Men with no Brains

Man without Brain

I’m working on two short plays this month, and each involves a dude without a brain. I’m sure there’s nothing symbolic in that at all.

The first is a piece I’m trying to get ready for next Wednesday’s Playwright Slam at Hyde Park Theatre. It’s about a fractured family whose patriarch has had his brain replaced by an Alexa-like device. All the other characters are women, and generally speaking, they seem to like this newer, more succinct version of him better than the previous one.

The other is called THE ALTAR OF RONNIE, and I’m happy to say that it was chosen for production at this year’s Out of Ink, also at HPT. I’m working with Ellie McBride as my director again (she and I go way back now), and I like her because she’s blunt and to the point about what does and doesn’t work (“Get rid of this Max fluff, you’re obviously just trying to fill space”).

That piece is a silly, broad comedy, basically about a young couple that steals an ex-president’s brain to try and make some extra cash (as you do).

Anyway, happy to do my part this month to remove brains from men. Maybe I’ll remove my own next.


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