16th to the 31st of December - Writing
This fortnight was very productive and quite difficult as our writers scrambled to get those first drafts by the deadline. What we have found with this production so far is that the material we are dealing with is heavy, difficult and nuanced. That’s why every step of the way, every new line requires a certain level of research. How much do Ukrainians swear compared to Australians? When do we use a Ukrainian word? What kind of spirit is coming through in this scene and is it culturally accurate? What’s the ratio between drama and comedy?
All of these questions were so far posed, but not all answered within our writing. Not just yet.
We decided to include some script excerpts from each of our writers. Keep in mind, that these are very rough and early drafts which will still be undergoing lots of development.
Our next goal is to finish first drafts in the new year and hold a reading with our developmental actors to hear the dialogue done with intent and fresh ideas.
A LOVE STORY
After a while, MYKOLA enters his room with OLEK, his best friend, sweating and fatigued. MYKOLA crashes on the bottom bunk while OLEK drags himself up the ladder to his bed.
MYKOLA: I told you . . . to clean . . . your rifle . . . brother.
OLEK: The captain . . . he hates me . . . honestly . . . brother.
MYKOLA: He hates you because you don’t clean your rifle . . . brother!
OLEK: I would’ve done it, if you weren’t distracting me all the time. / like a little puppy following me around / yapping in my ear, “let’s play Olek! Come rub my belly!”, then I tell you “Not now Mykola, I’m busy” but that doesn’t stop you, you insist! You keep barking like a tiny annoying -
MYKOLA: / Distracting you? You’re going to blame me? / Cut it, I keep telling you to do your duties so the captain leaves you - us alone. / I’ve had enough of your jokes.
MYKOLA grabs his pillow and starts hitting OLEK who grabs his pillow and does the same. They are laughing throughout. MYKOLA manages to grab OLEK’s pillow.
OLEK: Okay! Okay, I surrender! Have mercy bro!
MYKOLA primes for an attack, but eventually lowers his weapons. He throws OLEK’s pillow back to him.
MYKOLA: Seriously though, stop being lazy. It was fine before but the captain knows you’re my best friend so he thinks you’re my responsibility too. He wants me to get you in order.
OLEK mock salutes.
MYKOLA: (In Ukrainian) Idiot.
A MONOLOGUE BY THE WIND
Oh hello, sorry you won't mind the doubles, it soothes the throat. I've been terribly terribly sick, what with all the smoke and soot. But not to worry, I'll come out the other side of it. The wind will change!
He makes himself laugh, which quickly turns into coughing and spluttering.
He has several bar napkins laid out in front of him, each covered in little drawings of birds.
Oh yes, I fancy myself a bit of an artist after a drink. They are lovely things, aren't they. The happiness of the city, I say. Nothing more beautiful than the spectacle of them flying together in formation. I say, there is nothing so beautiful as a bird in flight. You'd think with all the time I spend amongst them I'd find them any less fascinating. But I never do, I never, never do.
Times are changing, there are new sounds in the city, and fear, anger, and smoke. That terrible, terrible smoke. Smoke that paints windows, fills lightwells, scorches the sky, and hurts the birds.
I wonder where they all are now. That terrible, terrible smoke…
But I'll be alright, I'll make it through. The wind will change.
I just worry about the birds.
I don't know where they've gone.
He sits with his head in his hands.
Amongst the drawings there are little parts of poems he has written.
“The smoke rolls in again,
And the air grows thick again,
And the birds huddle chest to chin again.
The sky grows dark again,
And I apologise again,
And through the fog I see their weepy eyes again.”
MAIDAN
IVAN Olesia! You doing alright?
OLESIA так, sorry Ivan. I was just somewhere else for a second.
IVAN: Well we need you here. People are already being brought in. Be like a cossack Olesia.
She smiles.
OLESIA: Ah you think I’m just a little girl, don’t you Ivan?
IVAN: On the contrary, little one. It’s all you young people that have made this possible. I don’t know what we’d be doing without your help around here.
OLESIA Cлава Yкраїні, glory to Ukraine.
IVAN героям слава, glory to the heroes.
