Berlin in the bitterly cold winter of 1946/7. The city is in ruins, its future uncertain. It is a place of refugees, soldiers, rubblewomen and trauma. Black marketeer, Anton, wants to get out before his past catches up with him. He needs Portia’s help. She has lost everything except her faith—in the law. Meanwhile Jessekah returns to father’s house to find it occupied by someone else ...

Third Person is part allegory, part a sort-of-sequel to The Merchant of Venice, and is about notions of indebtedness and debts of all kinds—moral, political and emotional, as well as financial.

The Berlin of Third Person is a place in the way that Shakespeare’s Venice is a place.

  • innovative drama for a large or smaller cast.
  • 90
  • 7 total
  • 4 female identifying, 3 male identifying
  • culturally and linguistically diverse, history
  • 16 to 18, 18+
  • adult, young adult
  • Australian Script Centre


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Allied Soldier

Gender Unspecified | Unspecified | under 3 minutes
Starts on page 34

EXTRACT: Good bloke, good interrogator, never sick Not even drink---slowed. Quite the opposite. Always up for it, bash the buggers with a steel bar Where it doesn't show. Push a bastard's head back and pour water down his nose to make him gag Because he's bored that day. Once he drilled a hole in some poor sod's buttocks-same. Felt like it, so he did. Twenty---3and he thought he could do whatever, like God.

Adult themes


Female | 20s | under 3 minutes
Starts on page 47

EXTRACT: Who am I that hate so much? (beat) I find myself/ Wondering about- / Is it possible/ To know why people acted as they did?/ The state of their souls as they did what they did. With 2 hands, with arms and/ feet, with organs, senses, passions, flesh and blood./ And when the crows came down from their loud flight/ And there's no wind to carry away the stories/ Will we remain forever haunted by those death trains clattering across the back/ gardens of suburban Germany?


Female | 30s | 3 to 5 minutes
Starts on page 1

EXTRACT: ..look at them! Like crows and vultures. Look at them picking up the pieces. When they bend down you can see right up their thighs. They come from the theatre ,those weird clothes they're wearing, Before it was locked up, what's left, and left to a cast of rats and cut---throat dogs. You know, those women will take anything: wonky chairs, cracked mirrors, rotten food, anything. They can't bear having nothing, so they collect any old crap. But don't be fooled, they're not nearly as old and dried up as they look. And of course they're not all women either.


Female | Unspecified | 5 to 10 minutes
Starts on page 38

EXTRACT: We moved to Paris when I was 5. We were migrants with a small M. An M that tried to make itself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Before immigration became this hot- -button issue. Mum wanted to go to Switzerland because it had mountains, chocolate and neutrality. But France is a land where the soup is rich and creamy, and that's were we ended up. We arrived in Paris with 19 plastic bags..



"[T]he nature of justice, the impact of displacement, and the way we attenuate our own guilt by shifting our language, so that we speak not in the first person, but in the third… a moving piece of theatre."

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