It Happens in Films - a play by Liz Spear

Reviews

"It twists and turns and just when you think you've got it sussed it twists again."
North Devon Journal

Synopsis

It Happens in Films - black comedy thriller - one act by Liz Spear.

The storyline twists and turns and just when the audience think they have the piece sussed, it changes yet again. Sheila is married to Gerald, years older than herself. Their house is broken into by Tom who has been paid to plant various items of evidence in the guise of a burglary but he is interrupted by Gerald, shot gun in hand and his wife Sheila. Sheila recognises Tom as a former pupil and prevents Gerald from calling the police. Instead they sit down and have a cup of tea and a chat. What follows no one would expect.

It Happens in Films May 2000 had its first reading at the Landmark Theatre, Ilfracombe by the Studio Theatre Company.

Extract from It Happens in Films

The curtain rises on a dimly lit stage, the light provided by moonlight shafting through the window. There is a figure moving around the sitting room with a flashlight, opening drawers and cupboards. He approaches the telephone table and opens the drawer in the table and rummages through it. He accidentally knocks over the small table lamp. It doesn’t break, as he catches it in time to prevent it smashing. He holds his breath for a while and remains absolutely still and switches off his flashlight. After pausing for a moment, he switches the torch back on and continues to search the room. He picks up a pot plant and turns it upside down in the hearth and rummages through the debris. He takes a small transparent sachet of white powder and places it with the debris. This done he walks over to the sideboard and opens the drawer and showers the contents on the floor. He picks up a roll of what appears to be money and stuffs it in his pocket. Suddenly, the door to the hall and stairs is thrown open and lights flood the room. Gerald Bowen ,considerably older than his wife , stands framed in the doorway, with a shotgun. His wife, Sheila is behind him. Both are in their night clothes, and dressing gowns, Gerald is angry, Sheila is looking frightened. Thomas Palmer, a good looking man, is revealed. He looks startled, turns and faces the couple.

GERALD: Sheila! Take this. ( HE HANDS HER THE GUN) Keep it pointed at him, I’m calling the police.

(HE STRIDES TO THE TELEPHONE AND LIFTS THE RECEIVER)

THOMAS: No! Please don’t, sir.

SHEILA: Gerald, wait!

(GERALD HESITATES, PHONE IN HAND.)

GERALD: Don’t you start feeling sorry for the bastard.

SHEILA: Please Gerald, just give me a moment. .....Thomas? (THE YOUNG MAN LOOKS ALARMED) It is Thomas, isn’t it?

THOMAS: (RECOGNITION DAWNING) Miss Rose?... Miss Rose! I don’t believe it!

SHEILA: Not Miss Rose anymore, Thomas. I’m Mrs Bowen, now.

GERALD: (REPLACING THE RECEIVER) You don’t mean to say you know this character, Sheila?

SHEILA: Sit down, Thomas. Over there. (SHE GESTURES TO THE SETTEE WITH THE SHOTGUN. THOMAS HESITATES THEN MOVES ACROSS TO THE SOFA AND SITS)

GERALD: Would someone mind explaining to me what is going on?

SHEILA: Thomas, Thomas Palmer - my husband, Gerald.

THOMAS: Pleased to meet you. (EXTENDS HIS HAND)

GERALD: This is bizarre. I refuse to shake hands with a criminal, a burglar.

THOMAS: I’m not a criminal, not yet , sir. I haven’t been caught.

GERALD: I seem to be lost here. Who the devil are you? And I don’t mean your name. How do you know my wife?

SHEILA: I taught him, at the unit.

GERALD: That place for delinquents . . . behaviour problems?

SHEILA: Mm! He was in my class for recreation, discussion and drama. Must be ten years ago now.

THOMAS: We had a good time with you, Miss. One of the best damn teachers in the place.

SHEILA: I thought the unit had done well for you, changed your way of thinking. Helped you find a career.

