Act One
(We see a pale face in a tight spotlight. A man. Long crevasses of wrinkles in his face. He is wearing a turtleneck sweater: thick wool with a wide weave. All around there is darkness, though from the spill we can see that he is standing in a confined space. It is actually as if he is lying on his back, and we are watching him from above. He is wearing a headset which he speaks into from time to time, in low tones. Otherwise there is no movement.)
Sam:
No.
No...
Tell them no.
How do they want to do it.
Yes.
They want to do it in a bar in New York. Well, I don't see a problem with that rea-
Godot is the bartender? Oh no. No way. Tell them no. way.
Yes I'll hold.
...
[Godot is the bartender: Good God...]
...
Yes?
Who?
I don't know them.
A Jane Austen treatment? What on earth do they mean by that? Good Heavens. Well I don't care how famous they are, let me explain it all again: All I want is a bare stage with a tree and - Yes Tom I know you're trying. I know. I know Tom. All right, let's go on.
What do you mean you can't go on? Go on Tom.
No..
No...
A one-man show, no.
No..
No.
Tell them no!
A woman. What do you mean a woman, who's a woman. Oh no Tom, we've been through this a hundred thousand times - Never is Gogo ever to be played by a woman. No not Didi either. Never Never Never Never Never. Do you understand? Tom. N- Tom- Tom, I don't know why I'm arguing with you about this. Well what does my wife have to do with this God rest her soul? They want to beef up the what? Well that's none of their business - Tom! You're causing me to raise my voice here: Oh I'm Excessively Private now am I? Since when was that a - (?)
Well yes, I know I said it's not as important to respect the author's text after he's dead, because then you won't hurt his feelings, it would be impossible to hurt his feelings because of course he's dead: You see what I'm saying? It's just a man's feelings I'm talking about. Once I'm dead I won't give a frig what they do with it all, or what they say: I really won't give -
...
I am?
...
I'm-
...
Oh.
...
Yes I understand what you're say-
...
Yes I'm sure you will.
I have every confidence.
I'm sure you'll take care of my affairs with the greatest discretion Tom, I really didn't mean to - I mean I know I've been keeping to myself lately, but if someone had only - informed me, then I'd have - quite happily -
No, Tom, that won't be necessary ...
From now on, yes.
Yes.
Yes.
It's been a pleasure working with you too.
Goodbye.
Oh Tom?
...
[Surtitle: SAM ALONE]
Sam:
Well.
...
Here I am at last.
Alone at last.
Absent at last.
On the Verge of Vanishing.
Finally!
What a Relief, really.
Really, what a relief.
I'm so glad.
It's just as I wished.
Just what I Longed for.
And here it is at last.
At Last!
...
Funny, I would have thought they'd have interred me with Suzanne.
Oh it's just as well:
Her last wish would be to leave me alone.
[Surtitle: NOT ALONE]
(Now someone else is there, in the background. Going through a series of gestures. Sam is somewhat aware of this. Also we hear a gentle woman's voice - perhaps the voice is prerecorded.)
Voice:
(Suzanne)
Sam Beckett? This is your life:
You will never be published...
You will always be a parasite...
You will never be respected...
Your father is dead...
People think you are a sick man who writes filth...
You sometimes think yourself a sick man who writes filth...
You have a painful growth right inside your bum.
It hurts you a lot when you shit.
Here comes the war...
The Germans have taken your friends away.
The Germans have executed your friends.
Is there anyone beside you?
Or are you alone with your face of stone.
There goes the war.
One day you have a revelation:
You look down the road to see the Vanishing Point.
You head towards the Vanishing Point.
Taking your Time.
You scribble notes along the way.
Somebody takes your notes away...
Is there anyone beside you?
Or are you alone with your face of stone?
You suddenly achieve success.
Overnight success.
Overwhelming success.
But still
You head towards the Vanishing Point.
You get closer
And closer,
And closer.
Just when you think you arrive
There's somebody there.
With his face too.
He's there before you, waiting for you,
With a bit of unfinished business.
(Then the light widens and shows a bare stage strewn with old loose scraps of paper and dry leaves all around Sam's confined space. Perhaps they curve up behind him to partially continue the illusion that he is lying on his back. The other one is a man. A dead ringer for an older Buster Keaton. Also he's played by a woman with a French accent. He approaches Sam. Shoves a weighbill up in front of his face.)
Sam:
(reading)
It says Mr. Buckett.
(The man hesitates.)
Sam:
Yes, that's probably me. I am: I think therefore -
(The man walks back off, returns pulling a big box on wheels. Parks it SL towards the back. The box has big stickers on it that read "Extremely Fragile, Handle With Care, This Way Up," but they're all upside down. The box looks like it's been to Hell and back. Then the man approaches Sam with the weighbill and a pen, scribbles something on the weighbill and again shows it to Sam, gesturing with the pen.)
Sam:
(reading)
"Estimated time of delivery:"
The moment between stirring still and stop?
(The man trickily places the pen into his hand. Sam signs. The man puts the weighbill away, clips the pen into his pocket and goes.)
Sam:
(too late, as the man goes)
Wait, where did you come - (?)
(The man's gone.)
Sam:
I am not going to wonder what is in the box.
Voice:
Meow?
Sam:
Oh I know.
Voice:
Meow?
Sam:
It's a cat.
Voice:
Meow?
Sam:
There's something stopping me from stopping the stirring still:
Voice:
Meow.
Sam:
There's something stirring still that's keeping me from coming to a stop.
Voice:
Meow!
Sam:
There's something I must stop from stirring still if I'm ever going to come to a stop.
Voice:
Meow.
Sam:
There's something stirring.
Something is stirring,
And it's a cat.
(He goes to the box, finds a door handle in front, opens it, and crouches with his arm stretched into the box, looking inside.)
Sam:
Come here. Come here kitty. Come here Come on. That's it.
(he makes a grab)
Gotcha.
(He drags out of the box by the back of the collar the same man as before who played the delivery man, dressed as before like Buster Keaton.)
Man:
(innocently)
Meow.
Sam:
You're the guy that delivered the box.
(Drops him back in the box and shuts the lid. Returns to his sarcophagus. After a pause.)
Sam:
That guy looked like Buster Keaton.
...
Naw..
Once, when I was still stirring,
I made a Film with Buster Keaton.
Such a quiet man. I tried to speak to him, but he was impossible to speak to. He did his work, for two weeks, and then he went home.
...
Who in the world am I talking to?
...
(Looks.)
I thought my work was finished:
Stirring still more and more slowly and then a stop.
And what do I find?
There's an audience.
I've been interred with an audience.
Voice:
(still in the box)
Meow!
Sam:
And someone meowing at me that looks like Buster Keaton.
No.
No audience.
No Buster Keaton.
Alone at last. On the Verge of
(Buster steps out from behind the box and scares Sam, who yelps.)
Buster:
Wake up Sam.
Sam:
Who are you?
Buster:
Who do I look like?
Sam:
You look like Buster Keaton.
Buster:
Come till I embrace you.
Sam:
But you've got a French accent.
Buster:
I learned it for a movie and it stuck.
Sam:
But you're a woman.
Buster:
I'm exploring my feminine side.
Sam:
You look like my wife.
Buster:
Imbecile.
Sam:
Suzanne.
Buster:
Now you've gone too far.
Sam:
But Buster Keaton's dead.
Buster:
Is that your problem?
Sam:
But I'm dead.
Buster:
No, you're stirring.
Sam:
I'm stirring.
Buster:
Still.
Sam:
What are you doing here?
Buster:
Ah Sam, don't you know? I'm here to make the show.
Sam:
The show?
Buster:
We have some unfinished business, you and I.
Sam:
I think there's been some mistake. My work is finished. I'm alone at last, absent at -
Buster:
You mean you don't want to make a movie with me?
Sam:
A movie?
Buster:
Sure, a movie.
Sam:
We already made a movie.
Buster:
Sure, but that was a piece of shit.
Sam:
How can you say that? How can you say my movie was a piece of shit?
