Aladdin's Electric Lamp

An apparently light, comic fantasy with a strange, sinister undertone. It uses a continuous flow of lyric dialogue, time-shifts, backflashes, comedic bits, music and dance.

ROBERT, who describes himself as a "New York night-owl with steel fingers and a tongue of ice", narrates a chain of incidents that changes his life forever.

One unusual morning, he finds himself in Central Park and is suddenly overwhelmed by a young woman, SHE, who attaches herself to him and follows him home. She communicates with him in ways that he doesn't understand; all he knows is that she is the most beautiful, desirable, all-embracing person he has ever encountered.

But he has a problem: He is living with another woman, MADELINE, who he considers the most fulfilling woman he has ever met. Aye, there's the rub! And rub they do as they take us through what makes ROBERT run, what makes MADELINE rebound, and what makes SHE... she!


MadelĂ­n de Rumba

The driving sound of Latin music. Madelin appears, colorfully dressed, dancing with a male mannequin, a soft, floppy dummy dressed in a tuxedo without the bow tie. His feet are strapped to her feet. She holds "him" erect by the arms... among other places.

They dance, she and her dummy, in frantic movements, huge sweeps to the floor, dizzying spins across the stage. Suddenly she stops, shifting her shoulders, rolling her hips, staring at her partner. Then she snaps her head to the audience.

MadelĂ­n  I am exotique... no? I am passionata... eh? I am a mujer without hair... I am desire with fire... I am woo-mahn... I am love... (hissing) I am sssex... (whispering) I am crazy... muy loca!

(She dances off with her "man". At one point, she grabs his ass and makes his body bolt into the air. At another point, she drapes "him" over a chair and kisses "him" roughly, bites "him" in the neck, spreads her legs and his, and rhythmically pumps "him" up and back. She stops abruptly, whirls around, plops in the chair letting go of the dummy's arms. He falls over in a backward arch, his feet still strapped to hers.)

(With no accent) Crazy... and tired. Olá, am I tired... of all the bullshit dripping from their faces. The two-faced looks... the two-faced talks... the this-is-the-way-I-am-today, and tomorrow-is-another-day. Oh yes... I'm tired, but not too tired to go on living, to go on dancing, to go on f...

Published in Scene4

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