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IMPETUS THEATRE Co presents |
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Jonathan Collings Storyteller Playwright jon@jumble.freeserve.co.uk 01902 425587 |
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A simple set, adaptable costumes, an array of props, and a selection of masks - plus, of course, Charles Dickens’ imagination and power over the English language. These, together with a thoroughly versatile performer, are the ingredients for the perfect Christmas entertainment. With minimal technical requirements, this show has been performed to great acclaim in schools, libraries, village halls and theatres. The show can be booked for a fee of £225, or a box office split can be negotiated. To book the show, or find out further details, contact Jonathan by phone or email - details at the top of the page. Here is a section of the script, to give you a flavour of the piece.
NARRATOR Outside it was cold – piercing cold, searching cold. And foggy. Cratchit wrapped his long comforter around his neck, went down a slide on Cornhill twenty times, in honour of its being Christmas Eve, then ran home to Camden Town to play at blind-man’s buff. Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern, then made his way home to his chambers. He had rooms over a warehouse, and at this time of year the entrance was pitch black – you couldn’t see a thing. But tonight – tonight, Scrooge did see something. Right in the middle of the door, where the knocker should be, he saw Jacob Marley.
SCROOGE His face, as I knew it when he was alive, spect Humbug! Humbug!
NARRATOR And it was humbug that, as he mounted the stairs, he should see a hearse rolling ahead of him; that the bell in the corner of his room – the bell that was not connected – should start to ring; and that, from deep in the cellars below, he should hear…
SCROOGE Chains? There must be somebody in the house. Yes. Chains, dragged over the cellar floor. Oh my God, it’s coming upstairs. They talk of ghosts in haunted houses dragging chains… Humbug! Ghosts? That creature is solid enough, whatever it is. Too solid to get through that door, I warrant. I double locked it. Marley! I will not believe it. Why should I? Oh, I can see you Marley, with your pigtail, your waistcoat, tights, boots… And a chain, wound round your middle. A chain of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy steel purses. And I can hear you, Marley: ”In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley.” It’s your voice, no doubt about it. But I do not believe. What evidence do I have, but my own senses, and a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be a bit of undigested beef, a blot of mustard, a fragment of underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of the grave about you, whatever you are. Do you see this toothpick? I have but to swallow this, and be, for the rest of my days, persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you! Humbug!
MARLEY Man of the worldly mind, believe in me! Believe me, Ebenezer, and mark what I have to say. It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men, and travel far and wide. If that spirit does not go forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wand This chain that I wear, Ebenezer, this chain of cash-boxes, ledgers, and heavy steel purses, I forged it in my life. I made it link by link. I girded it on of my own free will. Would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as long and as heavy as this seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured at it since. Hear me, Ebenezer, my time has almost gone. In life, my spirit never walked beyond our counting house. It never roved beyond the narrow confines of our money-changing hole. Now, I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. Tonight, I am here, to warn you that you have yet a chance and a hope of escaping my fate. A chance and a hope that I procured for you, Ebenezer. You will be haunted by three spirits. Expect the first tomorrow when the bell tolls one. Expect the second on the next night, at the same hour. Expect the third upon the next night, when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more. And for your own sake, look that you remember what has passed between us.
NARRATOR And Jacob Marley passed… through the window. It opened itself for him. Scrooge looked out and saw that the air was full of phantoms, wandering hither and thither, and moaning. He recognised some of them.
SCROOGE That one in the white waistcoat, with a safe chained to his ankle… desperate to help that woman and child on the doorstep. She can’t see you! She can’t hear you… Because you’re not… Phantoms! Spirits! Three spirits, on three successive nights, Jacob… Jacob! Couldn’t I take ‘em all at once, and have it over, Jacob? Spirits. Hum… hum… hum…
NARRATOR And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the invisible world, or the dull conversation of the ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; Scrooge went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant. Back to One Man Shows.
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acles turned up on the forehead. Eyes open, but perfectly motionless, and the hair curiously stirred, as if by breath, or hot wind. Jacob Marley, glowing with a dismal light, like a bad lobster in a cellar.
er the world, and witness what it cannot share.
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