Buster:
Because the movie was a piece of shit Sam. Because you made a silent picture with Buster Keaton, the greatest Silent clown of them all, greater even than Charlie Chaplin, and it wasn't funny. But I'm a good guy Sam, and I'm going to give you a second chance.
Sam:
But I thought ... I thought that ... I thought that ...
Buster:
What did you think?
Sam:
It doesn't matter: My work is -
Buster:
No tell me.
Sam:
I thought that movie was pretty funny.
Buster:
Oh yeah?
(tossing a book at him)
Show me one funny gag.
Sam:
What's this?
Buster:
It's the script for your movie.
Sam:
Oh.
If I can show you a funny bit will you leave me alone?
Buster:
Sure Sam.
Sam:
Okay right here: Right here on page one it says: "O -" that's you, that's your character -"O should invite -"
Buster:
What was his last name: Suzanna?
Sam:
Very funny.
Buster:
(sings)
"Oh Suzanna, don't you cry for me
I Come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee."
Show me the funny gag.
Sam:
"O should invite laughter by his way of moving."
See? There. Leave me alone.
Buster:
You can invite laughter Sam, but that don't mean that laughter's gonna come.
Show me.
Sam:
Ah no: My work is finished: I don't have to show you anything.
Buster:
There you see? Not one funny gag.
Sam:
No no: What that stage direction meant was that you should do those things - those walking ways, those ways you walked yourself in those films of yours: that way of moving you employed in those films of yours.
Buster:
What films?
Sam:
You know: City Lights, Modern Times, The Gold Rush, uh - uh - The Kid - uh - The Tramp, The Pilgrim -
Buster:
You saw all them films?
Sam:
Yes. And they were very -
Buster:
Those were Charlie Chaplin films, Buster.
Sam:
Oh of course, I'm -
Really, it's terrible, I'm Sure that I - The General! Your film was The General.
Buster:
Show me the funny way Mr. Nobel Prize Winner.
(Sam acquieses. He tries a Chaplin walk. Realizes. Starts another one.)
Buster:
Ah wait.
(Pulls out a hankerchief and approaches him.)
Sam:
What are you doing?
Buster:
Well in your film you never saw my face: You never saw my bread and butter until the closing moments of the damn thing. Now it's your turn:
(covers his face.)
There now: Show me the funny way.
(Sam tries again to show the funny way of walking.)
Sam:
Well if there was a banana peel or something, then certainly -
Buster:
A what?
Sam:
A banana peel.
Buster:
You mean one of these?
(Tosses a banana peel from his pocket onto the floor.)
Sam:
Uh - yeah.
(Sam's attempts to slip on the banana peel fail, until he finally gives up. Then he tries one more time but Buster sticks out his foot and trips him, perhaps with a few Three Stooges gags thrown in. In any case, Sam falls down. He lies still for a moment. Then he looks up. Buster is standing over him.)
Buster:
Sam.
Sam:
Yeah?
Buster:
That film was a piece of shit. But I'll tell you something.
Sam:
What.
Buster:
You're a guy that knows how to fall down. So how'd you like to be my second banana, huh?
Sam:
I think I've had enough of bananas.
Buster:
But wouldn't you like to make a show with Buster Keaton?
Deep down Sam?
If you really think about it?
Sam:
This is all moving so fast. I remember there was a box, and now he wants to make a banana of me.
Buster:
Good idea, no?
Sam:
Absolutely out of the question.
Buster:
Don't say that.
Sam:
I'm a very shy person.
Buster:
It's a good quality.
Sam:
Why would you want me?
Buster:
Because, Mr. "Sam-I-Am" who likes green eggs and ham -
Sam:
I don't like -
Buster:
Look at you: You're wearing "slap shoes."
(Sam looks at his feet.)
Sam:
I am wearing slap shoes.
Buster:
And you're a tall skinny guy: a beautiful guy.
Sam:
Why on earth am I wearing slap shoes (?)
Buster:
And a quiet guy.
Sam:
Slap shoes.
Buster:
And there's one other thing:
Sam:
(still to the slap shoes, philosophically)
Did I know he was coming?
Buster:
You have the Face of Stone.
Sam:
I have the Face of Stone?
Buster:
And I have the Face of Stone: Together that makes Two Faces of Stone:
(gets very close to his ear)
All your life you search for the Vanishing Point.
Just when you think you arrive,
There's Buster Keaton:
He's there before you,
Waiting for you,
And Buster Keaton asks you to dance.
(Buster indicates that they dance. Sam finds it difficult to resist, and in a moment or two they are dancing.)
Sam:
(the following as they dance)
So what you're saying is: In looking for the Zero Point, it is inevitable that I come to Buster Keaton?
Buster:
Exactly.
Sam:
Oh no:
Oh no:
Buster:
Yes. I got here before you. We're a lot alike, you and I:
More than you think.
Sam:
No no no.
Buster:
Yes yes yes.
Sam:
No no no no: I don't spend half my life cultivating a plot in the void just to have Buster Keaton spring up in front of me.
Buster:
Yes yes yes yes.
Sam:
No no no no.
Buster:
Oh yes.
Sam:
Oh no: And I'll tell you why:
Buster:
Why.
Sam:
Because listen to you: You say yes when I say no.
Buster:
So?
Sam:
So that's reason enough.
Buster:
Oh no.
Sam:
Oh yes.
Buster:
No no no.
Sam:
Yes yes yes.
Buster:
No no no no.
Sam:
Yes yes yes yes.
Buster:
Oh no it's not: And I'll tell you why. Because now I'm the one who's saying no.
Sam:
Oh no.
Buster:
Oh yes.
Sam:
No no no no.
Buster:
Yes yes yes yes.
Sam:
Listen to me I'm quoting you: "Yes yes yes yes."
Buster:
No that's you saying Yes yes yes yes, I'm saying no no no no.
Sam:
No you're saying yes yes yes yes.
Buster:
I'm saying No no no: Listen to me, I quote myself: No no no.
Sam:
No no no.
Buster:
Exactly: No no no.
Sam:
No no.
Buster:
No no no.
Sam:
No no no no.
Buster:
No no no no no.
Sam:
No no.
Buster:
I'm sorry: remind me what we were arguing about.
Sam:
I said I don't spend a lifetime moving towards the Zero point just to find out it's Buster Keaton.
Buster:
Well what were you expecting?
Sam:
I was expecting nothing.
Buster:
And look what you got.
Sam:
I got this.
Buster:
And is this nothing?
Sam:
No it's Something.
Buster:
Well that's better than nothing. I can keep you company.
Sam:
I don't think you understand: I was expecting nothing: that was the whole point;
to one on his back in the dark comes nothing. Nada. Nyet. Nothing. The Hole in the Donut. Zero.
Buster:
Oh.
Sam:
That's what I want.
(Pause. Sam returns to his sarcophagus. Buster at a bit of a loss. More pause.)
Buster:
Well maybe you can go back to that after we make our show.
Sam:
I don't want to make a show.
Buster:
But it's a great idea! You got the brains and I got the bran, and together -
Sam:
That's the brawn.
Buster:
Sam! Come on Sam: You love me. You wanted me to do that Big Hit Show years ago, that big hit show en attendant Godot, but I said no: Now I'm saying yes. I'm perfect for you. I'm what you always wanted: A Buddy!
Sam:
A Buddy?
Buster:
A fellow bachelor. You even once had a guy do this in some show:
(Making the gesture of shielding his eyes with his hand and looking off in the distance)
He did that, I heard about that, and that's mine: Sure, the words came from you, but This?
(He does the gesture again)
That's mine: that's my gesture: You love me.
Sam:
Look Buster. May I call you Buster?
Buster:
You go right ahead S-
Sam:
I have an idea of what I can say.
Buster:
What you can say?
Sam:
To make you: go away. But I know it will hurt your feelings.
So I just want to apologize in advance.
Buster:
You're going to try to hurt me?
Sam:
Yes.
Buster:
Oh.
Sam:
Well I said I was sorry.
Buster:
No go ahead.
Sam:
Well I I I it's just I just -
Buster:
Go ahead. Do your worst.
