archy and mehitabel one last time
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J.R.
SYNOPSIS
June and August are downsizing to a small apartment in assisted living. On their last night in the home they built together, June reflects on their shared history: the betrayals, the compromises, and the different identities she has taken on over the years. Once a man of words, August now sits in silence as June sorts through their lives in this meditation on marriage, mortality and what remains as time moves on.
PLAYWRIGHT’S BIO
J.R. Stephens is a New England-based playwright whose work explores mortality, memory and human connection through characters poised at life’s thresholds and navigating the pull of change. An active member of the Dramatists Guild of America, his plays include Testament of the Body (Tennessee Williams & New Orleans Literary Festival), A Quiet Light (10:4:TENN; Sharon Playhouse), and Sunset from the Atlantis (National Academy of Television Arts & Sciences). In addition to writing, Stephens is a performer, educator and librarian, all of which inform his interest in storytelling, history and the preservation of overlooked voices.
A BIT ABOUT THE PLAYWRIGHT
When did you start writing plays? If you had a moment where you realized you wanted to write, what was it?
I’m not sure there was a single “Aha!” moment when I realized I wanted to write. I was a voracious reader growing up and would read whatever I could get my hands on, from picture books to Ulysses, which sat on the top shelf of our living room bookcase. I definitely don’t pretend that I understood any of Ulysses, but I was fascinated by the way Joyce shifted formats throughout; I remember that being a moment when I realized writing could be many things.
Additionally, my father, who also writes plays, had this heavy brown electric typewriter that I loved. When I was very young, he would let me use the typewriter to write stories and “plays.” Both of my parents were and remain very supportive. For my seventh birthday, they got me my own little red plastic typewriter, on which I used to write, among other things, a two-paged play set on a beach featuring a feisty red-haired young woman named Jade. I have no idea if it exists anywhere (maybe somewhere in a box at my parents’ house), but I remember feeling very serious about it at the time.
How did you come to write your OOB play? Was there a particular inspiration behind its creation? How has it developed?
archy and mehitabel one last time began as a writing exercise and developed quickly into the play submitted for this festival. I had written an earlier short play that was set on a front porch, and I wanted to see how many other plays I could write using the same set. (While the possibilities are endless, to date, I’ve only managed three and a half.) I wrote the character of June for a friend who read the role for me a couple of times as I developed it. The title references characters created by Don Marquis in 1916 – a cockroach named Archy and a cat named Mehitabel. In the play, June reflects on how her husband, August, used to call her Mehitabel and himself Archy. That memory opens the door to a kind of reckoning with the nine lives she feels she’s lived – “Most Likely to Succeed,” “Wife,” “Mother,” and so on. Or rather, the eight lives she’s lived and the one she’s about to begin.
What are five words that describe who you are as a playwright?
Curious, observant, determined, reflective, evolving.
What/who are some of the major influences on your writing?
Tennessee Williams, Caryl Churchill, Enda Walsh, Anne Carson. I love writers who play and take risks with language, rhythm, form and expectations.
What’s one fact someone would never guess about you?
I never learned how to swim. I can keep my head above water, and I can make it from one end of a pool to the other, but it’s not pretty. My “technique” might best be described as “determined flailing,” which, honestly, feels like an apt metaphor for a fair number of things in life.
What are some of your favorite plays?
It’s a long list! The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore is absolutely my favorite Tennessee Williams play, though it has a long history of taking critical hits. I’m not saying it’s a perfect play, but what it has to say about acceptance – of ourselves, of one another, of purpose, and, most directly, of death – has stayed with me, especially as I get older. I’m also especially fond of Suddenly Last Summer and The Night of the Iguana. I think of the three as an informal trilogy, with each one probing big, unanswerable questions about what it means to be human and our need to believe in something larger than ourselves.
Misterman and Medicine by Enda Walsh both left quite an impact on me. I saw Misterman at St. Ann’s Warehouse and was absolutely stunned – not only by Cillian Murphy’s incredible performance but by the warped world Walsh created with words, stories and sounds. He did the same with Medicine. Walsh’s work continues to surprise and inspire me.
A few other favorites: Bakkhai by Euripides (in Anne Carson’s exceptional translation/adaptation); The Dance of Death and The Father by August Strindberg; The Visit by Friedrich Dürrenmatt; for colored girls… by Ntozake Shange; Buried Child by Sam Shepard; Bug by Tracy Letts.
Any new projects you’re working on or shameless plugs?
At the moment, I’m working on the [I’ve lost count of the number] draft of my play Testament of the Body. I recently received some generous feedback and am sifting through the play to see what holds, what wants to evolve, and what needs letting go. I’m also in the early stages of a new piece inspired by the diary of an 18th-century sailor. It’s grown quickly and somewhat wildly, and finding the right theatrical frame has been more challenging than I expected. I’ll admit I’ve set it aside more than once in favor of other work. However, talking about it here feels like a small act of accountability; now that I’ve put it out there, I’ll have no choice but to keep working on it.
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