GERALD: I don’t believe this! Chatting away, reminiscing like long lost friends, with a hooligan ,who has broken in to our home. I’m calling the police.

SHEILA: Please Gerald, indulge me a little. Please.

GERALD: (HESITATING. LOOKS AT HIS WIFE’S PLEADING FACE, AND ACROSS AT THE YOUNG MAN. GIVES AN EXASPERATED SIGH) This had better be good.

SHEILA: Gerald, why don’t you pop the kettle on a minute, (TO THOMAS) unless you want something stronger?

THOMAS: No, no. Tea will be fine.

GERALD: I refuse to play house guests with some maladjusted criminal. He can drink all the tea he wants at the police station.

SHEILA: Please darling, give me a little more credit than that. I just want a little time.

GERALD: Why?

SHEILA: I want to understand, need to understand.

GERALD: You can understand all you want when he’s in custody.

SHEILA: Please, Gerald. I need to know. I need to know what went wrong, what’s happened.

GERALD: How is this going to sound to the police? We sat down with the burglar, had a nice cup of tea and a cosy chat. You’re not making any sense, Sheila.

SHEILA: I’m hoping we may not need the police.

GERALD: What? Then you are cracked.

SHEILA: At least let us listen to what he had to say.

GERALD: All right. But, I don’t know what good it will do. Remember, you must let me decide at the end of all this, whether or not I call the police.

SHEILA: Agreed. Now, go and make that cup of tea.

(GERALD RELUCTANTLY EXITS TO THE KITCHEN. THE KETTLE IS FILLED, SWITCHED ON, AND GRADUALLY BOILS THROUGH THE SCENE. SHEILA RAISES HER VOICE, GLANCING TO THE KITCHEN)

SHEILA: Well, Thomas, this is where you start explaining. Tell me what’s been happening to you? What has led you to this?

THOMAS: I don’t know where to begin. Do you mind not pointing that thing at me. It makes me feel nervous.

SHEILA: I’ll keep it with me, just for the moment.

THOMAS: I can’t think straight, with a loaded gun levelled at my chest. Honestly.

SHEILA: If you were honest then I would have no reason to doubt you. But don’t forget I knew what you were. What you could do.

THOMAS: That was a long time ago. Both you and I know I changed.

SHEILA: I have only your word for that.

THOMAS: Please Miss Rose.. I mean Bowen.

SHEILA: All right. No tricks now. I’ll move it away from your chest to the right of you. Is that better?

THOMAS: As long as your finger doesn’t slip.

SHEILA: Then don’t give me cause to jump!

THOMAS: Where do you want me to start?

SHEILA: End of school, when you left. What did you do?

THOMAS: Kicked around a bit. Then I started training as a quantity surveyor with a local firm. Father said, if I could prove my self, he’d take me on in the business make me a full partner when I was thirty.

SHEILA: Wasn’t that something to look forward to? Work towards? What happened?

THOMAS: Things went well to begin with, then when some money went missing from the petty cash box in the office. The boss blamed me. He knew my background, said it couldn’t possibly be anyone else. Wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say.

SHEILA: And was it you?

THOMAS: No! I wasn’t going to ruin my life for a measly thirty quid.

SHEILA: You look as though you’ve ruined it now.

THOMAS I’m no fool. And I’m not a real burglar. I was paid to do this.

SHEILA RAISES AN EYEBROW AS GERALD RETURNS WITH A TRAY OF TEA.

GERALD: What do you mean? You were paid to do this?

THOMAS: Yes, sir.

GERALD STARTS TO POUR OUT THE TEA, FOR THREE.

GERALD: Who the devil would pay you to break in? And what for? Sugar?

THOMAS: Please.

GERALD: One lump or two? ( AS IF SPEAKING TO HIMSELF) I can’t believe I’m saying this... Here help yourself.( HE PUSHES THE SUGAR BOWL TOWARDS HIM. TOM PUTS THE SUGAR IN HIS CUP AND BEGINS TO STIR THE TEA) Go on with your story.