play the Macy part, and we found the fourteen-year-old Sean Nelson on our first day of auditions.
On the first day of rehearsals, Dustin Hoffman had already been working on Teach’s lines for weeks, and I think it would be fair to say that he was positively dazzled at their complexity. My fondest location memory is of Hoffman, poleaxed with exhaustion, checking his work at the video replay station.
“Wait, stop the tape a second. I had this. Christine, is it ‘Fuck you. Pause. Fuck. Pause. Fuck you’? or ‘Fuck you. Fuck. Pause. Fuck . . .’ Aaagh fuck me, what’s the line?”
Same as it ever was.
Mamet worked iambic pentameter out of the vernacular of the underclass, he made it sound like people talking, and he made it funny. The language was an immediate sensation, and over the years it’s made a lot of audiences very happy and a lot of actors very crazy. There’s more to the play than the words, of course, because there was more on Mamets mind than a linguistic parlor trick. Like some bastard offspring of Oswald Spengler and Elaine May, American Buffalo popped out, full grown, as the American drama’s funniest, most vicious attack on the ethos of Big Business and the price that it exacts upon the human soul.
As Dave might say, “Hey, some body had to do it.
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. He is peeling down the alley in a black and yellow Ford.”
Folk Tune.
American Buffalo
THE CHARACTERS
D ON D UBROW
A man in his late forties, the owner of Don’s Resale Shop
W ALTER C OLE, called T EACH
A friend and associate of Don
B OB
Don’s gopher
THE SCENE
Don’s Resale Shop. A junkshop.
THE TIME
One Friday. Act One takes place in the morning; Act Two starts around 11:00 that night.
ACT I
Don’s Resale Shop. Morning, DON and BOB are sitting.
DON : So?
Pause.
So what, Bob?
Pause.
BOB : I’m sorry, Donny.
Pause.
DON : All right.
BOB : I’m sorry, Donny.
Pause.
DON : Yeah.
BOB : Maybe he’s still in there.
DON : If you think that, Bob, how come you’re here?
BOB : I came in.
Pause.
DON : You don’t come in, Bob. You don’t come in until you do a thing.
BOB : He didn’t come out.
DON : What do I care, Bob, if he came out or not? You’re s’posed to watch the guy, you watch him. Am I wrong?
BOB : I just went to the back.
DON : Why?
Pause.
Why did you do that?
BOB : ‘Cause he wasn’t coming out the front.
DON : Well, Bob, I’m sorry, but this isn’t good enough. If you want to do business . . . if we got a business deal, it isn’t good enough. I want you to remember this.
BOB : I do.
DON : Yeah, now . . . but later, what?
Pause.
Just one thing, Bob. Action counts.
Pause.
Action talks and bullshit walks.
BOB : I only went around to see he’s coming out the back.
DON : No, don’t go fuck yourself around with these excuses.
Pause.
BOB : I’m sorry.
DON : Don’t tell me that you’re sorry. I’m not mad at you.
BOB : You’re not?
DON (Pause): Let’s clean up here.
BOB starts to clean up the debris around the poker table.
The only thing I’m trying to teach you something here.
BOB : Okay.
DON : Now lookit Fletcher.
BOB : Fletch?
DON : Now, Fletcher is a standup guy.
BOB : Yeah.
DON : I don’t give a shit. He is a fellow stands for something—
BOB : Yeah.
DON : You take him and you put him down in some strange town with just a nickel in his pocket, and by nightfall he’ll have that town by the balls. This is not talk, Bob, this is action.
Pause.
BOB : He’s a real good card player.
DON : You’re fucking A he is, Bob, and this is what I’m getting at Skill. Skill and talent and the balls to arrive at your own conclusions.
The fucker won four hundred bucks last night.
BOB : Yeah?
DON : Oh yeah.
BOB : And who was playing?
DON : Me . . .
BOB : Uh-huh . . .
DON : And Teach . . .
BOB : (How’d Teach do?) *
DON : (Not too good.)
BOB : (No, huh?)
DON : (No.) . . . and Earl was here . . .
