beneath the boards - issue #2
Preparing for London, on "Starred Up", Tennessee Williams and Dead by Daylight
Above: a shitty collage I made in five minutes on Canva.
CURRENT LETTERBOXD STATS
As always, my Letterboxd is linked here for my sillier thoughts on cinema that I redact here mostly.
WHAT I’M LISTENING TO LATELY:
Happy Sinners Summer! Cinema is so back.
Made this playlist of music that reminds me of Sinners, and of course, my favorite Sinners bangers:
(Note: saw a TikTok where someone wrote “why have the Irish been gatekeeping Rocky Road to Dublin!?” and it made me… sigh so loud and point at the movie’s opening monologue.)
Been exhausted this May with personal life things and been in a “listening to Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black album” on repeat mood, so here is my unresolved rage mixtape:
And lastly, a playlist for something I’ve been working on nearly finished that’s hiding under a working title… hehe:
This isn't a horror round-up as promised, but I did a lot and watched a lot and a lot of really good stuff so I wanted to revisit it.
I’m preparing to move to London in two weeks and I’m terrified. I’ve packed and repacked my suitcase at least twelve times. I’ve lived in NYU’s Bobst Library, getting production emails ready and exhausting myself over what shampoo to pack in my carry-on. I’ve played mind-numbing amounts of Dead by Daylight in my tiny shoebox room with my cat, Freddie (he is the sweetest, most cuddliest cat to ever exist, mind you), lounging on my chest like a purring sack of bricks to keep me from being a nervous little ninny at this rate. My two dogs are off with their petsitter for the summer and now I’m just down to the wire. What vintage shirts can I fit in my London bag? Will I even wear that jumpsuit? Can I refill my Accutane abroad? What do I shove into storage? Is Ivories “FROZEN”? Can I be done with it forever?
Unrelated: I also rewatched Frozen.
The “Jack” Trifecta
I had already seen most of the filmography of the other actors in Sinners, except for Jack O’Connell, who I’d seen in Back to Black but otherwise was relatively unknown to me. I wasn’t a part of the Skins generation of young TV viewers and I haven’t seen Unbroken or Eden Lake, and so he was relatively out of my hemisphere. And when I’m curious about an actor who I’ve never seen before popping up in a film where they give a knock-out performance (in this case, Remmick in Sinners), I like to see what else they’ve worked on. This often leads to delightful discoveries of indie films and other brilliant actors through perusing the catalogue of another, so I really enjoy the rabbit-holes I’ve been on when I’ve fed my curiosity. So, I went through a couple of Jack’s films to familiarize myself. This is what I watched of his portfolio that I recommend.
*Author’s note: I may be an Irish-Dane, but ya’ll know I cannot resist a good Irish performance, so, alas alas alas.
1. PRISON DRAMA FILM — Starred Up (2013)
Above: a still from STARRED UP (2013).
Toxic masculinity is a prison.
I put this one first because it was my favorite of what I watched. From the ignition, Starred Up drives straight into its own steel bars, shedding light on a world where violence breeds violence and hope is in perpetual lockdown. Jack O’Connell’s star-making turn as Eric Love sears the screen: barely contained fury, raw vulnerability, and a fractured yearning for connection all pulsing behind his wary eyes. He doesn’t just act; he survives each scene. Watching Jack O’Connell open us into the scene, I was held hostage by his performance: every flinch, every flash of fear and longing, cut straight to the bone. I remember thinking, how have I never seen this before?
The script by Jonathan Asser is equally unsparing; sharp as shivs and layered with brutal honesty. It peels back the British prison’s social anatomy, exposing racism that fractures alliances, homophobia that twists every gesture into threat, and a system rigged to crush the humanity of the very people it cages. You feel the dehumanization in every cramped corridor and every shouted order, as wardens and inmates alike enact rituals of dominance.
And yet, when a chance at redemption arrives, it’s heartbreakingly rigged to fail the most vulnerable. Eric’s tentative bond with counselor Neville (Ben Mendelsohn) offers a flicker of rebirth, but the world around him is quick to snuff it out, forcing him to reckon that freedom must be fought for, not granted.