Sam:
Okay so you know that film.
Buster:
That piece of shit film yes.
Sam:
We never wanted you for my film. I'm sorry but we never even wanted you for my film: And do you know why? We knew you'd be too - well we knew you'd be too stupid to get the after all Understated Humour of it. And do you know who we wanted? Buster? Charlie Chaplin. We wanted Charlie Chaplin, because he was smarter, but Charlie Chaplin never even answered our letters. So then I'm sorry but then we heard we could get Buster Keaton at a Cut Rate, Buster Keaton would do anything for a fast buck, that's what we heard. So whatever you thought about my being in love with the Great Stone Face, you might as well dismiss it from your mind; All I expected was a stirring still right to the end and then a stop. But what do I find at the end? Buster Keaton, punishing me, tormenting me, buzzing in my ears with an Outrageous French Accent all the time: So now can you imagine why the making of a show might not fit into my plans? No. All I can say is get out of here; I want you to get out of here. Go on. Go on...
...
Go on.
(Buster is hurt.)
Sam:
Oh no; Oh no, don't sit there moping now I've had my say, don't -
Don't sit there moping: you got to - to - to - have your fun, getting me to - prance around like an idiot and slip on some stupid banana peel, and now -
Buster:
I'm going.
Sam:
Exactly.
Buster:
You were right you know: You hurt my feelings.
Sam:
I'm sorry.
Buster:
No that's fine: Comedy is a very serious business.
Sam:
I'm sure you would know.
(He leaves. After a moment he returns.)
Buster:
I can go on you know.
Sam:
I'm sure you can.
Buster:
Adieu.
Sam:
Uh ...
Buster:
Adieu.
Sam:
I'm not going to play this game.
Buster:
Adieu.
Sam:
Adieu.
(Buster goes. Stands in the dark below the stage. Sam thinks he's gone. Assumes his first position. Tries to figure out what to do. Decides to wait.)
Buster:
(eventually, calling gently from offstage)
Sam?
Sam:
Yes?
Buster:
What will you do now?
Sam:
That's none of your business.
Buster:
I'm just curious Sam.
Sam:
Well ...
I'll just Wait.
Buster:
Wait?
Sam:
Wait.
Buster:
For What are you gonna Wait?
Sam:
I'll just wait.
Buster:
And what will you do while you're waiting?
Sam:
I don't know, I'll - I'll grow mushrooms.
Buster:
And you'll wait.
Sam:
Excellent occupations.
Buster:
Fine then.
Sam:
Occupations of Distinction.
Buster:
All right. You may go.
Sam:
You're the one that's going Buster.
Buster:
Oh yeah. I may go.
Sam:
All right.
Buster:
Fine.
Come on Sam, you gotta be waiting for something; for someone.
Sam:
I'm not waiting for anybody.
Buster:
I bet you are.
Sam:
I'm not.
Buster:
I bet you're just trying to spare my feelings.
Sam:
I'm not.
Buster:
I bet you're waiting for someone very special. Someone who understands you better than I do. I bet I know who it is.
Sam:
Buster -
Buster:
Cause I know more about you than you think, you know. I'm a quick study.
Sam:
Buster:
Buster:
And I know there's someone you really like.
Sam:
I don't like anybody.
Buster:
And probably that's who you're waiting for.
Sam:
I'm not waiting for anybody.
Buster:
Poor Sam, he might not come.
Sam:
...
Buster:
But I might be able to get him for you. You see, I've met him.
Sam:
Who?
Buster:
He's the one that told me the story of your life. He's been keeping up on you.
Sam:
Buster.
Buster:
He looks just like that guy described him.
Sam:
What guy.
Buster:
That guy, that character.
Sam:
What character.
Buster:
That character, that boy.
Sam:
What boy.
Buster:
That boy, that boy in your play.
Sam:
What play.
Buster:
That play. That play.
Sam:
What play.
Buster:
That play with the -
(He makes his hand-shielding-eyes gesture again.)
Sam:
Oh lord Jesus Lordy Lordy Lord.
Buster:
I should not be stirring you up.
(He leaves.)
Sam:
Buster!
Buster:
(returning)
Yes?
Sam:
You -
(resists several harsh insults)
Who in the world do you think you're talking about?
Buster:
You're so curious. I've never seen you so curious.
Sam:
Who are you talking about.
Buster:
Guess.
Sam:
Who.
Buster:
Guess.
Sam:
Who?
Buster:
Guess.
Sam:
Within what - parameters will you tell?
Buster:
Oh I don't know -
Sam:
Yes you do.
Buster:
If we make a show maybe.
Sam:
If we make a show.
Buster:
A show called "Show." Or a play called "Play."
Sam:
I've done that.
Buster:
You've done a show called Show?
Sam:
I've done a play called Play.
Buster:
We made a film called Film.
Sam:
Yes we did.
Buster:
Then we make a show called Show. It can be a little show.
Sam:
A little show.
Buster:
Just a little wee show. Maybe about the second world war.
Sam:
Why the second world war?
Buster:
Charlie Chaplin got to make his show about the War.
Sam:
Very well. We make a show about the war.
Buster:
Shake on it?
(Pause. They shake.)
Sam:
Now: Who are you talking about?
Buster:
Mr. Godot, could you come out here please?
(The door of the box opens, and out comes a tall man.)
Man:
Hello Sam.
Sam:
(to Buster)
That's not Godot, that's James Joyce. Hello James.
Buster:
Who's James Joyce?
Sam:
He's a writer.
Buster:
He told me his name was Godot.
(to Joyce.)
You told me your name was Godot.
Joyce:
No you told me my name was Godot, I don't even know who this Godot is.
But while I'm here Sam, I was thinking about something I've been meaning to tell you: I've always meant to tell you. You know that story you wrote about the man who declared in his will that he wanted to get his ashes flushed down the theatre toilet during the performance of a piece?
Buster:
What's this?
Sam:
That was from Murphy.
Joyce:
Well it was very funny Sam. I always wanted to tell you: It made me laugh.
Sam:
It made you laugh?
Joyce:
I believe I even had it memorized at one time.
Sam:
Well I -
Joyce:
So keep up the good work.
Sam:
My work is finished.
Joyce:
Nonsense. Who said that.
Sam:
Well I -
Joyce:
I see no evidence of prostration.
Sam:
I'm dead.
Joyce:
You have a duty.
Buster:
I couldn't agree more.
Joyce:
And Suzanne couldn't agree more.
Sam:
I beg your pardon?
Buster:
Who's Suzanne?
Sam:
Suzanne's my wife.
Joyce:
Oh no. I'm sorry: You're not Suzanne:
Sam:
He's Buster Keaton.
Buster:
I'm Buster Keaton.
Joyce:
Of course, Buster Keaton. Anyway Sam, I have to run. I was sitting with my daughter Lucia. You remember Lucia?
Sam:
Yes I do.
Joyce:
Yes of course, the two of you used to go to parties together back in the
Sam:
In the twenties, yes.
Joyce:
And she would dress up as Charlie Chaplin and perform those lovely dances.
Sam:
Give her my love.
Joyce:
I will.
Sam:
How's her illness?
Joyce:
Things are looking up. I'm sure that one fine day - and soon - the clouds will roll away. They're not storm clouds but only cloudlets; and Jack Yeats just painted a lovely portrait of her.
Sam:
I'd like to see it.
Joyce:
Come by, when you have a spare moment.
Sam:
I will.
Joyce:
To see her sitting by the window: It makes a pretty picture, but a girl walking in the fields also makes a pretty picture.
Sam:
Soon James. Soon she'll be better.
Joyce:
Soon. Yes. All right then: Goodbye, Mr. Beckett.
Sam:
Goodbye Mr. Joyce.
Joyce:
And goodbye Mister Keaton.
(Joyce goes back into the box.)
Sam:
James Joyce.
Buster:
He seemed like a decent fellow.
(Buster notices Sam is weeping.)
Buster:
Sam! Don't cry.
Sam:
I'm not.
Buster:
Yes you are.
Sam:
No I'm not.
Buster:
Yes you are.
