Jean Malle

Jean Malle taught play writing to college freshman at the same university he had attended when he was their age. The chaotic and intensely somber look of his youth had matured into that of the hapless detective in a black and white French comedy, drooping eyes, a wirey mustache and shapeless suit. He spoke to his students about writing from life experience, funneling the tropes of their personal histories into the great universal themes. This was the secret, he taught, to avoiding self indulgence and academic obtuseness.

The students read their assignments in a workshop setting, handing out parts to the classmates they respected. They wielded profanity as subtly as a pick ax, always taken by the novelty of writing 'fuck' on a graded paper, and it was Jean's job to tell them their style was edgy and confrontational. They wrote about undying love, crushing disappointment, and soaring victory.

'Whose Afraid of Virginia Werewolf?' was the one play Jean had ever been able to see produced, and he used it as a text for the class. He sold them the script directly and collected their cash, never bothering to find out if it was within university guidelines. It took him several years of revising the script before he was satisfied with it. Jean completed it after his first marriage fell apart. He met her in the very building he now taught, and they were married before graduation. Every promise they made each other was eroded by the short years they had, and at the end he was left wondering how to deal with a blameless hurt.

Jean's anger was an unused knife, dulled by never being focused in one direction. But the building, as filled with memory as a grave yard, and the stupidly earnest ideas of love and responsibility he saw his young self in every day, drew the sap of anger back to the surface. He was ready to admit his own selfishness, the right decisions he never made, and her mania that drove them nearly to destruction. He hated her for the first time in his life, and knew it was a necessary ugliness, so he could finally forgive her. And he hoped he was hated too, so he could receive the same grace.

As a matter of psychology Jean always asked his students who they thought the protagonist and antagonist of his play was, the husband or the wife. They would talk about it for awhile as an illustration of the importance of ambiguity in character. The young girl in the front row raised her hand and asked what the answer was from Jean's point of view. He answered, "It was nobodies fault, except for both of ours."