by Eric Lane
LIV: Is… is this… the right place? (MO doesn' t respond.) Is… Is this the YOSHIMURA-Obolenski Depression Clinic? I saw the ad. (She reads crumpled newspaper.) “ Have your eating and sleeping habits changed? Have you gained or lost weight? Do you start to cry for no reason?” (She sniffles.) “ If you have answered ' yes' to any of the above questions, you may be eligible for a new and innovative treatment program that begins tonight, at midnight at the YOSHIMURA-Obolenski Depression Clinic. You will be paid for your participation.” So … is this it? (MO doesn' t respond.) Why did I get out of bed? I should just go home…. Now, I' ll have to wait hours for the Second Avenue bus. They say it comes every twenty-two minutes after midnight, but they are lying. Oh, the hell with it, I' ll take the subway. Oh why don' t I just throw myself onto the tracks? And now the fare has gone up. A
twenty-dollar fare card and it's all a waste. My fare cards are
expired anyway … trips I never took. (She sniffles.)
MO:(without lifting his head) Can' t you read? There' s a sign.
LIV: (reading the sign) Oh, well, now I feel stupid.
(She sits down, slumps beside MO. He reacts, ever so slightly inching away.)
MO: Do you mind?
LIV: What?
MO: I don' t like people … touching me. It gives me the heebie jeebies.
(She inches away.)
LIV: I' m sorry. I' m sorry. Yeah, yeah, I' m so sorry, sorry I' m alive.
MO: Yeah.
LIV: SO where' S the doctors? The ad says “Anti-Depression Team.” Innovative New Three-Pronged Treatment for Depression.
MO: How would I know.
(At that moment, we hear clicketty clack of brisk steps and white lab-coated doctors YOSHIMURA and DR. OBOLENSKI is a stunning woman.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: Hi! We' re so glad … you' ve …
DR. OBOLENSKI: Chosen to attend our clinic …
MO: I said “I' d see.”
LIV: YOU don' t have to pay me to participate. You know, maybe this is a mistake. I don' t like the lighting … too bright. I don' t like the color scheme either. Or the feel of the chairs. Or this… other … individual. (She indicates MO.) … I think I' ll wait for the bus after all. …
DR. YOSHIMURA: (whisper to Correct his thinking… I' ll deal with her…
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to LIV) So tell me … (He looks at a card.) Liv. Have you experienced changes in your sleeping pattern?
LIV: Yes. I used to sleep eighteen hours a day, now it' s twenty-three. I' m wearing my nightgown under this raincoat.
DR. OBOLENSKI: (to MO) Mo, may I call you that? MO: I don' t care what you call me.
DR. OBOLENSKI: I love the name “Mo” … Short for Morton?
Or Mohammed?
MO: I dunno. My parents abandoned me after a few years of abuse. They just used to say, I don' t want you no mo. The name stuck.
DR. OBOLENSKI: SO, MO, change in weight… up or down?
MO: I feel a disgusting subcutaneous layer of fat and gristle all over my body, double-roll folds over my belly when I sit on the toilet which is almost all the time. The single thing that comforts me is smoking … and they won' t let me light up in here…
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to LIV) And have you noticed a change in your appetite?
LIV: Yes, it' s worse. I want to eat things that are bad for me. Mostly donut holes, and ranchero spicy chips—I know people say I' m thin, even skinny, but when I look in the mirror I see a fat, humongous blob. … I wish I could smoke.
DR. OBOLENSKI: (to MO) HOW many times a day do you masturbate?
MO: Why do you want to know?
DR. OBOLENSKI: It' s an indicator.
MO: There are intervals when I don' t. Isn' t that what everyone does when they are left alone for a few minutes in a room? C' mon, don' t make it like it' s me. Huh?
DR. OBOLENSKI: Of course, everyone does. But frequency… can … indicate anxiety. So how many times, Mo … ? Trust me, whatever you say, I' ve heard it before, everything has happened to someone, somewhere, maybe even to me … So? How many times a day?
(DR. YOSHIMURA: pays attention to her, also, attracted.)
MO: I don' t count after thirteen.
DR. OBOLENSKI: Do you live alone?
MO: What do you think?
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to LIV) Do you hear voices?
LIV: I don' t like to say.