Sam:
I'll make it stop.
(Tries to make it stop.)
Sam:
I could squeeze till I was blue and not a drop would fall.
Buster:
Is that where you want to be Sam? With James Joyce and his family by a window? Overlooking some -
Sam:
Nope. He tended towards exuberance as a writer. He went for the light, I went for the darkness. Since we're so different, he and I, it's only natural we would end up in such - different -
Buster:
Him with his family.
Sam:
Yes.
Buster:
And you at the vanishing point.
Sam:
Yes.
Buster:
Not with your family.
Sam:
I don't have a family.
Buster:
Not with your Wife.
Sam:
Not with my wife.
Buster:
But with Buster Keaton.
Sam:
Well who but a clown like Buster Keaton could point my regrettable existance out to me.
Buster:
So make a show.
Sam:
Yeah.
Buster:
Just one show.
Sam:
Sure.
Buster:
And after that, we can come back here.
Sam:
Yeah.
Buster:
Maybe that will be good for you.
Sam:
Maybe it will be good for me.
...
Maybe it will be good for me.
Maybe it will be good for me.
You know - You know, I -
I did an imitation of Mussolini once.
Buster:
I beg your pardon?
Sam:
At a party. Mussolini.
(without warning he launches into a Big Brief Gibberish Imitation of Mussolini, full of great gusto, and just as suddenly stops, almost out of breath.)
But I left as soon as it was done, strode out, I don't even know if they laughed, but my heart was pumping, my skin was burning, it was -
Buster:
So you could be an actor.
Sam:
You know what? I wanted to play Krapp in Krapp's Last Tape, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to to - operate the stupid tape machine - I I I wanted to so much, but I thought writing was all I was good - this is so exciting! Of course, no: that wasn't my decided intention: My decided intention was to conduct a little experiment in lessening and lessening - the lights slowly dimming and going out, the stirring still right to the end and then a stop.
Buster:
So who's gonna know?
Sam:
Who's gonna know. I could try it once.
Buster:
Sure.
Sam:
Just once
So there's James and his family by the window, as he said, overlooking the field: I'll be in the field: You and I, with our show - our show called show - and they'll look out the window and they'll see us: "My! That's Sam down there, acting in a show, in a field, with Buster Keaton" and the stage has just been caught by the wind, and it's blowing away, away through the further fields of France, and I'm on the stage-
Buster:
All right then come on -
Sam:
- and I'm reciting something: Something Grand, something like -
Buster:
Come on Sam, we got work to do.
Sam:
Tennyson:
"Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
(Blackout. End of Act One)
Act Two
(The surtitle "Suzanne" appears. We are now somewhere in France, in the middle of the afternoon, in a landscape casually reminiscent of the setting for "Waiting for Godot." Buster enters, looks into the audience. Stands absolutely still, reminiscent of Sam at the top of the show. The following is recorded. )
Voice:
(Suzanne)
I speak again, therefore I am.
Can you hear me?
I think maybe I'm dead.
A long time now.
But I have a longing.
Sam: I don't know where he is:
It's hard work for him:
this moment between stirring still and stop.
But in the last few moments of this moment
I will have my moment
in the sun:
Buster:
(speaking from the stage)
I remember when we met. It was so Romantic. Sam had just been stabbed by a pimp on the avenue d'Orleans. I helped to get him to the hospital. I had an immense pity for the wound and then the scar on his chest. It was as if the knife went into the ribs and I jumped out to manage his life for him. Perfect no? Like Adam and Eve.
That knife left a mark on him. And then there was the war. He did some work for the Resistance in Roussillon, and for his work they gave him a medal, and when they pinned the medal on him it went right into his flesh and he said ouch. So that left a mark on him too. James Joyce, he made a mark on him. Sam saw a great man standing in the light, so he turned and walked into the darkness.
Did I leave a mark on him? Such a quiet man. Fifty years together, and I began to wish that I could take a knife and just - carve my initials on his arm - or maybe my whole name: 'Suzanne Georgette Anna Deschevaux-Dumesnil Beckett.'
(Lights change. Sam enters, squinting at the sky.)
Sam:
You know, I've been trying to figure out what that is.
Buster:
What.
Sam:
That big bright thing way up there.
Buster:
That's the sun Sam.
Sam:
What son whose son, Oh the Sun. The Sun, up in the Sky, I completely forgot. Oh I like the sun.
Where are we anyway?
Buster:
France.
Sam:
France? Where in France?
Buster:
In the country outside of Roussillon.
Sam:
Roussillon? What am I doing in Roussillon? Nobody bothered anybody in Roussillon. No reason to wear a tuxedo in Roussillon. I can't even buy a tuxedo in Roussillon. They've probably never seen a tuxedo in Roussillon. Just workclothes caked in red dirt.
Buster:
You want to buy a tuxedo?
Sam:
Well I could consider slipping into a tuxedo and see how it changed my outlook. Clothes make the man is a true statement.
(She looks at him.)
Sam:
Well these clothes depress me. They depress me. Oh my God they depress me. What have I been Thinking? They make me feel like some kind of bum. How can anyone have a positive social outlook with clothes such as these:
(A spontaneous number)
Were I well-dressed, in a matter of hours,
My wardrobe would grant me new powers,
So give me a shirt
That's repellant to dirt,
And a well-tailored pair of green trousers.
For my buttonhole a choice of fresh flowers,
Four leashes with two pairs of schnauzers,
When I walk down the street
The people I meet
Will remark on the cut of my trousers.
They won't notice my buttonhole flowers,
Won't notice my two pairs of schnauzers,
All that they'll say
After What a nice day
Is That's a heck of a fine pair of trousers.
My beautiful, beautiful trousers,
My beautiful, beautiful trousers,
My beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful, fine pair of trousers.
My beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful, beautful trousers.
My beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful, beautful trousers.
(Final flourish.)
Buster:
I never knew you could sing and dance.
Sam:
I just didn't feel the spirit move me. As a youngster I used to bang out Gilbert and Sullivan on the piano and sing at the top of my lungs. So what I need now is a tuxedo: A tuxedo for me and a tuxedo for you. And a whole bunch of stuff we can use.
Buster:
But there is so much right here.
Sam:
What? There's nothing here: I'm talking about armies. Soldiers. Exploding devices! Moreness. Ah yes: Moreness.
Buster:
I thought we could just make a show about a guy that was hungry. Maybe two guys that were hungry.
(Pause. Sam stares at Buster, not comprehending for a few moments. Then.)
Sam:
All right: Here's an idea:
Buster:
This is the show?
Sam:
This is the show.
Buster:
(unable to contain her excitement)
This is the show!
Sam:
Okay calm down:
We're here, we're starving, and there's a church over there. And we're here because - because I'm a famous, fearless, heroic fighter in the French Resistance - the Maquis - I love that word "Maquis": it's such a word of - Moreness, of Life: Maquis: Do you hear that? The life in that? The difference between that and some word like - oh like "absence," or "puniness"... (?) Mr. Maquis - that's me: the Marquis de Maquis.
(He stops. She's looking at him, wondering what's come over him.)
Sam:
So: I'm a member of the Maquis, on the run from Paris. And you're my faithful sidekick.
Buster:
Your faithful sidekick?
Sam:
My sidekick, my Sancho Panza, my Tonto, my Second BananAAAAH!!!
(Buster has deftly flipped Sam, so he's flat on the back.)
Sam:
Top banana, top banana.
Buster:
Not top banana Sam: A team!
Sam:
Okay uh - that's a good idea. We're a team, we do everything together: Practically joined at the hip.
(jumps up)
And uh: We're in the church. Right over there.
Buster:
You and me.
Sam:
You and me: Together. Shhhh: In the church.
Buster:
Shhh. It's a silent film: I'm silent.
Sam:
And I'm Sound. Silent and Sound. We're the kitchen. Hoping to find some food. But we hear someone coming.
Buster:
[Merdre.]
Sam:
And we have to hide under the table.
(They both take off their shoes as Suzanne goes to hide under the table that isn't there. Sam ominously walks one pair of shoes over to right beside Buster, as Buster cringes in fear, and then goes and walks the other pair of shoes to the other side of the imaginary table, then goes to beside Buster.)
