I had to edit a friend's 10-minute play today. She was having it read tonight, so I had to hurry. So I slashed away, sick as a dog, coughing desperately, with Benny on my lap humming the tune to "Jakers!"
I don't want you thinking I go around running down people's work, because I don't, but this is a really bad play. This gal writes the dullest dialogue on the planet and still manages to get stage readings and become a Force in the local playwriting world. I just don't get it.
This particular opus, her latest, is called "Roadside Shrine" (actually a good title). It's about two men who died in a car crash and their ghosts appear at the roadside memorial.
It's a decent premise, and I couldn't say no to reviewing the script, because so many people have helped and supported me. But this means I read 13 pages of:
If only I’d been there ... I could’ve stopped you from
drinking so much ... like I always did.
Tell her the damn truth!
Tell her about our girl.
Shut up! She wasn’t YOUR girl.
What’s he talking about, Gary?
Why don’t you tell her about Susan, Gare?
Gary. what’s he talking about?
As I said, an interesting premise, but with flat stereotypes as characters. Men are lusty beasts and women are either doormats or whores. Which would STILL be okay ("Doormats unite and rise up against your oppressors!"), if the dialogue was better.
SIgh. Time for Benny and I to take our medicine and go to sleep