The Girl Who Saw Everything
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Playwright’s Biography
First Production
Characters
Setting
Act One
Act Two
Copyright Page
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Copyright Page
CURRENCY PLAYS
First published in 1993 by
Currency Press Pty Ltd
PO Box 2287
Strawberry Hills NSW 2012
www.currencypress.com.au
enquiries@currency.com.au
Copyright © Alma De Groen, 1993.
First electronic edition published in 2012 by Currency Press Pty Ltd.
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Performing Rights
Any performance or public reading of The Girl Who Saw Everything is forbidden unless a licence has been received from the author or the author’s agent. The purchase of this book in no way gives the purchaser the right to perform the play in public, whether by means of a staged production or a reading. All applications for public performance should be addressed to the playwright, c/- RGM Artist Group - PO Box 128, Surry Hills, NSW 2010; info@rgm.com.au; ph: +612 9281 3911
Printed book ISBN: 9780868193458
ePub ISBN: 9781921429682
Set by Dean Nottle. Cover design by Katy Wall, for Currency Press.
Playwright’s Biography
ALMA DE GROEN was born in New Zealand in 1941 and moved to Australia at the age of twenty-four. She is the author of many plays, of which The Rivers of China is probably the best known. It won the Premier’s Literary Award for Drama in both New South Wales and Victoria. In 1998 De Groen became the first playwright to receive the Patrick White Literary Award for her contribution to Australian theatre. Other plays published by Currency are The Girl Who Saw Everything, Going Home, The Joss Adams Show, Vocations, Wicked Sisters and The Woman in the Window.
FIRST PRODUCTION
The Girl Who Saw Everything was commissioned by Melbourne Theatre Company and first performed at the Russell Street Theatre, Melbourne, on 11 November 1991, with the following cast:
LIZ RANSOM Pat Bishop
GARETH RANSOM Roger Oakley
EDWINA ROUSE Tamara Cook
SAUL EAST Gary Day
CAROL EDGE Louise Siversen
THE GIRL Tamara Cook
Director, Janis Balodis
Designer, Eamon D’Arcy
This revised and expanded version was first presented by Sydney Theatre Company at the Wharf Theatre, Sydney, on 28 October 1992, with the following cast:
LIZ RANSOM Kerry Walker
GARETH RANSOM Donald Macdonald
EDWINA ROUSE Miranda Otto
SAUL EAST Rod Mullinar
CAROL EDGE Genevieve Lemon
THE GIRL Emily Dawe
Director, Robyn Nevin
Designer, Dale Ferguson
This play was made possible by a Literature Board Fellowship for which the author would like to thank the Australia Council.
CHARACTERS
LIZ RANSOM, 47
GARETH RANSOM, 50
SAUL EAST, 50
CAROL EDGE, 36
EDWINA ROUSE, 23
GIRL
SETTING
Sydney and the Blue Mountains. Winter to late summer.
A living room in a country cottage in the mountains.
It also needs to represent Carol’s flat in Sydney, and Edwina’s studio.
‘I wanted to tell a story of hope—that those who had the courage and the strength to face the truth about the human situation had a chance to be kind and tender with each other. Australia need not always belong to the tough. Australia could and should belong to lovers and believers.’
Manning Clark, A Historian’s Apprenticeship
For my daughter, Nadine, and for Ian.
ACT ONE
Night. Early August. Lights up on a living room wall, badly spotted with mould.
LIZ is offstage, singing to herself. The song is unrecognisable but seems familiar, reminiscent of every pop song dating from the late fifties and early sixties. She comes on stage and picks up a glass of wine. She sips, thinking aloud.
LIZ: All the songs sang of dreams. Love and dreams… in a white sports coat and a pink carnation. Where did they go, the dreams? We got too old for the white sports coat and the pink carnation—but what happened to our grown-up dreams?
If I had a daughter or a son I’d ask them: what do you dream? and they’d probably say, we don’t dream—what is dreaming?
And I’d say, countries I wanted to see. Men I wanted to love and to love me. Work that made sense of the day, the week, the year, the life.
Passion. It wasn’t absurd to have passion. It was obligatory. You were home with the Tupperware and the Hills hoist if you didn’t. Now the Tupperware and the Hills hoist have become part of the dream, things we’re afraid we might lose.
Even the rage has gone.
I don’t know any woman now who isn’t afraid of her own rage. I wish I did.