DR. YOSHIMURA: What do they tell you? What do they tell you to do, Liv?
LIV: I don' t know. Jump, sort of. Out a window. On a track. It doesn' t matter. I won' t do it. I have no follow-through.
DR. YOSHIMURA: Do you think you are ready to feel better, Liv? The fact that you came here, on your own, says everything Liv…. That is more than half the battle.
DR. OBOLENSKI: DO you feel ready to feel better, Mo? (He doesn' t respond. He puts unlit cigarette in his mouth.) DR. OBOLENSKI: NO smoking, Mo. MO: It' s not lit. I only suck the filter.
DR. OBOLENSKI: YOU arrived early, Mo…. That' s a sign of optimism…
MO: No, it' s not—I had nowhere to go.
DR. OBOLENSKI: I think it is a cry for help.
MO: No it' s not.
(The doctors confer.)
yoshimura: Listen, this is a good test of the treatment. I would
describe both of them as acutely depressed, wouldn' t you?
DR. OBOLENSKI: I have seen only a little bit more depressed, back in Sitka, Siberia, where I trained.
DR. YOSHIMURA: You trained in Sitka? I always wanted to go there. Okay. The three-pronged treatment.
MO: Don' t give me no placebo. I want the real drugs.
LIV: Right. No placebo, for me, either. I don' t want to be in a control group.
DR. OBOLENSKI: Fine! This is good! The two of you! Look at you! Insisting on treatment!
MO, LIV: What is it?
DR. YOSHIMURA: It is the three-pronged approach. We fight depression from without, within, and below. We use drugs, behavior modification, and talk therapy in combination….
DR. OBOLENSKI: First, we explain: Depression in a social context. That it is global, normal. Every culture has a version of depression. I come from Russia where pessimism is accepted as a philosophy. Our great writers teach us that life is hopeless, love doomed, and we cannot trust even ourselves…. We betray our innermost consciences, and commit horrendous crimes for which we are eventually punished. We live lives of dread that are fulfilled in agony! (She sounds chipper.) So that' s normal for us!
DR. YOSHIMURA: And in my country of origin, Japan, a history of oppression and depersonalization has legitimized our rigidity and compulsive conformity. (He smiles brightly.) We recognize suicide as a logical solution to our problems: It does solve them! And it is honorable! … We have lost touch with the old ways that once sustained us. We are even losing our ethnic physical characteristics as modern Japanese people grow taller and we notice that even our subway cars seem futons. We are not so tiny anymore. Yet, this also makes us disoriented, as we know our respected ancestors would not approve when we drink instant tea.
MO, LIV: What does this have to do with us?
DR. YOSHIMURA: What is your ethnic background?
MO: I think Irish.
DR. OBOLENSKI: Irish. Oh, well, that has its own bleakness, the life of diminished expectations and even those are not met, as the culture conditions individuals to deny themselves pleasure at every slight opportunity. Joy is often confused with sin. There is a morbid preoccupation with the dead. The only satisfaction is in the grim realization that your suffering on this earth will be finite although you may burn in eternity for whatever moment of happiness you mistakenly knew…. (She smiles brightly.) Right? And alcoholism is a socially accepted way to deal with this state of mind, so you most likely have substance abuse problems on top of your innate cultural and personal despair…. Hair of the dog that bit ya—an ' tis a very black dog, indeed!
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to DR. OBOLENSKI) That was wonderful. … (to LIV) And you, your ethnic background and predisposition towa
rd a cultural form of despair?
LIV: Jewish!
DR. YOSHIMURA: “Oy Gevalt!” You see I have studied intensely in Brooklyn and the Bronx to understand the psychology of imagined disaster, constant anxiety, compounded by hysteria and a cultural tendency toward overeating and gasid indigestion as a self-remedy—” in the kishkas!” for your unrealistically high goals for yourself that predestine you to feeling like a failure….
LIV: I didn' t think the goals were unrealistic—my parents are both Ph.D.s in physics, and have been happily married and faithful to one another for forty-four years! It's me! Give me something!
MO: Yeah, just give me the drugs, too.
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to DR. OBOLENSKI) What do you think … correct the parental imaging?
DR. OBOLENSKI: (to YOSHIMURA) It' s worth a try.
(YOSHIMURA grabs LIV, OBOLENSKI grabs MO.)
