Plays from VAULT 6 (NHB Modern Plays) E-Book

Various

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

An anthology of five of the best plays from VAULT Festival 2023, London's leading festival of live performance. Fanboy by Joe Sellman-Leava is a love-hate letter to pop culture and nostalgia. A five-star hit at the Edinburgh Fringe, it's the story of a thirty-something, self-confessed nerd – obsessed with Star Wars and Nintendo – asking why his generation can't let go of their childhoods. Five Years with the White Man by Eloka Obi and Saul Boyer is a startling account of satirist ABC Merriman-Labor – the greatest Black Briton ever to have been forgotten – whose dreams of becoming the greatest writer of his generation lead him on a defiant journey from Sierra Leone to Edwardian London. Honour-Bound by Zahra Jassi is a powerful solo show about family, anti-Blackness, and what we're willing to sacrifice for love. After Simran loses her friend to honour-based violence, she has to answer some life-changing questions: will she and her boyfriend be able to live safely ever after? How We Begin by Elisabeth Lewerenz is a tender exploration of love, queerness and identity. Helen and Diana are perfect for each other: they've both got good degrees, busy jobs and nice flats. There's just one small problem – Diana's got a boyfriend. I Fucked You in My Spaceship by Louis Emmitt-Stern is a razor-sharp comedy-drama about sex and relationships. Two couples each invite a stranger into their homes with the hope of sparking new life. Instead, they find themselves threatened by alienation, abduction and invasion... 'A major London festival... showcasing new and rising talent' - Independent on VAULT Festival

Leseprobe

PLAYS FROM VAULT 6

FANBOY Joe Sellman-Leava

FIVE YEARS WITH THE WHITE MAN Eloka Obi and Saul Boyer

HONOUR-BOUND Zahra Jassi

HOW WE BEGIN Elisabeth Lewerenz

I FUCKED YOU IN MY SPACESHIP Louis Emmitt-Stern

Contents

Welcome to VAULT

Fanboy by Joe Sellman-Leava

Five Years with the White Man by Eloka Obi and Saul Boyer

Honour-Bound by Zahra Jassi

How We Begin by Elisabeth Lewerenz

I Fucked You in My Spaceship by Louis Emmitt-Stern

About the Authors

Performing Rights

Welcome to VAULT Festival

Hoo boy! What does one even begin to write here? I don’t know. Better writers than I have articulated the myriad emotions and effects of the last three years. Words seem inadequate. But this is a volume celebrating words and writing and writers so I’m going to give it a red hot go.

It’s been rough, hey team? It’s been rough for the arts. Even more so for theatre and live performance. Even even more so for fringe and independent theatre. And even even even more so for emerging artists. If anything has been made clear these last few years, it is that there is a dearth of quality and financially sustainable opportunities for early career artists to make work and spaces to make that work in. When those few opportunities are taken away, everyone loses. Artists lose the opportunity to experiment and take risks. Audiences lose the opportunity to engage with exciting and radical work from a multiplicity of voices. And our industry loses the opportunity to grow, progress, be challenged and changed by these voices. It’s a long road to recovery with lots of listening and learning required. I really hope we’re up for it.

VAULT Festival has not been immune to the decimation of these last years. From the early cancellation in 2020, to deciding not to mount a 2021 Festival, and then the devastating decision to cancel a completely programmed Festival for 2022, this has been a truly difficult time for our artists and our team. Throughout this time it has been made clear to me over and over what a vital part of the live performance ecology VAULT Festival is. How important it is that we are here, providing quality opportunities in the most sustainable way possible for artists and audiences. That we are listening and growing and provoking. Providing space for artists to challenge and disrupt, to ask of an industry on its knees… ‘What if?’

The writers included in this, our sixth Plays from VAULT anthology, have all used their work to ask ‘What if?’ These are plays of importance, of playfulness, of risk, of freneticism and pathos and joy and anger and hope. Plays from artists across backgrounds, and styles and forms. I am so very proud of all of them.

These plays represent a mere fraction of the scope of work at VAULT Festival 2023. From stand-up comedy to late-night cabaret, from improvisation to live art and experimental installation, from linear narrative drama to absurdist immersive work, and genres I couldn’t even have imagined, VAULT Festival will tear back into the world with a scream. A scream of rage and catharsis. Of fear and hope. A scream of defiance. Our artists, both in this volume and beyond, are here. They are ready. They are fearless. They are disrupting. Because what we did yesterday is not sufficient for tomorrow. And we are up for the challenge.