BOB : Uh-huh . .
On the first day of rehearsals, Dustin Hoffman had already been working on Teach’s lines for weeks, and I think it would be fair to say that he was positively dazzled at their complexity. My fondest location memory is of Hoffman, poleaxed with exhaustion, checking his work at the video replay station.
“Wait, stop the tape a second. I had this. Christine, is it ‘Fuck you. Pause. Fuck. Pause. Fuck you’? or ‘Fuck you. Fuck. Pause. Fuck . . .’ Aaagh fuck me, what’s the line?”
Same as it ever was.
Mamet worked iambic pentameter out of the vernacular of the underclass, he made it sound like people talking, and he made it funny. The language was an immediate sensation, and over the years it’s made a lot of audiences very happy and a lot of actors very crazy. There’s more to the play than the words, of course, because there was more on Mamets mind than a linguistic parlor trick. Like some bastard offspring of Oswald Spengler and Elaine May, American Buffalo popped out, full grown, as the American drama’s funniest, most vicious attack on the ethos of Big Business and the price that it exacts upon the human soul.
As Dave might say, “Hey, some body had to do it.
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. He is peeling down the alley in a black and yellow Ford.”
Folk Tune.
American Buffalo
THE CHARACTERS
D ON D UBROW
A man in his late forties, the owner of Don’s Resale Shop
W ALTER C OLE, called T EACH
A friend and associate of Don
B OB
Don’s gopher
THE SCENE
Don’s Resale Shop. A junkshop.
THE TIME
One Friday. Act One takes place in the morning; Act Two starts around 11:00 that night.
ACT I
Don’s Resale Shop. Morning, DON and BOB are sitting.
DON : So?
Pause.
So what, Bob?
Pause.
BOB : I’m sorry, Donny.
Pause.
DON : All right.
BOB : I’m sorry, Donny.
Pause.
DON : Yeah.
BOB : Maybe he’s still in there.
DON : If you think that, Bob, how come you’re here?
BOB : I came in.
Pause.
DON : You don’t come in, Bob. You don’t come in until you do a thing.
BOB : He didn’t come out.
DON : What do I care, Bob, if he came out or not? You’re s’posed to watch the guy, you watch him. Am I wrong?
BOB : I just went to the back.
DON : Why?
Pause.
Why did you do that?
BOB : ‘Cause he wasn’t coming out the front.
DON : Well, Bob, I’m sorry, but this isn’t good enough. If you want to do business . . . if we got a business deal, it isn’t good enough. I want you to remember this.
BOB : I do.
DON : Yeah, now . . . but later, what?
Pause.
Just one thing, Bob. Action counts.
Pause.
Action talks and bullshit walks.
BOB : I only went around to see he’s coming out the back.
DON : No, don’t go fuck yourself around with these excuses.
Pause.
BOB : I’m sorry.
DON : Don’t tell me that you’re sorry. I’m not mad at you.
BOB : You’re not?
DON (Pause): Let’s clean up here.
BOB starts to clean up the debris around the poker table.
The only thing I’m trying to teach you something here.
BOB : Okay.
DON : Now lookit Fletcher.
BOB : Fletch?
DON : Now, Fletcher is a standup guy.
BOB : Yeah.
DON : I don’t give a shit. He is a fellow stands for something—
BOB : Yeah.
DON : You take him and you put him down in some strange town with just a nickel in his pocket, and by nightfall he’ll have that town by the balls. This is not talk, Bob, this is action.
Pause.
BOB : He’s a real good card player.
DON : You’re fucking A he is, Bob, and this is what I’m getting at Skill. Skill and talent and the balls to arrive at your own conclusions.
The fucker won four hundred bucks last night.
BOB : Yeah?
DON : Oh yeah.
BOB : And who was playing?
DON : Me . . .
BOB : Uh-huh . . .
DON : And Teach . . .
BOB : (How’d Teach do?) *
DON : (Not too good.)
BOB : (No, huh?)
DON : (No.) . . . and Earl was here . . .
BOB : Uh-huh . .
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