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Overview
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9780156569453 |
---|---|
Publisher: | HarperCollins |
Publication date: | 10/28/1985 |
Edition description: | First Edition |
Pages: | 352 |
Product dimensions: | 5.31(w) x 8.00(h) x (d) |
About the Author
Date of Birth:
April 23, 1899Date of Death:
July 2, 1977Place of Birth:
St. Petersburg, RussiaPlace of Death:
Montreux, SwitzerlandEducation:
Trinity College, Cambridge, 1922Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The Man from the USSR
DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
The Man From the USSR was written in Berlin in 1925-1926. The first act only was published in Rul' on 1 January 1927. The entire play had been staged by a Russian theatrical company called Gruppa (The Group) at the Grotrian-Steinweg Saal in Berlin in 1926. For the present translation I have used the manuscript text preserved in one of my grandmother's albums.
NB: "Kuznetsoff" is a deliberate departure from normal transliteration.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Alexéy Matvéyevich (Alyósha) Kuznetsóff, a businessman Ólga Pávlovna (Ólya), his wife
Víctor Iv'novich (Vítya) Oshivénski, proprietor of a small tavern, former landowner
Yevghénia Vasílyevna (Zhénya, Mrs. Oshivenski), his wife Mariánna Sergéyevna Tal', a film actress
Lyúlya, her friend
Baron Nikoláy Kárlovich (Kólya) Táubendorf, waiter, former officer Fyódor Fyódorovich, waiter, former officer
The Assistant Director émigrés, film extras, stagehands, and passing legs
ACT ONE
Small tavern in a basement. In the back, a narrow horizontal window — a strip of glass spanning almost the entire length of the room. Since the window is at sidewalk level, only the legs of passers by are visible. On the left, a door, curtained with blue cloth; its threshold is level with the bottom edge of the window, and a visitor must descend six blue steps to reach the basement. To the right of the window, an obliquely situated bar; behind it, along the right wall, shelves with bottles and, downstage of them, a low door leading into the cellar. The proprietor has evidently attempted to give the tavern a Russian atmosphere by means of blue babas and peacocks painted on the rear wall above the strip of window, but his imagination has stopped there. It is about nine o'clock on a spring evening. Life has not yet begun in the tavern: tables and chairs stand haphazardly; here and there the angular white shapes of spread tablecloths strike the eye. Fyodor Fyodorovich, a waiter, is bent over the bar, arranging fruit in two baskets. There is an evening dimness in the tavern, and that makes Fyodor Fyodorovich's face and his white smock seem especially pale. He is about twenty-five, with fair hair slicked down very thoroughly. His profile is angular, and his movements are not devoid of a certain careless swagger. Victor Ivanovich Oshivenski, owner of the tavern, a slightly chubby, neat old man with a short gray beard and a pince-nez, is nailing to the wall, to the right of the window, a large white sheet, on which one can distinguish the inscription "Gypsy Chorus!" From time to time legs pass from left to right and from right to left in the strip of window. They stand out against the yellowish background of evening with a two-dimensional clarity, as if cut out of black cardboard. If one compared the action onstage to music, these silhouettes would serve as black quavers and semiquavers. Of course they do not pass continuously, but at considerable intervals. From the opening curtain until the moment when Fyodor Fyodorovich lowers the blinds at Kuznetsoff's appearance, only ten pairs of legs pass, of which two cross from opposite directions, two follow each other in rapid succession, and the rest pass individually.
Oshivenski pounds, for a certain length of time, then drops his hammer with a spasm of pain.
OSHIVENSKI Damn! ... Right on my thumbnail. ...
FYODOR FYODOROVICH Mustn't be so careless, Victor Ivanovich. That really hurts, doesn't it?
OSHIVENSKI I'll say it does. ... The nail will probably come off.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH Here, let me hammer. The lettering is well done, though, if I do say so myself. I admit I tried very hard. Those letters are a dream.
OSHIVENSKI These gypsies are just an extra expense anyway. They won't bring in any new customers. It's only a matter of days before my little place ... what do you think — maybe I should soak it in cold water?
