Synopsis: | A playwright (Mary), writes an autobiographical play based on her life and her relationship with her mother and daughter. Unfortunately when she gets her life onstage, she discovers that as a play, it has problems. The structure’s wobbly, character arc muddy, plot and style inconsistent and the premise... well she’s not sure it has one. So during previews, in order to make sure her life/play isn’t a flop, Mary hires a dramaturge to give her notes on how to “fix it”. The dramaturge begins giving notes with confidence, but as the play/life continues, she’s horrified to discover the rules of dramatic structure don’t apply to real life which changes from comic to tragic without foreshadowing, poetic justice or even logic. No one learns from their mistakes and nothing makes sense. What idiot wrote this? The dramaturge wants to quit, but the playwright won’t let her. So the dramaturge watches the life still looking for premise, journey, turning point, defining moment, enlightenment, conclusion. Structured, logical. Like the movies we see, novels we read. Leading us to believe life is like art. But life is not like art; all we get in life is...Well that’s what the play’s about. |