That’s the woman I want to know. Is she loose? Or have they locked her up for safety’s sake?
GAZ enters.
GAZ: For God’s sake, Liz, I thought you were coming back with me. You haven’t even packed.
LIZ: No, I haven’t.
GAZ: I want you to come home!
LIZ: I am home.
GAZ: This isn’t our home. There’s nothing here. Who do we know in the Mountains?—scriptwriters and real estate agents. No one. Everything shuts at six except the pub! I looked in your Filofax. Do you know what it said? ‘Paper and bottle collection’. That’s the only thing happening this month.
LIZ: A lot could be happening.
GAZ: What?
LIZ: I don’t know yet, Gaz. Trust me.
GAZ: You don’t know what you’re doing up here.
LIZ: Exactly. That’s why I need to do it.
GAZ: Are you working on a new book?
LIZ: No, I’m not working on a new book. God, you make it sound so easy.
GAZ: I don’t understand why you wanted this place. You always hated the country. What about all the things happening in Sydney?
LIZ: What things?
GAZ: Saul’s exhibition. I thought we were looking forward to it.
LIZ: You were looking forward to it. I can see violence on the evening news. I don’t have to get dressed up and go out for it.
GAZ: When do you watch the news? You put the TV out in the shed. The only thing you watch up here is the mould growing on the living room walls—which you obviously find more exciting than you find me. At least it’s growing and changing—
GAZ: Then what is it?
LIZ smiles.
LIZ: As ageing, unreconstructed males go, you rate pretty high.
GAZ: I sound like an old ruin waiting to be torn down.
LIZ: I don’t want to tear you down, Gaz. What would I put up in your place?
GAZ: Some sensitive New Age grotesque in the Blue Mountains Gazette, advertising roof repairs or stained glass!
LIZ: I don’t want somebody in the Blue Mountains Gazette. There’s a lot to be said for being married to an old-fashioned chauve: I don’t have to keep worrying what’s smouldering underneath. I know where I am—and I know where you are.
GAZ: Yes—two hours down the hill in Sydney.
LIZ: Haven’t you ever felt the need to be alone, Gaz?
GAZ: Not without you. Never. [Pause.] I never thought I’d say something like this, but when I went back without you after last weekend I actually found myself thinking: I’m going to go to my grave without ever having known my wife.
LIZ: What?
GAZ: I don’t mean in a biblical sense. I mean in a deep down fundamental sense of who the hell are you? There are times when you totally elude me. You go into a world of your own. But this is the first time you’ve retreated physically as well.
LIZ: We should have had this conversation last night.
GAZ: Last night I thought you were coming back with me. [Frustrated] You see what happens? You deflect everything!
LIZ: I hate confrontation, you know that.
GAZ: Yes, you’re more of a sniper.
LIZ: Gaz, if I could explain what I’m doing here, I would. All I know is I feel different up here.
GAZ: What do you mean, different?
LIZ: You’d laugh.
GAZ: No I wouldn’t. Try me.
LIZ: When I’m up here I sing.
GAZ laughs.
GAZ: You what?
LIZ: I sing.
GAZ: What do you mean, you sing?
LIZ: To myself.
GAZ: Sing what?
LIZ: I don’t know. Old songs. Silly songs.
GAZ: What old songs?
LIZ: From when we were young. Optimistic. Maybe it’s a result of being at a higher altitude.
GAZ: Look what it did for Julie Andrews. [Pause.] This is ridiculous. If you want to sing, why can’t you sing in Sydney?
LIZ: Did you ever hear me singing in Sydney?
GAZ: No.
LIZ: Well, there you are.
GAZ: This is a ridiculous conversation! I can’t believe we’re having it!
LIZ: I feel as if I could come alive here.
GAZ: You’re not dead!
LIZ: At least up here I’m not numb.
GAZ: No, you sing!
He puts his arms around her.
Please come back to Sydney, Liz! I miss you, I worry about you!
GAZ leaves.
It is late August. LIZ watches as SAUL and EDWINA bring in a large canvas. They uncover it to reveal a violent portrait of a woman reminiscent of the paintings of De Kooning, but crossed with the neo-expressionism of Clemente or Chia. SAUL positions it on the mouldy wall.
SAUL: How’s that?
EDWINA: Up a bit to the right.
LIZ: Everything’s on a lean in this house. Nothing’s true.