FYODOR FYODOROVICH Yes, that helps. There, it's ready! Right where it strikes the eye. The effect isn't bad at all.
OSHIVENSKI ... It's only a matter of days before my little place folds. And that will mean running around this damned city of Berlin again, searching, trying to think something up. ... And meanwhile, like it or not, I'm pushing seventy. And how tired I am, how very tired. ...
FYODOR FYODOROVICH I think it'll look better this way: green grapes with the oranges, red with the bananas. Simple and appetizing.
OSHIVENSKI What time is it?
FYODOR FYODOROVICH Going on nine. I suggest we arrange the tables differently today. Anyway, next week when the gypsies get going we'll have to clear a space over there.
OSHIVENSKI I'm beginning to think that there is a hidden flaw in the concept itself. At first it seemed to me that this kind of nighttime tavern, a basement place something like the "Stray Dog," would have a particularly attractive atmosphere. The very fact that legs flit by on the sidewalk, and that special kind of — what's the word — oh, you know, coziness, and so forth. Don't crowd them together too much, though.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH No, I think it works out nicely like this. Here's a tablecloth that needs changing. Wine got spilled on it last night. Turned it into a regular map of the world.
OSHIVENSKI I'll say. And the laundering doesn't come cheap, either. Anything but. That's a perfect example: it would probably have been better to open up not a tavern but just a café, a little restaurant, something very ordinary, and don't you sniff with indifference, Fyodor Fyodorovich.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH Why should I sniff? Sniffing only creates drafts. Don't you worry, Victor Ivanovich, we'll make a goof it somehow. Personally I don't care what I do, and I even think it's fun being a waiter. For over two years now I've enjoyed the most humble professions — no matter that I was once an artillery captain.
OSHIVENSKI What time is it?
FYODOR FYODOROVICH As I told you, it's close to nine. Soon they'll start gathering. Those legs are heading here. (There appears, in the strip of window, a pair of legs, which first cross from left to right, then stop, then go in the opposite direction, then stop again, then change direction again. They belong to Kuznetsoff, but are seen in silhouette form, i.e., two-dimensional and black, like black cardboard cutouts. Only their outline is reminiscent of his real legs, which [tn gray pants and sturdy, tan shoes] will appear onstage together with their owner two or three speeches later.)
OSHIVENSKI And one fine day nobody will gather at all. Listen, old chap, pull down the blind and turn on some lights. Yes ... one fine day. ... A colleague of mine in the tavern business — what's his name ... Meyer — was telling me everything was going fine, his place was flourishing — then, suddenly, what do you know: nobody shows up. ... Ten o'clock, eleven, midnight — nobody. ... Matter of chance, of course.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH I told you those legs were coming here. (The blue cloth covering the door begins to bulge.)
OSHIVENSKI A matter of chance all right, but an amazing one. Nobody came at all that whole night. (Pushing aside the cloth, Kuznetsoff appears and pauses on the top step. He is dressed for travel: gray suit, no hat, tan raincoat draped over his arm. He is a man of average height with an unprepossessing clean-shaven face, with narrowed myopic eyes. His hair is dark and slightly thinning at the temples, and he wears a polka-dot bow tie. At first sight it is hard to tell if he is a foreigner or a Russian.)
FYODOR FYODOROVICH(jauntily)Guten abend.(He turns on the lights and lowers the blue blinds. The passing legs disappear from view.)
OSHIVENSKI(in a low-pitched drawl)Guten abend.
KUZNETSOFF(cautiously negotiating the stairs) Hello. It's no good having those stairs going right down from the door.
OSHIVENSKI Beg pardon?
KUZNETSOFF It's treacherous — particularly if the customer is already tipsy. He'll come crashing down. You'd better do something about it.
OSHIVENSKI Well, you know, there's not much you can do — after all, this is a basement, and if I start setting up a platform there —
KUZNETSOFF I was told that Baron Taubendorf is working as a waiter here. I'd like to see him.
OSHIVENSKI
That's absolutely correct — he's already been with me for two weeks. Maybe you'd like to sit down — he should be here anyminute. Fyodor Fyodorovich, what time is it?
