ТЕАТР. "КОГДА ОНА ТАНЦЕВАЛА"

[1] [2] Когда она танцевала. (начало) © Мартин Шерман Characters: Isadora Duncan Sergei Esenin Mary Desti Miss Belzer Alexandros Eliopolos Luciano Zavani Christine Jeanne The play is set in Paris, Pompe ACT I A house on the rue de la Pompe, Paris, 1923. A large room. The furniture is sparse, a sofa, a desk, a few chairs, a table, a piano, but of the best quality. A mandolin lies on the floor. There is an entrance from the hallway; also a door that leads to a bedroom and a door that leads to a study. The room is untidy. Glasses and empty champagne bottles are on the floor, as well as a few pieces of clothing. The curtains are drawn. A man and a woman lie asleep on the sofa. The woman, Isadora, is forty-six and matronly. The man, Sergei, is twenty-eight and handsome. He has golden curls. Sergei's head is cradled in Isadora's arm. Isadora opens her eyes. She brushes her hand lightly over Sergei's head. She stares into space. She closes her eyes, then opens them again. Isadora rises and opens the curtains. Daylight floods the room. She returns to the sofa. She caresses Sergei's forehead. Isadora: Seryezha… (Pause) Wake up. That's right… Mon cher… Mein Liebling… (She kisses him) Sergei… Sergei Alexandrovich! Sweetie, come on. Stavy! Stavy! Come on… c'est mucho late. Seryezha. Sergei opens his eyes. Sergei: Sidora… (He kisses her) Isadora: Good morning, darling. It's afternoon. We were drunk. (She mimes drinking) Very drunk. Piyanegay. I mean, piyaneya. Something like that. Drunk. It's afternoon. (She mimes sunlight) Sergei: Sidora... (He kisses her) Prosti menya. Mne ochen stidno. Prosti menya. Isadora tries to rise, Sergei pulls her back on to the sofa. Isadora: No, Sergei... Sergei: Prosti menya dorogaya! Krasavitsa moya. (He kisses her hand) Isadora: Da. Sergei: Za chto tolko ty terpish menya? (He kisses her breast) Isadora: Oh God. (She pulls away from him) Sergei: Sidora. U menya treshchit golova. (He mimes his head hurting) Isadora: What? Sergei mimes his head hurting again. Yes. Mine too. Sergei: E zhivot bolit. (He mimes his stomach hurting) Isadora: Well, it should. Sleeping on that thing. It's destroyed my back. Sergei: Chto? Isadora: Back. (She mimes her back and shoulders in pain) Bad. Very bad. Sergei: Sidora... (He tries to pull her back) Isadora: (pulling away) No. Not now... (She rises and examines her clothing) Ye gods! Just look at me. Jeanne! I think I have a rehearsal. When is it? (To Sergei) Rehearsal. (To herself) Four. I think it's at four. Oh, my brain doesn't work any more. And something's happening tonight. About money. God knows what. Why isn't Mary here? Look at me. Jeanne! Jeanne enters. She is middle-aged and a bit severe. She carries a tray with two cups of coffee. Oh, sweetie, you're an angel. Merci, Jeanne. Sergei takes a cup of coffee. Sergei: Spasibo. Jeanne: Madame voudrait un petit dejeuner? Isadora: Oh God, no. What time is it? Quelle heure est-il? Jeanne: Une heure dix. Isadora: Yikes, it is late. I feel extremely kaput. Give him breakfast, duckie. I think he needs it. Un petit dejeuner pour mon mari. (To Sergei) Un petit dejeuner, Sergei? (She mimes food and eating) Oui? Sergei: Da. Isadora: (To Jeanne) Yes. Pour monsieur. I have to get ready. Figimijig is coming. Je veux faire ma toilette. Jeanne: Oui, Madame. Jeanne leaves. Isadora finds a slip of paper. Isadora: The rehearsal is at four. (Looking into the mirror) Oh, my God. Sergei Alexandrovich, I look like shit. Sergei: Chto? Isadora: I'm old. I am. I'm fat. I have flesh I don't want. Or need. And you... you still look like a child. (She kisses him) The image of my baby boy, my Patrick. (She pulls away) Oh dear, why did I say that? Sergei: Ya hochu tebya, Sidora. (He mimes making love) Isadora: No. Not now. There's work to do. We have to get on with it. (She sits down, takes his hand) We have to get on with it. Mary Desti enters. She is in her late forties. Her dress and demeanour are in imitation of Isadora. Mary: News, news! Wonderful news about Vienna! Hello, darlings. Welcome back to Paris. Sergei: (making a face) Bozhe moi! Tolko yeyo ne hvatalo. (He falls on the floor, in much agony at Mary's entrance) Isadora: Sergei. Shh! Morning, Mary. What news? Isadora and Mary kiss. Sergei: Ya ne mogu yeyo vides. Mary: Why is he screaming? Sergei: S nei odni nepriyatnosti. Isadora: Don't pay any attention. Tell me about Vienna. Sergei: Ona boltunya. Tolstaya. Nastoyashchi bronenosets. (He mimes a ship) Mary: What's he doing? Isadora: I think he's making a ship. Mary: Why is he making a ship? Isadora: Don't ask. Mary: I want to know. Sergei: Bronenosets. Isadora: No you don't. Tell me about Vienna. Sergei: Bronenosets. Mary: What is he saying? Isadora: I don't know. It's in Russian. Mary: You understand his games. Sergei: Bronenosets. (He mimes a ship again) Mary: What is he saying? Isadora: Well, I think he says