The film touches upon the dynamics of a surrogate father figure offering redemption in the volunteer group counselor who sees hope in 19-year-old Eric who has been unfairly moved early to the adult prison for a crime that was likely committed defending a young woman from a terrible fate, and the failure-violence-and-redemption of his incarcerated father who rescues him from his fate whilst falling into his pattern of having to kill a fellow cellmate for his safety. Ruptured with layers of love, cyclical violence and solidarity, and where the three intersect and fail one another, Starred Up blew my mind in how real and palpable the stakes were through a deft and thoughtful light hand from the director and screenwriter to allow the actors to guide us through healing rage and finding forgiveness. Somehow the sun through the bars of the isolation rooms manages to peek in and shine on a domineering and masterful ensemble.
Also to note, extremely strong and clear character arcs. And, generational trauma and how the gaps between Eric’s prison experience and Neville’s are informed greatly by their age. Eric could become Neville, but we suspect by the end he won’t… because he’s not beyond saving, and he has resources and support Neville could have never had at his age.
I teared up for them both at the end.
Watching Starred Up, I ached for Eric and the men trapped beside him. It reminds us that violence is a legacy, handed down through fear, but also that transformation can spark in the darkest cell: a testament to survival, and to the stubborn rebirth of the human spirit.
Fuckin’ brava, lads. Good cinema, innit?
Author’s note: I counted down the minutes to the last hour of tech ending just to go home and rewatch this immediately, if you’re wondering how damn good it is.
2. PANDEMIC SLOWBURN DRAMA — Little Fish (2021)
Above: A still from LITTLE FISH (2021).
Technically this film came out in 2019 in the festival circuit with a 2020 release date, and then the pandemic happened, it was delayed to 2021, the film is set in 2021, and it’s about a pandemic. Talk about art imitating life. It’s like the most unfortunate timing ever for a movie I can think of, and probably why I didn’t see it when it released four years ago. Sorry, lads.
I was not as emotionally devastated by some by this film, I’ll admit, and maybe that is also a product of the pandemic? At the same time that I started this movie up, I had almost finished writing a brand new horror play about an immortal couple where one of them is suffering from a supernatural form of dementia — a fog of perpetual forgetting that has its own criteria. I kind of just went “oh, well, I guess I can’t write it now” for a moment when a film about a pandemic where people forget each other mysteriously with its own incurable rules happened. I sighed, and went back to the drawing board for this play that I can’t name yet that I love so dearly and had to revisit some character traits. So maybe that dulled me a bit to this film, that is technically beautiful in every way. Maybe I’m just biased.
Its craftsmanship is beautiful, its performances are beautiful. I love its nonlinear narrative structure and the way it holds mystery close to its chest. Maybe I’m just primed as a writer myself to expect these sorts of twists from an arthouse film, so I wasn’t terribly shocked by its twisty ending and the implication that they had both lost their memory to the disease, “RIA”.
And yet, despite my own narrative fatigue, Little Fish still managed to seduce me with its quiet elegance. The film’s muted color palette and lingering close-ups create a bittersweet haze: every frame feels like a whispered confession. Olivia Cooke and Jack O’Connell share a chemistry that’s at once tender and heart-rending; their small gestures, a hand on the small of a back, a touch to the forehead, carry the weight of a love threatened by oblivion. Seriously, these two are worth watching alone.
The nonlinear storytelling isn’t just a gimmick: it mirrors the fractured reality of RIA, pulling you in and out of moments just as the characters struggle to anchor themselves in time. I found myself replaying scenes in my head long after the credits rolled, piecing together what came before and what slipped away. And though I wasn’t left weeping on my couch, I felt a profound respect for a film that confronts the terror of forgetting with both honesty and grace.
Maybe I’m biased, my own play about memory and loss is still trying to find its shape, but Little Fish reminded me that sometimes art both imitates and teaches life. It forced me to reconsider my characters’ trajectories and to embrace the fragility at the heart of every story. Four years late to the party, I’m grateful at least for having finally taken the plunge. If you haven’t seen it yet, I promise its melancholic beauty is worth the wait.
Unrelated, I’m a sucker for a silly little man character who is a photographer for a living and I was easily swooned by every single line Jack says about that. I giggled.
3. NETFLIX LIMITED WILD WEST SERIES — Godless (2017)
Above: a still from GODLESS (2017)
Well, I’m above snakes!
I was a freshman in college when this came out which I suspect is the reason I missed it, because I was knee deep in Stranger Things being the hit that it was and not exactly a savvy TV watcher at that point. Or film-watcher, even. It took me going to college to actually fully watch movies — especially arthouse — and appreciate “the craft.” sigh.
