CUHK Series:The Other Shore: Plays by Gao Xingjian
Page 12
(Takes one step forward and listens.) She says she must cleanse them whether they can or can’t be cleansed.
(Pressing.) She knows there’s no way she can make them clean, but why does she still insist on cleansing them?
(The nun picks up the intestines and cards them one by one, using her dainty fingers.)
Woman :
(Staring for a long time.) She keeps on cleansing and carding, will it ever end?
(The nun lifts the plate. She disappears instantly just as she is going to hurl the plate at Woman.)
Woman :
(Covering her face with both hands.) She sees countless heads swimming in the sea of bitterness, this boundless sea which has no end. Perhaps the merciful Bodhisattva is to release her from purgatory, but unfortunately she just can’t be exalted to paradise and sukhavat, the land of the pure. All the while she is wandering between the misty clouds and among the big Chaos, she’s looking for her way, hurriedly, yet aimlessly, she feels that she has degenerated to the lower depths. Then she sees the door of a dark and secret valley, behind which a mammoth eye keeps watching her every move, nothing can escape its attention. (Lays down her arms and stares attentively.)
(Behind her appears an immeasurably tall and thin man on stilts. He is cloaked in a long black robe which touches the ground, and the tall headgear he has on extends to cover his face. He holds out his long arm and reveals a palm painted with a big, staring eye the size of a copper bell.)
Woman :
He makes her sweat, he makes her heart jump, he makes her scared, she is always agitated, she can never have peace, she suffers from all kinds of torments, they all stem from the man’s eye in the dark. Ever since she was a young girl she had been shy and bashful, mischievous, self-indulgent and even masochistic, she realizes it now, it was all because of him. His staring has been the cause of all her sufferings. Has he become her only raison d’être? Is it possible? No! (Turns and tries to escape.)
(The eye in the palm of the man in black robe is high above her. It stares at her steadily and never lets go.)
Woman :
(Screams.) No—! (Runs.)
(The man in black does not chase after her. He just raises the painted eye on his hand up high to observe her, as if it is a light shining on her every move. When she stops, he places it behind her head again.)
Woman :
(Screams.) No—(She kneels on the ground with her face down, her hands holding her head.)
(The man in black still covers her head with the painted eye on his hand.)
Woman :
(Murmuring in rapid succession.) She says no, she says don’t, she says don’t say a word, she says it’s very good, she says ah, she says she does not want what she says she wants, she says when she says no she doesn’t mean no, she says when she says no she doesn’t mean yes, she says she is not saying no! She’s not saying yes either, she only says, she no longer wants, wants it no longer, no longer wants, no longer can, no longer willing to see this stranger’s eye again, it keeps staring at her and never lets go…
(The man in black takes off his headgear and reveals a hideous-looking face. His bloody red tongue is drooling, giving out a screeching laughter resembling the wind tearing open a paper window pane.)
Woman :
(Falls on her back and murmurs slowly.) She says she doesn’t know what she was saying, she doesn’t know what she really wants to say, maybe she didn’t say anything, if what she said is useless, then she might as well not say it, she says she doesn’t know what she ought to say, and what else she has not said. But what more can she say?
(The man in black disappears. At the same time a grey white shirt slowly comes up in front of Woman. It faintly reveals itself as the body of a headless woman.)
Woman :
(Lifts her head.) She says she’s had enough, she feels drowsy,…(Lies down.)
(The headless woman drifts in front of her and extends an arm to stroke Woman’s forehead.)
Woman :
(Startled, she sits up and covers her eyes with her hand.) She see it again, this time it’s a woman’s eye! It’s floating and appearing in front of her eyes…(Pushes away the hand.)
(The headless woman draws back her hand.)
Woman :
(She stands up and thinks deeply, searching her brain.) She doesn’t know…if…she’s witnessing…her own soul leaving her body?
(The headless woman again holds out her hand and waves it menacingly in front of her eyes.)
Woman :
(Staring.) She can even see her own eyes! In these eyes she sees her own naked body again. (Shakes her head.)
(The headless woman immediately withdraws her hand and recoils.)
Woman :
(Lowers her head to look at herself, startled.) She saw herself just now, very clearly, naked, lying down and floating in the nether world: she gradually moved up, and then she slowly went down…when she was going to sink to the bottom, she floated to the surface again…she was pushed up…by surge after surge of black waves she couldn’t touch or feel…from an unfathomable depth…her body moved up again…and then plunged into a deeper valley of darkness…
(The headless woman holds out her arm again and waves her palm again in front of Woman’s eyes.)
Woman :
(Shudders.) This icy and unfeeling eye’s making her shiver with cold, she can’t take this prying any more!