WE’RE BACK, BABY!!!!

Bec Martin (she/her)Head of Programming VAULT Festival 2023

FANBOY

Joe Sellman-Leava

For Umesh

Fanboy was first performed as a work-in-progress in 2020 at the Wardrobe Theatre and VAULT Festival. It premiered in 2022 at Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh Festival Fringe, followed by a UK and Ireland tour, a week at Soho Theatre, and then VAULT Festival, London, on 7 March 2023. The cast was as follows:

JOE/OLD JOE

Joe Sellman-Leava

YOUNG JOE

Ethan El-Shater

Director

Yaz Al-Shaater

Technical Designer,

Dylan Howells

Stage Manager & Operator Dramaturg

Lauren Mooney

Assistant Director

Hetty Hodgson

Stage Manager & Operator(Soho Theatre/Belltable)

Alice Winter

Video & Sound Designer

Yaz Al-Shaater

Outside Eyes

Emma Louise-Howell,

James Rowland,

Callum Elliott-Archer

Producers

Joe Sellman-Leava and Worklight Theatre

Design Consultant

Charlotte Anderson

Poster Image

Ben Borley

Production Shots

Duncan McGylnn

Graphic Designer

Jason Howells

PR (Edinburgh and tour)

Chloé Nelkin Consulting

Tour Booker

Maddie Wilson

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Yaz, Dylan, Lauren and Hetty for your creativity, energy and generosity – making this with you was such a privilege; to Alice, for learning 456 cues in no time at all; to James, Emma and Callum for unlocking so much, so joyfully, and to Nemo Martin and Daniel Goldman for your brilliant questions.

Thank you to Jonathan Haldon and Brother Brother for helping make our videos look so cool (and to Yaz, again, for the countless hours of editing!).

Thank you to Arts Council England for making all this possible; to David Byrne for your advice; to Jonny Patton for believing in the show; to everyone at New Diorama Theatre, Pleasance, the Kenton Theatre, Underground Venues, The Tolmen Centre and Exeter Phoenix, for giving us space to play.

Thank you to Frances Arnold for your belief, expertise and tireless work; to Sarah Liisa Wilkinson and everyone at Nick Hern Books; to Lakesha Arie-Angelo and Bec Martin, for each giving this show a home in London.

Thank you to Bríd Doherty, for your endless support (and your world-class flyering!); to my family and friends, for who you are and all you do.

And a very, very special thank you to Ethan El-Shater, for lending us your magic!

J.S-L

Note on Play

This play was originally written to be performed by Joe Sellman-Leava, a mixed-race man in his early thirties. In our production, Joe also plays other characters, including:

DAVID ATTENBOROUGH

DAD

OBI

WAYNE

GAIA

DAVID DIMBLEBY

NIGEL FARAGE

DONALD TRUMP

MICHAEL CAINE

EMPEROR PALPATINE

Joe also performs the fan-films, with speed and precision.

The projected HOODED FIGURE (later OLD JOE) is pre-recorded, also played by Joe, in make-up, to look like a fifty-year-old version of himself.

The character of YOUNG JOE – an eight-year-old – also appears via pre-recorded video. He is played, in our production, by Ethan El-Shater, who looks uncannily like Joe did at that age. Initially, we should believe it is from an actual home video the performer is sharing with us.

In these home videos, we also hear the voice of OBI – forties – again pre-recorded (in our production, by director and video designer Yaz Al-Shaater).

Finally, there are moments where Joe will speak to the show’s technical operator (in our production, Dylan Howells), who will occasionally answer back.

House music: ‘My Hero’ (Foo Fighters), ‘Little Red Corvette’ (Prince), ‘The Logical Song’ (Supertramp), ‘I’m Not Your Hero’ (Tegan and Sara), ‘Hotel Song’ (Regina Spektor), ‘Blame it on my Youth’ (Blink-182).

Prologue

Stage-left, a cabinet, holding a nineties-style TV set, a Super Nintendo, and VHS player, as well as various games, magazines, books, videos, toys and merchandise. On the top of the cabinet is a toy lightsaber (red). Upstage-right is a door, painted white. Upstage-centre, a black chair. Downstage-right, a microphone.

At clearance – blackout. Then music evocative of nature documentaries.

