A history of the transmigration of soulsby Leon Agulansky
Synopsis
She has escaped a terrifying reality by retreating into the persona of Edith Piaf. He is a skeptical, emotionally detached psychiatrist determined to bring her back to the real world. But as their confrontation deepens, the boundaries between sanity and illusion begin to blur. Slowly, the doctor discovers that her imagined world may hold a truth—and a freedom—the real world cannot offer.
Cast: 2 actors — one woman and one man
Running Time: 90 minutes
SPARROW’S NEST
A history of the transmigration of souls
by Leon Agulansky
CHARACTERS:
HE ………………50 years old psychiatrist.
SHE …………….45 years old patient of the mental health department.
SETTINGS
There are a table and two chairs on the stage. There is a make-up mirror with all the necessary things standing by. The room appears to be both an artist’s dressing room and a mental physician’s consultation room.
Scene One
HE comes up to the edge of the stage, addresses the audience.
HE.
You are all silent. You decided to watch our tragedy. You think you’ll be relieved if you see that somebody feels worse than you? No. Not today. I… feel sorry for you. I mean it. You’ll go home, have your dinner, take a shower and go to bed. No, I forgot. You’ll walk your dog. It’s a joy for her. Tomorrow everything will be the same: (speaks quickly) shower, coffee, cigarette, underground, hustle, escalator, routine, lunch break, endure till the end of your working day, again the underground, hustle, escalator, walk the dog, chop, pasta, serial, shower and that’s it. Is that it? Of course not. There are also dreams about happiness.
SHE enters the room. She is short and her hair is dark. Her appearance resembles Edith Piaf’s. Her wrists are bandaged. She sits on the sofa.
SHE.
Are you mad? What happiness are you talking about?! The audience will leave now and may demand their money back for the tickets.
HE.
They won’t leave without hearing you sing.
SHE.
Let me sing before you scare everyone away. Shall I?
HE (to the audience).
You are happy? Yes? That’s the incorrect answer. Only the insane can be happy.
She is coming to the edge of the stage. Not much is expected from the mentally ill.
SHE (To the audience).
You stay. (Points at him.)
SHE (CONT’D).
He isn’t violent.
HE.
It is we who decide if you’re insane or not. The line between normality and insanity is vague. I believe, it doesn’t exist at all.
HE and SHE sit at the table opposite each other.
HE.
I’m your doctor. My name is…
SHE.
Don’t bother me with your name. I won’t remember it anyway. May I just call you ‘doctor’?
HE.
You aren’t afraid to forget the word ‘doctor’?
SHE.
It’s sometimes useful to forget. It’s a pity though that we forget what we need to remember and things we want to forget do not get out of our heads. They stay somewhere deep… (Points at her head.)
SHE (CONT’D).
…and itch and itch… Prohibit you from living.
HE.
It’s impossible to erase the past.
SHE.
Sure. You can’t erase things that do not exist anymore, things that have passed already.
HE.
But in your memory the past becomes the present.
SHE.
Bravo! Bravo, doctor! It may wound you badly and even kill.
HE.
Listen.
SHE.
Yes, doctor.
HE.
I’m not going to discuss philosophy with you. Let me ask you questions and you’ll answer them. Deal?
SHE.
Go ahead.
HE.
Do you live alone?
SHE.
What do you mean?
HE (with a slight irritation).
I asked a very simple question.
SHE.
Have you got enough time to listen to the answer?
HE.
My working day finishes at three.
SHE.
One cannot be alone unless you are in a coma. You have your dreams, thoughts and recollections. You can be here and at the same time be far away. In my dreams I can make love to you and tell your wife about it. I can kill my boss by sticking a pen into his eye and not go to prison. I can save my love and never let him go. Emotions are always connected with others…
HE.
The ‘others’ are inside. I’m asking about those who are outside.
SHE.
I’m rushing home, I’m rushing out. I’m running away from people, but it’s lonely without them.
HE.
Do you work?
SHE (Quotes).
“I don’t like solitude, dreadful solitude, which folds you in its arms at dawn and as night falls.’’
HE.
Just concentrate.
SHE.
I’ll be late for lunch.
HE.
Are you afraid it will go cold?
SHE.
The food here is terrible at any temperature.
HE.
Why did you slash your wrists?
SHE.
Slash my wrists? That sounds beautiful. I didn’t slash them.
(A Pause.)
HE.
Really?! Did someone try to kill you?
SHE.
That’s just nonsense.
HE.
You lost a lot of blood.
SHE.
Yes. I lost a lot.
HE.
You had two blood transfusions.
SHE.
I was in a car accident with my husband. I cut myself on the windshield fragments.
HE.
It’s impossible to cut yourself on the windshield fragments! The glass turns to dust.
SHE.
It’s just like my life.
HE.
You were found in the bath with slashed veins! It wasn’t too late, fortunately.
SHE.
Fortunately? What do you know about fortune? Tell me what fortune is?! You are silent. Hey, I understand! This diagnosis is not on the list.
She comes up to the edge of the stage, addresses the audience.
SHE (CONT’D to the audience).
And you… you know what fortune is… (Speaks grimacing) Fortune! Can anybody say what fortune is? Ah.. you are silent… you are silent. You don’t know. That’s right, I also don’t know it. And you
(She points her finger at him.)
SHE (CONT’D).
…don’t know!
HE.
Enough!
SHE.
Yes, yes! You don’t know! Don’t try to seem smarter than you really are. (She holds out her hands to the audience.)
SHE (CONT’D).
Explain this to me. Everyone desires happiness and no one knows what it is. How come?
HE.
Let’s move on.
SHE.
All right.
H e.
What’s your job?
SHE.
I … work. And you… (She points at the audience.)
SHE (CONT’D).
…work. We all work! What for? To get a kick out of it? Not to die of hunger or go mad?! (In a low voice). Or maybe we earn our
happiness? We get tired and rest afterwards. Do we save for medication? Do we wait till we retire to start living?!
(A Pause.)
SHE (CONT’D).
I’m tired. Let me go to the ward. It’s enough for today.
HE.
I need to fill in the medical record.
SHE.
You want to uncork the bottle, but you don’t have a corkscrew.
HE.
One can open a champagne bottle without a corkscrew.
SHE.