HILARIOUSLY I just closed my NYU debut production (that I was so immensely proud of) that had a sexy space cowboy from outer space (the character’s words) in it, so I did a lot of Wild West dialectal work for that play years ago when I wrote it (and subsequently hadn’t touched it since), so some may call me an expert on the Wild West, and not because Sam Shepard’s True West is my favorite play ever.
I am glad I’m discovering this now rather than my almost-frontal-lobe-developed-self because I don’t think I had the capacity to love something like this at the ripe age that I was when this premiered. This was delicious!
Godless is a masterclass in Western storytelling, where dusty horizons meet deeply human drama. From its opening shot of a gang on the run, I was hooked by Michelle Dockery’s steely portrayal of Alice Fletcher, the outsider-turned-sheriff who brings a fierce compassion to the law. Jeff Daniels is equally magnetic as the vengeful Frank Griffin, torn between his own code and a relentless quest for revenge.
At the center of it all is Jack O’Connell as Roy Goode, the young outlaw on the run from his mentor. O’Connell’s dedication to the role is impossible to miss: I read that he spent weeks training on rugged New Mexico terrain and mastering late-19th-century firearms so convincingly that the crew often forgot he wasn’t a seasoned gunslinger. That blend of raw physicality and quiet vulnerability makes Roy’s journey from hunted fugitive to reluctant protector feel utterly earned.
The show’s greatest strength lies in the all-female town of La Belle, Wyoming: a community of widows, drifters, and survivors who band together to face threats both external and internal. Their camaraderie, wrought from necessity, is beautifully rendered in quiet moments around the dinner table as much as in the dusty shoot-outs on Main Street.
Alice’s own family life adds another layer of outsider solidarity. Widowed after her Native American husband was killed in a tragic accident, she shares her home with his mother: a stoic presence whose grief and resilience mirror Alice’s own. Their uneasy household is shaken further when Roy arrives and, against all odds, their connection blossoms. Watching Alice navigate her obligations to her mother-in-law while tentatively opening her heart to Roy is a poignant reminder that this is, at its core, a show about outsiders finding unexpected kinship.
Visually, “Godless” is spellbinding. Every sunset glows like embers, every close-up captures a weathered face etched by loss and hope. By the final showdown, I was rooting for La Belle as if it were home and yearning for more tales from a frontier defined less by gunpowder than by the bonds that hold people together.
Little personal anecdote: I’m a direct descendant of Wild Bill Hickok, which is probably why I’m so unruly. I definitely inherited that somewhere down the line. Hopefully not succumbing to inheriting the “dying young on the run” part though. I have too many health problems. My asthma would get me first. My family tree is too weird to explain. I’m also a direct descendant of Ulysses S. Grant but that one I think is less cool as the western legend of Hickok. People didn’t like either much but one of them is more favorably remembered. Hold your horses, lone rangers!
BONUS: SELF-EXPLANATORY BUT… Lady Chatterley’s Lover (2022)
Above: the poster for Lady Chatterley’s Lover (2022).
I will spare my friend who told me to watch this the shame of a name-drop, but every time I open TikTok now it’s a new message from said friend with clips of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Pfffffft. My entire TikTok “for you” page has been taken over by clips of Remmick from Sinners, and Lady Chatterley’s Lover. I feel like TikTok really is listening in on my conversations, or maybe it reads my substack, or maybe it heard me watching Jack O’Connell’s filmography and decided to just waterboard me every time I open up any social media with clips from this particular film, or a fan edit of Remmick set to Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan.
Either way, look. You know what. This movie really is a bisexual cottage core dream. You don’t have to pick who’s hotter in this movie. It certainly goes out of its way to make sure you know that this is the Pride and Prejudice we deserve as bisexuals. This movie was definitely made for bisexuals. I don’t feel like I want to give specific thoughts on this film. You can enter at your own risk.
I think this film asks a really important question: Must all movies be good, or can they simple be for our viewing… pleasure?
I plead the fifth, Your Honor.
Note: upon light research I learned the original book is quite controversial and there’s so much discourse about the many film adaptations and where they all kind of fail, or something or other (I honestly haven’t looked too deeply into it and not sure if it’s of an interest to me), but, dear god, haha. Well. This movie, man…
I previously said last episode I get Issa Rae’s character in Black Mirror because I too would fall in love with Lesbian 1950s Emma Corrin, but here that test is even HARDER! They made it REALLY HARD to be bisexual and make a choice in this movie! Damn you, Netflix!
