Authors Notes/Play Description

Vampire Monologue’s is a concept album for the stage, not so much a play perhaps as a three-fisted rock and roll experiment.  The characters are moody and war torn, consistent with each other only in that they are a part of the same gritty environment.  This is a world where vampires roam the streets as vagrants, addicts, as victims of police brutality and spousal abuse.  They each have their own story and it is their hunters that are truly feared. At its heart Vampire Monologues is a comedic look into a classic role reversal situation.  It does its work because it gives us the liberty to laugh at some one else only to reveal sharply that it was ourselves we were laughing at all along.   The vampires here aren’t slick and sexy ala Ann Rice nor are they the manifestation of our worst puritanical nightmares ala Bram Stoker, no; here they are pretty much us.  The vampire who dons white makeup and fake fangs to try and drudge up some Klaus Kinski Nosferatu type fear only to beget laughter and finally torture in the “Opening Teaser” and “Strawjobs” is basically trying to fit in.  The biker vampire in “Rumors of Mecca” deals with his homosexuality by railing at classic stereotypes and longing at the same time to fit into them.  The militant feminist vampire was basically a shy and good-natured book worm until her drummer husband drove her to the brink of mental breakdown. So now she finds respite by rallying her sisters in arms through a turrets ridden spiel of world subjugation Jonathon the Jewish standup in “Bloodfiend Nuerotica” just wanted women to like him  but now no one likes him, he can’t stand the sight of blood and  he feels its important to hiss not only at the Star of David but the cross, "Just to be on the safe side."  It may be funny, but it’s no fun being a vampire.  On the flip side of the token we have the hunters and here the monstrous reversal comes more plainly into view.  There is the hunter who finds her peace only in torture, who sees her victims as cattle to be slaughtered in “Strawjobs.” There is the cop esk "What you gonna’ do when they come for you" doofus duo of hunters who trolley the streets in their squad car with a kit resplendent with various and sundered religious icons so that no vampire regardless of race, religion, or sexual preference will escape their dreaded stake in “Checklist.”  There is the hunter who takes his stripper girlfriend to the caves to "see some real vampires" only to get irritated and leave her behind because she wore pumps instead on hiking boots, merely to justify it because "I guess she just wasn’t the one."  In “At The Caves.” Perhaps the hunters are us too, only the worst of us.  Hell, as long as they make us laugh.Vampire Monologues was originally written for as few as three actors with very basic sets.  Its productions to date, however, have always used ten actors with most of its budget going towards actors and makeup.  It is one of the few equity-affiliated productions I’ve been a part of to actually make money, a fact of which I’m very proud.  The concept of this world has varied greatly from production to production, from “post apocalyptic heavy metal fare” to “turn of the century French goth”, melted mannequins and burnt bridal gown type fare, pseudo shabby chic. In my descriptions of this world, in the stage notes, I’ve found a middle ground.Vampire Monologues is a quintessential cult show.  A railing brawl at contemporary foibles, the bastard son of the Hayes code.  It is trash for the easily offended and, I hope, a good time for every one else.

Jeremy Childs

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