You definitely have to do it the day I’m discharged.
(After a short pause.) Why did you put me here?
HE.
You agreed.
SHE.
The offer was too aggressive.
HE.
You want to be discharged now?
SHE.
I’m performing in “Olympia” tomorrow. Contract, you know. You can go there for free, I’ll see to that.
HE.
What do you think about your mental state?
SHE.
It’s not mine…
HE.
No matter whom it belongs to. How do you judge it yourself?
SHE.
No corkscrew. You want to pop the cork out? No way! Look at the label today and put the bottle back carefully.
HE.
Any chronic diseases?
SHE.
Ulcer perforation. It happened at one of the performances in America. Now I faint whenever I eat pastry.
He nods and writes down.
HE.
Dumping-syndrome.
SHE.
You give fancy names to complications.
HE.
What else?
SHE.
Bronchiectasis and rheumatism. Rheu-ma-ti-sm. I died of hepatic failure on October 10, 1963.
HE.
Accept my condolence.
She looks him from head to foot.
SHE.
No, you accept mine. (Points at the door.)
SHE (CONT’D).
May I?
HE.
See you tomorrow.
SHE is about to be off, but stops near the make-up mirror and looks in it.
He comes up to the edge of the stage, addresses the audience.
HE (to the audience).
That was the way she burst into my life and divided it into ‘before’ and ‘after’.
Scene Two
HE and SHE sit at the table.
HE (after shrugging his shoulders).
You refuse to be on medication. What am I to do with you?
SHE.
Who said I’m ill and need medical treatment?!
HE.
We have the right to decide.
SHE.
Am I dangerous for society?
HE.
For yourself.
SHE (screams and points at the audience).
This is it! Don’t you dig into my soul! I have my own way and you pull me into a herd, into an enclosure!
HE.
You’ve had two suicide attempts.
SHE.
You are bad at counting.
HE.
What will happen if you succeed at your next try?
SHE (indignantly).
Oh! This is something! If I succeed nothing will happen! No-thing…
HE.
Nothing for you. But everything will continue without you. Maybe you shouldn’t rush?
SHE comes up to the edge of the stage.
SHE.
Nonsense. I’m already buried in the “Pere Lachaise Cemetery” in Paris.
HE.
It seems to me that you’re talking to me here.
SHE (in a low voice).
I am a nest where a sparrow settled. (Screams). And I don’t give a damn what you are thinking about it! I have the right to decide my own destiny!
HE.
You are playing with fire!..
SHE (after calming down).
At least “You must have something to play with”.
HE.
You are irritated. I prescribed you the medication for a reason.
She returns to the table.
SHE.
Medication, medication, medication! Who gave you the right?! Who?!
SHE walks around the room agitatedly.
SHE.
Kate from our ward is energetic, happy and confident… She was singing, reciting poetry, waltzing around the ward and laughing! After two days the injections turned her into a degenerate who shuffles in the ward and has a slack mouth and empty eyes!
(A Pause.)
HE.
Do not meddle with another’s history… Medical history.
SHE.
Don’t you meddle with mine!
HE.
But how can I, if I write it myself?
SHE.
You should first learn to listen and understand!
HE.
We do our job as we know it.
SHE.
You stuff people into constraints using force?
HE.
Constraints are necessary.
SHE.
Window bars?
HE.
People are born being cruel, jealous and greedy beasts.
SHE.
Do you mean yourself?
HE.
Sinister instincts dominate over spirituality.
SHE.
Yes, I sang in the street to earn money for my dinner.
He points at the audience.
HE.
Most people do not commit crime only because of the fear of being punished.
SHE.
I sang, I didn’t steal.
HE.
That was the way nature ordered.
SHE.
When I saw the light, it was a warm sunny day.
HE.
It became cold in the Ice Age. People had to preserve food and clothes.
SHE.
I gave away everything and collected only debts.
HE.
Somebody was the first to come up with an idea that it’s simpler to take something away from your neighbor than to save it yourself. Besides food and fur, you may take women and slaves.
SHE.
Once a prostitute, who entered a bar in Chicago, was presented with a mink coat by me.
SHE comes up to the edge of the stage, looks at the audience.
SHE. (CONT’D)
There are no more slaves. Or… maybe… there are?..
(A Pause.)
SHE. (CONT’D)
Women in the ward are worthless, ‘Greens’ party forbids fur, (raises her voice) and the food in the unit is just trash!
HE.
For centuries jealous and cruel barbarians have survived, thinkers and philosophers, though, died.
SHE.
How were you able to survive?
HE.
That is why football stadiums are full of shouting fans, and films, which show no violence and brutality are doomed to failure.
SHE.
Give them freedom and they will become better.
HE.
Your freedom ends where another’s freedom begins.
SHE.
I am absolutely free. You only crack open the window and I’ll twitter and fly away.
HE.
You shouldn’t count on justice of your fellow-being. Limits are needed.
SHE.
What do you want from me? Should I forget my songs, stop suffering and loving? (In a low voice.) I don’t need to steal, kill and be violent. I want to live my own life and die my own death. (Screams.) Why am I deprived of this right?!
HE.
Another’s life was chosen.
SHE.
You’re forcedly returning me into mine?.. Small flat, drunk screams behind the wall, grey crowd in the underground, the boss, lusty bastard, and proofreading of stupid texts from eight to five.
(A Pause.)
SHE (CONT’D).
For what?
(A Pause.)
SHE (CONT’D).
You are disappointed in people. It’s a pity. They are born this way. No. (Crossly.) They are born without their consent. (In a low voice.) Do not blame them. “Judge not, that ye be not judged”. You opened your heart to me. Let your white coat not prevent you from understanding me. Misunderstanding is everywhere, even in the family. All the life you both have covered with one blanket but have failed to understand each other. Only at my concerts (points at the audience) thousands of eyes are shining the same. People cry the same, laugh the same and keep silent the same.
HE.
They like the fairy tale about a beggar woman becoming a queen. (Looks at the watch). I’m happy that you opened up to me. Sorry, but time. Time’s up. We’ll continue next time.
SHE.
There may be no other time. Once I was asked to perform in a camp of French war prisoners in Germany. I went there. I was standing at the back of a truck. Prisoners, guards and the supervisors became an audience They were listening and singing along together, they were applauding together and screaming ‘Bravo!’ After that I had my photograph taken with prisoners. What do you think happened next?