Slowly fade up to a spot on JOE, at the microphone, in a dark-red dressing gown, pyjama bottoms and a Superman T-shirt. JOE has the hood of his dressing gown up, and his hands in his sleeves, at his waist, like a monk. Or a Jedi. He speaks into the microphone, in a David Attenborough impression.

ATTENBOROUGH. Behold… the Fanboy. Raised on a diet of popular culture, high-fructose snacks, and entitlement, the Fanboy thrives in dark corners of the internet. Which can make searching for a mate rather difficult.

Once considered a rare species, the Fanboy’s numbers have grown exponentially in the last decade, due to internet forums, online gaming, and Disney buying both Marvel Studios and Star Wars, in order to repackage and resell them their childhood.

But it’s not all good news for Fanboys. While their numbers are strong, they remain vulnerable to threats from both without, and within, their complex communities…

This particular Fanboy might appear to be joyful – embracing nostalgia, harmlessly. But he is in fact using it to hide from a deeply unhappy present –

ACT ONE

1.1

The nature documentary music cuts out, the lights snap to something much warmer and more present, as JOE steps away from the microphone, takes his hood down, and smiles at the audience.

JOE. Hello. I’m Joe. And I… am a bit of a nerd!

JOE pulls out a fold-down toy lightsaber (blue), concealed in the sleeve of his dressing gown, swinging it upwards so the parts of the saber click into place in one movement.

In my childhood, I was unaware of it. In my teens, I hid it. In my twenties, I owned it. I’ve just entered my thirties, and I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m now older than most of the fictional characters in my favourite films, books and games.

I have not, however, come to terms with the fact that I’m also older than the creators of my favourite films, books and games were, when they had their first major successes…

JOE retracts the lightsaber, and puts it down.

Things or people I am now or was once a fan of include, but are not limited to, the following:

Harry Potter

Lord of the Rings

Game of Thrones

His Dark Materials

Super Mario Bros.

The Legend of Zelda

Donkey Kong Country

The Labour Party

The Green Party

Mario Party

The New Statesman

The Guardian

Star Wars

In the following order of ascending quality:

Episodes XI, II, I, III, VII, VI, VIII, IV and V. Fight me.

He gathers momentum, talking rapidly.

Free Willy

The Foo Fighters

Prince

The RSBP

David Attenborough

Power Rangers

The Really Wild Show

Art Attack

Wallace and Gromit

Roald Dahl

Studio Ghibli

Everything Marvel has ever created…

He takes a deep breath.

…and The West Wing.

I like films, books and games where the goodies win against the baddies…

Blackout. JOE approaches the microphone, and breathes into it like Darth Vader. We hear the ‘zzzssshum’ sound of a lightsaber firing up, as JOE is suddenly lit red and blue.

Star Wars fan-film:

JOE performs a mini-film of the Star Wars Trilogy – recreating iconic moments with lightning-fast, razor-sharp impressions. We whip through the galaxy in ninety seconds.

The ‘zzzssshum’ of a lightsaber powering down. Lights return to normality.

1.2.

JOE. So, welcome to the show!

I am a bit of a magpie – I love collecting things. And I find it very hard to let go of things. So I brought some stuff with me, real things, from my old room – I wanted to sort of recreate it, like it was when I was a kid. I’ll just talk you through a few of them now. First of all… a door!

I had a door when I was a kid – pretty cool!

This cabinet which is almost as old and almost as tall as I am. The TV, which is older than I am. But not as tall. I actually inherited this from my Uncle Obi, so I really fucking love this thing.

JOE picks up a Lord of the Rings novel, a Warhammer rulebook, and a Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game rulebook.

Books: Lord of the Rings. Warhammer… Lord of the Rings Warhammer. I also brought my old Sticky Tongue Jar Jar Binks toy, but I’ve lost that somewhere.

(Shouting to the tech box.) Dylan – did that turn up anywhere?

DYLAN (shouting back from the tech box). No, sorry!

JOE. Well, it’s here somewhere… That’s Dylan by the way – absolute legend!

The Super Nintendo! Which I keep in a box, because it’s made from a certain kind of plastic, which discolours when it’s exposed to direct sunlight. If you know, you know…

My old VHS player – fucking love this too!

Videotapes, including what I like to call the Christmas Trilogy, which if you don’t know is Die Hard, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and Home Alone.

Anyone here a Home Alone fan? I fucking love it! Especially the part where Kevin uses a videotape of the gangster movie he’s not allowed to watch but now can, because he’s home alone, in order to trick the pizza delivery guy into believing he is not, in fact, home alone – pausing and rewinding and fast-forwarding in all the right places, to create the illusion of dialogue.

