my "Introduction to Literature" course recently completed their final. It was an usual assignment. Since they had spent the entire semester diligently crafting research based essays, I wanted to send them off with something a little more creative.

So, instead of a typical in-class essay, I asked each student to choose one of the plays from their textbook and create a brand new scene. The scene could take place before, after, or in-between the playwright's storyline. During the writing process, the students may remain true to the characters, or they may spoof them or modernized their language. The "A" papers will master the dialogue style, characterization, and thematic nature of the original piece.

Wow, now that I think of it. This sounds pretty hard. Hope my students don't hate me! To learn more about this writing activity and other quirky ways to get your class involved in drama studies, check out my article "5 Creative Ways to Analyze Plays."

The following monologue is the third installment of an ongoing creative project called "The Vampire Monologues" by Wade Bradford. It is an original monologue series published exclusively at About.com.

What Has Happened So Far:

In Part One, three recently "turned" vampires enter a funeral parlor. They meet Cunningham the Minion, who briefly tells them some words of wisdom. Mangle the Half Zombie enters to take the "new bloods" things.

In Part Two, Morgenroth the Elder enters. She is a stunning, young-looking vampire from ancient days. She welcomes the new bloods, warning them that not many survive their first few months of being a vampire, and that she (being the eldest in North America) eliminates any vampire unsuitable for existence. Morgenroth then requests to hear each of the new blood's stories.

Monologue #3 begins as Morgenroth glares at them, her gaze burning into them, until the one of the new bloods (the only girl vampire of the three new arrivals) begins to speak.

Read onward to find out what Aria has to say...

Choose a good location for your play, and the rest will write itself. That's what seems to happen in Barefoot in the Park. The entire play takes place on the fifth floor of an New York apartment building, one without an elevator. In Act One, the walls are bare, the floor is vacant of furniture, and the skylight is broken, allowing it to snow in the middle of their apartment at the most inopportune of moments.

Walking up the stairs completely exhausts the characters, granting hilarious, out-of-breath entrances for telephone repairmen, delivery men, and mother-in-laws alike. Corie loves everything about their new, dysfunctional home, even if one must turn the heat off to warm up the place and flush down in order to make the toilet work. Paul, however, does not feel at home, and with the mounting demands of his career, the apartment becomes a catalyst for stress and anxiety. The setting initially creates the conflict between the two lovebirds, but it is the neighbor character who furthers he tension.

Neil Simon's Barefoot in the Park script still connects with today's audiences, despite being nearly four decades old. Read more about this light hearted romantic comedy.