All Faculty Excerpts

The Dear Boy By Dan O'Brien

A New Play by Dan O'Brien Gotham Playwriting teacher Dan O’Brien will see his play The Dear Boy premiere in New York City with Second Stage, the renowned Off Broadway theater company. The play runs August 1-27, at the McGinn/Cazale Theatre, Broadway and 76^th Street. See above for special discount tickets. For all the details, click here.

The Dear Boy tells the story of Flanagan, an English teacher on the verge of retirement, who has been getting some very strange stories from one of his students, a gangly boy named James. To get a glimpse of how compelling the play is, sample this early scene between Flanagan and James:

JAMES

(knocks)

FLANAGAN

(writing; not looking)

James, Have a seat.

(still writing and not looking.)

One moment, please; I’m just now at the end
of something . . .

(JAMES strands himself at the window: blue
winter light, sun low already.)

(FLANAGAN lays aside his pen.)

FLANAGAN (cont’d.)

It’s good for them.

JAMES

(. . .)

FLANAGAN

The trees: if you cut the limbs in winter,
they grow back better in the spring.

JAMES

(after a moment)

Wow.

FLANAGAN

I noticed that image — all over your
story: trees with their limbs cut off.

I knew where you’d got it from.

JAMES
(As he stands to close the door:)

(. . .)

FLANAGAN

(offering)

Sit down, please, James.

(JAMES does sit; withdrawn, almost regal;
he crosses his legs in the macho manner.)

FLANAGAN (cont’d.)

(sits again, he pulls his chair

beneath & neatly under)

I suppose you know why you’re here.

JAMES

You asked me to come.

FLANAGAN

(. . .)

JAMES

In my story. The question mark.

You told me to come here . . .

FLANAGAN

Yes.

(Smiles; hides teeth.)

That’s true: I did ask you to come. To see
me in my office.

And do you know why?

JAMES

(“No.”)

FLANAGAN

We have a problem here, don’t we James.

JAMES

Do we . . . ?

FLANAGAN

Don’t we?

JAMES

. . . What kind of problem?

FLANAGAN

What kind of problem . . .

JAMES

I don’t know if we have a problem . . .

FLANAGAN

You don’t know . . .

JAMES

No. Not really.

FLANAGAN

—Do you enjoy class?

JAMES

This class?

FLANAGAN

Let’s start there - yes.

JAMES

Sure.

FLANAGAN

Why?

JAMES

(shrugs)

I don’t know . . .

I like books. I like English. It’s my
favorite language.

FLANAGAN

You like reading.

JAMES

Sure.

FLANAGAN

And writing?

JAMES

Who doesn’t?

FLANAGAN

(leaning in across desk)

Then why aren’t you happy here, my boy?

JAMES

(. . .)

FLANAGAN

You seem all right in class, in person;
it’s in these stories you write I think
I see someone who’s deeply, deeply disturbed . . .

JAMES

. . . I’m not disturbed.

FLANAGAN

You’re not . . . ?

JAMES

I’m happy.

FLANAGAN

(sits back)

. . . Do you have a girlfriend? What’s her name?
I’ve seen you with her: short hair, petite;
quite striking. —Does she read your stories?

JAMES

(shrugs)

Sometimes.

FLANAGAN

Does she like them . . . ?

She would have to like them, wouldn’t she,
if she likes you . . .

(He smiles; hides teeth.)

JAMES

(looks away)

(. . .)

FLANAGAN

Do you like me, James?

JAMES

(a hesitation; a smile)

. . . What do you mean?

FLANAGAN

Do you like me; your teacher.

JAMES

Why wouldn’t I like you, Mr. Flanagan?

FLANAGAN

Because I don’t like your stories. Very much.

JAMES

(a moment; he shrugs)

. . . They rejected Jesus too.

FLANAGAN

—I beg your pardon?