He gives her his hand and she stands. VIRA, another volunteer medic, enters pushing through the audience. She addresses them, casting them as injured activists.
VIRA Alright move through! This way please! We have limited resources unfortunately! If there’s a bed free take it but consider if someone else might need it more please!
She moves the audience into the beds and against the walls, encouraging them to sit if possible. Ivan and Olesia then join her, going around to varying audience members and tending to their ‘injuries’. They wipe their foreheads, offer them lollies disguised as painkillers, bandage them etc…
Suddenly another injured protester enters, clutching the side of their blood drenched torso. The medics rush to them, clearing a bed and lying them down.
PRO. Bastards have strayed away from just rubber bullets. Reckon they’re starting to realise we aren’t going away until Yanukovych is out or we’re dead.
EXECUTED RENAISSANCE
Kolbert looks at Fedenko and Dante expecting a reply but receives nothing. Then he looks at the audience. After their response or lack there of he takes a drag of the cigarette and stares at the floor. Fedenko looks at Dante with a “Don’t be surprised” kind of look but Dante is surprised. He is visibly awkward and wants to break the silence somehow but doesn’t know what to say. Eventually he masters up the courage raises his hand, opens his mouth, but suddenly Fedenko places his hand on Dante’s raised hand:
FEDENKO: Let him be. His soul is hurting.
KOLBERT: (turning around suddenly) My soul is hurting you say, but what do you care? Let it hurt. Let it hurt! Let it hurt so much that I cry from this horrible pain, that I rip my clothes - that I, that I -
FEDENKO: (calm, approaching the table) There’s no need for this. Okay? No need. Let's all just sit and … have a drink.
KOLBERT: Let it be.
(Dante relaxes, enjoying the offer. Fedenko gestures for him to sit and he does so. Kolbert sits back and crosses his arms. Fedenko pours the horilka. They drink. They snack for a while, in silence.)
KOLBERT: Another one? Let's have this drink for… for the health of the best lady - Donna Dolores Costello of Colorado. Hooray!
(Fedenko pours another drink, Dante raises his glass.)
KOLBERT: (To Dante) You’re quite young my friend, are you not from here that you don’t know our customs, why are you sullen? Is our toast not to your liking? Do you deny that Donna Dolores is the best lady?
(They drink more and Kolbert is evidently tipsy, Dante is less tipsy and Fedenko completely sober.)
KOLBERT: (abruptly gets up) Well?
FEDENKO: (To Dante) Don’t be scared, he’s just had too much. But that’s okay, as I say, his soul is hurting.
KOLBERT: So it hurts? Not your problem. (Pause.) Tomorrow is my day.
HOLODOMOR
Projected guards walk past. They are laughing and smoking cigarettes. LUBA and OLENA freeze and watch
LUBA: Now?!
OLENA: No, we must wait.
LUBA: I can’t! I feel the ribs piercing the skin. my neck can barely support my head, I'm afraid I too, like Tato, will fall asleep. Mama, Like Tato. He hasn't woken up since yesterday.
OLENA: Okay, quietly grab the grain and a bowl of water.
LUBA wakes STEFAN telling him that it's time to make food, he smiles and struggles to stand. LUBA goes to the cupboards on her tiptoes and takes out cooking utensils. STEFAN stands at the window keeping watch.
STEFAN: The horse out in the street has barely any meat on it, what will we eat after this?
OLENA: I'm not sure Stefan. We will figure it out when we have the energy from the bread.
LUBA: Did the Komsomol steal our horse?
OLENA: No Luba, It's not really our horse anymore, it's on the street. People come at night while we are asleep and take meat from it under our noses. There was nothing we could do.
STEFAN: We’re going to die.
OLENA: Don't say that! Tato got us this grain which will last us a week. We will use that until we figure out other alternatives.
LUBA returns with the cooking supplies but no grain.
LUBA: Ma, the grain isn’t there, I can't find it, where did you hide it?
She becomes nervous and crawls to the bed herself.
OLENA: It's here… here.
She frantically sweeps her hands under the bed feeling for the small bag. She retrieves a small hessian bag with a hole in it. She sticks her finger through it.