you look like one. Mary: Like what? Isadora: Like a ship... I think. (She mimes a ship back to Sergei) Ship? Sergei mimes a big ship. Big ship? Sergei mimes soldiers and guns. Battleship? Yes? Potemkin? Sergei shakes his head "yes". Da? (To Mary) Da. He says you look like a battleship. Isadora and Sergei laugh. Mary: It isn't funny. After all, everyone thinks I look like you. Why just this morning on rue Jacob I saw two people pointing at me and whispering, "That's Isadora Duncan". And it is an easy mistake to make. Do you think you look like a battleship? Pause. Isadora: Yes. (Laughing) Oh yes, Mary, yes. Once everybody wanted to look like me. Now everybody does. She pats her stomach. Sergei takes her hand supportively. She kisses his shoulder. Mary: I'm the only person in the world who looks like you. (She weeps) Isadora: Yes, Mary, yes, you're very special. You've always been my dearest friend. Don't cry. Sergei mimes a woman crying very tragically. Serezha! Stop it! She tries not to laugh, Sergei is beating his breast. Stop it. (She laughs) Jeanne enters with a breakfast tray. Oh, thank fuck. (She points to the bedroom) Dans sa chambre, Jeanne. (To Sergei) Chambre. Bedroom. Jeanne takes the tray into the bedroom. Sergei: Da. Sex. Isadora: No. No. Food. Go. Eat. Blini. Stroganoff. Borscht. (She leads him to the bedroom) Sergei: Nyet. Sex. Isadora: Later. Go already. Sergei: Pozhaluista izbavsya ot neyo. Kogda ya pozavtrakaiu shtob yeyo zdes ne bilo. Ne mogu yeyo vides. Sergei mimes strangling Mary, laughs, winks at Isadora, and goes into the bedroom. Jeanne returns to the hallway and leaves. Mary is still brushing away tears. Isadora: Come on, don't be angry. Oh, Mary, you've come to save us. I knew you would. (She sits) Mary: He's getting worse. (Pause) He's a brute. Isadora: He's a genius. Tell me about Vienna. Mary: A clown. Isadora: All my lovers have been geniuses. Mary: A peasant. Isadora: Yes. And the greatest poet in Russia! Mary: How do you know? You don't speak a word of Russian. Isadora: Language has nothing to do with poetry. Anyhow, it's highly overrated, language. We never had it in America. Mary: (Laughing) Oh, Isadora, sometimes you are silly. Isadora: You should have seen him when we met. He was a demon. He was an angel. I thought I waited my whole life for him. Mary: You always think that. Isadora: Artists are the only lovers, absolutely the only lovers. They can smell inner beauty a mile away. But I never should have taken him to America. Mary: You never should have married him. Isadora: Tell me about Vienna. My concert. The fee. The gelt. It will get us back to Moscow. Mary: I don't know why you want to go back to Moscow. Stay here. This is your home. Isadora: My school. I have my school. And there's the revolution. Mary: Oh God, Isadora, you don't know anything about revolution. And you have such a nice house here... Isadora: Don't start that again. What's the wonderful news? Mary: Vienna has laid yes. The contract is due any minute now. I told you not to worry. Isadora: But what about the visas? Mary: My attorney is handling that. I just need your passports. Everyone is excited. Why just this morning someone stopped me on the rue de la Paix and told me how thrilled he was to hear the news. "It will be her first concert since her American triumph," he said. Isadora: My what? Oh, Mary, I do love you. They called me a Bolshevik whore. In each town I was barely one step ahead of the tar and feathers. That ain't a triumph. Mary: Well, whatever. Isadora: We need that money. Good heavens, Mary, there's a new world starting. Can't you feel it? When I was a little girl in San Francisco, I used to dream of overturning the whole bourgeois system, I was the first communist. Honest! We need that money. Oh, criminy, there's something about money and tonight. I think I've invited someone for dinner. Mary: Yes. You did. You invited that man from the Italian Embassy. Isadora: I did? Oh, of course. I did. A vice-consul or something. He seemed interested in my school. What the hell's his name? Did he speak English? If I could just get Italy to start a school too. Like Russia. It would be heaven. Just let them give me five hundred, a thousand Italian children, and I'll make them do wonderful things! And we can switch locates. The Moscow children can spend two months in Naples. Or Venice. All that sun, all that beauty, all that wonderful food. And the Italian children can go to Moscow. All that kasha, all that freezing weather, all those rats. It will be good for them. That's an education. Ye gods, what are we going to feed him? Do you remember his name? Jeanne! Oh Mary, I can't go through with it. Not another night scrounging for money. Being sweet to people without names. Mother's child ain't got it in her any more. You have to be here. And, please, be nice to Sergei. Just remember that Dostoevsky and Verlaine and Moussorgsky