HE.
It’s a well-known fact. Most of those who got into the photograph escaped from the camp. The photographs came in useful for making false documents.
SHE.
That’s right. I was made use of. What don’t you make use of me?
HE.
I’m sorry, I must be off.
SHE.
As you wish. I am lea-ving
SHE goes away.
HE (to himself).
October 10, 1963. Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris. It’s beautiful!
Phone on the table rings. HE picks up the hand receiver indignantly.
HE (on the phone).
Hello? Yes… That’s true… Yes… I cancelled… Because I don’t think it’s necessary to medicate her with sedation… I know that you’re the chief of the department… I don’t appreciate your tone! Nobody gave you a… Listen, I’m not going to continue the conversation in such a tone! That’s better… I am her attending doctor and I’m responsible for. That’s right. If something happens you’ll be the first to remind me of this. I’m not afraid of you. You know about it, don’t you? Yes. Exactly. Take care! (Throws down the hand receiver, walks around the stage and talks to himself.) Père Lachaise Cemetery Paris… It’s beautiful… (Comes up to the phone, picks up the receiver, dials the number. Speaks in an apologetic tone.) Hello? It’s me. Yes… I… I’m sorry for my raised tone. It’s just that I have the impression that she shouldn’t be medicated now. She is not entirely closed. There is a thread, which I can pull and unwind the ball…There is something in her story… I believe… I know… Of course I’ll keep it in mind… You bet… Are you serious?! There you are! I didn’t know it. I’ll specify it of course. But I need some more days to get things straight. Sure… Thank you. Take care. Yes. And I’m sorry, ok? Bye! (Puts the receiver down. Says to himself). Père Lachaise. (Tries to pronounce it in the French manner). Père Lachaise. It’s beautiful.
Scene Three
THUNDER AND RAIN ARE HEARD.
HE comes up to the table, picks up the receiver, dials the number.
HE.
Hello? In the office of course! Yes. A while ago. Aren’t you ashamed of having called me up to the department, especially in such a weather?! This is an emergency?! All emergencies are in the surgery. I’m a psychiatrist, remember?.. I asked you… So what?! Are you going to call me up every single minute?! All right. Doesn’t matter. Take her to me. But don’t tell me that she fell asleep and you can’t wake her up!
He sits at the table and begins to smoke.
SHE enters the room.
SHE (crossly).
Listen you, whatever your name is!
HE.
Simply doctor. You forgot.
SHE.
I’m not going to return to the ward. It’s not dark there, it’s black! Can’t you understand?! I cannot stay in complete darkness! Shall I explain it in French?
HE.
I studied French but don’t master it.
SHE (raising her voice).
Oh mon Dieu! How can you master French?! It is French that masters you!
HE.
I’m not concerned.
SHE.
Because you don’t listen to my songs.
HE.
I know almost all of them by heart.
SHE.
I thought worse of you. Are you imitating misunderstanding?
HE.
Professionally.
SHE.
You can’t misunderstand my songs. They don’t need interpretation.
HE (cynically).
They resemble an open wound.
SHE.
Bravo, bravo, bravo! You refused me but I’m on the verge of saying that I love you.
HE.
That is why you called me at 3 a.m.?
SHE.
I won’t go back to the ward! I can’t stand it anymore. The drunkard switches off the light in our ward. You know what darkness and night mean to me.
HE (crossly).
I know, I know. (Walks around the room and speaks mockingly.) You were brought up in some Paris brothel and at the age of 4 went blind because of an iris inflammation. (Quotes.) “At the period of this world exploration, Piaf’s unique sensitivity was born. She always needed to touch a thing or a person to define them and give them a name”. (Lifts his hands in dismay.)
HE (CONT’D).
I know. I read… not once.
SHE.
I went blind. I didn’t want to see what was going on there.
HE.
Nonsense! You were a kid and didn’t know what malice or what goodness is!
SHE.
I don’t know it even now.
HE.
This story does not have to do with you.
SHE.
«I would prefer to read about it not to participate in it”. (She takes the medical history from the table.)
SHE (CONT’D).
This is my history. If you don’t understand, at least try to believe.
HE.
My duty is to understand, not to believe. Sorry.
SHE.
You talk like an investigator. Understanding is not a duty, it’s a gift of God. (Raising her voice.) Would you be so kind to respect and appreciate it!
HE.
You need to calm down.
SHE.
It won’t help even if you give an injection.
She comes up to him and rapidly puts his hand into her palm.
SHE (CONT’D).
Let me stay here with you!
HE.
I don’t play around with my patients.
SHE.
All right! You haven’t forgotten yet that you’re a doctor.
She sits in front of the make-up mirror, looks in it.
SHE (CONT’D). (Quotes.)
“I just need to die from love every time. If it doesn’t happen, I completely forget why I live”.
HE.
Are you training your memory?
SHE.
Yes, there were men who denied my love. Le Play wasn’t into women, Bécaud wanted to remain friends only. Charles Aznavour wanted to achieve success without making love to me.(Shrugs her shoulders.) He did… His real family name is Aznavouryan, by the way. Charles drubbed into his head an idea that he must sing. He was told that he couldn’t sing with such vocal cords. He couuuldn’t. He was a naughty boy! (Looks up, sings the first lines “Une Vie d’Amour”.) Why are you… denying me? You have a nice voice. We could perform together.
HE.
Listen!
SHE (jumps from the chair).
No, you listen! Though if you don’t wish you may not. (Quotes.) “I don’t sing for all people. I sing for everyone!”
HE.
I’ll call you to the ward.
SHE.
Are you in a hurry?
HE.
We don’t have any separate wards.
SHE.
That’s good.
HE.
Let’s go!
SHE.
Is it my entrance?
SHE comes up to the make-up mirror, fixes her hair.
SHE (CONT’D).
Good Bye! It’s time to make an entrance! (Transforms.)
She comes up to the edge of the stage to the spotlight circle. (Sings.)
“JE T’AI DANS LA PEAU”
Paroles: Jacques Pills, musique: Gilbert Bécaud, enr. 28 juin 1952
SHE bows and looks at him.
SHE.