The Chilla’s Art Trio
I promised to write about Chilla’s Art games in my last Beneath the Boards, so I’m following up here because I so thoroughly enjoyed them. I think they’re all rather good, but I have three personal favorites. I already had a bonus inclusion on this about Lady Chatterley’s, so I’ll just share here if I picked an extra fave of Chilla’s Art, it’s definitely Cursed Digicam for its atmospheric horror. I’m gonna keep these brief.
I love how Chilla’s Art games lean into that grainy, VHS-era aesthetic: every flicker and static burst feels like I’ve stumbled onto a forbidden tape in an abandoned thrift store. The unsettling atmospheres they conjure are pure disquiet: one moment you’re exploring a dimly lit hallway and the next you’re plunged into surreal imagery that haunts long after you’ve closed the game. Their episodic structure keeps me on my toes. Each installment is its own bizarre, self-contained nightmare, and I never know whether I’ll be following a cryptic detective case, wandering through a nightmarish suburban tableau, or piecing together a fractured family drama. No two chapters unfold the same way, and there’s zero predictability, which makes every download feel like a fresh plunge into the uncanny.
My favorite part about Chilla’s Art Games is they’re almost always real life scenarios, like the horror of working in customer service with like the scariest dipshit you know, or the horror of being followed home, or the horror of just… being a woman in society, IDK. They balance humor, atmosphere and terror with a realistic touch to add to the oft-supernatural undertones. Chilla knows exactly what they are doing and has become really good at what they do. Like, rock on, dude.
4. INDIE HORROR — NIGHT DELIVERY
Above: the worst little shit in Night Delivery.
In Night Delivery, you step into the shoes of a young warehouse courier — much like an Amazon delivery worker — tasked with dropping off packages in a sprawling residential complex under the cover of darkness. At first, each delivery feels routine: find the apartment number, slip the parcel through the door, and move on. But when you’re forced to enter an abandoned unit — where the curtains flutter in a stale breeze and the room is barren — it becomes clear this is no ordinary drop. The silence presses in, and every creak of the floorboards carries the weight of untold stories.
The game’s wordless narrative unfolds through subtle environmental details: a framed photograph face-down on the carpet, a diary page stuck in a bookshelf, the faint hum of an overhead light that never quite turns off. These clues coax you to piece together the occupant’s fate — was it suicide, or something more sinister? Your simple route through the hallways transforms into a tense investigation, each new discovery sharpening the sense of loss and isolation that permeates the building.
Beneath its immediate mystery, Night Delivery resonates with the phenomenon of hikikomori, the Japanese term for reclusive individuals who withdraw from society, often confined to their homes by crippling depression or anxiety. The empty corridors and half-lit rooms reminded me of Omori, where abandoned spaces become psychological landscapes. In both games, you sense the weight of loneliness so profound it warps reality, and you can almost feel the former resident’s spiral into isolation as you navigate their personal effects.
That tie to hikikomori speaks to a broader “pandemic” of lonely men in Japan; individuals whose life-altering depression keeps them cut off for years. Night Delivery doesn’t just tell a story about a single building; it evokes the crisis of unseen suffering in modern society. As you complete each delivery, you’re left with a bittersweet realization: sometimes the simplest task — a package drop — can open the door to someone’s darkest solitude, and all you can do is bear witness.
It also takes great lengths to humanize and specify its characters in its short and unnerving runtime. Highly recommend.
5. INDIE HORROR — THE KIDNAP
Above: a still from THE KIDNAP I’m not giving context for.
Two abandoned children. Two houses. One Mister. No Mother.
What makes The Kidnap unforgettable is its tight focus: in under ten minutes, you experience the full arc of terror, desperation, and relief. The confined setting amplifies your vulnerability, and each new discovery reshapes your understanding of who has trapped you and why. It’s a potent demonstration of how immersive storytelling can thrive within the briefest of experiences.
Beneath the immediate thriller, The Kidnap echoes a deeper tragedy: the destructive demoralization children suffer when parents are absent or abusive. The game implies that your mother’s cruelty is learned from their equally absent and possibly violent father; and this is emulated again through a broken foster system and an upbringing marked by neglect. This echoes real-world failures, where vulnerable kids can fall through the cracks and grow up believing that violence and control are the only paths to survival. By forcing you, as the player, into frantic decisions and risky gambits, the game lays bare how codependence and desperation drive people to dangerous choices— and how witnessing violence from a young age can warp one’s sense of what’s acceptable. In that sense, The Kidnap isn’t just a nightmare escape room; it’s a stark reminder that abuse breeds abuse, and true rescue often demands more than just finding the key — it demands breaking the cycle entirely.