1.3

JOE. I brought another tape with me, which is simply labelled…

JOE ejects a tape from the video player.

Joe’s Birthday Parties.

JOE holds the tape aloft – we hear the Legend of Zelda treasure chest noise.

This was made by my Uncle Obi, who had a video camera, which is something my parents couldn’t afford. Obi would film family events, and he and I loved messing around – he’d get me to do interviews to the camera, that sort of thing. I think he was planning to edit my birthday parties, over the years, as I grew up, into a sort of memento, to give to me when I got older.

He never quite got around to finishing that.

But this tape starts with my eighth birthday party, which was a particularly epic one. Fancy dress: me dressed as Superman, my little brother dressed as Batman, my little sister dressed as Po – the Teletubby, not the Star Wars Resistance pilot, obviously…

JOE puts the tape into the VHS player, picks up a remote control, and presses play.

I’ll play it for you now. This is me and the voice you can hear is my Uncle Obi:

The home recording plays on the TV. We hear OBI’s voice, off-screen, and see YOUNG JOE, aged eight, in a Superman costume, running around his bedroom, then speaking to the camera. JOE watches the recording of his younger self.

OBI. Hi Joe.

YOUNG JOE. Hi! Hello?

OBI. Do you want to, um, talk to the camera?

YOUNG JOE. Yeah… hello!

OBI. Are you having a nice birthday?

YOUNG JOE. Yes!

OBI. Have you had fun with your friends?

YOUNG JOE. Mmm… yes lots!

OBI. Did you get any nice presents?

YOUNG JOE. Yes!

OBI. What was your favourite part of today then, Joe?

YOUNG JOE. Dressing up as Superman!

OBI. And what are you having for dinner?

YOUNG JOE (hesitates). Pizza!

OBI (laughing). You don’t sound very sure about that! What sort of pizza?

YOUNG JOE. Cheesy!

The video continues to play on the TV, with YOUNG JOE still running around in his Superman costume. JOE moves downstage and grins at the audience.

JOE. It’s May 2nd 1997. It’s six-thirty a.m., and I’ve officially been eight years old for four hours and seventeen minutes.

The news is on. Something important is happening:

Footage of Tony Blair, the 1997 election, cheering crowds, etc.

My parents try to explain what, but I’m not listening, because today I get the following presents:

The presents appear on the TV screen, as they’re listed.

Donkey Kong Country, for the Super Nintendo,

Four books on wildlife:

– one about whales,

– one about killer whales,

– one about birds,

– and one about birds of prey

– (or as I call them: killer birds),

I also get a birdwatching kit, which includes:

– binoculars,

– notepads,

– a cassette tape called Bird Songs of the British Isles,

And a year’s membership to the YOC!

I’m now a fledgling, card-carrying member of the Young Ornithologists’ Club, the youth wing of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. Youth wing…

Sound of a bird call.

Anyone know what that is?

(Depending on the response.) It’s a magpie…

Around this time, production is about to start on the new Star Wars film – Episode I: The Phantom Menace – the next instalment of George Lucas’s Skywalker saga. Or, technically, the previous instalment.

The first time he watches the original trilogy with me, Uncle Obi tries to explain the chronology of the stories compared with the chronology of when the films were made, and why. And I stare back at him with the same blank expression that Jake Lloyd gives Liam Neeson when he tries to explain what Midi-chlorians are.

On the TV: the corresponding clip from Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace.

The originals Obi watches with me are the 1990s special-edition re-releases on VHS, which come in a special-edition, gold-coloured, Darth Vader sleeve.

On the TV: we see the videos. Then YOUNG JOE, grinning.

I’m too young to appreciate the full cultural significance of these films, but old enough to understand I am being shown something sacred, from the past.

Also around this time, in 1997, a young actor named Ahmed Best has been cast as a new character for the new film: a character called Jar Jar Binks. And millions of Star Wars fans around the world are using a piece of nascent technology called the internet, to eagerly discuss and speculate on what they consider to be the cultural event of a generation. But in 1997, I’m unaware of it, for two reasons.

One: I am not, yet, a Star Wars fan, though I do collect the Star Wars Tazos you get in packets of crisps, because I am a fan of crisps.

And two: I don’t yet know what the internet is. Our council flat didn’t have a landline until I was in primary school. We didn’t get a computer until I was in secondary school, and we didn’t get a modem and dial-up until even later.

