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MBM: There are at least three moments in the play where music intervenes – beginning, middle, and end. How do you see “Linden’s” relationship to “Bulbs”? Do the bagpipes always play “Amazing Grace”? Finally, the guitar sits on the stage like the proverbial gun over the mantle. It’s bound to go off. What do you think it means for Linden to sing the song about himself?

CM: Music is all through it. I wanted the whole piece to sound like rock and roll. There are parts where Linden raps and rhymes. I wanted the piece to have a rhythm to it.

“Bulbs” is an interesting song. It’s kind of a bluegrass shuffle or something. At the same time, it’s a weird, sad song, but it’s also upbeat. It’s a good way to set up the show.

Linden sets up his world in Scotland. His buddy plays “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes for him on his birthday. In the scene you mentioned, he gets interrupted in his monologue by this piping. It creates a really cool effect for the audience, where there’s a feeling that you’re in a house and there’s some guy out on a hill outside the theater.

I was raised Catholic. I’m not practicing any more, but I appreciate having been brought up that way. There’s lots of that in the story. I’m fascinated with religious music and rituals and themes.

My playing “Linden Arden Stole the Highlights,” and having it take over and overwhelm me as I leave the stage … it completes the myth.  I start playing the song, and then as the play ends, the song comes on over the speakers in Van Morrison’s voice. It creates a really cool effect where people start to wonder if I’m playing somebody real, that the song is about a real character.

I wanted it to feel like a musical piece. The guitar is always kind of there. I kind of pretend that I don’t know how to sing, but I’m able to surprise the audience.  I wanted to use things in the play that reflect all my abilities. I’m actually a decent soccer player, and I start juggling the ball in the piece at one point.

MBM: Linden singing the song in the play is just one example of how it breaks the “4th wall,” breaking out of the play’s world into the real world. Do you see this play as one that needs to collaborate with an audience directly? What does that mean for the theme of exile?

CM: Yes. That’s a really good question. I hate one person shows. I despise them. I had done one in New York. They’re usually confessionals, or just a showcase for a guy to do some voices, and there’s no real story. I wanted to subvert the solo show form, and make the audience a character in the play. By discovering them, and then confronting them, and then engaging them with whiskey and jokes, it forces them to engage like they’ve entered into the play.

A lot of the text came from getting the audience to say things, and then I would tell a joke, and then keep on with the play.

I wanted it to be very confrontational. When I do the reenacting of the killing, it shakes people up, because I’m wielding an axe around, and I’m just feet away from them. They say to me, “I don’t think you can do that.” I say, “Yeah, yeah I can.” The main reason for breaking the 4th wall in that way is that I want the audience to be uncomfortable.

The problem with most one person plays is that they have no conflict in them. I think of my piece as a one person play rather than a one man show. The conflict I create is with the audience. “What are you doing in my house? Are you real? If you are real, hear my story.” I don’t want my audience to be comfortable at all, although I do want them drunk, which is why I have to hand out that whiskey. Man, when I put this show on, I’m buying a lot of Glenlivet.

MBM: What’s the relationship between the audience and the town?

CM: The town is outside of the theater. It depends on the theater I’m working in. Sometimes I have a door. Sometimes I’m talking to the audience, and then I have to imagine a door. The only time the audience becomes the town is when I reenact the killing scene. Then I kind of turn and face the audience, and then I’m talking to them as if they were the town, looking on.

These are like the guests that have appeared in my living room. Holy crap! On my birthday, and I get to tell them the story. You can imagine how lonely this person is. He’s been there for 25 years now. Even if it’s his imagination…

If they weren’t there. He would go about his business. Take a shower. Get dressed. Go to Mass. It’s a very present story. I wanted to keep it in the moment.

MBM: Have you done any similar work to this? What’s ahead for “Linden Arden” and you?

CM:  Not really anything like that no. I’ve written lots of other plays. I’ve written screenplays, and written for Marvel Comics. I started writing a companion piece to Linden Arden once. It was going to be called Virgo Clowns.  I think that song is from His Band & Street Choir. “Let your laughter fill the room.” The companion piece was going to be about the Scottish girl, Ann, who is off-stage in Linden Arden, but there’s a point in the play when he sees her outside and speaks to her, but she doesn’t speak to him. I wanted that same moment in the companion piece but from Ann’s point of view. Ann’s a bigger character in the Linden Arden screenplay. His loss of her is the most devastating of all.

Another musical artist who gets close to me is Patty Griffin. She has such a soulful voice, and her songs are kind of similar to Van Morrison’s. They can make you simultaneously uplifted and disturbed. The music is so good, but the substance is often so dark. Maybe I’ll write my next piece based on a Patty Griffin song.

Wrapping up

First, huge thanks to Colin Mitchell for taking the time to talk with us and share his thoughts. Thanks also for being so generous in supplying the video, script, and other supporting materials to me as I put this post together.

Second, thanks to you for reading, and as a special reward for those of you still with us, a bonus murder ballad (under our broad definition): Van Morrison performing “St. James Infirmary.”