The Bronze Lining: New 2-Person 10-Minute Drama/Comedy
In 2019, I wrote The Bronze Lining, a 10-minute dramedy, with 2 great female roles. It’s about estranged sisters who attempt to reconnect during a hike after their mother’s death. There’s a lot of damage between them, stemming not only from some traditional sibling rivalry, but also from how each one handled the sickness of their mother, the process of dying, and now, the process of grieving. You can read an excerpt of the play here or get the whole play here.
This play was originally inspired by a painting, as part of The Living Art Event, a collaboration between visual artists of the Ossining Arts Council and the performing artists of Westchester Collaborative Theater (WCT). Jill Kiefer's piece, "Such a Bewilderness...", drew me in. I loved the richness, the muddiness, the twists, the brown and white and black, the textures, and that dragonfly escaping the mire into the air. The sisters in The Bronze Lining are also entrapped in their shared history, intertwined in the muddiness of complicated relationships that ebb and flow, damage and repair. Siblings have a connection that is going to bind them forever—although what sisters Mindy and Anne choose to do with that bond in the future, especially now that both of their parents are gone, is uncertain.
The production of this play has had its own complicated history, not without grief. In January 2020, at our first round of auditions, I met the director slated for this festival, Joe Albert Lima. He was smart, good-natured, experienced, and I immediately felt I could trust him with my play. He apologized for being a bit out of breath and coughing occasionally; he used an inhaler and mentioned his asthma had been bothering him. Tragically, less than a week later, he was hospitalized and passed away. While I didn’t know him well or long, I was shocked and pained by this loss, especially for his family and close friends. The theater community also felt this loss as he had a long history as a director in the area and was a founding member of WCT.
Meanwhile, covid-19 was making more and more headlines abroad.
WCT brought another director on board, Christopher Arena, and he graciously lifted up the theater members and moved forward with the production. And then covid-19 made its way into our community, as a nearby town in Westchester County became the epicenter of the spread. It wasn’t long before stores were closing down around us, and soon the production was postponed. Of course no one could predict how things would have changed.
Virtual Performance by Tagragg Productions (dir. Erin Coulter).
While WCT was on pause, in the Spring and Summer of 2020, The Bronze Lining became part of a Virtual Spring Production by Anchorage Community Theater (ACT) (dir. Colby Bleicher), and a virtual workshop by Tagragg Productions (dir. Erin Coulter). In Spring 2021, WCT’s Living Arts Festival mounted as a virtual production (still directed by Christopher Arena) and the actors who had rehearsed back in the winter of 2020 now performed their roles on Zoom.
As I look at these dates from the first two virtual presentations of The Bronze Lining (May and August 2020), I’m kind of impressed by how quickly these directors got their Zoom theater moving. I will forever be grateful to all those artists who pivoted quickly to keep theater flowing. But back in early 2020, it felt like A LONG TIME. I mean, no one had ever been in a lockdown or pandemic before—and one or two months was a lot longer than we expected when all this was first shaking down. As I look at the dates now though, I’m like—What? May 2020 is when ACT presented their Virtual Spring Festival? That was so early in the pandemic.
I mean, it feels early now in the much longer trajectory…
Maybe some of this complicated history has something to do with why I haven’t shared this short play online yet. Do I normally wait 2 years before posting a new 10-minute play? No. I don’t. But the pandemic has been weird, guys. And this play is kind of born up in the midst of all those weird feelings. Is that all though? I don’t know. This play is also…a bit more personal. All my plays come from inside of me, obviously, but I use allegories, dark comedy, absurdism and more, so the connection is not quite as direct. But my mother did have ALS. And I did care for her and I did blend up a Big Mac for her and I did care for her when she choked and a whole lot of other things. And I was there on her bed when she took her last breath. This much is true—although I diverge from other specifics.
I will say I am blessed to have my brothers, and still my dad. We are all different in how we respond to pain, tragedy, grief. And I accept us all where we are. No one knows how they will respond to something so monumental until they go through it. I am grateful that I didn’t have to go through death alone. I will always remember the time I spent with my brothers after my mother’s death, and as terrible as a death is, there is a kind of solace that you get knowing you are not alone in that grief.
I don’t want death to teach me lessons. I don’t need that. I appreciate life, living and my loved ones already. I am happy to learn lessons many other ways. However, having lost my mother and my two best friends within a few years, I am unfortunately, now familiar with that intense feeling of grief—that can consume you, make it impossible to eat or feel warm, or look at a happy photo or note without crying (I was SOBBING when I saw Disney’s Inside Out during this time period, which so captures that “sadness tinging joy” sentiment.). But I also know that family and friends are the backbone of comfort. The ones to make you cry in relief when you see that a friend has driven 6 hours to be at your mom’s funeral and you didn’t even expect that. The ones to make you appreciate that your children are excited to be eating blueberry bread and pizza the neighbors have dropped off. And the brothers and dad that make you feel accepted and understood in a hug. So when my friends have themselves, unfortunately, also faced tragedy and grief, I know that these gestures do matter. The griever may or may not remember all of these gestures, but these gestures and connections remind the griever that they are blanketed in love and care. And when there is nothing to comfort your actual grief, this reminder that you are loved, is something.
Well, friends, I could wax on about grief for a very long time. But maybe you want to read an excerpt of The Bronze Lining now, right? Or check out the entire play? You can do both below. And as much as grief is infused into this play, it’s not really about that. It’s more about sibling relationships, what ties you when your parents are gone, power, communication, feeling valued. This play has humor, sibling disdain, annoyance, connection. It’s not an exclusive drama. It should not be pulling you down into the mire. It should let you dip your feet in it, feel it, maybe keep a bit of mud on your foot, but, like the dragonfly, you will also fly out. :)
Click here for a free excerpt of The Bronze Lining.
Click below for the complete 10-minute play, The Bronze Lining.