KUZNETSOFF I don't feel like waiting. You'd better tell me where he lives.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH The Baron comes in at nine on the dot. For the opening curtain, so to speak. He'll be here in a moment. Do sit down. Sorry about the boxes of nails on the chair ...
KUZNETSOFF(sits; a box falls down) Didn't see it.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH Don't worry, I'll pick them up. (drops to one knee in front of Kuznetsoff and begins picking up the scattered nails)
OSHIVENSKI Some people find a certain charm in the fact that you enter by descending a flight of stairs.
KUZNETSOFF All these props are no use. How's business? Bad, I suppose?
OSHIVENSKI Not so good. ... Not many Russians around — well-to-do ones, I mean; there's no shortage of poor ones, of course. As for the Germans, they have their own pubs, their own habits. So we struggle along as best we can. At first it seemed to me that the idea of a basement tavern ...
KUZNETSOFF Well, right now your tavern's pretty empty. How much are your expenses?
OSHIVENSKI On the high side, to be quite frank. I rent it, but you know how that goes — if I needed a basement for storage, there'd be one price, this way it's another. And when you add on —
KUZNETSOFF I'm asking you for an exact figure.
OSHIVENSKI One hundred twenty marks. Plus tax, and what a tax. ...
FYODOR FYODOROVICH(peeking behind the blind) And here's the Baron!
KUZNETSOFF Where?
FYODOR FYODOROVICH I can tell by his legs. Remarkable thing, legs.
OSHIVENSKI Besides, I had some bad luck with the wine. They got me to buy a batch that was supposed to be a bargain. Instead — (Taubendorf enters. He is wearing a hat but no coat. He is thin, has a clipped mustache, and is dressed in a worn but still elegant dinner jacket. He pauses on the top step, then comes rushing down.)
KUZNETSOFF(getting up) Greetings, Kolya.
TAUBENDORF I'll be damned — great to see you! After all these winters, all these summers. More winters than summers....
KUZNETSOFF No, it's only been eight months. Hello, pal, how are you?
TAUBENDORF Wait, let's have a look at you. ... Victor Ivanovich, treat him well — he's a dear friend.
OSHIVENSKI Off we go to the wine cellar, Fyodor Fyodorovich. (Oshivenski and Fyodor Fyodorovich go out the door on the right.)
TAUBENDORF(laughing) My boss is a bit on the deaf side, but he's a man of gold. All right, Alyosha, hurry, while we're alone, tell me everything.
KUZNETSOFF What's wrong with you — why all the excitement?
TAUBENDORF I want to hear the news. ... Are you here for long?
KUZNETSOFF Hold on a moment. I just came from the station, and first of all I want to know ...
TAUBENDORF This is incredible! You've seen and done God only knows what, and God only knows what danger you've been in ... suddenly you reappear and, as if nothing had happened, there's not a word out of you.
KUZNETSOFF(sitting down) You'd probably like to see me wearing an operetta sword and gold braid. That's not what it's all about. Where is my wife living now?
TAUBENDORF(standing in front of him) Fifty-three Hegel Street, Pension Braun.
KUZNETSOFF I see. I rode over from the station to where she lived last time I was here. They didn't know her address. Is her health all right?
TAUBENDORF Yes, she's fine.
KUZNETSOFF I wrote her twice. Once from Moscow and once from Saratov. Did she get my letters?
TAUBENDORF Yes, sir. The post office forwarded them.
KUZNETSOFF And how is her financial situation? Do I owe you anything?
TAUBENDORF No, she had enough to tide her over. She lives very modestly. Alyosha, I can't stand it any longer — tell me — how is it going?
KUZNETSOFF Right. ... address, health, money. ... What else was there? Oh, yes — She hasn't gotten herself a lover, has she?
TAUBENDORF Of course not!
KUZNETSOFF Too bad.
TAUBENDORF Besides, that's a shocking question. ... She's such a darling, your wife. I'll never understand how you could have left her. ...
KUZNETSOFF Use your head, sweetheart, and you'll understand. One other question: why are you wearing eyeliner?
TAUBENDORF(laughing) Oh, that's makeup. Very hard to get off.