Sound effect of a modem.

The initial reaction to The Phantom Menace from critics was mixed, but from fans it was, at least in box-office terms, record-breaking. Within months though, euphoria led to resentment and, as Master Yoda said…

On the TV: the corresponding clip of Yoda, from Revenge of the Sith, speaking in time with JOE.

…fear led to anger, anger led to hate, and hate led to suffering…

The TV flashes – YOUNG JOE reappears, watching, grinning.

But again, I was oblivious.

1.4

JOE looks at us, conspiratorially. He has the VHS player remote in his hand.

JOE. Hey Joe: do you want to say hello to the audience?

JOE rewinds the video to the right place so that YOUNG JOE ‘answers’.

YOUNG JOE. Yes!

JOE pauses the video.

JOE. Go on then.

JOE rewinds the tape to:

YOUNG JOE. Hello!

JOE pauses the tape.

JOE. Are you enjoying the show?

JOE fast-forwards the tape to:

YOUNG JOE. Mmm… yes lots.

JOE pauses the tape.

JOE. Anything it needs more of?

JOE rewinds the tape to:

YOUNG JOE. Dressing up as Superman!

JOE pauses the tape.

JOE. What do you think of me pausing and rewinding and fast-forwarding you in all the right places to create the illusion of dialogue?

JOE fast-forwards the tape to:

YOUNG JOE. Cheesy!

JOE pauses the video, turns away from the TV, moves further downstage and smiles at the audience again.

JOE. I didn’t always consider myself a nerd –

YOUNG JOE. What’s it like when I’m thirty?

JOE glances back at the TV. His younger self is listening, innocently. JOE turns back to the audience and continues:

JOE. I didn’t always consider –

On the TV: the footage of YOUNG JOE rewinds itself and plays:

YOUNG JOE. Hello?

JOE whips round again – YOUNG JOE is still. Innocent. JOE turns slowly back to the audience, then quickly looks back at the TV. YOUNG JOE still hasn’t moved. JOE turns to the audience once more.

JOE (to audience). I didn’t –

On the TV: the footage of YOUNG JOE rewinds itself and plays:

YOUNG JOE. HELLO?!

JOE looks round in time to see YOUNG JOE talking.

JOE. Hello?

YOUNG JOE. Can you hear me?

JOE looks at the TV, in shocked disbelief.

JOE. Can you hear me?

YOUNG JOE. Yes.

JOE. Really?

YOUNG JOE. Yes!

The two JOES stare at each other. JOE glances at the audience once more.

So: what’s it like when I’m thirty?

Beat.

JOE. How do you know I’m thirty?

YOUNG JOE. You look really grown up.

JOE. Is that a compliment?

YOUNG JOE. What’s a compliment?

JOE. It means… a nice thing to say about someone.

YOUNG JOE. Then yes. So, what’s it like?!

JOE. Fine… Everything’s fine.

YOUNG JOE. Tell me about the games.

JOE is suddenly excited, forgetting how odd this is. He moves the chair closer to the cabinet, and sits facing the TV.

JOE. Oh my god, there’s so much to tell you!

YOUNG JOE. What?!

JOE. So, you know Uncle Obi’s Game Boy?

YOUNG JOE. Yeah.

JOE. And you know his Nintendo 64?

YOUNG JOE. Yeah

JOE. Well, imagine graphics that are ten times better than the N64, but you can take it around with you all the time, like a Game Boy, and plug it into your TV when you get home. That’s how good games are now!

YOUNG JOE. Wow…

JOE. Yeah…

YOUNG JOE. Have you been to SeaWorld yet?

JOE. No – we don’t want to go to SeaWorld any more.

YOUNG JOE. Why not?

JOE. Well… you know how in Free Willy, one of the messages of the film is that putting killer whales in captivity is bad?

YOUNG JOE. Yeah.

JOE. Well, it turns out that putting whales in captivity is bad.

YOUNG JOE. Oh. I should have made that connection! You know, orcas aren’t whales – they’re dolphins.

JOE. Yeah, I know.

YOUNG JOE. Do you still like Superman?

JOE. Sure. I prefer Spider-Man though.

YOUNG JOE. Why?

JOE. I just think he’s more interesting.

YOUNG JOE. But Superman can do more stuff. Laser eyes, ice breath, super-strength, and he can fly! He’s more powerful.

JOE. I guess that’s my point. He’s too good.