and even Mr Edgar Allan Poe were dipsomaniacs too. (She laughs, takes Mary's hand and kisses her on the cheek) It's going to be all right. I have a rehearsal at four. Maybe I'll make a new dance. Maybe the Italian will give me money for a school. Maybe someone will give me money for dinner. Mary laughs. Mary, you're my oldest friend. What would I do without you? Jeanne enters, followed by a plain, shy woman in her early forties: Miss Belzer. She is wearing a hat. She is nervous. Jeanne: Cette femme est venue voir Madame Desti. Belzer: Mrs Desti? (She speaks with an accent) Mary: Yes? (Pause) Can I help you? Pause. Belzer: Miss Belzer. Mary: Who? Belzer: Me. Mary: I'm sorry... Belzer: I am Miss Belzer. Mary: But I don't know you. Jeanne, je ne connais pas cette femme. Belzer: Last night. You told me to come here. Miss Belzer. Mary: I've never seen you before, ever, ever in my life. Isadora: Mary, you must know her. (She goes to Belzer and takes her hand) Don't be frightened. Tell us who you are. Belzer: I am Miss Belzer. Isadora: Ah. Belzer: You are Miss Duncan. Isadora: Yes... Belzer: (smiling shyly) Yes. (Pause) Miss Duncan. Isadora: Yes, that's who I am. Belzer: I know. Isadora: Well. (Pause) Well. (She goes to Mary; whispering) Mary, who is this? Mary: I have no idea. Belzer: I saw you dance. Isadora: Oh? Pause. Belzer: I am Miss Belzer. Sergei storms out of the bedroom. Sergei: Sidora, ya pozavtrakal. Ya hochu tebya. (He embraces Isadora and leads her towards the bedroom) Isadora: Me too. Sergei sees Belzer and points to her. Sergei: Yeshcho odna baba? Etot dom vsegda polon bab. Belzer: (To Sergei) Menya zovut Belzer. Sergei: Vi govorite po russki? Isadora: You speak Russian? Mary: Oh dear God, it's Miss Weltzer. Of course! The Russian girl. Isn't this funny? Sergei: Otkuda vi znaete russki yazik? Belzer: Ya rodilas v Rossii. Mary takes Belzer's hand and leads her away from Sergei. Mary: We met last night at a party on rue Bonaparte. Belzer: No. Rue des Beaux Arts. Mary: Well, whatever. I completely forgot. But, of course, you look totally different. Belzer: No. I am the same. Mary: Your hair was up the last time. Belzer: No. Mary: (To Isadora) You see, darling, she speaks Russian. Why, she even is Russian. Although not one of your nasty Bolsheviks. She's cultured. She doesn't go around shooting rich people. Her father taught languages, or something like that, so she is very good at English too. And she needs a job. And I thought you could use an interpreter. Then you can understand what that slob is saying. It might just open your eyes. Sergei: Pochemu vi s etoi baboi razgovarivaete? Ona zhe vse vret. Bronenosets. Mary: What is he saying? It's about me, isn't it? Sergei: Kogda ona nakonets zamolchit. Mary: What is he saying? Sergei: Skazhite etomu bronenostsu uity. Skazhite po angliyski. Belzer: Oh. Nothing really. Mary: Now, now, I insist. You mustn't be shy. What is he saying? Belzer: Well, he thinks possibly there is a battleship here? Mary: (glaring at Sergei) Peasant. Isadora: (Laughing) We had an interpreter in Venice once, Miss Weltzer. And it was a disaster. Belzer: Belzer. Sergei takes Belzer aside. Sergei: Chto vi zdes delaite? Belzer: Ya nadeyalas poluchits rabotu. Perevodshitsa. Sergei: Kak priyatno slishits russkuyu retch. (To Isadora) Sidora, naimi yeyo. Mary: What is he saying? Is he calling me names? Belzer: (embarrassed) I can't. Isadora: I suppose he's saying I should hire you. Belzer: Yes. He is happy to hear Russian. Mary: Well, of course, you should hire her. Sergei: (looking at Mary) Skazhite etoi suke zatknutsa. Mary: What is he saying? Isadora: Mary, you're the one person who should never know what he's saying. Sergei: (shouting) Suka. S nei odni nepriyatnosti. Mary: What is he saying? Belzer: Nothing, really. Mary: I want to know. Isadora: Oh, go ahead. Translate. Belzer: He's calling you names. Mary: Tell him it's rude to call people names. Tell him Edgar Allan Poe would never call people names. Besides, he's a murderer! (She goes to Sergei shouting in his face) Murderer! Sergei: Chto? Belzer: Chto-to pro Edgara Poe i chto vi ubiytsa. Sergei: Vret! Vse vret! Belzer: He says, liar! Mary: I saw him. In Berlin. Holding a revolver. Pointed at Isadora. Isadora: You saw no such thing. That's a fantasy. It never happened. Mary: Murderer! Sergei: Treplo! Belzer: Liar! Isadora: I have known Sergei for two years and he never once pulled a gun on me. Sergei: Svolotch! Mary: What is he saying now? Belzer: I can not. Mary: You must. You must. Sergei: Drian! Belzer: It translates... roughly... a container of shit. Mary: What? Isadora: In English, I think we say bag, not container. Belzer: Yes. He calls you a bag of shit. Mary: (to Isadora, in tears) Well, now, I hope you're happy. It isn't enough that he insults me, but you have to have someone translate it as well. Mary storms out into the hallway. Sergei: (To Isadora) U menya ot neyo bolit golova. (He mimes a headache) Ona vse vremya menya oskorbliayet, poidu liagu. Sergei stalks into the bedroom, slamming his door. Isadora closes her eyes. Silence. Isadora opens her eyes and looks at Belzer. Isadora: I'm so tired. (Pause) Do you ever think, Miss Weltzer...? Belzer: Belzer. Isadora: Belzer. Do you ever think of killing yourself? Pause. Belzer: Yes. Pause. Isadora: Everyone in this house is mad. And there is no money. How will I find you a salary? How did you leave Russia? Was it a drama? You must tell me everything. I long to know. How will I find me a salary, for Christ's sake? How am I going to pay for the dinner tonight? I mean, I have earned quite a lot of money in my tune. But there have always been things, brothers, a sister, brothers' wives, a sister's boyfriend, our mother, cats and dogs and schools, a school in Germany, a school in France, students, doctors for the students, doctors for the brothers' wives, doctors, things who have eaten the money away. Also, I have certain rides in life, for the dogs and cats and, of course, lovers, lovers for everybody, things, Champagne, for instance. And a motto I have always tried to live by, when in doubt, head for the best hotel. So money vanishes. Well, that's capitalism, isn't it? And schools vanish. And lovers vanish. And inspiration. Ach. But then, suddenly, the New World reached out to me. I received an invitation from the Soviet Government to make them a school. So I left Europe behind. But in Moscow, my students have no food, no clothing, no water, no heat, because the New World, to put it mildly, is broke. So I went back to America to make some dough. And I did earn quite a bit. But I have returned with nothing. So how do I get to Vienna? How do I feed an Italian? I have been selling furniture. Perhaps a desk can buy you for a week, eh? You see, sweetie, I do understand. Not language. But everything else. I know what he's saying. Always. Pause. Almost. Pause. I'm really very tired. Isadora goes into the bedroom. She closes the door. (Off, shouting from the bedroom) Jeanne! Belzer looks around the room. She takes off her hat. The lights dim. Black-out. A light shines on Belzer. Belzer: I saw her dance. I was very young, perhaps twenty. It was her first tour of Russia, in St Petersburg. We had heard about this strange creature from America who danced barefoot on an empty platform, wearing only a tunic, and behaving, well, they said in very strange ways. The audience was there, I think, to laugh. When she first appeared they made noises, you know, hissing noises. She was standing. Simply standing. Standing still. The music was playing. It was, I think, Chopin. And then, very slowly, she began to move. But it was not the way anyone else moved on a stage. I do not know exactly what it was, I think perhaps she simply walked from one side of the stage to another, and then it was hard for me to see, because my eyes were burning, that is what happens when I cry, but I do not know why I was crying. I thought I saw children dancing, but there were no children. I thought I saw the face of my mother as she lay dying. I thought I remembered the rabbi's words. I thought I was kissing my child before they took him away from me. I thought I felt the lips, the doing on the stage was walking, just a few steps up, a few steps down, but lips of a man in a great white hat on the train to Kiev, and all she was this walk of hers, it was like a cornet shooting through my body, and then, suddenly, she stopped, and that was it, it was over, and the audience that had been making those noises, this hissing, were on their feet, cheering, but my eyes were still burning. And this is why I do not like to cry. And I never cry since that night, since eighteen years. No matter what has happened, I never cry. But sometimes when sleep does not come or when the dreams have frightened me, sometimes... then... I make myself think of Isadora, dancing! Black-out. Pause. During the black-out Belzer exits and Alexandros Eliopolos enters. The lights rise. Mid-afternoon. The room is still untidy. Alexandros Eliopolos is at the piano playing, improvising, diddling. He is nineteen, and speaks with a thick accent. Jeanne enters. Jeanne: II n'y a pas d'argent pour le diner. Elle veut des homards. Le vendeur au marche ne me vendra pas des homards. II veut etre paye. (She glares at the closed bedroom door) Belzer enters from the hallway. Belzer smiles shyly at Alexandros. Alexandros smiles at her, as he plays. Alexandros: Yassoo. Belzer: Oh. Hello. Jeanne: (To Belzer) Je suppose qu'ils font l'amour. Ce n'est pas le moment de faire l'amour. On a besoin d'argent pour les homards. Qu'est-ce que je vais faire? Belzer: Oh. Je ne comprend pas francais. Vous parlez English? Jeanne: (brushing her away) Non. Non. Belzer: Russian? Polish? Rumanian? A little Hungarian? Jeanne: Personne