You’re still here? Did you forget anything? Our ‘sweet blood-suckers’ with flowers are about to burst in now… (Looks at his face.) Your eyes are so tired. Hurry up. We have little time.
HE.
Much more than you think.
SHE.
It’s silly to measure something we do not possess. Come with us! My fill-bellies have surely rent a room at a restaurant at Saint-Germain or on Boulevard des Capucines.
HE.
The kitchen is locked. I may offer you a glass of tea.
She looks around.
SHE.
Well… Where are they?! Can’t they find the dressing room? Come on!
HE.
You lost weight.
SHE.
They call me “baby woman”. When I die, they’ll call me a “broken marionette”. The body is too small for such a big soul.
HE.
Refusal to eat is a depression symptom.
SHE.
You have clever eyes. But you say stupidities. (With stress.) What can be the connection between a slice of sausage you throw into your stomach and such notions as dreams, love, success and fear! (After a short pause.) What about the drunkard in our ward? Will you move me to another ward amicably or shall I slash veins again?
HE.
You’ve got nothing to slash them with.
SHE.
That’s right. Nothing to slash then with. Then I’ll jump out of the window!
HE.
It’s cold outside.
SHE.
It’s autumn. What about another ward?
HE.
Is it dark? Isn’t the soul light enough? (She points at his head.)
SHE.
The darkness is too thick.
HE.
At night one should sleep.
SHE (screams).
Don’t you talk to me as if I am a kid!
HE (sharply).
And you don’t play a little girl!
SHE (quietly).
A woman. A little woman.
HE.
Don’t scream at me. We aren’t married yet!
Tries to touch his face, he wants to hug her, fights with his passion, pushes off her arms.
SHE (after calming down).
You yourself need medical treatment…
HE.
I know.
SHE.
That ‘it. It’s beddy-bye time. Alone. That’s always like that… I wish I hadn’t disturbed you.
HE.
It’s too right.
SHE.
Are you married?
HE.
What’s the difference?
SHE.
It’s funny (pause). I don’t want to go to my ward. Move me to another one.
HE.
I’ll do in the morning.
SHE.
Hope it’s a deal. I am off.
She goes away.
Scene Four
He comes up to the edge of the stage. Addresses the audience.
He.
She invited me to the concert… then to a Parisian restaurant… (After a short pause.) Your whole body trembles, and you feel shivers up and down hearing her articulation. You understand so many things of the language, which you don’t comprehend at all. And it sometimes happens that you understand nothing in your native one. Comes up to the sofa, takes a seat.) Or maybe we can’t listen?
SHE.
I’m coming.
HE (to the audience).
She is coming.
THE LIGHTNING CHANGES AND CREATES THE ATMOSPHERE OF ILLUSION.
SHE enters the room having an evening dress on.
SHE.
Here I am!
HE.
Where are we?
SHE (remembering).
The war has just stopped. I was asked to sing for the American soldiers. My impresario was dissuading me…
HE (recalling and nodding).
They need a sex bomb with the American smile, and you’re a puny creature with sad eyes.
SHE (indignantly examining him from head to toe).
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!
HE.
And what will they understand in French, by the way?
She comes up to the edge of the scene.
SHE.
Can you imagine? A stage made of chipped panels. And beneath, on a cold asphalt there is an entire division.
HE.
You shouldn’t have sung in the cold wing. But it’s useless to persuade you. When you see a stage you look like a bride who rushes to marry. (He takes her hand. She shivers with cold as if she got wet.) You caught cold.
SHE.
I caught cold… They were crying without understanding a word. Then there was a storm of applause… They didn’t let me step down the stage for half an hour.
HE.
You caught cold. What am I to do with you now?!
SHE.
Yes, I caught cold… You say there is no past. But these tears and these eyes have stayed with me forever. An entire crowd of people. Their breathing makes the cold wind warmer. I hugged them like that (holds out her hands to the audience.) and continued singing.
SHE sings.
“MON LÉGIONNAIRE”
Paroles: R. Asso, musique: M. Monnot, 1936
She nods.
SHE.
Thank you! Thank you a lot!
THE LIGHT GOES DOWN.
Scene Five
HE and SHE are in the consultation room.
HE.
We’ve known each other for a long time, but I still cannot learn why your… disease appeared.
SHE.
When you talk to a psychiatrist you should weigh your words. Otherwise… How is it said? “A man’s ruin lies in his tongue”.
HE.
Let us move together to the point, which provoked the outbreak of the disease.
SHE.
Disease? I’m not ill.
HE.
You’re not ill. We keep you here to no purpose.
SHE.
Exactly!
HE.
I also love Edith Piaf, you know. She is undoubtedly a great singer. Her songs will live forever.
SHE (getting confused).
So what… what do you want from me?
HE.
You like to fancy yourself as Edith Piaf. Am I right?
SHE.
That’s nonsense!
HE.
Nonsense?!
SHE.
Oui, monsieur!
HE.
You are all right.
SHE.
I said that before.
HE.
You play a split personality. Good job! What an actress! But why? What for? Oh! I’ll tell you why! (Speaks with a raising tone.) You’re lonely. Yes, yes! Lonely. Nobody notices you, nobody wants you… Maybe just your boss does. But he wants not the way you want him to want you!
SHE.
That’s too complicated.
HE.
He wants you just as another woman! Just like this! But it doesn’t suit you. You need attention! This wish is stronger than thirst and hunger! (Screams.) That’s why you slashed your wrists!
SHE (being on the edge of hysteria).
You. You are cruel! How dare you! You! You call yourself a doctor!
HE (screams).
But you aren’t ill, are you?
SHE.
No. No! No!
HE.
The attention is vital. But how can you get it… (hits the table with his fist.) You choose the image of Edith Piaf. A sensitive and crazy girl, who rose from dirty streets to the summit of glory.
SHE (weeping).
I beg you, stop it!
HE.
You suggested yourself that you’re somebody else. Great! Stay at home and sing: “I am Piaf, I am Piaf, bla bla blaaa!” (Dances grimacing.) No way! You slash your wrists! Why? Ah! It’s really simple! You need an audience. (Points at the audience.) Spectators! (Comes up to the edge of the stage, addresses the audience.) Am I not right? Slashing your wrists (demonstrates on himself.) is so s-s-s-spectacular, d-r-r-ramatic, so t-r-r-r-ragic! Here I am! Look at me! Notice me! I’m not just one of… I’am full of inner sense! Love me! Right now! Save me. Bandage my hands, be horrified of my blood and stain yourselves with it!
