Missing Scene Essay Example For Students

Missing Scene Essay The scene is set in the interior of a bar at the Flamingo Hotel in Laurel. The bar has a mysterious quality to it and is very hazy with smoke. Its crowded with drunken men, many are crowded around the centre table drinking excessively together and occasionally shouting loud bawdy jokes to one another. There are four round wooden tables surrounding the centre one in front of the bar which has six tall stools standing at it. They are dark mahogany and upholstered with tattered and frayed red velvet. To the right there are two pool tables and a set of saloon doors leading to a hallway of guest rooms. The walls of the bar are painted light blue; however the paint has peeled at various places and appears to be fading. Three dwindling chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling exuding a gentle yellow glow that lends to the room an almost spectral quality mixed with the cigarette smoke. A small familiar band of Negro entertainers sing an upbeat but gentle rendition of the Count Basies Bolero at the Savoy. Blanche Dubois enters through the main door on the far left of the bar. She is wearing a luxurious hand-woven red silk dress lined with sable which compliments her figure and sits eloquently against the curves of her body. A gold diamond and ruby necklace with a double-link rope chain rests delicately on her neck. The ruby appears to pulse and there is an element of simplicity about her appearance which lends itself nicely to her radiance. Her face is made up with a combination of mascara, lipstick and foundation. She is carrying a small red snake skin purse with a starburst design on each side and a shiny gold trim. The men crowded around the centre table lower their voices and gaze at her as she crosses the bar to sit at one of the stools. For almost a second it seems like the entire bar comes to a standstill and time as an entity ceases to exist. As she sits they return to their prior state of drunken stupor and continue talking noisily. A few moments after Blanche enters and orders a drink, Laura enters through the same door. She wears a plain pale mint lace dress made from silk with cream sheer lace panelling. It has a slash neckline and sheer cropped sleeves. Its fitted neatly to her slender figure, emphasising the curvature of her bosom. A small silver necklace is placed around her thin neck. There is something unworldly about how delicate yet elegant she is. None of the men at the table take notice of her and she is thankful for the orange-red glow of the chandeliers which covers her flushed red cheeks. She wears no makeup and carries a small, unpretentious white leather quilted shoulder bag which has a gold tone chain and gold stud fastenings surrounding the designer push lock. Blanche is seemingly unaware of Lauras entrance and lights a cigarette as Laura approaches her. Laura gently touches Blanche on the shoulder. BLANCHE (to LAURA): Goodness Laura, I never saw you come in. Its been three months since weve last seen each other! Well with all that a few weeks ago, Im not surprised it has taken this long. LAURA: Blanche, why you look beautiful tonight. Its been too long; I didnt think I would have gotten out of that place without you. We were lucky BLANCHE: So how are you, dear? Did you get the message I left you? LAURA: Im okay and yes, I wasnt sure if you would be here already though. Ive been worrying you know. Blanche signals the bar tender. He is a young man with handsome features; high cheek bones, a strong jaw and deep-set blue eyes. There is a faint touch of stubble on his chin and his hair is strikingly black. Its swept back from his face and has sharp sides which show up quite starkly through his dark hair. Hes wearing a white shirt with a black waistcoat and bow tie. He polishes the glass he holds and then tends to Blanche. .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 , .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .postImageUrl , .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 , .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:hover , .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:visited , .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:active { border:0!important; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:active , .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466 .