ne parle francais dans cette maison. C'est terrible. Jeanne leaves. Alexandros plays the "Marseillaise" as she goes. Alexandros: Speak Greek? Belzer: Nyet. Alexandros: Italian? Belzer: Nyet. Russian. Polish. Rumanian. A little Hungarian. Alexandros: Ah. Belzer: And English. Alexandros: Nay. Belzer: Yes. Alexandros: Nay. Belzer: Yes. I speak English. Alexandros: Nay. In Greek, nay mean yes. Belzer: Yes? Alexandros: Nay. Belzer: Oh. Pause. Alexandros: Eliopolos. Belzer: What? Alexandros: I am Eliopolos. Belzer: Oh. Hello. Alexandros: Eliopolos. The Eliopolos. Alexandros Duncan Eliopolos. I make Paris debut last week. You read maybe about it? Belzer: I'm afraid... no… Alexandros: Greatest acclaim. Newspapers bravo. I am prodigy. Yes, Eliopolos. In Greece, I am Greek, they treat me with respect, they are very kind, always, very kind, but here, in Paris, oh, flowers... roses, orchids, falling on my head from audience, I do not know how, flowers, and applause, going on for many, many minutes. Like excellent lovemaking, applause. Belzer: Oh. (Pause) I'm the interpreter. Alexandros: She comes after concert, La Duncan. She falls at my feet. No- one can play the Chopin like you, she says. Then I tell her, Alexandros Duncan Eliopolos is named one third for her. My mother watch her dance, my mother go to Acropolis at night and watch her dance, when I was inside belly, and my mother say her child will be great artist like Isadora. And now this is true. Great artist. But, still, I never see La Duncan dance. I ask my mother to describe. But she will not. In my eye there is no picture. I not see what it is that happens when Isadora dance. This I tell Isadora and she says but of course I will come to Vienna to watch her make performance. But first I go to her house, here, this house, now, and play for her and she will make rehearsal. So, at last, since so many years asking and dreaming, at last I will see Isadora dance. Belzer: Oh. (Pause) I'm the interpreter. Miss Belzer. Alexandros: Look, here... (He points to a photograph that sets in a frame on the piano) She keeps photograph. This little girl. This little boy. Beautiful. Her children. Yes. Terrible accident. Many years ago. Children sit in automobile and automobile goes into river. And children drown. Very Greek. Like Sophocles. I am proud to have her name. (He brings the photograph of the children to Belzer and sets it on a table) Belzer: Yes. I remember. Her children. I read about it. They drowned. In the river. I was in a clinic in Budapest. It seemed much more real. Pause. Alexandros: More real? Belzer: Yes. (Pause) Than any of the suffering around me. (Pause) I'm the interpreter. But there is nothing to interpret. They have been in there... (pointing to the bedroom)... all afternoon. Jeanne enters and paces in front of the bedroom door. Jeanne: Le marchand de vin ne nous donnera plus de champagne. Dis leur d'arreter de faire l'amour. On a besoin d'argent. Isadora comes out of the bedroom. She looks quite radiant. Isadora: Oh there you are, Jeanne. We'd love some tea. Jeanne looks at her in silence. Du the s'il te plait, cherie. Jeanne: Madame, il n'y a pas d'argent pour le diner. Je ne peux pas acheter du champagne ou des homards. Isadora ignores Jeanne and goes to Alexandros, arms outstretched. Isadora: My sweet Alexandros, how kind of you to come. And... (She stares at Belzer for a moment, a bit baffled) Belzer: Miss Belzer. Isadora: Yes, dear. I remember. (She sees the photograph of the children on the table. She looks at it and carefully puts it back on the piano) Sergei comes out of the bedroom. He puts his arms around Isadora. Sergei: Sidora. Idem guliats. Isadora: (To Belzer) Here's your chance. You can translate. Belzer: He would like to go for a walk with you. Isadora: Oh. (She mimes walking to Sergei then shakes her head "no", and turns to Belzer) Tell Sergei I must rehearse. Sergei, do you remember Eliopolos? (She brings Sergei to Alexandros) Alexandros: (holding out his band) Yassoo. Sergei stares at Alexandros but does not take his hand. Jeanne: Madame...les homards. Isadora: Pas maintenant, Jeanne. Belzer: (To Sergei) U neye repetitsia s etim molodim chelovekom. Sergei: (staring at Alexandros) Kto eto? Alexandros: Eliopolos. I am Eliopolos. Belzer: He says who is he? Sergei continues to stare. Isadora: We went to his concert, Sergei. Eliopolos. Sergei stares. Alexandros: Eliopolos. Prodigy. Piano. Flowers. Sergei: Skolko yemu lyet? Belzer: He wants to know how old you are. Alexandros: Nineteen. Belzer: Deviatnadsats. Sergei snorts then looks at Isadora. Sergei: Ponimayu. Togda ya idu guliats odin. Belzer: He says he will go for a walk by himself. Isadora: Oh no, duckie, not alone. He mustn't go out alone. Don't translate that. (Quietly, almost in a whisper, to Belzer and Alexandros) Every time he goes out for a walk by himself he gets into trouble. They find him floating