SHE (weeping).
That’s it! Stop it! I want to go away!
HE.
Go away?! Every day I get it in the neck from my chief of the department. I’m the only person in the world who wants to help you! And you spit… (raises his hand against her.) spit in my eyes!
SHE (continues weeping).
You cannot… I’ll make a complaint!
HE.
You are right. I can’t! I can’t stand the ladies who demand love at any price!.. By force! By force! By force! (Suddenly he understands.) By force? (Quietly.) By force. (Pause.) It happened when you were young. Your mother wasn’t at home. And your father drank more than usual. He started playing with you. He hugged and kissed you… At first you enjoyed it. Then it was strange. Then you were scared. Then you were seized with fear. And then it happened. (Pause.)
SHE weeps quietly with her hands covering her face.
HE (in a calmer tone).
You told your mother… She was crying. And asked you not to ever say it to anyone… She was begging… You kept silence. You tried to forget. But from that time on your parents began to be afraid of you. You became a stranger for them: “In her own family she suddenly became a stranger girl”. (After a short pause.) Well? How was that? Was everything true? Or almost everything?..
She calms down, shrugs her shoulders a bit. Her gesture clarifies that He guessed or almost guessed.
SHE.
I happened to go to some Experimental school with the advanced study of French. There I experienced different teaching methods. Language laboratories appeared. Headphones and remote controls with buttons… We, kids, thought that this was a game, but this turned out to be a hard labour. (Pause.) Once the teacher said: “Today we’re having an unusual lesson. We are going to listen to a famous French singer Edith Piaf.” (Lively.) She also said: “Those who don’t like may not listen. Sit quietly and do not interfere.” I put on the headphones and…(Pause.)
HE recollects himself.
HE.
Why did you stop?
SHE.
I don’t think I should continue.
HE.
Are you afraid of something?
SHE.
I’ve got nothing to be afraid of anymore..
HE.
Go on.
SHE.
I pushed the button and I heard “Dans ma Rue”. The couplets resembled slow steps on a not very clean sidewalk. There was sadness and nostalgia in them. The refrain with a sonorous slap made me slump back in the armchair. It happened then…
HE.
You turned pale. Are you all right?
SHE.
I am!.. After this class Sofia Mikhailovna disappeared from school. There has been no music in the language room since then. It provokes ill thoughts among young people. And I looked at the asphalt every day when I was coming back from school and I was (comes up to the edge of the stage.) singing. At that time in the class I didn’t notice that I had scratched my face. (Pause.) It won’t happen now. (Looks at her nails.) In the department your nails are cut short. Sofia Mikhailovna… Sofia Mikhailovna, tomorrow we are going to open a bottle of champagne and drink to your civil feat. (Pause.) Surely the asphalt cracked. Maybe it was renovated. Let’s walk on it and not return. And this song will remain forever (comes up to the edge of the stage.)
HE.
You cannot sing this song! It first attracts and then tears your soul.
SHE.
Did you also get ‘there’ and lose your way?
HE.
Lost my way? Maybe. I don’t feel like searching for the way back. (Tries to sing the first couplet, but confuses the words, changes them into la-la-la-la.)
SHE comes by, puts her hand on his shoulder.
SHE.
Shame on you!
SHE Comes to the edge of the stage, sings.
SHE sings.
“DANS MA RUE”
Paroles: Jaques Datin 1046
She bows.
THE LIGHTNING CHANGES. THERE’S AN ATMOSPHERE OF ILLUSION.
HE, having changed his appearance, puts on a hat and gloves. Comes up to her.
HE.
You are crazy singing in such weather!
SHE (with indignation).
I need to eat something, don’t I, monsieur?!
She turns round, is about to leave.
HE stops her with his hand.
HE.
You little sparrow! Mind that if you sing like that, you may be left without voice. You’ll lose it. Your voice is everything you have. Your real treasure. Keep it and good luck will come to you. You want to perform in a cabaret? My name is Louis Leplèe. I am the owner of the ‘le Gerny’s’ cabaret. Come tomorrow if you wish, and I’ll hear you. There is less risk of being slapped in the face at this place, than in the Quartie Pigalle or Troyon.
SHE (examining him from head to toe apprehensively).
But you will be killed! And I will be suspected.
HE (smiling).
It won’t take place soon. First I’ll find you a name – ‘’Piaf’’, a sparrow, a small city bird which jumps in the street and sings. You’ll start binding a sweater for your first performance, but won’t have enough time to finish binding the sleeve. It’s the most famous sweater in the world… Don’t worry about me. Sometime one has to die anyway.
SHE (quotes).
“Life is the best method for a suicide”.
HE.
No, no. You will say these words later. But I won’t hear them yet. (Writes on the newspaper, tears it off and gives her a piece of paper). There’s an address here. (She takes the piece of paper, is about to go. He stops her.) Yes, and one more thing. Buy some food for yourself. (Gives her a bank note, returns to the table, takes off his hat and gloves.)
SHE examines the bank note.
SHE.
Five francs. (Looks at him.) Now there’s euro in France… (Her eyes are filled with tears.)
HE.
What is the difference how you pay?
SHE (quotes).
“For happiness one must pay with tears”
He takes a tissue, gives it to her. She wipes out her eyes and nose, sits on the sofa.
HE.
Am I a bad artist?
SHE.
A very good one.
(A Pause.)
SHE. (CONT’D)
At night I was afraid that you will put me on a drip, I huddled myself in the corner and composed something. There aren’t pencils and pens, because they are murder weapons. I tried to learn it by heart. Listen, while I still remember it!
HE.
I’ll note it down.
SHE.
No. You listen.
She reads and walks around the room.
(There’s a quiet opening break to the song «Sous le Ciel de Paris” at the background.)
Hope to escape the heartache too disgraceful
Is vital in our lifelong daily haste
We love the ones who’re painfully unfaithful
And loved by those whose faith we’d always waste
We spend our days in futile demagogies
We sail to shores that never reach, alas
And in the night we turn to our logics
Which buries dream that’s loyal just to us
(Leon Agulyansky 2009, Translation to Engl: J.Mantachik)
HE.