Sam:
There they are. Right above our heads. And do you know why they can't see us? Because the tablecloth goes all the way down to the floor.
(Buster sees that no one is looking and kisses Sam. As they do this the voice of Suzanne speaks. Buster doesn't seem to hear it at all. Sam is trying not to hear.)
Voice:
This is what I wanted. To be inside the work. Walking among the words of your work, instead of just carrying them around to the publishers all the time, all the time, while you sat in some bar, drinking champaigne. Without me you would have been riding bicycles down the Avenue until your dying day, never showing anything to anybody. I could have played pianos for your plays. I could have been a face in the spotlight. A mouth. A pair of eyes. The sound of a breath. It's the only kind of erotic experience you can have with this man.
(Back to the kiss.)
Sam:
Buster!
Okay. So anyway: They're talking: And what they're saying is:
(he supports the following with gibberish interjections to indicate the German officers)
there is a choo choo train coming through Roussillon this afternoon, and it's full of paintings that have been stolen from the Musée National d'Art Moderne in Paris, and in order to demoralize the French citizenry, they're going to take them to a quarry just south of here and destroy them.
(Buster gasps and slaps her hand over her own mouth.)
Sam:
Uh oh. They heard you do that.
We have to fight. Ready? One, two, three, go!
(They roll out and beat up the shoes, Sam on his side and Buster on hers.)
Sam:
(panting, after they've vanquished the shoes)
Hey look at this: I need a pair of shoes.
(They put on the shoes. First one another's. Test them out by stamping around.)
Sam:
Now we're ready, and -
Uh oh. We just killed those soldiers, didn't we.
Buster:
(nods)
Sam:
I never - Buster I never killed anybody before.
(Buster points to her own head and then Sam's head.)
Sam:
Yeah okay it's just in my head, but I've never killed anyone in my head before. I'm feeling a little -
(He starts to fall over backwards. Buster helps him to the ground.)
Sam:
I mean my own characters - they might have been miserable, but I never - I looked after them, in my own way. And it's just it's got me thinking: Maybe - Maybe they'd be better off out of their misery. Didi, Gogo, Winnie, Krapp, Molloy, Lucky: Maybe they'd be better off. I mean, as long as you don't make a big mess of it. Something clean, like a lethal injection -
Buster:
Sam, don't say that.
Sam:
I never even thought of it.
Buster:
You're not yourself.
Sam:
(regaining his strength and standing)
Ah no, we're going for Moreness instead of Lessness, right? And there's bound to be casualties along the way, right? We just have to tough it out. Cause it's us or them, right?
Buster:
I'm not sure.
Sam:
Sure it is. Come on: We have a choo choo train to catch.
Okay. So: We're on the train.
Buster:
You and me.
Sam:
You and me. Together. Chugga chugga. On the train.
Buster:
Chugga chugga.
Sam:
Whoo whoo.
(Train sound starts?)
We're on the cowcatcher.
Buster:
What's the cowcatcher.
Sam:
The cowcatcher is that scooping thing at the front of the train. Ah, but the artwork is in the caboose.
Buster:
What's the caboose?
Sam:
Buster! The caboose is the car at the back of the train! You're the train king! You're supposed to know these things!
Buster:
I forgot.
Sam:
Anyway: So we're pressed for time because there's a bridge up ahead that we set on fire, and the trains going to get there in three minutes! We have to run down the top of the train from the cowcatcher to the caboose. Are you with me?
(They run from one end of the edge of the stage to the other, balancing, perhaps almost falling off. They run back and forth a couple more times, nearly falling off, saving one another.)
Buster: Are we there yet!
Sam:
No! It's a Very Long Train!
(etc.)
Sam:
Here we are! There's the artwork!
(With much exuberance they start pretending to throw the artwork off the train.)
Sam:
We're grabbing canvases and throwing them off, hurling them off into the fields of France that are moving swiftly by
- there's lots of shots of the paintings floating in slow motion in the breeze
- and there's a shot of the Americans, on the march. But we don't notice them and they don't notice us. And just as we finish up and make a great leap from the caboose the whole train goes -
Buster:
Wait a minute Sam!
Sam:
What?
Buster:
Don't I ever get to drive the train?
Sam:
Buster it's about to blow!
Buster:
Sam I got to get a chance to drive the train.
Sam:
All right. Uh.. Uh ... Okay. Just as we're about to leap from the bridge, we see there's another train on another track below us, heading in the opposite direction!
(A little train appears, chugging towards them. Sam stops it, and they present the following with improvised finger-puppet versions of themselves.)
Sam:
We leap from the bridge and fall down down down down down through the air..
Buster:
[Sam!]
Sam:
[Buster!]
and land unharmed right in the cab of the train. That's the train you get to drive. And we'll be well out of harm's way when the other train hits the burning bridge and goes -
Buster:
Kaboom.
(The sound of an explosion.)
Sam:
The most expensive shot in the movie. And we've saved all the great paintings of Europe.
Buster:
HOORAY!
(Train sound stops)
Sam:
Hooray. But there's more: Oh yes: Cause then: there's a flood: No, there's a hurricane. No there's a flood. No: There's a hurricane ...
(Wind machine? They get caught in a hurricane for awhile and then it dies down.)
Sam:
We're safe.
Unfortunately all the paintings got blown out to sea and destroyed.
Ah, but we just paint them again and accidentally create a whole new painting style that's post post everything and taken very seriously, so of course we get very, very rich. And then we sing your song.
Buster:
(points to herself)
Sam:
Your Buster Keaton song:
Buster:
But I'm Silent.
Sam:
Except now you have a song: Ready? Lights, camera, action: Go!
Buster:
(She sings, he sings, they sing and they dance)
Once Sam,
I was the King,
If I wanted to box I could box,
Sam:
If I wanted to sing
I could Sing
If I wanted to fly a balloon
Buster:
Then up in the air we would go
But that was a
Sam:
That was a
Buster:
That was a
Sam:
That was a
Buster:
That was a long time ago.
Sam:
We can jump off
The Eiffel Tower
And land upon our feet:
We Stand still,
The world leaps up,
And we never even cheat.
Buster:
You are an intellectual Sam
And I'm just a regular guy
But put me behind the wheel of a car
And I
Could
Fly:
Buster:
Once we wore a thousand hats
Sam:
Not one of them was bowler
Buster:
We travelled Regions of the world
Sam:
Mediterranian and Polar
Buster:
If I want it to be winter
Sam:
Then I can make it snow
Buster:
But that was a
Sam:
That was a
Buster:
That was a
Sam:
That was a
Buster:
That was a long time ago.
I lost it all Sam: lost it all
Sam:
Do you know why?
Buster:
- I will say:
Despite the strides
of a trooper like me,
Man
Fades
Sam:
Man
Fades
Buster:
Man
Fades
Away
(They dance.)
Sam:
And just as we're dancing out the door I slip on the banana peel. The End.
Buster:
The end?
Sam:
That's the end yeah, so: let's have the banana peel.
Buster:
Oh, it's such a great story.
Sam:
Yeah, so -
Buster:
And I even got to drive the train. We got to sing a song together. It's beautiful. It's just what I wanted. And you couldn't have done it without me.
Sam:
Buster, I still have to -
Buster:
It's like I carved my initials in your arm...
(She starts searching his arms for the mark. And then perhaps elsewhere on his body.)
Sam:
Buster, what are you doing?
Buster:
I'm - looking for - the mark.
Sam:
What mark?
Buster:
The mark I left on y-
Sam:
Stop touching me!
(She stops, somewhat shocked by his vehemence.)
Sam:
Buster.
We're not. finished yet. I still have to slip on the banana peel.
The world is waiting for the banana peel. Could you just get it for me please.
Buster:
(Buster tries to produce the banana peel as before. Then checks his pockets.)
Oh...
It was here before.
Sam:
What?
Buster:
I can't seem to find it.
Sam:
You can't find it?
Buster:
All I've got is this carrot.
