Jumpers. Tom Stoppard

bed for the first bedroom scene in Act Two, rather than for the final bedroom scene, with a consequent adjustment of the dialogue. This gives a better shape to the Act, and I gratefully record that for this idea, and for much else, I am indebted to Peter Wood whose insight and inventiveness were a crucial influence on Jumpers throughout rehearsals. The other most noticeable change is the disappearance of Scott from the Coda, a more difficult decision but I think on balance the right one; he added little and delayed much.

      There are three playing areas, the STUDY, the BEDROOM, and the HALL.

      There is also a SCREEN, hopefully forming a backdrop to the whole stage. Film and slides are to be back-projected on to this Screen on a scale big enough to allow actors and furniture to mask the images without significantly obscuring them.

      It is an essential requirement of the play that the Bedroom can be blacked out completely while the action continues elsewhere. Where this cannot be achieved by lighting alone, it might be an idea to put the Bedroom in a permanent gauze box; but raising and lowering a gauze screen is not encouraged. Another possibility, where the facility exists would be to put the Bedroom on a revolve.

      For the purpose of the stage directions given hereafter, I am assuming the following layout.

      The FRONT DOOR is Upstage Centre. The HALL is right-angled, c passage coming downstage from the Front Door to the footlights turning Stage Right along the front of the stage and disappearing intc the wing at Downstage Right, where it leads to unseen Kitchen Living Room, etc.

      The STUDY occupies the whole area stage Left of the Hall and Fron Door.

      The BEDROOM occupies the rest of the stage, i.e., the area inside th reverse-L-shape of the Hall.

      The apartment belongs to GEORGE, a Professor of Moral Philosophy married to a prematurely-retired musical-comedy actress of some re nown, DOROTHY. The general standard of living suggested by the fla owes more, one would guess, to musical comedy than moral philosophy and this is especially true of the Bedroom which is lushly carpeted an includes among its furnishings a television set remotely-controlled by an electronic portable switch; a record player; two elegant straight-backed chairs and one comfortable upholstered chair; a globular gold-fish-bowl containing one goldfish; and a four-poster bed which can be enclosed at will by the drapes adorning its corners. The effect is elegant, feminine, expensive. The Bedroom has two doors, one leading into the wings at Stage Left (the unseen Bathroom), and the second into the Hall. This latter door must be sturdily fixed. It opens inwards, the hinges upstage, so that when this door is wide open the inside of it is hidden from the audience. The room also has a french window, guarded on the exterior by a mock-balcony or balustrade; it overlooks streets and sky, for the flat is in an upper floor of big old-fashioned but newly redecorated and converted mansion.

      The STUDY contains a day-bed against the upstage wall, bookshelves above the bed, a desk and chair for the Secretary, and a bigger desk for George placed against the footlights. On the wings-side of the room is a tall cupboard or wardrobe, and a small wash-basin with mirror. The room contains, somewhere, a tape-recorder; a bow and quiver of arrows, together with an archery target about a yard in diameter; an electric typewriter for the Secretary to use; a smallish wooden box such as a small tortoise might live in, and a large wooden box such as a rabbit might live in. There is a door into the Hall. The window would be in the fourth wall, but not above the desk for that space is occupied by a large (though imaginary) mirror. George’s desk, when we discover it, is a clutter of books and manuscript, and a tumbler containing pencils.

      However, none of the above is visible for the first few minutes of the play, for which is required an empty space….

      THE CHARACTERS

      GEORGE is between 40 and 50, and still attractive enough to make it perfectly plausible that he should be married to DOTTY who is ten to fifteen years younger and very beautiful indeed.

      ARCHIE is a dandy, as old as George or older.

      INSPECTOR BONES is middle-aged and carelessly dressed.

      CROUCH is old and small and a bit stooped.

      The SECRETARY is young and attractive but poker-faced, almost grim, even on her first appearance, in which she performs as a stripper.

      The JUMPERS are dressed in yellow uniforms—tracksuit trousers and singlets—and although they pass muster at first glance, they are not as universally youthful or athletic-looking as one might expect.

       ACT ONE

      ARCHIE (unseen): And now, ladies and gentlemen, on the occasion of a momentous victory at the polls, may I present your hostess and mine, making a most welcome reappearance, the much-missed, much-loved star of the musical stage, the incomparable, magnetic Dorothy Moore! (DOTTY enters. Much applause.)

      DOTTY: Thank you, thank you for coming.

      (Music introduction for ‘Shine on Harvest Moon’. She dries.) And now, making a most welcome reappearance, the incomparable, unreliable, neurotic Dorothy Moore. (Applause. Cheers. Introduction repeated.) How does it begin? (GUESTS, offstage, sing ‘Shine on, shine on harvest moon’.) (Singing, but going wrong immediately.) I want to spoon to my honey I’ll croon love’s June or July. (Breaks off.) No I can’t. I’m sorry (and goes). (Drum roll.)

      Cries of disappointment change to cries of delight.

      Like a pendulum between darkness and darkness, the SECRETARY swings into the spotlight, and out. She is on a swing, making an arc from wing to wing, in sight for a second, out of sight for a second, in sight for a second, out of sight for a second… back and forth. The swing itself hangs from a chandelier.

      Cheers.

      Each time she reappears she has taken off some clothing.

      Grateful cheers.

      CROUCH enters from side, the porter pressed into service to serve drinks at the party. He wears a short white coat and carries a round tray balanced on one hand, drinks on tray.

      He is going to stray into the line of vision. Voices warn him away, good-humouredly.

      CROUCH does not know what is going on: every time he turns downstage, the SECRETARY is in view behind him, and every time he looks upstage the gap is empty.

      ‘Mind your back!’

      ‘Out the way!’

      ‘Let the dog see the rabbit!’

      CROUCH is bewildered.

      The SECRETARY is nearing nakedness, obscured. The unseen watchers are nearing hysterical frustration.

      At the climax of their cries, CROUCH backs into the path of the swing and is knocked arse over tip by a naked lady, BLACKOUT and crash of broken glass. Immediately:

      VOICE (ARCHIE’s voice): ‘And now!—ladies and gentlemen!—the INCREDIBLE—RADICAL!—LIBERAL!!—JUMPERS!!’ (White spot. Musical introduction. EIGHT JUMPERS enter jumping, tumbling, somersaulting, four from each side of the stage: a not especially talented troupe of gymnasts possibly using a trampoline. Discreet musical accompaniment. Their separate entrances converge to form a tableau of modest pretension.)

      DOTTY (entering): That’s not incredible…. Well, is it? I can sing better than that. I mean I can sing better than they can jump. (DOTTY wanders on to the stage in front of the now disassembling tableau. Her blonde hair is elegantly ‘up’, her white dress is long and billowy… she looks fabulous, stunning. She flaps a hand dismissively at the JUMPERS.) (Equably.) No good—you’re still credible. (Generally.) Get me someone unbelievable! (GEORGE, holding sheets of paper,