PROLOGUE
(House lights dim. In the darkness, we hear chimes tinkle in the distance, as if sending magic before us. The chimes swell into a full orchestrated overture, leading into a VOICE singing in the dark…)
VOICE.
WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR
MAKES NO DIFFERENCE WHO YOU ARE
ANYTHING YOUR HEART DESIRES
WILL COME TO YOU.
IF YOUR HEART IS IN YOUR DREAM
NO REQUEST IS TOO EXTREME
WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR
AS DREAMERS DO.
FATE IS KIND,
SHE BRINGS TO THOSE WHO LOVE
THE SWEET FULFILLMENT OF
THEIR SECRET LONGING.
(A spotlight picks up the voice’s origin—JIMINY CRICKET, our narrator. He is dressed smartly in a top hat and tuxedo, and carries an umbrella in his hand.)
JIMINY (cont’d).
LIKE A BOLT OUT OF THE BLUE
FATE STEPS IN AND SEES YOU THROUGH
WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR
YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.
Pretty, huh? I'll bet a lot of you folks don't believe that. About a wish coming true, do you? Well, I didn't, either. Of course, I'm just a cricket singing my way from hearth to hearth, but let me tell you what made me change my mind.
(The curtain opens on…
SCENE 1: GEPPETTO’S WORKSHOP
A large set piece made to look like an old homestead, filled to the brim with clocks, toys and other wooden works of art sits center stage, behind a large projection screen, depicting an Italian town at night. Prominently displayed on a bench is an unfinished marionette, made to look like a little boy.)
JIMINY (cont’d). One night a long time ago, my travels took me to a quaint little village. It was a beautiful night. The stars were shining like diamonds high above the roofs of that sleepy old town. As I wandered along the crooked streets, there wasn't a soul to be seen. The only sign of life was a lighted window in the shop of a woodcarver named Geppetto. So, I hopped over, and looked in. It was a shame to see a nice, cheerful fire goin' to waste. So what do I do? I go in.
(JIMINY enters the homestead, and crouches carefully behind a bench.) I looked around. Of course, being in a strange place like that, I didn't know what to expect. A cricket can't be too careful, you know. As soon as I saw there was no one about, I made myself at home.
(JIMINY tiptoes over towards a stove, making heat.) As I stood there warming my
(he notices that his rear end is closest to the stove. He stops, choosing his words carefully) ... myself, I took a look around. Well, sir, you never saw such a place... the most fantastic clocks you ever laid your eyes on, and all carved out of wood. And cute, little music boxes... each one a work of art. And shelf after shelf of toys and...and then something else caught my eye...a puppet. You know... one of those marionette things. All strings and joints. Cute little fella.
(GEPPETTO himself enters with new paints, and sets to work completing the marionette.)
GEPPETTO.
Oh, it won’t take too much longer. Just a little more paint, and you’ll be all finished. I think you’ll be quite alright…
(he paints a smile on the marionette.) A warm, welcoming smile. That makes a big difference. Very good. Now, I have just the name for you…Pinocchio! Do you like it?
(He moves the strings; the puppet’s head nods ‘yes’.) That settles it! Pinocchio, it is! Come on, now! We'll try you out. Music, Professor!
(GEPPETTO winds up one of his music boxes; and prances the marionette around, singing as he goes.)
LITTLE WOODEN HEAD, GO PLAY YOUR PART.
BRING A LITTLE JOY TO EVERY HEART.
LITTLE DO YOU KNOW, AND YET IT’S TRUE,
THAT I’M MIGHTY PROUD OF YOU.
LITTLE WOODEN FEET, AND BEST OF ALL,
LITTLE WOODEN SEAT, IN CASE YOU FALL
(GEPPETTO deliberately trips the puppet, causing it to fall on its rear.)
Oh, how graceful!
MY LITTLE WOODEN HEAD.
HAPPY LITTLE CHAP WITH A FEATHER IN YOUR CAP,
THOUGH I MADE YOU OF WOOD, YOU NEVER GIVE A RAP.
ALWAYS DOING GOOD, LIKE A LITTLE PUPPET SHOULD,
CHASING EACH GLOOMY DAY AWAY…
LITTLE WOODEN HEAD WITH EYES THAT SHINE
LITTLE WOODEN HEAD THAT’S MADE OF PINE.
IN A WEARY WORLD, YOU DO YOUR SHARE
SPREADING LAUGHTER EVERYWHERE.
LITTLE WOODEN FEET, AND BEST OF ALL,
LITTLE WOODEN SEAT, IN CASE YOU FALL,
NEVER LET A SINGLE TEAR BE SHED,
MY LITTLE WOODEN HEAD.
NEVER LET A SINGLE TEAR BE SHED,
MY LITTLE WOODEN...
(All of a sudden, every clock in the workshop chimes in a massive cacophony.)
Oh goodness, I had no idea it was that late! Come now—we go to bed.
(He places the marionette back onto the workbench.) Good night, Pinocchio.
(As he settles into bed, he notices something outside the window.) Oh! A wishing star!
Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I make tonight. I wish that my little Pinocchio might be a real boy! Wouldn't that be nice? Just think - a real boy.
JIMINY. (himself settling in nearby the stove; to us) Do you hear that? A real boy. A very lovely thought—but not at all practical.