KUZNETSOFF What have you been up to today?
TAUBENDORF Extra work.
KUZNETSOFF What does that mean?
TAUBENDORF At night I'm a waiter here, and during the day I'm a film extra. Right now they're shooting an idiotic picture about Russia.
KUZNETSOFF Now let's get down to business. Everything is going fine. Comrade Gromov, whom by the way I'll see at the Soviet Mission, has been hinting to me about a promotion, which, naturally, is very gratifying. But, as before, I am short of cash. This must be remedied: I have to meet with a whole lot of people here. Now listen — day after tomorrow Werner is coming in from London. You will give him this ... and this. ... (hands him two letters)
TAUBENDORF Alyosha, remember what you promised me last time?
KUZNETSOFF I do. But that's not necessary for now.
TAUBENDORF But I'm only a pawn. My job consists of such trifles. I'm not kept informed of anything. You refuse to tell me anything. I don't want to be a pawn. I don't want to play postman. You promised, Alyosha, that you would take me to Russia with you. ...
KUZNETSOFF Don't be a fool. So, you'll give this to Werner, and also tell him — (Oshivenski and Fyodor Fyodorovich return with bottles.)
TAUBENDORF Alyosha, they're coming back. ...
KUZNETSOFF ... that the price of nails is stable. ... And be at my place tomorrow at eight. I'm at the Hotel Elysium.
TAUBENDORF What's tomorrow, Tuesday? Yes — fortunately tomorrow is my night off.
KUZNETSOFF Splendid. We'll have a chat, and then we'll go look for some chicks.
OSHIVENSKI Baron, give us a hand here. Soon people will start coming. (to Kuznetsoff) May I offer you some cognac?
KUZNETSOFF Many thanks. I won't refuse. How does one get to Hegel Street from here?
OSHIVENSKI It's right nearby: turn right, go three blocks, and you're there.
FYODOR FYODOROVICH(pouring the cognac) Hegelkinsky. ...
TAUBENDORF Victor Ivanovich, I think you're acquainted with Mr. Kuznetsoff's wife.
KUZNETSOFF Allow me to introduce myself.
OSHIVENSKI Oshivenski. (They shake hands.) Ouch! Excuse me, but I just hit my thumb with a hammer.
KUZNETSOFF Oh, so you're left-handed?
OSHIVENSKI Yes, of course I know her. We met at Easter. My wife, Yevghenia Vasilyevna, and she are great friends.
TAUBENDORF Listen, how did you guess that Victor Ivanovich was left-handed?
KUZNETSOFF Which hand do you usually hold a nail with? You're a real whiz kid. ...
OSHIVENSKI So you've been out of town?
KUZNETSOFF Yes, out of town.
OSHIVENSKI Warsaw, wasn't it? I think that's what Olga Pavlovna said. ...
KUZNETSOFF Yes, I visited Warsaw too. To your health. (Marianna enters. She is wearing a light-gray tailored dress, and has short hair. Her legs and lips immediately identify her as a Russian. She walks with a loose gait.)
TAUBENDORF Your obedient servant, Marianna Sergeyevna.
MARIANNA You're an awful stinker, Baron. How come you didn't wait for me? Moser gave me a lift back in his car, and there was room for you, too.
TAUBENDORF Marianna dear, I was a wreck after the shooting — what with the klieg lights and the yelling and everything. And I was hungry.
MARIANNA You could have warned me. I looked all over for you.
TAUBENDORF I beg your forgiveness. The humble extra begs the forgiveness of the film star.
MARIANNA No, I'm very hurt. And please don't think the only reason I dropped in here was to tell you that. I need to make a phone call. Guten abend, Victor Ivanovich.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Man from the USSR and Other Plays"
by .
Copyright © 1984 Article 3b Trust Under the Will of Vladimir Naboko.
Excerpted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Title Page,
Contents,
Title,
Plays,
Nabokov and the Theatre,
Chronology,
The Man from the USSR,
The Event,
The Pole,
The Grand-dad,
Essays,
Introduction,
Playwriting,
The Tragedy of Tragedy,
About the Author,
Connect with HMH,
Footnotes,