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u35b268459753c901624cdb9b6c7d6466:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Holocaust (1353 words) EssayBAR TENDER: Good evening maam, can I get you a drink? BLANCHE: May I have a crà ¯Ã‚ ¿Ã‚ ½me de Violette, sir. LAURA: That sounds exotic! BAR TENDER: Would you like one too, mlady? LAURA: I suppose it wouldnt hurt to try it. Can you make me one as well? BAR TENDER: (With exaggerated courtesy) Certainly, it would be my pleasure. I shall be right back with your drinks shortly. LAURA: (turning to Blanche) The man and woman living in the room above me are terribly noisy, Blanche. It sounds like a war going on up there! They are constantly moving furniture around and decorating. There hasnt been any silence the whole time Ive been there. The people are so noisy; its a lot noisier than my mothers house. I miss her. She was always pressuring me to go find a man and settle down, but I was too shy. Now Im living here on my own. Tom must be worried sick. BLANCHE: Tom? Yes I remember you showed me a photo. Hes your brother isnt he? BAR TENDER places their drinks in front of them. LAURA (frowning): Yes, its so strange not being around my family, I feel like I have grown up too fast. You see, I used to have a little set of glass animals I would play with, a bit of a menagerie. It all seems so long ago. My childhood died along with my mother and it was so fast. BLANCHE (reminiscing): I was married once Allen Sometimes I wish he was still here now; maybe I wouldnt be so lonely. Being single is hard for us, though Ill never admit it, but it has its perks, for instance She sees a man approaching her and finished her drink in one go. LAURA laughs to herself. BLANCHE sits up straight and waits for the man. The man smiles and takes her hand. BLANCHE (smiling): Im going to dance with this gentleman over by the piano, Laura. Will you be okay to sit here for a minute? LAURA (awkwardly): okay BLANCHE walks off into the smoky haze of the dim lit room with the man and starts to dance at the back of the room by the piano. She becomes nothing but a mere shadow amidst the ominous fog from burning cigarettes. LAURA turns and faces the bar and orders another drink. She begins to look around and reluctantly makes eye contact with a young man. As he approaches, taking a draw on his cigarette, she turns around quickly out of embarrassment. The man is dressed very casually. He has a beige pair of trousers on, a pair of boots and quite a tight t-shirt. He looks like a mans man, muscular with his box of cigarettes tucked into his sleeve at the top of his arm. He is twenty nine and in his prime. He is the epitome of masculinity. STANLEY (smiling with confidence): Evening miss, its nice to meet you, Im Stanley. LAURA (blushing): Evening Stanley, Im Laura. how do you do? STANLEY: Yeah Im good, thank you. And you miss? I dont believe weve met before, have we? LAURA: Why I dont think so. Are you having a nice evening Stanley? STANLEY: I sure am. Ive been out with the men from work tonight. We like to come up here every now and then. I live in New Orleans, its a bit of a ride up here. One of my acquaintances lives near here and I stay at his place while Im visiting. You with anyone tonight? A girl like you shouldnt be alone at the bar, you should be dancing with a gentleman like myself (smiling seedily). Believe me lady, Im not the type of guy to hand out compliments to a woman frequently. LAURA (going red now): Im afraid not, Ive never had much luck with gentlemen callers you see, Im not very good at talking to men. Would you like to dance with me Stanley? .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a , .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .postImageUrl , .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a , .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:hover , .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:visited , .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:active { border:0!important; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:active , .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u38b62eceacc760bbae8c7e16e6a6d47a:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Is Jay Gatsby Tragic? EssayLAURA moves through a yellow streak of light and radiates a sense of innocence yet there is an underlying sensuality about her. Stanley appears to become instantly infatuated as a moth would be with a street light. STANLEY (with a smouldering aura): Sure thing miss. As they move across the room together, STANLEY notices BLANCHE. He has been drinking fairly heavily since he arrived at the bar. He slams his glass down on a nearby table as he walks past and leaves LAURA to confront BLANCHE. STANLEY (suprised and angry): Well I cant believe what Im seeing. If it isnt Miss Blanche DuBois! I thought Id gotten rid of you! What are you doing here? I thought you had never heard of this place? BLANCHE (improvising feverishly): How do you know my name? STANLEY: What are you talking about, I know its you! Suddenly an unshakable fear comes over BLANCHE and a dead silence falls over the room as STANLEY raises his voice. A mood of hysterical panic fills her as she realises the situation she is in. A murmmering of a group of spectral men is hushed. BLANCHE step back and begins to sob uncontrollably. BLANCHE (her voice trembling): Get away from me Stanley. I havent hurt anyone, just leave me alone. The air begins to fill with ominous and inhuman voices like calls in a jungle. The shadows and pallid reflections move deviously as serpants along the sand. STANLEYS mouth slowly curving into a grin as he watches BLANCHE delve into an unforgiving and bleak void of insanity. The barely audible Blue Piano begins to play louder turning into a roar of a herd of charging cattle. BLANCHE passes out and the Blue Piano goes softly as the stage descends into darkness.