Not bad.
SHE.
Thank you.
HE.
Who betrayed you?
SHE.
The fate.
HE.
Don’t blame it. You cannot escape your life to get into another one.
SHE.
All you need is wish.
HE.
But why?
SHE.
Delusion doesn’t betray.
HE.
Is it worth slashing your wrists?
SHE.
Yes.
HE (with sigh).
We keep you here for good reason.
SHE (smiling ).
Come up here.
The lightning changes, symbolizing the delusion. She invites him to sit on the sofa near her. He sits down.
SHE. Can you hear? It is evening. It’s chilly. The wind has gone quiet. The lights in the windows of the houses have come on.
The entrance of the song Paris is heard.
We are going up to the Montmartre. Tap-tap-tap-tap. The heels are tapping on the stairs. We are tired. But we still have to go up. Paris is left somewhere below. The city at night is beautiful. And there above… Just a little bit more time and we’ll see… Narrow streets, old houses. Sounds of accordion will flow from bistros and small restaurants.
Comes up to the edge of the stage and sings.
She comes up to the edge of the stage and sings.
SHE (singing).
“PARIS”
Paroles et musique: A. Bernheim, enr. 3 février 1949
SHE bows, comes up to the table and has a seat.
SHE.
Paris, Paris, Paris.
HE.
You’ve been to Paris?
SHE.
Maman was late and didn’t get to the hospital. Two policemen were assisting at delivery on the street not far from the Pigalle… I was brought up by my father. We performed together in squares. That was the time when I started singing.
HE.
I must go home.
SHE.
Go ahead if you need (shrugs her shoulders).
THUNDER AND RAIN ARE HEARD.
HE.
Should I be off in such a rain?
SHE.
Your car is at the entrance under the pent.
HE.
Are you spying me?
SHE.
Whom are you ashamed of? You don’t want to leave. What will you do at home?
HE.
I’ll walk the dog, watch TV and in the evening I’ll go to the restaurant.
SHE.
“Restaurant». You said it sadly.
HE.
O the jubilee of my friend.
(A Pause.)
HE writes on the piece of paper and hands it in to her.
HE. (CONT’D)
It’s my home phone. Call me if I’m needed. I’ll give orders and you’ll be allowed…
SHE (with smile).
Just go. Your dog is tired of waiting.
LIGHT GOES DOWN.
Scene Six
HE (to the audience).
I pulled a thread. The clew starts unreeling… Unreeling…She… I was about to get her out of hospital… But what about me? I wanted to discharge her but all of a sudden acute condition developed.
SHE (runs out onto the stage, addresses the audience).
Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gent-leme-en!
HE.
Quiet, quiet, calm down.
SHE.
Who knows the name Norbert Glantzberg?
HE.
Well, that’s all right, don’t be nervous.
SHE.
Those who know him – raise your hands. So. Not a single hand. (Addresses him) Are you a doctor?
HE.
You should calm down.
SHE (walking on the stage she recollects). We were a bit boozy. We had been loafing around bars and wandered into a diner. It was crowded, stuffy and full of German officers. A big-assed bitch was singing old songs in a squeaky voice, someone was accompanying… I didn’t believe my eyes, it was Norbert himself. I hadn’t seen him for a long time, hugged him and said, tipsy goose: “Hello, my little Jew” (pause) I nearly ruined him. He didn’t take offence and never mentioned it. (Looks up, recollecting). Norbert… What a name! Norbert Glantzberg… Norbert Glantzberg used to be the director of the Berlin Philharmonic. When the Nazis came he fled to France. Some people found him playing accordion in the street. They got him into a cabaret to accompany. And he did. What an accompaniment it was! Soft, not pressing, setting off a performer’s voice! What a sense of rhythm and time! The Germans came to Paris. He found false documents… Once in Nice he was stopped by a patrol… six months in Gestapo. three days before he was supposed to be sent to Auschwitz we were able to drag him out… After that we worked together. Few people know that it was he, genius Norbert Glantzberg, who wrote the world famous “Padam…Padam”. (Pause.) (Comes up to the edge of the stage, addresses the audience.) Someone may still fail to understand what I’m talking about. Padam, padam. Do you remember? Well, let’s go (Waves her fist and directs, the first refrain lines of “Padam…Padam…Padam” are heard.) Have you remembered? No one was able to find the first line of the refrain. I suggested keeping Padam…Padam…Padam… (Addresses the audience again.) I suppose you think, Padam…Padam is a waltz. (Waves her hand.) Come on! This music smells of ghetto and a concentration camp. (Bends, gazes into the audience.) So what? Don’t you believe me? The crackpot is talking nonsense, isn’t she?
HE (yells).
Yes! The crackpot is talking nonsense!
SHE.
I’ll prove. I will prove. I’ve listened to it thousands of times, at different times of the day, being sober and dosed up. Once I heard everything! Norbert described his own life in the waltz! Listen! (There sound Padam, padam. She comments). The beginning is symphonic, almost classical sounding (there comes the beginning of the song after a prelude, no voice). Then comes a Jewish melody, just listen (there sounds the part which precedes the refrain). And here danger is thickening (there sounds the part before the refrain). These are train whistles (there sounds a break which reminds of a train whistle). Where to, Paris, Auschwitz? Here comes the refrain. This is not whirling in a waltz but in a constant flow of life. Shall we get out of it? We are doing our utmost to get to the top – to breath in fresh air (there sound the final part of the refrain). Can you hear? (there sounds the final part of the song before the final chord). Who are these if not marching Nazis? The final chord… (there sound the final chord) needs no comments. (Pause. Comes up to the table.)
Music begins
“PADAM… PADAM…”
Paroles: Henri Contet, musique: Norbert Glanzberg, enr. 15 octobre 1951
WITH THE LAST CHORD THE LIGHT SUDDENLY FADES.
Scene Seven
HE and SHE are sitting at the table.
HE.
I cancelled the medication. In a blood test there are indications of compromised liver function.
SHE.
I spit out the pills when nobody was looking.
HE.
I know. In a couple of days we’ll repeat the tests.
SHE (smiling).