6. INDIE HORROR — PARASOCIAL
Above: this stalker ass motherfucker from PARASOCIAL.
Parasocial places you behind the monitor as a livestreamer fielding viewer comments in real time. The story evolves through the chat feed: what begins as casual banter slowly twists into something unnerving as commenters reference personal details you’ve never shared publicly. Each choice — whether to read a suspicious comment aloud, dismiss it, or investigate its claim — steers the narrative down unpredictable paths that blur the line between performance and reality.
For me, Parasocial strikes a deeply personal chord: I’ve long been wary of the internet’s ability to foster one-sided “relationships” where viewers feel intimacy without accountability. Watching comments scroll by — some benign, others invasive — echoes the hollow engagement of social media, reminding me how easy it is to mistake online presence for real connection. I was especially unsettled reading an interview with an actor who described how the sexualization of their body on screen followed them into real life, with strangers confessing love for the actor rather than the character they are portraying. It’s natural to care for a fictional figure, but when someone professes love for a real person they’ve never met, and have no way of truly knowing, it crosses into something frightening. That boundary between performance and personhood makes every decision in Parasocial feel like a warning about where that kind of fandom can lead. Having been stalked before, I felt the same creeping paranoia of constantly being watched, and the gaslighting from others insisting that this “normal” behavior is just fan devotion. Parasocial, at its most extreme, captures that anxiety perfectly. It’s a byproduct of the internet age’s compulsion to possess its idols: stripping people, even internet personalities, of their agency and, in doing so, eroding our shared humanity.
Other Hauntings
I did other things too, like:
7. SURVIVAL MULTIPLAYER HORROR GAME — Dead By Daylight
Above: a game I am so merciless at that not even “booping the snoot” of my Pig main will allow me to let up in a Killer match.
My friends can always tell when I’m mad or stressed because I’ll log another 100 hours into Dead By Daylight. It’s my stress-relief. I’ve maybe logged 700 hours into Dead by Daylight? No, you cannot add me as a friend, yes I am very good at it, no I have no shame. My two stress-relievers are watching The Sound of Music, or playing Dead By Daylight, and The Sound of Music is my “wake me up before I snap” movie, so trust that if I’m in the DBD stage, I’m self-soothing for something.
I’m in self-soothing mode. Stressful month. I love Dead By Daylight. I’ve been playing since it was released, on and off but mostly in the summer.
Right now I’ve been a Pig main on killer and a Quentin main on survivor. I’m really sad Chaos Mode has ended. I was really enjoying the spin-the-bottle perk combinations that set me up either for success or true disaster.
I usually run Pig with Hex: Pentimento and a full Hex build, because it makes people insane and I win every game. But even sometimes that lack of challenge can make things boring.
With Quentin I really switch up survivor perks on the mood: I like to use Windows of Opportunity always because dark maps literally blind me, sorry, but, usually the rest are a gamble. I use really unpopular survivor perks all the time in combo with Windows. It really chills me out.
8. DISNEY PRINCESS FILM — Frozen (Rewatch)
Above: a still from a movie I saw like 6 times when it came out.
I can’t believe it’s been ten years since I first fell under Frozen’s spell—back then, I saw it six times in theaters, belting out “Let It Go” like it was my anthem. As a kid, the film’s themes of sisterhood, self-discovery, and subversion of the classic Disney “true love” trope felt revolutionary and deeply comforting. Revisiting it now as a more grown-up viewer, I still find Elsa’s journey profoundly moving and the humor, especially Olaf’s innocent wisdom, just as charming.
That said, the animation hasn’t entirely stood the test of time. While the CGI was cutting-edge in 2013, the icy textures and character models now look a bit plastic and rigid compared to the lush, hand-drawn backgrounds of Disney’s golden age. There’s an honesty and warmth in classic 2D art in the way each brush stroke seemed to breathe life into a scene that Frozen’s slick surfaces can’t quite replicate. I miss the subtle imperfections of painted snowdrifts and the painterly glow of hand-animated firelight.
But even with its occasionally stiff visuals, Frozen still sparkles. The score remains a triumph of melody and emotion, and the story’s core — that love means acceptance, not perfection — resonates more deeply now that I’ve walked through my own winters of self-doubt. Ten years on, I’m grateful for the nostalgia rush and for remembering why I fell in love with Disney in the first place… even as I long for the hand-drawn beauty that first captured my imagination.