(Looks around.) Who are you? Are you a nightmare? Or are you a ghost? (Tries to extricate herself from the indistinct headless woman’s body.)
(The headless woman reveals a hand and a leg, teasing and keeping Woman occupied at the same time.)
Woman :
(Screams.) Go away!
(Angered, she tries to grab hold of the hand.) She wants to get rid of this thing!
(Spreads the fingers.) Trample it to pieces!
(Grips the centre of the palm.) Wipe it all out!
(The headless woman flees.)
Woman :
(Laughs hysterically, then stops at once.) Finished…who finished whom?
(The headless woman slowly turns into a floating shirt and disappears at the back of the stage.)
Woman :
(Puzzled.) She has no thoughts, those searching thoughts which once troubled and tormented her, which remained incomprehensible even after long hours of thinking, the various causes and effects, the interminable analyses, the possibilities and conclusions built upon voluminous hypothetical premises and deduced through thousands of inferences and conclusions which are not necessarily reliable. She has no more words, the meaninglessness of meaning which is full of sound and colour, unending eloquence, definition, relatedness, and content. She also has no more feelings, they have all faded away, no matter whether they are hot or cold, light or heavy, visible or invisible, coloured or colourless, sentimental or unsentimental. Everything is enshrouded in the big Chaos, only a glimmer of secret light still exists in her heart, sometimes it’s bright and sometimes it’s dark, and if she can’t even prevent it from disappearing, then all will return to Nothingness…
(The quiet and empty sound of someone beating on a monk’s alms bowl, in succession.)
Woman :
(On her knees.) She gradually hears a sound, from far to near, from near to far, like water gurgling, quite intangible, but it flows through her heart…
(The light at the back of the stage becomes brighter, revealing a huge wall on which a bare sapling is indistinctly projected. Only a crooked branch is seen; it becomes increasingly visible.)
Woman :
(Kneels down and speaks as if she is singing.) The world is too small…the world is too large…
(The projected tree branch on the wall extends longer and longer.)
Woman :
The world is finite…the world is boundless…
(The projection on the wall presently becomes more indistinct.)
Woman :
The world has a form…the world is elusive…the world is
like the wind…the world is like a dream…the world is crude…the world is clamorous…the world is lonely…the world is monotonous…
(An old man holding a walking stick wobbles along and comes close to the wall. He is wearing a greyish white stormcoat, a grey hat and a scarf.)
Woman :
Is this a story? A romance? A farce? A fable? A joke? An admonishment? An essay not good enough to be a poem, or poetic prose which is not quite an essay? It’s not a song, because it has meaning but no spirit, it resembles a riddle, but it has no answer. Is it an illusion, no more than the ramblings in an idiot’s dream?
(The old man slowly walks to centre stage where there is a piece of rock. He lowers his head and carefully walks around it.)
Woman :
Is this about him, about you, about me, about her who is that girl, about her but not her, not about you, not about me, and not about you or all of you, just as what you all see is not her, not me, and not you, it’s merely the self, but the me you all see is not me, not her, it’s only that so-called self looking at her, looking at me, what more can you or I say?
(The old man finally stops in front of the rock and leans on his walking stick. As he is about to sit down, he looks closely at what is in front of him. It seems that he sees a snowflake falling slowly onto his foot. He takes off the hat and makes a motion to catch the falling snowflake.)
Woman :
What is the self? Besides these words, these empty, hollow words about nothing, what else is left?
(The old man puts on his hat, wobbles along past the rock and exits.)
Woman :
(Opens her lips and takes a deep breath as if she is singing a song.)—(But she slowly draws back and lowers her eyes and her head. Bending to lie face down on the floor, she no longer says anything.)
(The stage is only left with the rock and its shadow, which is changing and moving slowly. Afterwards, the rumbling sound of different kinds of tires is heard. Woman, still lying down, looks like a pile of abandoned clothing in the faint light.)
The end
First draft finished 29 January 1991 in Paris.
Second draft, 18 March 1991.
Final draft, 1 April 1991.
(This play is sponsored by the Bureau of Culture of France. Premiere rights belong to France.)
Some Suggestions on Producing Between Life and Death
1. The play starts out with the idea of traditional Chinese theatre in pursuit of a modern form of dramatic performance. It has no intention to create “realism” on stage; quite the opposite, it strives to highlight the feeling of performance and theatricality.
2. The play combines tragedy, comedy, and farce, and it does not seek to exclude acrobatics, dance, or magic. If simplicity is pursued, it can be found in the play’s uniform style of narration, which remains unchanged from beginning to end.
3. The narrator in the play, i.e., Woman, should not be regarded as the same as a character. She is both in and out of the character, but still preserving her status as an actress.
