Humble Beginnings

The French Butler ~ An Evening's Diversion had its humble beginnings in boredom (or ennui, more precisely). In the middle of my Junior year of High School, I realised that I wasn't being challenged enough (never mind the number of classes and extracurricular activities, "not challenged enough" is a common complaint of obsessive compulsives who are also left-handed!), and so applied to my English teacher for an Independent Study. A friend of mine (and fellow co-editor of every publication they'd allow us to be on) who shared my mental restlessness (despite her right-handed handicap), joined in and soon we three settled upon the following course of action.

Over the next two quarters (approx. a month and a half in length, so three months all together), we would each choose two authors, read their greatest work, research their lives and criticism on their work, and write a report examining each author's worldview and how their work exemplified that worldview. Then, just because these were the myopic, word-bound girls we were...um, are...we would also write a short story in the author's style. I chose Émile Zola and Oscar Wilde, the latter of which naturally produced The French Butler.

The play itself was written in one night. I'd done my reading, and written my paper, but the play had yet to be done. I knew that I wanted to use basically the same seven characters from my Zola story (see next paragraph), the better to see how environment/style affects the same crew, but beyond that I'd no idea. From reading Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray (including Chapter 11 - the infamous "Dust Mote" laundry list), and The Importance of Being Earnest, I had gleaned some basics of his style. For example, he always had at least one dandy character in his plays, an Aunt is often to be found somewhere (after reading more British comedy, however, I've come to the conclusion that the English have something against Aunts in general), and characters spoke either in witty speeches, or witty couplets/triplets (i.e., Arnold: "Misery loves company." Madeline: "And the lack of company loves misery!"), but as for a plot, I'd no idea. Fortunately, my fellow scholar was also in the middle of agonising over her project (I think she'd chosen Jane Austen and was attempting a modern day marriage fest which, as far as I recall, included all of our friends as characters, and had me marrying an Opera singer in France), and so late late late at night we called each other frantically back and forth on the phone in conversation, like so:

Emily: "Kristen? Aaaarugh!"

Kristen: "Hi, Em. Yeah, me too."

Emily: "I cannot for the life of me figure out what to do with them next."

Kristen: *clack clack clackity clack clack* "Dang!"

Emily: "How in the world do I.... What's that?"

Kristen: "It's straw! It's all straw!"

Emily: "Who's idea was this again?"

Kristen: "Yours." *mumblegrumble* "How'd you like to be married to a French Opera singer?"

Emily: "Is he a tenor or a bass?"

Kristen: "Baritone."

Emily: *considering whilst scrolling aimlessly up and down the screen* "Baritones are good."

Kristen: "I hate Jane Austen."

Emily: "I hate Oscar W...wait a minute...! If I...."

Kristen: "Hold on a sec, Em, your character's finally talking."

Emily: "Gotta run, I think I know what I'm doin...."

Kristen: *click*

Synopsis

So you see how well we collaborate. Naturally, each of our stories were written in due time, and mine revised in due time, to finally tell the charming, and "quite useless" tale of Philip Higgins, who, in order to gain the hand of the fair Madeline, agrees to her guardian's, Mr. Richard's, demand that he "find some form of employment other than [Mr. Richards]." Finding himself promptly fired, and learning that his friend's, Arnold's, Aunt Davis has lately informed her nephew that he is giving a dinner party - and, further, that she has just fired his butler, decides to take up Arnold's rather unique employment opportunity.

Unfortunately, once he arrives at Arnold's, he discovers that not only is Aunt Davis' Butler-Loving protégée, Emma Delamonde, in very interested attendance, but that his former employer, Mr. Richards, and his would-be fiancée, Madeline have also come. A spur of the moment scheme is concoted, and Arnold introduces Philip as "Philippe Heegeens," his new French Butler. Everyone accepts this ridiculous statement with aplomb - for Aunt Davis is interested in the widowed Mr. Richards, Philip's newfound nationality only piques Emma's interest, and Arnold is too busy taking notes for his latest novel. But Madeline, who, since it is the fashion, has suspected Philip of infidelity, breaks off all engagements with Philip half-way through the party, leaving Aunt Davis to remark, "Now we are short one dinner guest again! Whatever shall we do?"

The next morning, Philip returns to Mr. Richards, to return his borrowed clothes to the actual butler, Henry. Henry, ever with an eye for self-improvement, offers his serviced in winning back Madeline, and stuffs Philip beneath the couch. Madeline enters, still in raptures over her lost love, when Arnold comes in, elated over his success in converting the previous night's debacle into, "the best piece of fiction [he's] ever written." Before they can celebrate, however, Mr. Richards and Aunt Davis waft in and proclaim that they are engaged - and more, that everything they have ever done before is now to be forgot...including Philip's rather abrupt dismissal from Mr. Richards' employ. Henry reveals Philip, and sidles off himself with Emma, followed by the glowing older couple. Thus Philip at last proposed and is, in turn, accepted, with Arnold's closing remark, "And thus ended their love affair, in a rather tragic and ordinary manner."

Curious little NAQ (Never Asked Question): the seven cast members of The French Butler have exact counterparts in my Émile Zola-look alike story (which was never properly titled beyond Kristen's critical remark, "Oh, it's La Bohème pays the rent!").

In Paris, Philip, the hero and sometime "French Butler" is Philippe, the painter, who doesn't get the girl. Arnold, the dandy, is Armand, the author, who has and keeps the girl. Madeline is Madeline, but instead of the perky ingénue, she's Armand's rather downtrodden mistress. Conversely, Madeline's guardian, Mr. Richards, is M. Richard, the landlord, who accepts Madeline's proposition as payment for the rent. And Arnold's Aunt Davis is M. Richard's sickly wife, who is sure that her - until the end of the story - faithful husband is having affairs left and right! (A far cry from Mr. Richards' late, lamented wife in The French Butler who, "Treated everyone as if they were her husband" while Mr. Richards continued on oblivious.) Emma Delamonde, Aunt Davis' protégée with an eye for matrimony, is the little maid who closes the door on Madeline. And Henry, the Butler is...well, Henri, the Butler. (Overall, I think I prefer the lighthearted Oscar to the rather down-and-out Émile...but then again, there's a place for each, eh?)

Production

Anyway, come four years later in my Junior year in college, a fellow theatre major, and I were thinking of doing a scene for the Fine Arts Festival and so were reading every play we could get our hands on to find a scene that wasn't from Mourning Becomes Electra. At some point I suggested looking at this play I had written, and within a few hours we'd called up her boyfriend, my household brother, and we were all giggling and taking parts. Either it was the wine or it was the hour (and my bet's on the latter since the former was non-existant), but by the time the dorm closed and all men were kicked out, we were seriously thinking about putting this silly thing on! Well, this came to that, my roommate suggeted the title, my professor dubiously agreed to allowing it, we lost actors, got actors, lost hair and broke legs, and finally The French Butler went up for two wonderful nights.

The production isn't anything near what I would do now with it - for one most of the blocking was static and the set was lopsided - but it was a terribly interesting experience, and, more than anything, it was fun. OK - well, maybe it wasn't a barrel of laughs when my Arnold quit on me and I had to promote my butler to Arnold who had to learn umpteen speeches in two weeks, and then search frantically for a Henry, singing to myself, "Possibly she won't go down;/possibly she'll stay afloat./Possibly all this will come to an end/On a positive note," from Titanic...but it was fun.

(c) 2001
Updated 26 May, 2001
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