Unrelated: I did fully sob through the Broadway adaptation of Frozen that healed this frozen heart just a little bit just because it made me feel such childlike wonder and joy. But, they cut Frozen Heart. Why? That’s a banger, Disney! A banger!
9. SEMI-AUTIOBIO CRIME LIMITED SERIES — Happy Face (2025)
Above: Dennis Quaid Dennis-Quaiding in HAPPY FACE (2025)
I don’t have anything groundbreaking to say about this fictitious reimagining of a true story of the daughter of a serial killer, but I will say the performances are great, and it is massively entertaining if that’s up your alley. Sometimes I don’t watch television to nitpick whether it’s accurate to the original story, sometimes I watch to just see how other screenwriters are depicting these sorts of themes. It endlessly fascinates me. This was a thoroughly enjoyable watch, even if it ain’t exactly… how you say… “lore accurate?” *shrug*
10. TENNESSEE WILLIAMS GALORE — Outraged Hearts (Revival)
Above: a rehearsal room still of OUTRAGED HEARTS by Joey D’amore.
I had the honor of being asked to assistant lighting design Outraged Hearts, a revival of rare and not oft-performed productions of Tennessee Williams’ earlier drafts of STREETCAR and GLASS MENAGERIE (titled INTERIOR: PANIC and THE PRETTY TRAP, respectively) produced by THE FIREWEEDS. Directed by Jaclyn Bethany, this is the production’s New York debut at Houghton Hall Arts Community in their Fred Astaire Ballroom.
Without saying too much, it’s beautiful work. I got to work with a childhood best friend (Emmarose Campbell) on this production. Our stage management team and design team are stellar. Zoe Griffith’s lights are gorgeous. We finally used my lamps from the set of American Horror Story on a stage that I’ve held onto for about three years, so my babies are in a rad production. The cast is stellar— super physical and super invested in their characters. Also, Teresa Williams has done some beautiful set work on this show that has me stunned every time I walk into the room with a cup of coffee and a laptop full of notes. It’s a blend of NOLA charm and talent and NYC rise and grind in the rehearsal room every day, and I’m really proud of it. It just looks so fucking cool. Every few seconds in the rehearsal room I type into my lighting notes: “Jesus, that’s cool.” I really can’t say much. There’s a reason this production is special. Please come see it. Jaclyn worked really hard on it, as has everyone, and it’s a labor of love from Tennessee Williams scholars and experts in the room.
In my early career as an actor, I played Stella in Streetcar. As a burgeoning young trans person I had a hard time grappling with my own experiences with abusive relationships and this character and I don’t think I was quite in the right hands for the specificity that Tennessee Williams’ works deserve. I didn't feel held in the way someone with that material should be— guided through the thunderstorm that is that show with an umbrella waiting for me at arm’s length— and it was hard to separate myself from the character in ways that weren’t healthy for me. For a very long time, that neglectful experience had soured me to Williams and I had complicated feelings about sitting through his work, or having my own work as a playwright compared to him. While his naturalism was something I’d experienced young, his more heightened worlds were out of my reach. This is a room of people who are loving and trusting each other to dig deeper into the subversive parts of William’s writing and wrestle out its humanity. This is a team that’s full of folks who are very passionate and knowledgable about Tennessee Williams. It’s been incredibly delightful for me to bear witness. If you’ve been afflicted by A Bad Experience Doing Tennessee Williams like I have, let this one change your mind a bit and disappear into the New Orleans heat for a summer smash.
11. MY OWN WORK — MOUTHS FULL’A MOONLIGHT (working title), a new horror play
above: a little sketch I photocopied from my journal for this play.
No, I’m not being facetious or conceited about not wanting to say more on this I just don’t want to jinx myself on a piece I’m really passionate about.
I’ve written five new full-lengths in this calendar year (2025) so far. Not all of them are refined. There’s two I’m really proud of, and it’s this one, and PRINCEOFPRINCEOFPRINCEOF.
Let’s just say I’m back in my Southern Gothic era and god would I like to live in this one a wee bit longer.
12. MY OWN WORK — IVORIES Rehearsal Draft
I’m on draft 78 after 5-give-or-take years working on this play that’s preparing to open Off-West. I’m nervous as hell. I’ve changed the dialogue at least ten times in the opening scene. A mentor in undergrad once told me I would change the first ten pages of my work for the rest of my career and I laughed then— but he was so right.
More on IVORIES another time, but I froze the script for rehearsals in a month and just wanted to commend myself for that. I’m in really excellent company. Tech, and cast.
Until next time.
Riley xx