Broad Theatre
M-AAA Artistic Innovations FY27 — Work Samples
Project: MS Again

(Molly is alone. This is sad. Molly is sad too. She walks again, but easily gets lost. Is it like those scenes in Severance? Or in Labyrinth? She doesn’t know where to go and is getting freaked out. It’s a panic attack. She tries to get out of it but it’s hard. She does the counting thing, a breathing thing, until her mantra works) Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. (Maybe she repeats it until she can breathe again) Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. (Maybe doors appear and she has to pick one like in IT. Maybe they say something ominous like “Teeth” “Breasts” “Uterus” “Eyes” “Brain” and she can’t decide, but eventually picks “Breasts” and walks through.)

Mammogram Technician: Your first mammogram! Welcome to 40!

Molly: Oh wow.

Mammogram Technician: The thing is about the little ones, they can be just as dangerous as the big ones! Scootch up here, close as you can, is it ok if I touch you? (Molly gives permission) Get as close as you can, place your hands up here, yep, that’s right. I’m just gonna check and make sure we’re looking at the right area. Hold still, as still as you can.

Molly: Ok.

Mammogram Technician: Scootch a little closer, if you can, just get in there. Need as much tissue as possible. (Molly mashes her body against the machine) Up close and personal. 

(Do we go back to Molly mashed up against a cold, sterile machine, embracing it in a weird way, being held by a machine, you almost have to be held by it when your boobs are so small.)

Mammogram Technician: This shouldn’t be painful, but it might be uncomfortable. (She’s using the flattener thing, flattening the breast tissue as flat as possible. Molly gets upset, the technician stops) Too much? Oh, sweetie, it’s ok. It’s ok! This is just a routine screening, we’re not looking for anything specific. You’re doing what you should to make sure you don’t have anything curious looking. It’s preventative! (Molly is getting more upset) Oh, there you go. It’s ok, just let it all out. It’s ok. Shh, shhh- just keep that little boobie in there. You’re ok, hon. It’s just a checkup, you get checkups all the time. Your teeth, your eyes, hopefully you’ve been getting pap smears to keep up with all that, now you got your breasts, gotta make sure those are in tip top shape.

Molly: (Through her tears) TiT top shape.

Mammogram Technician: That’s right! Tit top shape, that’s a good one. I didn’t even think of that and I’ve been doing this for over 30 years! All right, you ok? You ready to get started?

Molly: I’m scared. I think… I think I’d rather not know. I wish I’d never known. It’s all I’ve thought about every day for the last 20 years. Every time I stub my toe, or swallow something down the wrong pipe, forget a word, can’t open a really sealed jar - I think is this it? I’ve spent my whole life waiting for something to happen. I used to think it was something amazing, waiting to meet someone or be chosen, but I realized I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Mammogram Technician: It’s not wrong though. You ready to get this part done? Atta girl. Ok, let’s just reset to tit top shape, get ‘em smashed, get ‘em flashed, and get you on with your life.

(Does Molly give the machine one last hug before she moves on? Maybe she finds a small vial a la Alice in Wonderland again- one says “Forget me” the other says “Smell me”. Maybe there’s a chair and it’s big and ominous like someone is going to be in it when it turns around, she spins it around and it’s nothing. She sits. Maybe she dramatically spins the chair around as if it would make the other person appear, but nothing happens.)

Molly: Hello? Is there anyone here? I’d like to see the Doctor now! It’s time I see the Doctor! Please! (She waits, nothing.) I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I mean, if this was a regular checkup, I think I know what to do, it always starts the same. The Doctor is always like “Thank you for waiting” and I make some joke about how time stops in these rooms. And the Doctor has notes and charts about me but they always act like it’s the first time I’ve been here, but it’s not. And they ask me to regurgitate my entire relevant medical history, which, I think has been covered up to this point. And then the Doctor is like “Ok, well, can I check you out” and they start the physical exam, which is like this

(Molly and the audience work together to perform the physical exam. There are a few fun tools, this vibrating tool, the reflex mallet, stethoscopes, flashlights to do the eyes. We might get a volunteer to do it with Molly and then that audience member can check on other people, or maybe pass it around. Maybe an audience member will hit Molly’s knees so they jump? Molly can guide a volunteer to do the heel-toe-heel-toe bit, make a joke about not drinking and driving. Wouldn’t it be amazing if there was a moment where there was a cacophonous symphony of people examining each other? After maybe 5 minutes, Molly gets a volunteer to do the strength test with her on stage.)

Molly: Ok, last one, let’s all calm down, take a seat, I want everyone to see how strong I am. You push on the tops of my knees and make sure you can feel my resistance, ok, and the next one. And now, the arms, I go like this (Molly puts her fists on her chest, elbows out) and you push down on my elbows and I’ll resist. (They do and something happens, maybe she acts like it hurts her, maybe it does. When in actuality it’s very triggering. This was supposed to be the fun part, but the body remembers. There is something about this particular movement in Molly’s body that confuses her and makes her gasp. It’s this gesture, this weird arm position, never used in any other activity in life, reserved for this instance only and always. It’s not fun. It never really was. She tries to recover.) Round of applause, please. Thank you! And then we, what, what does the Doctor do next? I think this is where they say my exam looks great. And that I am in great shape, just looking great, which is really great because… I still am not ready for this to be real. (She suddenly jumps up) Hello! HELLO! IS THERE ANYONE HERE? WHERE IS THE DOCTOR? Why am I alone? Does anyone work here?? Is this a life lesson? Was I the Doctor all along? Was I supposed to learn some fucking bullshit about the power inside me all along or whatever? 

(Knock, knock)

Handsome Male Doctor: Did someone say help? (Playwright note: Please note no one said help.)

Molly: Please, no. Not a handsome man doctor, I can’t do that. I don’t want it. Not now.

Handsome Male Doctor: But I can help you! Trust me!

Molly: GET OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Knock, knock)

Molly: No, thank you! I’m ok! I can take care of this on my own now, thank you!

(KNOCK, KNOCK)

Molly: Go away! I’m ok! I’ve been doing just fine, all alone thank you very much. I don’t need anything, at all. Please leave!

(The knocks continue, overwhelming, growing and growing. Molly pleads for it to stop, ignores it, the sound eventually dies out. Eventually, there’s a new knock, it sounds different - not the hard back-to-back thumps, but soft playful, knocking)

Molly: Come in?

(Maybe we hear a door open?)