Sam:
Give me that.
(grabs it)
A carrot? I can't slip on a carrot. How am I supposed to slip on a carrot? Check again for the banana peel.
(Buster does.)
Buster:
No. It's gone. It's lost. I'm so sorry.
Sam:
I can't believe you lost my banana peel!
Buster:
I know.
Sam:
I can't believe you can't even hold onto a measily useless banana peel! That was the movie's final image! Well that's the world all over isn't it. You had a banana peel, and you lost it, and now we're stuck here with nothing.
Buster:
But we did the whole movie.
Sam:
Ah no: We didn't do the end of the movie: The end of the movie is just hanging there in my head, like a miserable impotent shred of lessness. How awful, I hate it.
Buster:
Where are you going?
Sam:
Away from you: I'm going away from you, that's where I'm going.
Buster:
What did you do with the carrot?
Sam:
What do you think I did with the carrot? I threw it away. That's what I did with the carrot.
Buster:
I was going to eat that carrot.
Sam:
Well I was going to slip on that banana peel.
Buster:
You're so angry.
Sam:
Of course I'm angry, you ruined the act!
Buster:
I - ruined the -
(Sam has sat down on a stump.)
Sam:
"Come away with me," he said. "Come make a show," he said. "A show about the war," he said. "You've got potential," he said. Never trust another person. Never. You have to do everything yourself.
Buster:
But - but Buster Keaton and Sam Beckett; it's Great! We have so much in common, we made history: we made a show.
[Two buddies... and a banana... a carrot...]
...
So you - you don't want to go back now?
Sam:
What? Go back where?
Buster:
Go back to our mound of earth where we could...
Grow mushrooms...
And listen to the Silence.
Sam:
The Silence?
Buster:
Ah oui the Silence:
Like this:
(Pause.)
Sam:
Buster-
Buster:
Don't interrupt! Like this.
(Pause. We hear the Voice of Suzanne.)
Voice:
Silence.
And you see in the Silence
Two guys that are hungry,
wandering in the war
A man and a man or a man and a woman
A husband and wife that would never be parted.
People stick together in war.
They need each other, wandering through the fields of France,
Hiding because of the work for the Resistance:
Making the most of every day.
The most of words that went ping pong,
Ping pong, while hiding out in Roussillon.
But after, oh after,
Everything changes:
There's the work,
The Vanishing Point,
The Success...
And all the written evidence shows that he is alone.
Not two men anymore, just one.
And the apartment where we live:
It changes
From one apartment to two:
Mine and his.
And his was so bare
How could I go in there?
He was there heading toward the Vanishing Point.
...
Sam:
Buster.
Buster:
Yeah?
...
Sam:
Listen: Forget I got angry. Okay? I'm sorry I got angry. The past is gone. If at first you don't succeed, try try again is a true statement, right? The point is I'm up huffing and puffing for the first time in 40 years, and I like it, I get this - Vision of the way things can be from now on. Yes: From now on things are going to be different: I think I really limited myself Buster: I used to be physical when I was young - before I embarked on that - stupid experiment. I want to embark on another experiment. I want the other half Buster. I want to have fun.
Buster:
Sam, I don't think we can do that.
Sam:
Well I can. I think I can: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can; I think, Buster, therefore I Can: I want to do the things I never even thought of doing before.
Buster:
Like what?
Sam:
Well like this: Like make a Buster Keaton movie: like learn how to dance the tango: Like be a Beat Poet: I want to contemplate jazz, light cigarettes in boxcars heading west, bare my brains to heaven under the El and see Mohammedan Angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated! I want to check into the Knickerbocker and write a portrait of the artist as a younger man. I want to Drive my cart over the bones of the dead.
Buster:
Well I hate to say it but: what about me?
Sam:
Do what you want Buster. But if you can't keep your hands on a simple banana peel, then I'm not sure you can keep up with me.
Buster:
I could go find another banana. I could be a Beat poet too. Those beat poets always hung around together.
Sam:
No, I don't think you could be a Beat poet.
Buster:
Sure I could.
Sam:
Show me.
Buster:
Show you?
Sam:
Give me a taste of your verbal stylings.
Buster:
(pause, and then gives it a try with the following)
Oh Suzanna, don't you cry for me,
I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee.
...
Sam:
I just - think it might be better if we parted.
(She weeps. Then she pulls a knife.)
Sam:
What's that?
Buster:
What does it look like?
Sam:
It doesn't look like a banana.
(She chases him with the knife, gets him down on the ground and holds the knife to his chest.)
Sam:
That knife looks very familiar.
Buster:
I got it from a pimp on the avenue d'Orleans in Paris.
Now ask me nicely will I stay with you.
Sam:
Buster; We're a team:
Buster:
Yeah sure.
Sam:
We're going to do big things together. Big things.
Buster:
Well, I'll think about it. On one condition.
Sam:
What's that.
(She whispers in his ear.)
Sam:
Oh Lord.
(Sam holds out his arms. Buster leaps into Sam's arms and he twirls her around and sets her down.)
Buster:
That's more like it: Off we go then. To somewhere.
Sam:
Paris.
Buster:
Paris, d'accord.
Voice:
(in the house)
Wait wait wait!
(A man is limping very slowly up through the house. His voice is weak and flutey, like a little old man's.)
Man:
Oh my, I can't believe I'm - Stop stop stop!
Buster:
Where did you come from?
Man:
Oh! I - I'm sitting in the back.
Sam:
Is that James?
Man:
No sir. I'm not James, But if you'll excuse me, I have to speak to your friend here.
Sam:
Be my guest.
(The man stays off the stage, but perhaps he and Buster go off to one side, speak in low tones.)
Man:
You're not going to do anything?
Buster:
I'm sorry.
Man:
Oh. Oh dear. So you're not going to - do anything.
Oh dear I'm not cut out for this.
(He breaks away from her and approaches Sam, still not venturing onto the stage.)
Man:
Sir, uh -
Sam:
Who are you?
Man:
Well in fact you don't know me, I'm just a I'm just a fellow. But I have to say something to you, and I'm just going to I'm just going to say it.
Sam:
All right.
Man:
Well. I have the - the dubious honour of belonging to that part of the population that has to contend with a certain amount of - a certain amount of - well fraility, in their lives - bleakness really: I hate to I'm sorry it's shameful it's so - unpleasant, doesn't belong in doesn't belong here, I know; but in actual fact I've always harboured the belief that you - uh, sir - well that you made it your life's work to illuminate for us - as with - a candle - the unheroic - journey towards frailty and well death, actually; I'm so sorry.
Sam:
No that's okay.
Man:
Yes, and for that sir, well we were grateful. You gave us hope that we would get through the ordeal with our dignity intact, really. You made us feel less entirely alone. But now you're - well I'm sorry but you're trying to escape. This split second you see, between your last little bit of stirring and your stop? it's Big sir, quite possibly the Biggest moment of your life - and I'm sorry but from here it looks like after all your carefully laid plans, your life's work, was all just a joke.
Sam:
But please - Mr. uh -
Man:
Oh! Oh: Virgil.
Sam:
Mr. Virgil, that there's a difference between my life's work, and my life.
Man:
I see your point I see your point yes. But I had thought not. I'm afraid I had thought that you had embodied it - more or less. I mean that's what a fellow thinks when he when he when he looks you in the face: sees all your work, all of it, right there, in your face.
(Has handed him a small mirror)
So now so if you're going to - you know - rise again from the dead and you've got no better news than uh - you know: "Clothes make the man," and whatnot, then - the least you could do is just keep your Shut Up: Keep your Mouth Shut. Oh! Oh that was vehement. I hope you don't mind.
Sam:
No that's okay.
Man:
Well then I've had my say. Thank you. I don't care really - uh - what you do, but I thought it was important to say.
Sam:
Thank you.
Man:
No. Thank you. It must have been difficult for you. And you. Like being married to Jesus Christ.
Sam:
Goodbye.
Man:
Goodbye.
Buster:
Goodbye.
Man:
Goodbye.
Sam:
Goodbye -
(The man exits.)
Sam:
-Virgil.
Really.
Where did he get a name like that: Virgil. He's been reading a little too much Dante.
(Sam limps around, imitating Virgil. Buster doesn't find it funny.)
Sam:
Virgil in Purgatorio. Virgil in The Inferno.
Buster:
What are you doing?
Sam:
I'm having a bit of fun. Can't a guy have a bit of fun?
Buster:
You would make fun of a sick man?
Sam:
Well I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were so -
(She turns the mirror around so that he glances at himself in it. Pause as he reads what's there.)
Sam:
Suzanne.
My skin has ... so many wrinkles ... a wrinkle for every ... And my head, it's so, it's so bare ... It's so bare ... Suzanne.
(Suzanne takes off her hat and puts it on Sam's head. He looks back in the mirror.)
Sam:
Thank you.
Suzanne:
So you knew?
Sam:
How could I not. How could I ever not.
Suzanne:
Well you said I was Buster Keaton.
Sam:
No, you said you were Buster Keaton.
Suzanne:
And you believed me.
Sam:
I was afraid to admit it.
Suzanne:
What.
Sam:
The truth.
Suzanne:
Why.
Sam:
Because that would have meant I was dead.
Suzanne:
But you're not quite: I am, but you're still in the moment between stirring still and stop.
Sam:
And you came to visit me.
Suzanne:
Yes... No... I don't know: Are you thinking of me?
Sam:
Yes.
Suzanne:
Well then yes; I came to visit you.
Sam:
To leave your mark on me.
Suzanne:
Yes exactly.
Sam:
I survived you by only eight months. Without you, I grew so old that I got to the point of death. I got the point of death, that's the mark you left on me.
Suzanne:
That's so Romantic.
Sam:
It's the best I can do.
Suzanne:
Do you really think I look like Buster Keaton?
Sam:
You've been very successful.
(Turns the mirror for her to look. She backs away, waving goodbye to her reflection.)
Suzanne:
Goodbye Buster Keaton. Thanks for all your help.
Sam:
Oh wait Buster:
(to the mirror)
You know that thing I said about getting you at a cut rate? Well, it wasn't true.. I mean yes it was true, but I was glad we could get the Great Stone Face.
Suzanne:
Sam you're talking to a mirror.
Sam:
I guess I'm just vain.
Suzanne:
Okay: Last moment of the last moment.
Sam:
Last moment of the last moment?
Suzanne:
I hope I meet you there.
Sam:
Where.
Suzanne:
At the Vanishing Point.
Sam:
So there's no more?
Suzanne:
Pardon me?
Sam:
No more moments to the moment? That's all you wanted Suzanne?
Suzanne:
No, there is something else.
Sam:
What is it?
Suzanne:
Do you remember Happy Days?
Sam:
My play?
Suzanne:
Yes.
Sam:
Of course.
Suzanne:
In Happy Days he reaches for her: It's beautiful.
(He reaches for her. She disappears. He turns to face out. Looks up. Blackout. End of Play.)
+++
Appendix: material excised from the 'Show':
Suzanne:
Did you get them?
Sam:
Yeah I did. Was that the man who's been looking for me?
Suzanne:
Yeah he was.
Sam:
Do you think he'll come back?
Suzanne:
Soon, yah. You should eat some of this.
Sam:
Oh, I don't know:
(Irish accent)
Who'd a thought I'd be stealing the body o' Christ from a church.
Suzanne:
What does it matter to you?
Sam:
Oh now I've got the greatest respect for the institution of the Church.
Suzanne:
You do?
Sam:
Ay.
Suzanne:
Since when?
Sam:
Since I passed through the cemetery there - I got respect for the church and many other institutions besides.
Suzanne:
What other institutions?
Sam:
Well the institution of motherhood, the institution of Family Values, the institution of cricket -
Suzanne:
Cricket?
Sam:
You know - the game. Also I suppose the institution of economics.
Suzanne:
You respect that?
Sam:
Sure I do: it's the way the world works. The Germans want open borders, free trade, unified currency and a single Global Culture: they're just going about it the wrong way.
Suzanne:
I think I'd like to have a look at this cemetery.
Sam:
Come on now: A bit of institutional respect might do you some good.
Suzanne:
I'd really like to take a look at this cemetery.
Sam:
I just think I should clean up my act and develop a little respect for things the way they are. After all, there's a war going on; I have to think positive - quit being obsessed with the weak and the impotent and the beauty and dignity of such people: What good does it do? The poor we have always with us, you know what I mean?
Suzanne:
You've decided this for sure?
Sam:
Sure! Otherwise next thing you know I'll be dreaming up the most frightening prophesies of, and longing for, doom ever written. Not to mention (Irish accent) stealing the body o' Christ from a Church, if I’m feeling a bit peckish.
Suzanne:
(she's been eating them)
Anyway we were starving.
Sam:
Doesn't change the fact that it's wrong.
Suzanne:
They haven't even been consecrated.
Sam:
How do you know?
Suzanne:
Do you see any little haloes?
(He looks into the bag.)
Sam:
No.
Suzanne:
Then they haven't been consecrated. sure are tasty though. I wish we had some butter.
(Sam reacts. Searches the pockets of his raincoat and finds a wrapped pound of butter.)
Sam:
Oh my God.
Suzanne:
Oh my God.
Sam:
It'a a whole pound of butter.
Suzanne:
Oh my God.
(He unwraps the butter and places it in it's wrappings on the floor. They look at it.)
Sam:
Would you look at that.
Suzanne:
Gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Sam:
A pound of butter.
Suzanne:
Who'd have thought you'd have a pound of butter.
Sam:
I don't know.
Suzanne:
Where did you get it?
Sam:
I was - just gonna ask that.
Suzanne:
You don't know?
(Sam shakes his head.)
Suzanne:
Ca ne fait rien, it's a pound of butter.
Sam:
Um. Maybe I will have some of those - little things - after all.
Suzanne:
Be my guest.
(She starts dipping the hosts into the butter and eating them like potato chips with dip. He meanwhile takes just one host and looks at it. Starts to dip it into the butter, but can't bring himself to do it. Looks at it again. All the while, she continues to eat.)
Sam:
I can't.
Suzanne:
Yes you can.
Sam:
No I can't.
Suzanne:
Well then eat the butter with your fingers.
Sam:
(tries)
I can't.
Suzanne:
Why not.
Sam:
It's not civilized.
Suzanne:
What's come over you - I've seen you fish food out of garbage cans back home even when you had the money.
Sam:
They probably don't have butter in the sewers of Paris.
Suzanne:
Don't worry about Paris. Paris is getting along just fine.
(Sam suddenly tightens his belt and starts exercising.)
Suzanne:
What are you doing?
Sam:
(still exercising)
My soul has been called to action. My mind has been untied from its rocking chair and I must provide my body with the means to do the same. I don't know what's come over me: I feel - I don't know - optimistic: I think things are going to work out. Look at that!
(He's walking back and forth.)
Suzanne:
Look at what?
Sam:
There's a spring in my step: See? A spring!
Suzanne:
The want of food has gone to your head.
Sam:
I don't need any food: I'm young! And I've had enough of this marginal resistance; I'm gonna go where the action is: Paris.
Suzanne:
Paris?
Sam:
They need me.
Suzanne:
They do not.
Sam:
But am I strong enough? Ah! Here's the test.
(He sits down, takes off his boot effortlessly, and puts it on again. Satisfied, he does it again, redoubling his pleasure.)
I'm prepared for anything. Did you see how easily I did that?
Suzanne:
Took off your boot?
Sam:
Can you do it so easily?
(Suzanne finishes up the butter and takes off one boot, and then the other. Beaming.)
Sam:
There is no place for the weak in war.
Suzanne:
So you want to go to -
Sam:
Paris! Yes! as soon as I've completed my final assignment as a member of the Roussillonababa Resistance: This afternoon there cometh, along yonder track, a supply train of weapons headed for the effrontery. It will be making a stop just over there in that depot, and I have been instructed to smear the wheels with a pound of exploding grease I've been given for the purpose. After which we will spring to action like two young -
Suzanne:
Exploding grease?