in gutters. He destroys buildings. Tres dangereux. Oh dear, oh dear, what to do. Sergei: Ya idu guliats. Isadora: No, Sergei. Sergei: Ya sebia chuvstvuyu kak v tiurme. Belzer: He says you keep him a prisoner here. Isadora: It's true. I do. I have to. I will not let him go. (To Belzer) Why don't you reminisce? Belzer: What about? Isadora: Moscow. Belzer: I have never been to Moscow. Isadora: But you're Russian. Belzer: It's a large country. Isadora: But where did you live? Didn't you long to go to Moscow? You must tell me everything. But, meanwhile, pretend. Talk to him about Russia. Just mention Moscow. See what happens. Try it. Belzer: Sergei Alexandrovich, ya tak davno ne vstrechalas s russkim. Pause. Isadora: (motioning to her) Go on… Belzer: Davaite pogovorim o Moskve. Sergei: Moskva! Oh Moskva! Isadora: See? Sergei: Horosho bi okazatsa seichas v Moskve! Isadora: Now go into the study and compare memories. Make up memories. Belzer: Davaite pogovorim o Moskve. Belzer opens the study door. Sergei follows her. Sergei: Chto novovo v Moskve? Belzer: Vi uzhe davno uyehali iz Moskvi, Sergei Alexandrovich? Belzer enters the study, followed by Sergei. She closes the study door. Isadora: Good girl, Belzer! Jeanne: Madame, je ne sais quoi faire a-propos du diner. Nous n'avons pas d'argent pour champagne ou homards. Isadora: Oh what a blooming farce. (To Alexandros) There is no money for dinner. (To Jeanne) Ne me derange pas maintenant. Jeanne: Mais qu'est-ce que je fais pour le diner? Isadora: I don't know. (To Alexandros) The world is a sickening place, isn't it? I live from hand to mouth. (She looks around the room) We'll have to sell some more furniture. The dining-room is completely gone. We'll have our meal in here. We can eat a nice juicy desk tonight. I do love this house, but now suddenly it's all drifting away, piece by piece. (To Jeanne) Essaye det'arranger avec le marchand pour la table. Jeanne: Et le champagne? Isadora: Sell anything but the piano. Tu t'en occupe, Jeanne. Je te fais complete confiance. Jeanne: Oui, Madame. Isadora: And we have to find someone who speaks Italian. There's a vice-consul or something coming to dinner. Alexandros: Ah, Eliopolos can help. I speak Italian. Isadora: You do? Alexandros: Yes, very superb. Like my English. Isadora: Oh, dear, dear Alexandros. Then you must dine with us tonight. Un autre homard, Jeanne. Jeanne: Un autre homard? (Pause) Oui, Madame. Jeanne leaves. Isadora: I'm so pleased you are here. Do you think she's pretty? Alexandros: Who? Isadora: Belzer. Or is she rather plain? Alexandros: Perhaps. Isadora: Perhaps? Perhaps pretty or perhaps plain? How old do you think she is? We don't know anything about her. He mustn't ever be left alone. Certainly not with another woman. Did you find her attractive? Why can't anyone give me a straight answer? No, no, she isn't his kind. Would you say? Well, one never knows. (She looks at the study door, then turns away; her eyes blink on Alexandros) My young genius, it really is kind of you to come. What would I do without you? Alexandros: Many years I wait for this. Alexandros goes to Isadora. She takes his hand and examines his fingers. Isadora: You have beautiful, long fingers. You know, Sergei Alexandrovich is a disaster in the real world, but a creature of infinite beauty in the only world, the only world worth living in, the imagination. Is that where you live? Just look at these fingers... (She strokes his fingers) Alexandros: Isadora… Isadora: You can tell an artist by his hands. Alexandros: Mayissa Isathora. Isadora: They have such grace. I am fatally attracted to genius. (She kisses his fingers, very slowly, gently and seductively) Alexandros: Pendomorfi Isathora. Isadora: Fly, fly, fly away... you and I... away from here. Alexandros: Thavmassia Isathora. Anything. I do anything for you. My name is part yours. My mother gives birth to me, dreaming of you. Isadora lets go of his hand. Isadora: Ye godsl You're just a child. A child. (Pause) And I'm a foolish lady. A tired vamp. A silly old dancing dervish. Alexandros: No. Pause. Isadora: Yes. (Pause) We must rehearse. (She smiles) Come. Sit at the piano. (She leads him to the piano) Alexandros: You make my head in circles. Am I here? Am I far away? Do you dance now? I wait my whole life for this. What is it you dream of, I ask my mother, when you dream of Isadora? She does not answer. Isadora: There is too much sun. Isadora draws the curtains. Alexandros looks around at the clutter on the piano. Alexandros: No space. There is no space. Isadora lights two large candles. There is no room. Isadora: Sit at the piano. Alexandros: But there is no room. Isadora: Shh! I'll make room. (She clears debris from the piano then takes a chair and places it next to the piano) Perfect. (She sits) Now, Chopin's Etude, Opus 10. F Minor. Alexandros: Yes? Isadora: Please. Alexandros plays Chopin's