The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays (New Directions Paperbook)

The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays (New Directions Paperbook)

Tennessee Williams, Thomas Keith

Language: English

Pages: 304

ISBN: 0811219208

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


A wonderful collection of never-before-collected one-acts: "The peak of my virtuosity was in the one- act plays. Some of which are like firecrackers in a rope" (Tennessee Williams).
Here are portraits of American life during the Great Depression and after, populated by a hopelessly hopeful chorus girl, a munitions manufacturer ensnared in a love triangle, an overconfident mob dandy, a poor couple who quarrel to vanquish despair, a young "spinster" enthralled by the impulse of rebellion, and, in "The Magic Tower," a passionate artist and his wife whose youth and optimism are not enough to protect their "dream marriage." This new volume gathers some of Williams's most exuberant early work and includes one-acts that he would later expand to powerful full-length dramas: "The Pretty Trap," a cheerful take on The Glass Menagerie, and "Interior: Panic," a stunning precursor to A Streetcar Named Desire.

The plays include:
     * At Liberty
     * The Magic Tower
     * Me, Vashya
     * Curtains for the Gentleman
     * In Our Profession
     * Every Twenty Minutes
     * Honor the Living
     * The Case of the Crushed Petunias
     * Moony's Kid Don't Cry
     * The Dark Room
     * The Pretty Trap
     * Interior: Panic
     * Kingdom of Earth
     * I Never Get Dressed Till After Dark on Sundays
     * Some Problems for The Moose Lodge

The Fixer

Faust, Part II

The Tempest

The Tragedy of Macbeth (The Complete Shakespeare Translated by Liang Shiqiu, Book 31) (Bilingual Edition)

Plays 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mitch. Five or ten years from now. . . . LINDA: Five or ten years! Oh. . . . BABE: Yeah, if things keep on like they’re going now, you won’t be so young no more in five or ten years. He’ll get tired of you maybe. He’ll look at you while you’re bending over the washtub with your face all red and sweaty and your hair in your eyes and he’ll say to himself, “There she is! My ball and chain! If I wasn’t tied to her apron strings . . .” LINDA [desperately]: Stop it! Stop it, Babe! I can’t stand any

cold-blooded proposition. MAN: I belong to a cold-blooded generation. The generation of fish. We sink or swim and nobody gives a damn which. [He takes another drink.] WOMAN: Thank God I was born with a set of decent emotions! MAN: Emotions are troublesome things. WOMAN: Without them life is just a set of automatic reflexes. MAN: What’s wrong with that? Damned convenient I think! Saves one a lot of needless stewing. Have a drink? WOMAN: No, thank you. I’ve had my quota tonight. MAN: I can’t

As the lights very gradually dim for the interval, a negro singer-pianist at a nearby bar fades in: “Fly a-way! Sweet Kentucky Baby-bay. Fly, away . . .”] [There is a brief interval.] [Scene: Jane is sobbing naked on the bed. Tye is rolling a joint, seated on the table. The skylight has faded toward early dusk but is still blue. Tye regards Jane, puzzled. The black singer-pianist is heard faintly: “I’ve stayed around and played around this old town too long/And I reckon I better travel on.”]

You know what I mean, action but no action. [He crosses toward her.] Honey, you got shadows under your eyes. JANE: Blackbirds kissed me last night. Isn’t that what they say about shadows under the eyes? Blackbirds kissed her last night? [He sits beside her on the bed and gently pulls the cover over her bare breasts, bends to kiss her eyes.] Tye, I’m not a whore. Oh, I’m not the most ravishing courtesan of Paris with—bad cough and you’re not Armand, but—I am the Northern equivalent of a lady! A

om’lette. CORNELIUS: Neither of us is in good health here lately. Both have medical problems. Requiring attention and care. —Can you hear me, Bella? BELLA [dreamily]: Chips insisted I let him prepare the om’lette. CORNELIUS: Chips insisted! You hear that? BELLA: Always such a sweet boy. [Picks up a large, leather framed, hand-tinted photo of Chips, hair blond in ringlets, long neck, wide baby-blue eyes.] Remember how he was voted the handsomest boy at Pascagoola High? CORNELIUS: I remember

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