Sam:
Carried for the last two days in my pocket, ever so delicately lest it explode with some sudden movement on my part. And then, when that's done, you and I -
Suzanne:
But how is it disguised?
Sam:
Pardon me?
Suzanne:
The exploding grease? How is it disguised?
Sam:
The disguise? Oh it's a tube of glue or some shoe-polish, or actually I think I recall now it's a stick of -
(Pause. They look at the butter. There's none left. Suzanne sits very still and Sam stands very still as they look at the empty package. We hear birds twittering. Then the sound of a train whistle in the near distance, and then the sound of a train pulling in. Sam and Suzanne stay still. A moment of silence, and then Suzanne hiccups, causing them both to react in anticipation of an explosion. They hold this as the train blows it's whistle and heads away.)
Sam:
(finally)
Well then.
(Suzanne hiccups again.)
Sam:
So it tasted good then?
Suzanne:
Yes it was good.
Sam:
I'm glad.
Suzanne:
Not bad at all for exploding butter.
(She burps.)
Sam:
That's a comfort to me.
Course it's not as great a comfort to me as it is to the engineer on the supply train, or as it would be if he knew you had just consumed his harbinger of eternity for lunch.
Suzanne:
Sorry.
Sam:
So I suppose I have to wait then.
Suzanne:
Wait?
Sam:
Yes, Wait, yes.
Suzanne:
Wait for what.
Sam:
Wait for - Well if you recall Madmoiselle Beschemel Cheese, we were about to head Heroically off in the direction of Paris - over field and fence and wire and stream, avoiding pretty dogs and the like, but we can't do that now because one false move and WHAMMO -
(Startled, she hiccups, and they both freeze, eyes closed. Perhaps Sam even jumps away.)
Sam:
(whisper)
So instead we have to sit here for at least 24 hours, while you digest this pound of unexploded grease, and void it unexploded from your bowels, at which time you can bet that if I'm still here at all and haven't taken off to help fulfill the destiny of a nation, I'll most certainly be standing as far away as possible from the Bush that you'll be -
(He stops. Realizes she's crying.)
Sam:
What? Am I - Did I say something?
...
For God's sake, must you overreact?
Suzanne:
You're gonna leave me!
Sam:
Now see? I didn't say that -
Suzanne:
You're gonna let me blow up while taking a shit!
Sam:
No, that's not what I said Suzanne, I'm merely ruminating on the idea that the chain is only as stong as it's weakiest -
(She redoubles her tears.)
Sam:
Oh, Come On! You know I don't mean that the way it sounds.
Suzanne:
Don't forget you were the idiot that gave it to me.
Sam:
Yes that's - Yes that's quite true. I'm the one that gave you that concoction of axel grease, butter and nitro-glycerin that you found so tasty. And that's why I'm going to sit here with you, waste my able body and risk getting caught, being as I am a marked man - a fugitive leader in the Resistance effort - I'm going to sit here and Take Care of you in your condition, until your strength has returned to you and you again resemble a human being.
Suzanne:
You should go.
Sam:
I'm not going to go. I'm going to stay right here with you. 24 hours isn't a long time. Course it might be the difference between winning and losing the entire war, the destiny of an entire nation resting on the shoulders of a single heroic individual, but -
Suzanne:
You should go.
Sam:
No I'm staying. I'm beginning to think I can't stomach this sort of weakness, but -
Suzanne:
Oh! You go.
Sam:
I'm staying.
Suzanne:
Go!
(She sneezes. Sam runs off the stage. After a moment he returns.)
Sam:
I'm staying right here.
Suzanne:
No you're - (!)
Sam:
What?
(She's turning blue.)
Sam:
Oh my God - are you - Do you think you're going to -
(She nods.)
Sam:
Come here, come over here: We don't want you throwing up all over the place, come on...
(They go over behind a rock or some such thing. Suzanne's head can't be seen as she tries to throw up. Sam is encouraging her.)
Sam:
Easy now... Easy..
Don't panic... the walls of your esaphogus are soft...
Don't panic...
Don't panic...
Don't -
(She gags. Sam makes a run for it. Stops. She continues to gag behind the rock.)
Sam:
Sorry...
Sorry...
(He returns. She continues to throw up.)
There see? There was nothing to worry ab -
What the - (?)
My God.
Suzanne:
Did that just come out of me?
Sam:
My God.
Suzanne:
What is it?
Sam:
I don't believe it.
Suzanne:
What is it?
Sam:
It's a statue of the Virgin Mary.
...
Did you consume a statue of the Virgin Mary?
(She shakes her head, still somewhat blue in the face.)
Sam:
Are you sure?
(She nods.)
Sam:
My God. You mix in your gullet the Body of Christ with exploding butter and what do you get but an icon of the Mother of God. What next.
(She starts to show signs again that she's going to throw up.)
Sam:
Are you going to go again?
(After a moment's hesitation she nods.)
Sam:
Okay. Okay... Easy now - easy...
(He holds her.)
+++
(Suzanne is lying with her head against the rock. There is a ridiculous number of objects strewn about the place, including the Mona Lisa, among perhaps some other paintings, several books, the icon of the Virgin Mary from before. Flotsam and jetsam from the whole history of Western Civilization. Sam is wiping some of them with a rag and taking inventory.)
Sam:
This one's written in Latin - the paper is parchment made from - dried goatskin.
Suzanne:
(sickly)
How can you tell?
Sam:
(putting his ear to the parchment)
Baaaah. Baaahhh.
See?
Baahhh.
Suzanne:
Very funny.
Sam:
Yuck.
Who'da thought you'da been carrying all this stuff around in your stomach. Oh! Be right there.
(She's showing signs again. He finishes wiping off an object and rushes over to her.)
Sam:
Okay okay... My God, it's a copy of the Declaration of the Rights of Man.
(She goes again.)
Suzanne:
This one feels different oh!
(She opens her mouth and we hear Mozart's Don Giovanni - the aria of the Statue - or some such thing. Then it stops.)
Sam:
Done?
Suzanne:
I think so.
Sam:
Boy. That would be beautiful if it weren't so disgusting.
Suzanne:
I'm going to try and stand up.
Sam:
Okay. All right. Easy does it now. Easy.
Suzanne:
Oh!
(Again. Perhaps more of the same music. Perhaps other music. Perhaps Sam starts to feel sick as well, and they perform a duet - i.e. the servant running around complaining as Don Giovanni talks to the statue in Mozart's opera again. But perhaps that would be going too far. Then at last it stops.)
Sam:
Is that all?
Suzanne:
I think so.
Sam:
(disappointed)
No more?
Suzanne:
What do you want me to throw up the whole opera?
Sam:
No. No. It's just that it's some kind of miracle!
Suzanne:
It's no miracle.
Sam:
Seems like a miracle to me.
Suzanne:
I feel like shit.
Sam:
I mean, look at all this stuff!
Suzanne:
Hold me!
Sam:
Don't panic.
(He runs to hold her.)
Suzanne:
What's happening to me?
Sam:
I don't know: I've heard of the collective unconscious, but I've never heard of the collective bellyful.
Suzanne:
The collective unconscious?
Sam:
Yeah. Carl Jung thinks that certain delusions and hallucinations experienced by his patients can't be explained by their own personal histories, so he attributed them to the unconscious memory of the race.
Suzanne:
Maybe if I lie still it will stop.
Sam:
Like for instance, do you see the sun over there?
Suzanne:
Yeah.
Sam:
He had a patient that said if you close one eye and look at the sun, you can see the sun's erection.
Suzanne:
The sun's erection.
Sam:
Yeah, and the guy said too that if you shake your head from side to side, you'll see that the sun's erection shakes from side to side, and that, he said, is the origin of the wind.
Suzanne:
Oh.
(They try it.)
Suzanne:
I don't see the sun's erection.
Sam:
Neither do I.
Suzanne:
So much for the collective unconscious. Where did you hear about that?
Sam:
I read it in one of them books you coughed up.
Suzanne:
Oh, don't remind me of that.
Sam:
Sorry.