You don’t know your patient very well. My granny used to give me red wine when I was a child – she wanted to raise hemoglobin. As a result she ruined my liver.
HE (irritatingly).
Stop it! You’ve never lived in Normandy! No one has ever given you wine! But your blood test is undeniable truth!
SHE.
Just like a red disk which plunges into the sea on the horizon? The only undeniable truth is my multi-million debts. I can’t deal with money. Money as I see it is hard cash thrown into a plate for my and my father’s street performances. The rest is just rubbish.
HE.
Debts must be repaid but not saved.
SHE.
I have always been surrounded by “sweet blood-suckers”. I don’t regret it.
HE.
An unpaid debt can drive creditors mad.
SHE.
Many of them even took pride in it. Edith Piaf owes them! (With a sigh). I’m bored to death! Let me go!
HE.
And your liver?
SHE (thoughtfully).
Liver… Liver, underdone, covered by chopped parsley… I used to be fed with it… Have you ever been happy?
HE.
I am happy.
SHE (looking at him askance, cynically).
I can see it! (The light changes highlighting a delusion. As if remembering). Marseilles, my Marseilles, he was training in a sport camp in America. Boxers were not allowed to go out
with women. He settled me in a wooden hut without electricity and water. There… we were happy. My singing was getting worse, I confess. I stopped looking for happiness on the stage. I found it in your arms…
HE (remembering).
Do you remember how we met for the first time?
SHE.
Took me to a hash house. Beer and smoked meat. We were two French in America. I thought we were going to have dinner. This meat smells of a wet dog. You don’t want to dip into your pocket?
(A Pause.)
HE.
We went to the most expensive restaurant. I had to dip into my pocket.
SHE.
An annual doctor’s salary.
HE.
For a world boxing champion it’s not a big deal.
SHE.
You didn’t even give me a farewell kiss – you swine!
HE.
The lip still hurts after a fight.
SHE.
Just got scared, champion. If you don’t move me to another ward, I’ll knock you down (takes a boxing stand).
HE.
I have been knocked down for a long time.
SHE.
Do you remember that fight?
HE.
My right elbow hurt me a lot.
SHE.
America didn’t want us. We had to conquer it.
HE.
I had to fight with Harold Green. My sparring-partner had hit my eye during training so I went bonkers and whopped him.
SHE.
My performance in the “Playhouse” was a mess up. People stood up and left without hearing the song to the end.
HE.
I added up a thumb dislocation of the right hand to a sore elbow.
SHE.
The newspapers crashed me. Only one of them wrote : “Americans are not worthy of her art!”
HE.
A doctor said: “Your only chance is to win in the first two rounds”.
SHE.
Those were two Jews who gave me a chance to rise. They were the owners of the “Versailles” cabaret in Broadway. A dais was made on the stage. I improved myself and the program. So I rose.
HE.
Before the fight I was put on ice and bandaged.
SHE.
At first only the first rows applauded.
HE.
I played a waiting game for quite long and managed to deliver a left hook. Green can take a punch but not like that.
SHE.
After the third song the audience applauded standing.
HE.
Nobody believed in such an outcome. People didn’t bet on me and lost their money.
SHE.
I believed in you. So you won.
HE.
We won.
SHE.
The man of my life. (Taking a surprising look at him). You? Why did you leave me?
HE.
Left for Europe.
SHE.
You were missing your wife! Left me in America to finish up my contract so that creditors wouldn’t go mad.
(A Pause.)
HE.
Go to your ward. Soon is a doctor’s round.
SHE.
I felt empty, it was unbearable. I called several times until I caught you at home.
A PHONE IS RINGING.
He takes up the receiver.
HE.
Hello.
SHE.
I miss you, do you hear me?
HE.
Hello, darling. You sound so sad…
SHE.
If you don’t come right now, immediately, I’ll harm myself!
HE.
I was just going to call you. I’ve bought a ticket to a ship.
SHE.
It’s ages, dear. I won’t bear it.
HE.
I’m sure to come! The ship sails off in two days.
SHE.
It’s terrible! I can’t sleep. Please, buy an air-ticket! I can’t wait any longer! Fly to me! I want to see you as soon as possible! Please! I ask not only for myself. I’ll just die if you are away. I must touch you so as not to go to the bottom.
HE.
OK. I’ll buy a plane ticket.
SHE.
So, shall I see you tomorrow?
HE.
See you tomorrow, dear. I’m taking the first flight.
SHE.
Thank you. You are wonderful.
HE puts down the receiver. She takes a sit at a make-up mirror and is getting ready for the performance, she is transforming.
AT THE BACK — SOUNDS OF THE ORCHESTRA TUNING UP AND A NOISE OF A FLYING PLANE.
SHE stands up and walks to the edge of the stage. HE stops her.
HE.
Forgive me, darling. I was hurrying but failed to fly that far…
SHE.
Where are you, my love? I’ve been waiting for you. I went to bed early to kill the time: I close my eyes – a moment – and you are here.
HE.
A moment! Everything happened within a moment. There was a flight delay, something wrong with the weather. It was a bumpy-air flight over the ocean. They told us to take our seats and fasten the seat-belts.
SHE.
I hope you bought first-class. You, my love, is so big, just huge.
HE.
As usual. I have no space for my legs in the economy class.
SHE.
I had the biggest blanket made. I’m going down in it as if it were a sea. Save me!
HE.
It was foggy. I opened a newspaper. Hardly had I looked through a headline… Then a flash – and that’s all. So simple!
SHE.
In my life nothing was simple, dear.
HE.
I’m sorry… (After a short pause he goes on as an impresario.) I’m so sorry… Madam, excuse me, I know it’s the wrong time…
SHE (puts her hand on his shoulder).
Later, everything is later.
HE.
There was an accident. The plane with Marseilles Serdan on board crashed on the Azores islands.
SHE.
I know. He told me.
HE.
Shall I cancel the performance?
SHE.
No! I’m being waited for. (Touches her temples) What a terrible pain! (Comes to the edge of the stage into a spotlight circle). My Marseilles, this song will be written later but today I’ll sing it for you.
SHE is singing in the spotlight circle.
“LES PRISONS DU ROY”
Paroles: Michel Rivgauche, musique: I. Gordon, 1957
At the end of the song the light smoothly goes out.