YOUNG JOE. How can you be too good?

JOE is about to answer when the TV suddenly switches off. JOE tries to switch it back on. Nothing…

1.5

JOE turns to the audience once more, with a slightly baffled grin.

JOE. That was… weird. This is meant to be a true story. Well, based on a true story. You know, like The Social Network. Or Fargo. Or The Muppet Christmas Carol. I changed the names. Except mine. Obviously.

JOE thinks for a beat, then tentatively continues.

And I should also probably disclose – this is my first time around this many people, in quite a while. I’ve just had some stuff… going on, in my personal life. I mean, I’m fine!

I’ve had a lot of time to myself – hundreds of hours of games to play: Breath of the Wild, Fire Emblem, Odyssey (Mario Odyssey, not Assassin’s Creed, obviously). I’ve had all the Marvel, Star Wars and Muppets films in one place; everything David Attenborough has ever narrated… So I really am fine. Honestly.

Beat.

JOE looks frustrated. He looks around.

I still can’t find my Jar Jar Binks Sticky Tongue Toy. I really wanted to show you that…

Uncle Obi got it for me.

Dad loved Star Wars. But Uncle Obi fucking loved it. And he somehow convinced Dad to let him take me to the midnight launch of The Phantom Menace, in 1999.

Lights change. JOE flits between playing DAD and OBI.

DAD. You want to take Joe to a film that starts three hours after his bedtime?

OBI. Yeah.

DAD. On a school night?

OBI. Yeah.

DAD. You know he’s ten?

OBI. Mate, it’s the cinematic event of a generation! You only ever get to watch something for the first time, once…

Beat.

DAD. Fine, but no sweets.

JOE. A man of his word, Obi buys us popcorn.

Lights change – we’re in the cinema. JOE moves the chair centre-stage and sits.

The air-conditioning in the cinema is on overdrive for some reason, and I start to shiver, but I’m too excited to notice. Obi does notice, and lends me his jumper. It’s a deep, rich purple, and so big on me that it’s kind of like wearing a duvet.

We hear the 20th Century Fox drums and horns, and on the TV screen we see the corresponding 20th Century Fox logo. Then the blue words, then the yellow words from Star Wars.

As everything goes dark, and the hush descends, just before the yellow words start scrolling and John Williams’ score kicks in – in that magical in-between – Obi and I look at each other, with big, stupid grins.

And it starts…

A moment, as JOE takes in the film with childlike wonder.

On the way out, Obi asks me what I thought.

JOE leaps to his feet, suddenly with us once more.

‘I loved the lightsabers, I loved the podracing, I loved all the underwater stuff!’ Obi grins and says he loved all of that too. Neither of us mention the taxation of galactic trade routes.

‘And Jar Jar… I loved the funny things he said. His somersaults. How he accidentally blew up the droid tanks with those blue bouncing bombs. The way he caught bugs with his tongue!’

I’ve brought him with me – the toy – and I demonstrate, flicking the tongue forward. Now, the tongue on this toy was so sticky, you could use it to grab bits of paper or crisp packets. And as I flick it forward now, it latches onto a box of half-eaten popcorn, carried by a full-grown man walking beside us in full-length Jedi robes. The tongue wrenches the box right out of his hands and scatters the remaining popcorn across the carpet of the lobby. The man’s response is to glare at me, from under his hood, with those eyes…

Obi apologises, quickly, expertly brushing over the moment, before it can escalate into anything else, ushering me out into the car park, asking me what else I loved about the film.

But the man’s eyes, from under the hood, stay with me.

And I think about him sometimes. And I wonder: what was he really angry about?

Was it the popcorn – was he planning to take the rest of it home for his breakfast? Was it the film? Or was it something else?

Because it never occurred to me, leaving that cinema, that anyone else having watched the film we’d just watched, could have felt anything other than joy, and hope and love for the world.

ACT TWO

2.1

JOE. I didn’t always consider myself a nerd. Or a Fanboy. I was just a boy. Sitting in front of a Super Nintendo. Asking Donkey Kong not to die so easily.

On the TV: Donkey Kong Country ‘GAME OVER’ screen, and the ‘death’ sound.

I was just a fan of things. I liked what I liked. I wasn’t embarrassed by my own interests and hobbies. I liked stuff whole-heartedly. I didn’t critique it. I just fucking loved it.

But like everyone, as I move into adolescence, I discover nuance and variation. And that other wonderful thing that all teenage boys discover. The thing that keeps them locked in their rooms, alone, for hours on end. W… Warhammer.