DR. OBOLENSKI: (to MO) I am your Mama. I give you my breast. Ooh … ouchinka, touchinka! Mammala Mammala … Kuchy Koo …
(She makes kissy noises,
DR. YOSHIMURA: notices.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to LIV, but also saying this to DR. OBOLENSKI) How' s my little doll? How is Daddy' s best girl! I squeeze your cheeks! (He makes kissy noises too. The patients, MO and LIV, do not respond.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: (to DR. OBOLENSKI) Patients unresponsive, Dr. Obolenski, want to try the much-needed Significant Other?
DR. OBOLENSKI: It is sometimes effective with those who do not have a Significant Other…. (She looks for his wedding band.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: DR. OBOLENSKI: (to their patients) I love you! I find you attractive!
(MO, LIV, do not respond.)
YOSHIMURA, OBOLENSKI: Okay, prong three: Chemical… Where' s the cart? (They push the draped cart toward the patients.)
LIV: Give me something so I can dream, or just go under … I want something sensual… escapist… but nothing that will make me so lethargic I gain weight.
DR. YOSHIMURA: All right, we researched the world over, for a culture that was not depressive, and we fixed on the Cajun, Creoles from New Orleans. They had mood swings but, by and large a cross-section of Cajun people showed them to be very upbeat—singing … making love, paddling boats in the bayou, hunting for crawfish and serving them etouffee…. Dancing whenever they get the chance… We studied their lifestyle and discovered they drank a particular kind of coffee….
(DR. OBOLENSKI whips the drape off the cart, and we see a large coffee dispenser, with tall cups, à la Starbucks, large, larger, and humongous.)
DR. OBOLENSKI: SO what will it be? A Grande Latte? Or a Vente Latte? A cappuccino or Frappuccino?
MO: Hey, what is this? Another Starbucks?
DR. OBOLENSKI: YOU are only partly correct. Starbucks has financed our trial study. We wondered what would happen, if the euphoric effect of lattes and cappuccinos were combined with some basic serotonin uptake drugs such as those usually employed in Zoloft and Prozac? Cappuccino with a dusting of Zoloft and a dash of cinnamon? They come in Large, Larger, and Humongous. We can give you a cup of coffee as big as you are, in a cup with a drawstring waist and you can dance with it, if you feel good enough!
(Strains ofCajun music, zydeco play. The stunned MO and LIV sip from giant cups.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: Go ahead, dance … Fay-do-doh? (He smiles, dances a bit, energetically stamps his feet.)
MO, LIV: I don' t feel like it—I don' t want you near me.
DR. OBOLENSKI: (to MO) Dance with me. I will squeeze the pain from your body…. Hold me tight!
LIV: Sex is no solution. I am always sadder after …
DR. YOSHIMURA: This is not sexual, this compassion hug, to press the pain from you as you drink this exceptional coffee. Please try …
(She hesitates, then sips. He presses her to him.)
DR. OBOLENSKI: Mo, come here … this isn' t sexual either. … I just want to press my pelvic bones against yours … We can grind out the agony, Mo. While you have a Grande Latte or an Espresso Depresso.
(DR. OBOLENSKI moves into a passionate dance hold with MO, rubbing her cheek against his. LIV starts to move a bit, in place, to music. DR. YOSHIMURA: swings LIV toward MO, who is being squeezed by DR. OBOLENSKI.)
DR. OBOLENSKI: (husky whisper to MO) Let go, Mo, let go of the pain. Oh, I feel it. I feel it entering my body … (She twitches.)
(MO swigs another espresso, begins to dance by himself. The two doctors gently guide the couple to one another. The patients, MO and LIV, still stand, listless, oblivious to the softly playing Louisiana Cajun upbeat sound. DR. YOSHIMURA: sighs, puts his arm around DR. OBOLENSKI.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: How do you feel, Sasha? A bit burned out?
DR. OBOLENSKI: Oh, yes, I absorbed so much pain…. my head and breast are throbbing… Oh, Tim, I feel I' m failing them… that it is all hopeless… that nothing can remedy despair….
DR. YOSHIMURA: I love you like a mother, a sister, a friend, a comrade, a fellow scientist and a sex goddess. … So what do you say? Sweetheart?
DR. OBOLENSKI: (suspicious) Did you take something?
