My dad… he’s not a bad man, but he has that bad habit with the drinking. It’s hard for me to be around him, ‘cause I hate to see him like this, miserable. I wanna take care of him, give him money or something, but… Let’s be fair – I can hardly deal with my own damn misery. I visit him once in a while, out there in the desert, I even make some plans about how next time when I visit I’ll do something more for him… But then I hit the road and it’s all the same every time. Or… Or maybe I hate to see him like this cause I feel that I’m looking at myself, of what I’m gonna be in twenty years – silly old crackpot, drunk and lonely in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, probably that’s it.
And my mom, well, she’s kind of… let’s say naïve. She still acts like me and Austin are the little boys that used to chase each other in the yard. Like she lives in some kind of a dream. I hate that crap, and I sometimes I even want to shake her and make her open her eyes, but… then when I come to think of it, I don’t really want her to see me like that. So maybe it’s better that way.
And this Saul Kipper… or Kimmer…whatever. He just popped up in the whole picture just some days ago. He seems like a nice guy. We played golf and stuff. One of those Hollywood guys. But anyway, I’m not falling for all that. He may seem like your best friend, but all he chases is his own interests. These people usually make you feel confident, make you feel important, like you know, the talented screenwriter, the bright future, the top of the world… And then they suck you dry, chuck you and go for the next loot. That’s how they make their living. So I’m playing the naïve inexperienced guy with the hot story everybody wants so bad, but underneath I’m wide awake. Damn, this whole Hollywood shit, it’s not for me. I don’t really fit into this. I just wanna finish this, get my money and disappear. But who knows, maybe when I smell the big money, maybe then I’ll feel different about it and I’ll decide to stay. I think that’s what scares my brother Austin so much.
And the problems… where to start from? I can’t even formulate the problems in my life one by one. It’s like my life itself is a problem. I am a problem. The world is a problem. To begin with that when you’re 40-something there’s not much you can change about yourself and your way of life. Probably cause I’m getting used to this. Like cigarettes. You promise to yourself “Tomorrow I’ll stop smoking!” Tomorrow comes, then you say “Hey, let’s finish the box and I’m leaving it all behind”, and the next day you buy another box, promising to yourself “This is the last one and then I leave them for good.” Call it a bad habit, call it a weak will, call it a lack of motivation… Maybe I need something to shake me up, to strike me as lightning and make me get serious and do something about it. Just like asthma or a sudden lung disease will make you quit smoking at once. All I need is to clench my fists and believe that I still can do something. But days pass and nothing happens, and when I look back and see all the wasted years, it just kills any hopes… It’s like “Tomorrow I’ll start all over again! A new man.
Poor mom, is she going to be devastated when she comes back and sees how her li’l gardeners took care of her plants. But that’s probably nothing compared to the house we turned into a pigsty. There were some leftovers in the fridge a few days ago, now there are only a couple of beers, unfinished twelve-pack. The rest of the pack is around – some cans on the table, some rolling on the floor… Stains on the carpet, stains on the hangings, stains on the covers, dirty dishes in the sink. And if you think this is a mess just wait till you see the fire in that bowl in middle of the room. The pages of my script one by one going to the flames... Ashes fly around… Guess that gives a whole new definition of “Hell’s Kitchen”, huh? And imagine me, a guy with a 9-iron golf club, smashing a freakin’ typewriter… I mean, just look at the picture, how insane is that? If you’ve never seen a guy on the edge take a look at me. No crickets this morning, just the sound of my hits on the stupid typewriter. And those damn cayotes yapping out there like they’ve gone mad.
I need a break. I need a sleep. I need fresh air… Bullshit. I need to go to the desert. Yeah, that’s what I need.
Again! Ah, if I only could convince Austen, make him help me… If he only listens… All I want from him is to sit down on his butt for a couple of hours and help me with this screenplay. I just can’t write it on my own. What can I do to make him cooperate, huh? Oh, I know… So he wants to see what it is like on the other side, he wants to try it out in the desert. The fool, he couldn’t make it out there for more then a few days, then he’ll run away crying for his mom.
At this point of the play according to me Lee is acting like a complete wrench. So does Austin, but that’s another issue. There is an opportunity, a huge opportunity, and for both of them to work together and earn lots of money . All they have to do is sit down, talk it over, and work together. But instead settling their issues, the two act like children. Neither of them is willing to say he’s sorry, neither of them is willing to settle down his pride a little bit… From my point of view it’s not so hard to leave the differences behind and try to do on, especially when you have such a promising opportunity lying ahead of you. Imagine the luck they’ve struck, imagine the money they’ll get, the life they could have. It’s a real waste!
“True West” is generally about two brothers switching places. The younger brother, Austin, is the ambitious and decent Hollywood screenwriter, trying to break through, working on a very promissing script and talking over a potential deal with an important Hollywood producer. The older brother, Lee, is a thief. And the conflict in the play comes when the producer who was negotiating with Austen prefers to take on Lee’s story, considered by him to be a “true western”. Austin is irritated and growing furious, and his anger reflects Lee’s behaviour too. The two brothers are forced to face the alternative – what it would be like to be the other one.