I become an awkward teenager. I start to feel like I’m at the window, looking in at life, nose against the glass, too nervous to knock.

I’m the guy reading Lord of the Rings in the corner of the playground, instead of playing football, sneaking Star Wars Tazos in like contraband, with no one to swap them with. Scribbling Tyranids Vs Blood Angels army lists inside my maths book, for a battle that would never take place.

I love toys, books, films and games to the point of obsession: physical things, fictional worlds. But I struggle with people.

Beat – a moment of vulnerability.

I guess some things never change…

JOE catches himself, brightens up again, trying to brush over what just happened.

Sorry, that was completely unnecessary – I really am fine! And sharing these memories with you is lovely: nothing cheers me up like reminiscing, especially about Star Wars. So, let’s crack on with the show!

2.2

JOE. It’s 2006. And I am at a party. Somehow.

Party noises/music in the background.

I’ve just started my A levels, miles away from home, because my school doesn’t have a sixth form. I’m trying to blend into the corner, clutching a can of Carling like a Chewbacca teddy. A couple of people I vaguely recognise are chatting video games.

I cautiously join their conversation. One person in the group – Wayne – mentions the comedy series Peep Show, and then the sketch comedy show, starring the same leading actors: That Mitchell and Webb Look.

(Shouting over the noise.) I fucking love that show!

Wayne’s eyes light up:

WAYNE. Oh my god same! I LOVE the Nazis!

JOE. What? Oh, the sketch!

(Aside, to audience.) He’s talking about a sketch – David Mitchell and Robert Webb play these German soldiers in World War Two. Wayne and I start quoting it at one another:

JOE and WAYNE act out the ‘Are We the Baddies?’ sketch from That Mitchell and Webb Look.

Everyone else kind of moves on, but Wayne and I get talking about Star Wars. We just know – like we’re Force-sensitive!

Someone batch-cooks toast on the grill, forgets about it and sets the smoke alarm off.

JOE stands on the chair.

I stand on a chair to turn it off, which is unremarkable in itself, but the deafening noise, followed by the sudden silence, and the fact I’m now the tallest person in the room, means I have an audience, after years of making myself invisible. Something strange comes over me: I feel like Luke, switching off his targeting computer. I grab a rolling pin from the sideboard, point it at Wayne and say:

JOE (KENOBI). It’s finished, Wayne – I’ve got the high ground!

JOE. The room stays silent. Wayne stares, impassive. He could leave me to die on this chair, we both know it. But he grins, grabs an empty kitchen-roll tube, points it at me and says:

WAYNE (ANAKIN). Joe – you’ve underestimated my abilities!

Music rises – ‘Anakin vs. Obi Wan’ by John Williams.

JOE. And we re-enact the entire scene above the fires of Mustafar!

They act out the scene – two man-children swinging lightsabers at one another in a deadly duel, making their own sound effects – grunts, shouts and ‘zzzssshums’.

JOE steps down from the chair.

(To us.) This music, though, am I right?! This fucking music! And when it’s time for me to cut off his limbs, and leave him to slide into the lava, Wayne really goes for it: he grabs the burned toast, crunches it up, smears charcoal all over his face and writhes on the floor in pain and anguish –

WAYNE. AAAAAAAAAGHH!

JOE. People are applauding and cheering. I help him up, and he slaps my back in a kind of manly hug and says –

WAYNE. Mate, it’s so good to finally meet someone who hates the prequels as much as I do!

Music cuts out suddenly. JOE looks stunned.

JOE. I blink.

WAYNE. It’s a particular kind of obsession, isn’t it? To hate something so much you watch it, over and over – so much you almost love it?

JOE. And I feel so accepted and included, that even though that is the opposite of what I think, I tell Wayne:

‘That’s exactly what I think! I fucking hate the prequels.’

From that moment on, Wayne and I are inseparable. Through the rest of sixth form. We live together, during my gap year, before I go away. We make all these grand plans for the future. And the prequels: I lose count of how many times we rewatch them. Wayne teaches me everything that’s wrong with them.

‘Wow. Yeah. They’re worse than I remember…’

At this point, I still have my Phantom Menace poster on my bedroom wall and my Jar Jar Sticky Tongue Toy on my desk – ‘ironically’, of course. Wayne, I’m pretty sure, believes that line, and seems to find it funny. And if I can make Wayne laugh, I feel amazing about myself. He has these eyes full of quiet rage, a face in a state of perpetual irritation. But if I can make him laugh, especially about Star Wars, I see something change in his eyes. I catch a glimpse – just a glimpse – of the little boy I imagined he used to be.

