This Is How It Goes: A Play
By Neil LaBute
2.5/5
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About this ebook
Belinda and Cody Phipps appear a typical Midwestern couple: teenage sweethearts, children, luxurious home. Typical except that Cody is black--"rich, black, and different," in the words of Belinda, who finds herself attracted to a former (white) classmate. As the battle for her affections is waged, Belinda and Cody frankly doubt the foundation of their initial attraction, opening the door wide to a swath of bigotry and betrayal. Staged on continually shifting moral ground that challenges our received notions about gender, ethnicity, and even love itself, This Is How It Goes unblinkingly explores the myriad ways in which the wild card of race is played by both black and white in America.
Neil LaBute
Neil Labute—an acclaimed playwright, screenwriter, and filmmaker—is the author of plays including The Shape of Things, The Mercy Seat, Fat Pig, and the Tony Award-nominated Reasons to Be Pretty. He has written and directed films including In the Company of Men (starring Aaron Eckhart), The Shape of Things (starring Paul Rudd and Rachel Weisz), and the 2006 American adaptation of The Wicker Man (starring Nicholas Cage).
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This Is How It Goes - Neil LaBute
Preface
This Is How It Went
I’m not sure where this one came from. This is one of those plays that just sort of dropped out onto the page and I figure it’s best not to ask too many questions; it’s here now, so we’ll just have to live with it.
I started with the title this time, I know that much. This Is How It Goes. I had been listening to Aimee Mann a lot before I started writing, and I can remember seeing that title on her Lost in Space CD and knowing, almost instantly, that I wanted to use it. It wasn’t the specifics of the song itself, the lyrics or anything like that, that attracted me to it, but the implied promise of a truth revealed—knowing full well just how subjective truth can be—and the gorgeous plaintiveness of the music. Ms. Mann’s work can be very inspiring. So, I took the name and ran with it. Not that I knew where I was headed, mind you, not at all, but that’s rarely stopped me before. No, I simply threw two characters together—as I often enjoy doing—at a Sears in an outlet mall (I had a long history with that department store chain in my youth) and waited to see what happened. Out of that impulse grew a third character—in this case, someone who was both husband and friend—and with him a meditation on truth (the many versions of it that we offer up to different people) and some notion about how racism still affects all of us on a simple, daily level. In fact, during those initial fifteen pages or so of the first scene, I don’t think I had any idea that I was going to create a mixed
marriage—sometimes these things just sneak up on you as a writer and present themselves. Pretty diverse ingredients, I’ll admit, but that’s how this particular play began. I promise.
I sprinkled a number of Ms. Mann’s lyrics throughout the piece, punctuating the action and dialogue with many of her clever turns of phrase—although hopefully not so many that I owe her any royalties! Again, it wasn’t that any specific moment or title spoke directly to the action, but rather I used them more as a tribute to her and her work, a way of saying, Yes, I’m out here and I’m listening.
As a songwriter, Ms. Mann has a particularly acute insight into human foibles and I thank her for that. Plus, she sings so damn beautifully that it made the hours pass quickly when I had her music playing in the background. If you want, go searching for the passages yourself; they’re easy enough to find. Even if you don’t though, please note how deeply her voice and spirit have seeped into the fabric of this work. It’s true.
I dedicated the play itself to Harold Pinter because, besides being a terrific writer and director, he continues to inspire me by his fearless examination of men and women while searching for answers, hoping for change, raging for equality—but never ducking for cover. Who can ask for more? What I really admire about Mr. Pinter’s work—and strive for in my own—is that the point of it is not merely to upset people, but that what’s being addressed is worth getting upset over. His numerous plays and screenplays have also been extremely instrumental in teaching me a thing or two about structure, along with the cardinal rule of writing (and cocktail parties): be interesting rather than well liked. Achieving both would be great, of course, but if you can only choose one, go for the former.
With This Is How It Goes I continue to dissect small communities in the Midwest, mostly because I know the territory, the people, and the mindset. I appreciate the quality of life while remaining suspicious of the notion that everything is better in a small town. Often everything is just smaller, not better. After all, it’s hard to appreciate diversity in a controlled environment, but maybe that’s a role that the theater can continue to foster for itself—as an oracle of truth, no matter the size or location of the given venue. I honestly hope so. I suppose it’s ironic that we must gather together in the dark around a little stage to hear the truth rather than tell each other face to face on our front lawns, but that is how it goes. No pun intended.
I also quote from Graham Greene and Johnny Cash at the beginning of this volume for good reason—each man, in his own manner, is a serious chronicler of the heart and moves me in various and profound ways. I myself am as unreliable as my own narrator when it comes to matters of that particular muscle and so I continue to work, continue to search, continue to hope. As the writer of this particular play, I utilized everything I could get my hands on to help tell the truth or at least one side of it—the shifting sands of a narrator’s voice, the repetition of scenes from different perspectives, a set of stage directions that has more asides than a borsht belt comedian. Hey, whatever works. Regardless of my literary instincts, I’ve always found it much easier to mean well than to do well—like the main character of This Is How It Goes, I do my best to be a good person, but I’m completely at ease with being pretty good.
Or not. Maybe all of this is just crap and I’m alone somewhere, cackling into my soup. Who knows? That’s for you to figure out. Besides, the worst offense a writer of fiction can precipitate on his unsuspecting readers is this old chestnut: Trust me.
I mean, where’s the fun in that?
Characters
WAITRESS A woman in her twenties
Setting
Yesterday—a smallish town in the Midwest
NOTE: The text that follows represents the script used as the play went into rehearsals for the New York production.
Silence. Darkness.
A MAN walks onstage. Let’s give him a little light. There, that’s better. Now what? Wait—I think he’s going to say something. Yes, he is. Good.
MAN … okay. This Is how it goes. I mean, went. This is the way it all played out, or is going to. Or is … right now. Doesn’t matter, you’ll figure it out. I think. No, you will … sure you will! No problem. (Beat.) What you need to know for now, I mean, right at this moment, is that there was a girl. ‘Course there always is, isn’t there? I mean, unless there isn’t. Then there’s not … but that’s pretty self-explanatory. In this one, there’s a girl. There’s definitely a