Scene Eight
SHE sits at the table looking in the make-up mirror. He enters. Sits down beside her and is looking at her. Pause.
HE.
Retest is even worse.
SHE.
How is your dog?
HE.
I’m sorry. I have no right to conceal anything from you.
SHE (quotes).
“The God gave me so much but I’m ruining my happiness with my own hands”.
HE.
An Ultra Sound shows liver metastases. Do you understand what it means?
SHE.
Each of us dies alone.
HE.
I’ll discharge you tomorrow morning
SHE.
So I’m better, aren’t I?
HE.
You are being moved to the oncological department – to be examined and treated (is looking aside).
SHE.
What for?
HE.
To prolong life.
SHE.
Life can’t be prolonged, same as day and night.
HE.
One mustn’t lose hope!
SHE.
My hope has come true (pause).Am I not a psychiatric patient anymore?
HE.
I want to put an end to your case history
SHE (shrugging her shoulders).
What stops you?
HE.
I can’t make a good ending.
SHE.
It’s time to change a job.
HE.
Move to me. Let’s walk the dog together. She will like you.
SHE.
You owe me nothing.
HE.
I owe… myself.
SHE.
This debt is hard to pay back. I failed.
HE.
Well, listen, why Piaf?
SHE.
There, in the language laboratory I felt Edith Piaf’s soul move into me through earphones. It is living, suffering and loving inside me. I’m its nest. (Pause.) The nest has got worn out. It will have to look for another.
HE.
You are afraid of death?
SHE.
I’ve already died. I’m buried in sector nighty seven of Per-Lashes cemetery. Those were grand funerals. People came not to listen but to bid farewell. Plenty of flowers, fresh flowers…
HE (interrupting her).
It’s silly to be afraid of death.
SHE.
The street traffic had to be stopped.
HE.
Death is nothing. When it comes, everything becomes senseless.
SHE (quoting).
“The God reunites those who love each other!”
HE.
After death there is neither pain nor emotions!
SHE.
It was getting dark but people kept on coming.
HE.
We are not afraid of black emptiness which existed before our birth. Why are we so scared of blackness after death?
SHE.
In the morning the flowers were shoveled up and removed from the cemetery on trucks,
HE.
Life is a beam of light which is cast by the door opened by somebody. It is so narrow that one feels sorry for every minute which has been spent in the wrong way.
SHE.
I’ve been blaming myself for the death of my beloved all my life.
HE.
But there are “waves” left by a dead person.
SHE (thoughtfully).
As if from a stone thrown into the water.
HE.
The bigger is the stone, there more are the waves.
SHE.
It’s true. He is gone. What remains is his smell, things, whisper…
HE.
Yes! Experiences, emotions which have been brought by a person into our world. They stay in people’s hearts and memory. (A pause.) One should live and when looking back not to feel sorry about unworthy decisions and missed chances.
SHE.
I’ve lived just like that.
HE.
Life goes on. A patient once said: “It is worth having cancer to understand how beautiful our life is!”
SHE.
What a huge pain! Sticky like pitch. One can’t throw it off like a blanket. How can so much pain get into my body?!
HE.
I’ll give an injection in half an hour.
SHE.
An injection. It’s good to know that there is an injection. It’s good that you are close. No need to go to doctors, call an ambulance.
(A Pause.)
SHE.
I used to sing in “Playel” Padam,Padam. What a hall! What audience! I fell down unconscious. Instead of leaving me at home you took me to hospital.
HE.
Home is not the right place to stay if you have a liver coma.
SHE.
I have always dreamed of dying on the stage.
HE.
You can still make it. Who said it “Don’t ask for easy life, pray for easy death”?
SHE.
I failed to have an easy life. “Small ups and deep downs”. My only hope is for easy death.
HE.
For a proof-reader you’ve had an interesting and eventful life. It’s good that we didn’t interfere!
SHE.
Now I can’t get to the stage. You know, only the stage can bring me back to life.
HE.
What about love?
SHE.
It’s the same. (Pause.) How quickly everything has happened!..
HE.
Everything is still ahead.
SHE.
I don’t know if there is something ahead. But I don’t regret anything.
SHE is about to leave.
HE.
Stop. I must tell you something very important. Your world is warmer, lighter. more correct. It is colorful! I wanted to drag you out of it. But I got inside it and I don’t regret!
SHE.
Don’t blame yourself. It’s my fault. The rain has stopped. I must go.
HE.
It’s too early.
SHE.
The song has come in time.
There sounds an introduction to “Nom, je ne regretted rien”
“NON, JE NE REGRETTE RIEN”
Paroles: Michel Vaucaire, musique: Charles Dumont, enr. 10 novembre 1960)
It was worth fighting for. I got up from bed to spite some and to please others. I blame myself for everything. But I… don’t regret it. (Quoting).
“My life was disgusting, it is true. But at the same time it was wonderful. I loved it, life itself, above all. That’s why I loved people, my friends, my lovers. But I loved those whom I didn’t know and who made up the audience. I sang for them and wanted to die on the stage singing my last song… This crowd will be with me on my last journey. I don’t like solitude, the terrible solitude which embraces you at dawn or at night, when you ask yourself – what is it worth living for?” (To the audience). Who can oust you from my world? Years will pass. Different music will appear. I’ll be gone but my songs will live and nobody will ever sing them the way I did. I love you and I don’t regret anything indeed”.
She comes to the edge of the stage into a spotlight circle.
She stops the music by hand sign.
SHE. (CONT’D)
“I Regret Nothing?!” What nonsense. Complete nonsense! Rubbish! It sounds great onstage, in front of an audience. But in real life? (Quietly.) In real life… when you leave, you lose everything. You lose everything you had, and everything you might have had. And someone, somewhere, will miss you. (Moving toward the dressing table.) Complete nonsense. Complete…
SHE disappears as the music plays.
HE steps downstage and addresses the audience.
HE.
You are all silent. You came here to witness our tragedy. (Pause.) She never knew what happiness was, (after a short pause) but she knew how to be happy. (Brief pause.) And, really, that’s not so difficult. (Brief pause.) You only have to… want it.
He disappears as the music plays.
END OF PLAY
Leon Agulansky 2009
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