And during this phase of my life, when I’d rewatch the prequels endlessly with Wayne, and trash-talk them, I’d do something else to make him laugh – I would describe ways in which Jar Jar Binks – the character – would die. I’d say things like:

‘Fuck off, Jar Jar. Do us all a favour and eat that blue, bouncing bomb so we can watch your stupid Gungan brains splatter over Naboo.’

Sure, it was a bit mean, but it was just banter – it was just us.

‘Jar Jar, you serve no purpose!’

‘Jar Jar, you’re useless! Jar Jar, you’re pointless! Jar Jar, you ruined my childhood!’

‘Jar Jar, you’re a fucking waste of space!’

Beat.

Stuff like that. And Wayne would laugh. And I’d feel like we were in a club.

But a quiet, creeping feeling would prod at me, like R2-D2 with something annoying but important to say. A question, really:

‘Were we the baddies?’

I think, when I first saw Jar Jar –

VOICE. Hello? Can you hear me?

JOE. Dylan… I don’t think there’s a sound cue there.

DYLAN. Yeah sorry, I don’t know what happened there.

VOICE. This stupid old piece of junk…

JOE. Dylan?

DYLAN. I think it was some sort of interference. It’s gone now.

JOE. Okay – thanks…

2.4

JOE. I think when I first saw Jar Jar Binks, I must have been the right age. Or maybe I saw him as an eco-warrior – trying to save his planet from the perils of technology. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

I wonder the same thing about David Attenborough: is he a hero, to me, because I love the natural world? Or do I love the natural world because David Attenborough’s a hero?

Or maybe I loved Jar Jar because I love animals. Which is the main reason I fucking love Donkey Kong Country – every character in that game is an animal. Even the baddies – the Kremlins – are crocodiles.

YOUNG JOE appears on the TV. He looks older, his hair longer, wearing something different.

YOUNG JOE. Crocodilians.

JOE. What?

YOUNG JOE. Crocodilians, not crocodiles.

JOE. Crocodilians isn’t a word.

YOUNG JOE. It’s the name for the family that crocodiles belong to.

JOE. Okay…

YOUNG JOE. They include caimans, alligators and crocodiles, obviously.

JOE. It’s a game. I’m talking about a game. It’s pretend.

YOUNG JOE. You should still get it right.

JOE. Look sometimes the detail doesn’t matter. It’s the feeling, the memory that’s important. Can you please just let me have that?

Beat.

YOUNG JOE. I don’t really know what you’re talking about.

JOE notices YOUNG JOE is holding a Jar Jar Sticky Tongue Toy.

JOE. Hang on… is that my Jar Jar Sticky Tongue Toy?

YOUNG JOE. It’s my Jar Jar Sticky Tongue Toy!

JOE. I’ve been searching everywhere for that!

(To us.) It’s always in the last place you look, isn’t it – inside a magic videotape from the past…

YOUNG JOE. What?

JOE. Nothing. I was trying to make a joke.

YOUNG JOE. It wasn’t very funny.

JOE. It was very funny. Seriously, how have you got that?!

YOUNG JOE (shrugs). The Force?!

JOE stares.

JOE (remembering). That was a promotional toy, just before Episode I came out. And you look like you’re… ten, in this video? Have you seen it yet?

YOUNG JOE. No but I’m seeing it tomorrow! It’s going to be the best Star Wars film ever. Probably the best film in the whole world of all time. I’m so excited… YAAAAAAY!

JOE smiles to himself.

JOE. Well… I hope you enjoy it.

YOUNG JOE (gasps). Have you seen it?!

JOE. What do you think?

YOUNG JOE. Oh yeah, you must have – cos you’re old! So?!

JOE. So what?!

YOUNG JOE. Tell me what happens!

JOE. No.

YOUNG JOE. Why not?!

JOE. You’re seeing it tomorrow!

YOUNG JOE. Yeah. But I want to know!

JOE. Won’t that spoil the surprise?

YOUNG JOE. No. Tell me! I can’t wait.

JOE. You can’t wait a day?

YOUNG JOE. A day’s a long time when you’re a kid.

YOUNG JOE runs off. The TV turns itself off. JOE stares. He turns to the audience once more.