One of David Mamet’s most striking contributions to the theory of drama is his concept of the “Death Of My Kitten Speech.” He introduces this concept in his book Three Uses of the Knife.

A curious point comes in most plays and movies about seven-tenths the way through: all of a sudden the action stops, and the hero, weary to the bone, about to embark on the final chapter of his quest, a quest that will either show him successful or utterly ruined, starts talking to the gods.

The more amateurish attempts very often mention the death of a beloved family pet. “When I was young I had a kitten… it died.” The hero, forced to undergo a journey he didn’t choose and for which he is ill-prepared, grieves to the gods, and remembers the first moment he began to understand death.

Mamet’s point is that we, as dramatists and as storytellers, should be aware of this weakness and cut it ruthlessly from our work. That which is not relevant to the story does not belong in the story. He also speculates on the origins of this peculiar phenomenon — perhaps it is the vestigial remnant of an earlier stage of the evolution of the human mind and its capacity for following a story. Greek drama was originally a religious festival, and direct address to the gods was originally an important, even central, part of the festivity.

I wish to contribute only this observation: that the Seventh Inning Stretch is also a Death Of My Kitten Speech. In the middle of the seventh inning, we, the crowd, in one voice, rise to our feet, and confess our Love Uh Da Game. (more…)