DR. YOSHIMURA: (proffering tiny cup to DR. OBOLENSKI) Medical sample … (sensual whisper)
(MO, LIV, begin to dance a bit in place. The music rises.)
DR. YOSHIMURA: DR. OBOLENSKI: (Sing Cajun lyric)
(The two doctors sip from one cup, then swirl into the dance. Lights out on the foursome, dancing in manic joy, kissing, embracing, swigging coffee, and fay-do-dohing, zydeco music blares. Blackout.)
EL SANTO AMERICANO
Edward Bok Lee
El Santo Americano was commissioned by the Guthrie Theater (JoeDowling, Artistic Director). The play premiered at the Guthrie Theater Lab in an evening of short works titled 7/11 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in July 2001. It was directed by Doug Mercer; the costume design was by Jeannie Galioto; the lighting design was by Paul J. Hackenmueller; the sound design was by Michael F. Bogden; the production stage manager was Julie L. Odegard; the assistant stage manager was Sarah Mitchell; the dramaturg was Michael Bigelow Dixon. The cast was as follows:
CLAY Kelly Conway
EVALANA Breean Julian
CHARACTERS
CLAY: A man.
EVALANA: His wife.
TIME: Present.
PLACE: The desert at night.
CLAY: (driving at night, 80 mph) that's because in Mexico it's normal to wear a mask. almost everybody does. silk and satin and form-fitting lycra. it makes the whole body more aerodynamic, you oughta see them flying around, doing triple flips in mid-air. they got these long flowing capes like colorful wings sprouting from their shoulders. they don't talk much, though. not the great ones. the silence is mysterious, it adds a kind of weight to them when they climb into the ring. get a guy with that much gold and glitter on him here and you know he'd have to talk shit. in Mexico they just wrestle. the masks come from thousands and thousands of years ago. fiestas. ancient rituals. slip one over your head and you could become a tiger or donkey, a bat or giant lizard. a corn spirit dancing under the clouds for rain. those were your gods if you lived back then. you'll like it there in Mexico, don't you think you'll like it there? Jesse?
(EVALANA, brooding, eventually looks in the backseat then faces front again.)
CLAY: he asleep back there?
a growing boy needs his sleep.
yes he does,
you hungry?
EVALANA: don't talk to me.
CLAY: hard to fall asleep on an empty stomach.
EVALANA: i can't sleep.
CLAY: you ain't tried to.
EVALANA: i told you.
i have to go to the bathroom.
CLAY: if i stop, you'll try to run again.
EVALANA: where the hell am i gonna run in the middle of the desert at night?
into a goddamn cactus!?
(She checks her outburst, then looks in the backseat again, perhaps adjusting their son 's blanket, then faces front. They drive on for a time.)
CLAY: (looking in rearview m
irror) hey there Jesse.
you have a nice nap?
we'll be there come morning, so you just sit back.
how you like that comic book I got you?
Jesse?
what's the matter, boy? you not feeling well?
Jesse?
EVALANA: sometimes he sleeps with his eyes open.
CLAY: like you.
EVALANA: i do not sleep with my eyes open.
CLAY: how do you know?
EVALANA: i know.
CLAY: how?
EVALANA: cause someone would have said something, including you.
CLAY: people do all kinds of things they're not aware of.
my daddy used to wander through the house all night, buck naked, up and down the stairs. opening and closing windows.
carrying only his briefcase chock full of all the vending machine products he sold.
combs. candy. chicken bouillon.
my momma warned if we woke him up he'd have a heart attack.
so we just let him sleepwalk.
he didn't know.
EVALANA: maybe somebody should have told him.
CLAY: he didn't want to know.
(They drive on.)
EVALANA: you talk in your sleep.
you snore.
you drool.
and you fart. all night.
(They drive on awhile.)
CLAY: i love you, Ev.
EVALANA: jesus, Clay. listen to yourself.
your whole life you been faking it.
fake husband. fake father.
fake man.
that's what they ought to call you:
Fake Man.
(CLAY drives on for a little while longer through the night, then pulls the car to a stop on the side of the road and gets out. He walks a good ways away from the car, holding a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other —not aimed at her, but clearly present, under the starlight. EVALANA hesitates, then gets out, the flashlight 's beam now on her.)