New work — in progress
A Constitutional Crisis
A domestic comedy in one act
In Edward's respectable home, a broken cable exposes the private constitution governing the family: Floris may rage, Edward may retreat, and every woman must move quietly.
Dramatis personae
- Edward
- Master of a respectable house. Loving, reasonable, and immovable. Every kindness he offers leaves the hierarchy exactly where he found it.
- Floris
- His son. Rages about small things — a cable, a light left on — until the rages reveal who actually governs the household.
- Ella
- Gentle, accommodating, quick to smooth a room. She discovers, slowly, that the peace of the house is measured by her absence from it.
- Natalia
- A woman who tried this house before. She left. She is the warning nobody in the family repeats out loud.
- Romi
- The next woman arriving, for security, into the same arrangement — carrying the same hope, unwarned.
Note on the method
Shakespeare makes characters grand, archetypal, verbally extravagant. But the subject here is domestic power: a respectable house whose peace depends upon women suppressing themselves. That is Ibsen's country, not Shakespeare's.
So the house becomes a psychological prison. Edward appears loving and reasonable while protecting the existing order. Floris's complaints seem trivial until they show who truly controls the rooms. Ella begins accommodating and gradually recognises that "peace" means her disappearance. Natalia is the woman who tried and failed to belong. Romi is the next woman entering the same structure for security.
The cable is not merely a joke. It is ownership, accusation, and the absurd power of property — a length of wire standing in for the whole private constitution of the family.
The formula: Ibsen's domestic architecture, absurdist comedy, and a faint Shakespearean mock-grandeur underneath. The ending is restrained. She does not slam the door. She closes it with sufficient force to be heard.
The last exchange
EDWARDWhere will you go?
ELLASomewhere the floor is allowed to know I am walking on it.
She leaves.
The front door closes — not loudly, but with sufficient force to be heard.
FLORISfrom upstairs — What was that noise?
A work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue in this play — and in the poems and other writing published on this site — are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, to real events, or to actual places is entirely coincidental and is not intended by the author.
Ella Tan