Etude, Opus 10, F Minor. Isadora sits completely still. She is totally absorbed in the music, and completely lost in her imagination. She is listening with power, force and passion. She is on fine, but inside. The piece lasts two minutes and thirty-five seconds. Alexandros finishes. A silence. Isadora remains still. Then her eyes seem to return to the room. Thank you. Silence. The rehearsal is over. (She rises and goes to the window and opens the curtains) Alexandros: (stunned) But... Isadora: Yes? Alexandros: It is over? Isadora: Over. (Pause) Oh, Alexandros Duncan Eliopolos, you want to see my feet move, don't you? You will have to come to Vienna. I do not rehearse my feet. (Taking his hands) Here, lift your long, beautiful hands, and place them on your heart. And try to hear your soul. If you can, then you will be able to dance too. It's easy. Everyone can dance. All they have to know is how to listen. But most people are deaf. I'll tell you what the problem is with angels. Alexandros: With angels? Isadora: Angels. They only come to visit you for a short time. You have a few moments of inspiration in all of life, and the rest is chipuka. The study door is flung open. Sergei strides into the room, holding a bottle of wine. He has been drinking. He is followed by Belzer. Sergei: Chto zdes prohizhodit? Pochemu prekratilas muzika? Belzer: He says the music has stopped. Isadora: Of course it's stopped. The rehearsal is over. Sergei circles the piano, staring at Alexandros. Sergei: Kto etot chelovek? On tvoi liubovnik? He continues to circle the piano. Isadora looks at Belzer. Isadora: You're blushing, Belzer. Belzer: I'm sorry, Miss Duncan. He says this man is your lover. Alexandros: No. I am Eliopolos. Isadora: Oh, Seryezha... Sergei: Ti yeyo liubovnik? He pulls Alexandros up from the piano. Isadora: No, Sergei. No liubovnik. No liubovnik. Eliopolos. He is Eliopolos. You went to his concert. The piano player! Sergei: Ya ubyu tebia. Belzer: (To Alexandros) He says he will kill you. (To Isadora) Oh, Miss Duncan, this is exciting. What do we do? Alexandros: I play piano, this is all. Eliopolos. Prodigy. Sergei: Ya ubyu tebia! (He grabs Alexandros) Isadora: Sergei, let go of him. Sergei: Ubyu tebia! Isadora: No! He's a pederast! Sergei! Pederast! (To Belzer) Tell him. He's a pederast. Tell him. Belzer hesitates. Good God, Belzer. What's the Russian for pederast? Belzer: Pederast. (She points to Alexandros) On pederast. Isadora: You mean it's the same word? Sergei: On pederast? Alexandros: Da. Pederast! Sergei smiles. He embraces Alexandros. Sergei: Togda vse v poriadke. Ti moi drug. Ti pederast? Eto chudesno. Belzer: He says it is wonderful you are pederast. Sergei: Ti bolshoi muzikant. Belzer: He says you are a great pianist. Oh, Miss Duncan, that was close. Sergei picks some glasses up from the floor and pours the wine. Isadora: (To Alexandros) I'm sorry, sweetie, but I had to think quickly. Alexandros: It is all right. It is true. Isadora: It is? Honest injun? Alexandros: Yes. Eliopolos is great pederast. Best pederast in all Europe. It is very Greek. Isadora: Why didn't you tell me? Sergei, he really is a pederast. Sergei gives her a glass. Yes, this calls for some wine. He played the Chopin exquisitely, Sergei. Something is forming in my head. Oh, the relief! The relief! Something is growing. (To Belzer) Tell him, we had a wonderful rehearsal. Belzer: U nih bila zamechatelnaya repetitsia. Sergei: Repetitsia? Belzer: Da. Sergei: Kakoe eto imeyet znachenie. Tanzor nichto. Nichto! Belzer hesitates. Isadora: Belzer, you're going to have to grit your teeth, and say what he says. Belzer: I suppose. Isadora: Well? Belzer: He says a dancer is nothing. Sergei: Kogda tanzovshchitsa umiraet, umiraet yeyo isskustvo. Belzer: When a dancer dies, her art dies. Isadora: Oh Sergei, that's bloody nonsense. A dancer gives people her soul... Sergei: Tvoya publica umiraet, Sidora. I s nei umiraet pamats o tebe. Belzer: Your audience will die. And their memories of you. Isadora: Beauty does not die. Belzer: Krasota ne umiraet. Isadora takes Alexandros' hand. Isadora: Tell him, Alexandros. Beauty does not die. Somewhere, it has to live somewhere. Why does he do this to me? Sergei: Zhiva tolko poeziya. Ya, Sergei Esenin, budu zhits vechno. Belzer: Only poetry lives. I, Sergei Esenin, shall live forever. Sergei: Sidora izcheznet. Isadora: I don't want to hear any more. What did he say? Belzer: Isadora shall disappear. Isadora: No. Sergei: Ya prochtu vam moi stihi. Belzer: He recites a poem. Alexandros: Isadora, I take you from here. Isadora: (smiling) Shh... Alexandros: Now. This minute. Isadora: Shh... Alexandros: I take you to Greece. He is not good, this man. If big wave wash him away to sea I would not care. Isadora: Shh! He is going to recite! Sit down... everyone... sit down… Isadora and Belzer sit. Alexandros hesitates then sits as well. Sergei stands in the centre of the room. He begins to recite. Sergei: Utrom v rzhanom zakute, Gde zlatiatsa rogozhi v riad, Semerih oshchenila suka, Rizhih semerih shcheniat. Do vechera ona ih laskala, Prichesivaya yazikom, I struilsya snezhok podtaliy Pod teplim yeyo zhivotom. A vecherom, kogda kuri Obsizhivaiut shestok, Vishel hozain hmurui, Semerih vseh poklal v meshok. Po sugrobam ona bezhala, Pospevaya za nim bezhats. I tak dolgo, dolgo drozhala Vodi nezamershiy glad. A kogda tchuts plelas obratno, Slizivaya pot s bokov, Pokazalsia yei mesiats nad hatoi Odnim is yeyo shchenkov. V siniuyu viss zvonko Gliadela ona, skulia, A mesiats skolzil tonkiy I skrilsia za holm v poliah. I gluho, kak ot podachki, Kogda brossiat yei kamen v smeh, Pokatiliss glaza sobatchi Zolotimi zvezdami v sneg. He finishes. There is a long silence. Isadora: Now tell me be has no genius. Oh my beautiful madman… (She throws herself in front of Sergei and kisses his foot) Belzer: (To Alexandros) It is very beautiful. Alexandros: How to tell? I not understand Russian. Isadora not understand Russian. It is not right, to kiss the foot. Sergei lifts Isadora up. Sergei: Vidish, ya budu zhits vechno. Belzer: He says it is proof he shall live forever. Isadora: (taking the wine) And he shall. Let's drink. To my golden angel. To my Esenin! She drinks. The others follow. Sergei smiles, in great triumph. He turns to Belzer. Sergei: Teper perevedite poemu. Belzer: Chto? Sergei: Perevedite poemu. Belzer: Nyet, ya ne mogu. Sergei: (angry) Perevedite, ya nastaivayu. Belzer: Ne prosite menya ob etom. Isadora: What is it? Belzer: Nothing. Isadora: Belzer, you must look the devil in the eye. What is it? Belzer: He wants me to translate the poem. Isadora: Oh, yes! Of course! Belzer, I have heard this poem before, many times, he likes to recite this one to me. Translate it for us. Please! Belzer: No. Not this poem. (Pause) Not any poem. I cannot translate. (To Sergei) Ya ne mogu. (To Isadora) A poem, it is so delicate. So careful. Each word has music of the language. I cannot translate. (To Sergei) Ne mogu. Sergei: Ya trebuyu perevesti moyu poemu. Belzer: Eto nevozmozhno. Sergei: Perevedi! Isadora: Please. Alexandros: Isadora, perhaps no. Isadora: It will make him feel better. No one can appreciate him outside of Russia. It hurts him when I don't understand. Alexandros: But I think maybe better not to understand. Sergei: Perevedi. Isadora: Belzer, you must do as my husband says. Sergei: Perevedi. Pause. Belzer: Yes. Then… if you insist. It is my job. But it is not the same in English. The poem is only beautiful in Russian. Isadora: Don't tell him that. Belzer: (To Sergei) Po angliyski eto sovsem ne to. Poema zvuchit tolko po russki. (To Isadora) I tell him that. He is not a kind man. Isadora: What do you mean? Sergei: Perevedi! Belzer: All right. I translate. It is called "The Song of a Dog". Alexandros: Title not so special. Isadora: Oh, that's beautiful. A dog. (She sits) Belzer: I cannot translate line by line. I can only tell you the story. It is about a female dog. She gives birth to seven puppies. Seven puppies with golden red hair. She kisses them. On their coats, with her tongue. And the snow beneath her melts because she is so warm. But that evening her master comes and puts the puppies in a sack. She traits behind him, through the snowdrifts and sees… (She stops) Sergei: (reciting) "I tak dolgo, dolgo drozhala Vodi nezamershiy glad". Pause. Belzer: She sees her master drown her children. Isadora gasps. But the moon vanishes. And tears fall from her eyes like stars on the snow. And she cries out to the night, to the moon. She thinks the melon is perhaps one of her puppies. Silence. Isadora rises. Isadora: Thank you, Belzer. Isadora starts to move around the room. She circles the room, as if she wants to escape. She stops by the piano. She looks at the photograph. She turns to Sergei. But if it were… A long pause. Belzer: Esli bi eto bila… Isadora: Not a dog… Pause. Belzer: Ne sabaka… Isadora: But a woman. Belzer: A zhenshchina. Isadora: What then, Sergei? Would you still recite this poem to me? Sergei: Eto este sabaka. V poeme. Ne zhenshchina, sabaka. Belzer: But it is a dog. In the poem. Not a woman. A dog. Isadora: But if in life… Belzer: No esli bi v zhizni... Sergei: Menye plevats na zhizn. Belzer: I don't care about life. Isadora: If in life, a woman loses her children, if her puppies drown… Sergei: Menye plevats na tvoih detei! Belzer: I do not care about your children. Sergei grabs the photograph from the piano and tears it out of its frame. He rips the photograph into pieces and throws them on to the floor. Sergei: Moya poema o sabake. Ti nichevo ne ponimaesh. Ya idu guliats. Belzer: My poem is about a dog. You do not understand. I am going for a walk. Sergei leaves. Silence. Isadora walks to the torn photograph. She collects the pieces. Isadora: My babies. Curtain >>