4. The language in the play should not strive for excessive naturalness. After all, drama is drama, it is not real life.
5. The actors on stage need not pursue excessive realistic details in their acting. If they can, relying on their deliberations, establish their credibility on stage, communication with the audience will ensue.
The above suggestions are for reference only.
Dialogue and Rebuttal
(A Play in Two Parts)
Time and location uncertain.
An empty stage, some clothing, several objects.
Characters:
A young girl
A middle-aged man
A monk
Two heads: one male, one female
Dialogue and Rebuttal. Theater des Augenblicks, Wien, Austria. Directed by Gao Xingjian. 1992.
Dialogue and Rebuttal. Théâtre Molière, Paris, France. Directed by Gao Xingjian. 1995.
Dialogue and Rebuttal. Théâtre Molière, Paris, France. Directed by Gao Xingjian. 1995.
First Half
(The stage is white [if possible], on which one sees a young girl and a middle-aged man. A black overcoat and a travelling tote bag have been thrown to one side; on the other side towards the back, there lies a bathrobe, which has been tossed down in a heap. At front stage on the right, a wooden fish[83-1]has been placed on the floor.)
Girl:
Finished?
Man:
Finished.
Girl:
How was it?
Man:
Quite good. (Pause.) How about you?
Girl:
Not bad. (Pause.) Quite good, I should say.
(Man tries to say something but stops.)
Girl:
So…
Man:
What?
Girl:
Nothing much.
Man:
Nothing much what?
(Girl smiles slightly.)
Man:
What are you smiling at?
Girl:
Nothing.
Man:
Why are you still smiling?
Girl:
I’m not smiling.
(Helpless, Man stares at her. Girl avoids his stare and looks away.)
Man:
Is it over?
Girl:
Isn’t it better this way?
Man:
Are you always like this?
Girl:
What?
Man:
With men…
Girl:
Of course, you’re not the first one.
(Man is taken aback, then laughs out loud.)
Girl:
You’re all the same.
Man:
(Happily.) Do you mean we—
Girl:
I mean you, you men!
Man:
(Corrects her.) Men and women!
(Both laugh. Girl stops laughing abruptly. Man also stops.)
Man:
What’s wrong?
Girl:
Nothing.
Man:
I’m sorry.
Girl:
(Coldly.) There’s nothing to be sorry about.
(Man walks away and puts on bathrobe.)
Girl:
If we had known…
Man:
Speak for yourself.
Girl:
Hypocrite!
Man:
But I love you—
(Immediately Girl starts to laugh out loud. Man also laughs heartily. Monk enters slowly from the right side of the stage. He is bald, wearing a kasaya, a Buddhist robe, and a pair of straw sandals. With his eyes lowered and his palms clasped, he is chanting “Amitabha Buddha”!
Man and Girl stop laughing.
Monk walks to a corner at right stage, turns around until his back is facing the audience, sits down with his legs crossed and starts to beat the wooden fish. Man and Girl restrain themselves. They both look down, listening carefully to the continuous beating of the wooden fish.)
Girl:
(Softly.) She doesn’t understand why, why she followed such a man, but she followed him anyway, following him to…
Man:
(Softly.) She understands everything, she knew it very well, it’s all very simple and clear, both had the need…
Girl:
(Softly.) No, she only wanted to know if it could happen…She knew it was possible but not entirely unavoidable…
Man:
(Softly.) Things are bound to happen anytime, anywhere in the world, when something happens, you’ll just have to go along with it and have some fun.
Girl:
(Softly.) He may look eager and willing, but she knows very well that he’s faking it, if she’d only arched her back and held him off, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened.
Man:
(Softly.) One minute early or one minute late, it’s all the same. Why put on an act? You and I are no different, th
at’s the way it is.
Girl:
(Softly.) Of course she’d been expecting it, she knew right from the beginning how it would end, but she never thought it would be so sudden, so hasty, and the end would come so fast.
(Monk beats the wooden fish twice.)
Girl:
Forget it! There’s nothing worth celebrating.
Man:
I didn’t say anything.
Girl:
Better keep it that way.
(Man droops his head. Monk starts to beat lightly on the wooden fish, chanting softly and continually: “Amitabha Buddha.”)
Girl:
How come you’re not saying anything?
Man:
What’s there to say?
Girl:
Anything you want.
Man:
You talk, I’ll listen.
Girl:
Tell me about yourself.
Man:
I’m a man.
Girl:
You don’t have to tell me that.
Man:
What shall I tell you then?
Girl:
Don’t you know how to talk with people?
Man:
I’m afraid you won’t like it.
Girl: