Christmas Skit for Small Churches
The One-Page Christmas Epic
There are two speaking roles in this play and two non-speaking roles that happen very quickly at the end. The speaking roles are a movie producer (MP) and a screenwriter (SW).
The speaking roles are written according to the genders of the original actors, but can be played by either gender.
SCENE 1
A movie producer is pacing in his office, talking frantically on a cell phone.
Movie Producer: That’s right, send me a screenwriter! I have an idea for the greatest movie epic of all time! What? … She’s on her way? Then why isn’t she—
A woman comes in, carrying a laptop computer.
MP: Never mind. Here she is. (He ends his phone call, then looks at the phone and says sarcastically) Lots of help you were.
Screenwriter: Hello, sir. (Reaching out her hand to shake) It’s an honor. I’m—
MP: (Cutting the woman off) Sit down and take notes. (He motions to a chair on the other side of the desk from his chair.) I’m on no sleep, 10 cups of coffee, two cans of Redbull and a bag of Twizzlers for lunch, and I’ve come up with the greatest movie idea of all time. All time!
SW: OK …
The woman sits down and opens her laptop on the desk. Throughout the conversation, she will rotate back and forth between typing and talking.
MP: There’s a man and a woman—and a baby—a special baby.
SW: A special baby? You mean, like a seed-of-the-devil baby?
MP: No, the opposite.
SW: OK …
MP: He’s special, but in a good way. No, a great way!
SW: OK, that could be an interesting twist to work with. A family movie, maybe with a love story between the baby’s parents.
MP: Oh yeah … the baby’s parents. (Suddenly) Ooh! The baby’s parents-to-be have to travel to the father’s hometown, but when they get there, there’s some kind of crisis and all the hotels are closed, so they end up in a warehouse, a shipping container …
SW: Nice! Like an art-house, bohemian kind of feel. Set design will love that.
MP: Then there’s a crisis … let’s see …
SW: I know! She goes into labor at the worst possible time.
MP: Yeah. I love it! They can’t find a doctor, so they need some kind of makeshift crib, yada yada yada. … Oh! Then some blue collar guys in town come by to help.
SW: Blue collar …
MP: Working stiffs. You know, welders, dock workers … I got it! Farmers!
SW: Farmers? Coming to a warehouse in the middle of a city?
MP: Yeah.
SW: Uh … why?
MP: (In a grandiose manner) Because only the common man knows that this baby is special!
SW: OK … I think I get where you’re going now. Something the regular working person can relate to. And the farmers come to help out, somehow?
MP: Help out, hang out, I don’t know. Something like that. You’re the writer. You figure it out. (Excitedly) Oh, I’ve got it! The birth scene ends with a long, pullout camera shot of the father, mother, baby and the visitors in the warehouse, for an iconic final shot.
SW: Nice. That could work. So what does the baby do that’s so special?
MP: Nothing.
SW: Nothing?
MP: Nothing … (with a big smile) yet.
SW: Oooh, I see a sequel coming!
MP: Can you do it?
SW: Sure, it’s sparse, but I can make something of it. It’s a great premise. A feel-good story. It sets up a sequel. I can make it into a full-length movie or book—maybe both.
MP: Actually, let’s add a little more to punch it up.
SW: OK. But I don’t need anything else. I’ve started with a lot less.
MP: I want the birth itself to be special.
SW: Like an Alien/Fringe thing where the kid comes exploding out of—
MP: No (thinking …) not the birth … the conception.
SW: Uh huh … You want the conception to be special? Like Boom-Chicka-Wow-Wow? That’s an entirely different movie, sir. That could cause problems with the ratings board.
MP: Boom-Chicka-Wow-Wow? What’s wrong with you? (With a nod to the audience) There are kids here.
SW: Kids? Where? We’re in your … office … remember?
MP: There will be children watching this movie. I want this to be PG, PG-13 at the most. So no Boom-Chicka-Wow-Wow. The opposite of that.
SW: What kind of special conception is the opposite of … that?
MP: You’re the writer. You figure it out. (Suddenly, so it surprises the screenwriter) Taxes! I hate taxes! (Looking at the screenwriter, who’s just staring at him, shocked) Why aren’t you writing this down?
SW: Uh, well … so, it’s political?
MP: (Suddenly, again) Animals! I love animals!
SW: Animals? You mean, like a dog or a cat? I know … a talking pet who rescues the baby.
MP: A talking animal? Please. Be realistic here.
SW: Yeah right. That would be the crazy part …
MP: No … just … you know … some place where there’d be livestock around. … I know! We need exotic visitors from another land! With fancy gifts!
SW: So it’s a huge costume drama now? You know this budget will be through the roof, right?
MP: A crazy king! And he does something so evil, people will gasp in horror.
SW: Now it’s a horror movie? I don’t know sir …
MP: An escape! To a foreign country! Now that’s a huge epic, right?
SW: “Epic” isn’t the word I’d use, (under her breath) more like schizophrenic.
MP: What was that?
SW: Nothing sir. But you’re talking Hunger Games size here. Three to four books and movies. If I can get all of this to make sense in the same story. I don’t know …
MP: A star!
SW: Yes! Now you’re making sense. If we could get a big star to sign on, we might be able to get this greenlighted … I’m thinking Russell Crowe, Jennifer Lawrence …
MP: No. Not that kind of star. I mean a star in the sky. Like a comet!
SW: Hurtling towards earth to destroy it? Like a disaster movie?