EDWINA: You’re not regretting it, are you?
LIZ: Regretting what?
EDWINA: Your mad exile, as Gaz called it.
LIZ: Gaz said that?
SAUL: Pay attention: am I straight?
EDWINA: Hopelessly out of whack, Saul.
LIZ: When did Gaz say that, Edwina?
EDWINA: Perhaps he didn’t say exactly that; I don’t remember exactly what he said.
LIZ: I haven’t exiled myself at all.
EDWINA: Are you writing anything new?
LIZ: I’m researching.
EDWINA: What are you researching?
LIZ: The future.
EDWINA: How can you research the future? It hasn’t happened yet.
LIZ: Maybe it has.
EDWINA: Well, all I can say is I hope I have your kind of luck one day. I’d love to do what you did and offend absolutely everybody.
SAUL: Girls, a hit of attention here, please—
LIZ: It’s straight, Saul, it’ll do.
EDWINA: You’re taking a lot for granted, aren’t you?—he may not even like it.
SAUL: Of course he’ll like it. Gaz likes all my work. I can’t wait to see his face when he walks in.
LIZ: Yes, well I don’t know when that will be.
SAUL: What time are you expecting him?
LIZ: Two hours ago.
EDWINA: It’s not very discriminating—to like all of someone’s work. It’s probably not even possible. I mean, look at me—I don’t like—
SAUL: I’m not giving it to you, I’m giving it to Gareth and Liz.
EDWINA: I know you’re not giving it to me, I’d drop dead if you ever gave me anything.
LIZ goes to the phone and dials. EDWINA pours wine.
SAUL: Shut up and behave like a civilised human being.
EDWINA: Why? They’re old friends, aren’t they? One can say what one likes to old friends.
SAUL: They’re my old friends, not yours.
EDWINA: They could hardly be mine, could they? Considering I probably wasn’t even born… They’re like my grandparents.
SAUL: What are you talking about, your grandparents?
EDWINA: My grandparents hold hands. They like each other. Maybe that generation knew how. Or maybe it’s because Gaz and Liz didn’t have any kids. Look what it did to all your marriages.
LIZ hangs up.
SAUL: What train was he getting?
LIZ: He was driving. He had to pick up some sealant for the outside.
SAUL: What are you doing about the inside?
LIZ: It’s under control.
EDWINA: Looks completely out of control to me. [She helps herself to more wine.] It’s called nervous intensity. Comes from living with Saul.
SAUL: Comes from living on diet pills.
EDWINA: You wouldn’t paint me if I was fat. I have to look like I’m practically dead or you’re not interested.
SAUL: You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.
EDWINA: You’re telling me that?
SAUL: Why didn’t you bring some food with us? We ought to contribute something… [He looks at LIZ.] Some cheese and crackers, at least.
LIZ sips her wine, ignoring the hint.
Should I pick up some things in the village? Maybe get something in for dinner?
LIZ: Dinner?
SAUL: What do you feel like eating?
LIZ: Everything’s shut.
SAUL: There must be some restaurants open. We can take you and Gaz out tonight. That’s if you haven’t made other plans.
LIZ: I moved up here to avoid making plans.
EDWINA: How can you research the future? That’s weird.
LIZ: I don’t know yet.
EDWINA: It’s the past people research. Or the present. Not the future.
LIZ: The past doesn’t seem to be much help anymore.
EDWINA: Oh. Well. You’re the historian. You’d know. [She takes another drink.] Everyone thinks you’re having a nervous breakdown, but you look okay to me.
LIZ: Thanks, Edwina, very much.
EDWINA: You ought to leave Australia. You could afford it on the royalties you’re getting. Do a Germaine Greer. Even Colleen McCullough couldn’t stomach the place.
SAUL: Eddie!
EDWINA: You ought to be proud of yourself, Liz Ransom—no one else has managed to completely alienate everyone—the feminists as well as the men.
SAUL: I think we’ll go.
EDWINA: What if something’s happened to Gaz?
SAUL: For God’s sake, Edwina.
EDWINA: We should keep Liz company.
LIZ: I’ll be fine.
EDWINA: I wo
uldn’t be. It’s a hideous night out there. Though that could be just the fact that we’re in the country. [She turns to SAUL.] Where are we going? Not back to Sydney?
SAUL: We’ll go to a motel.
EDWINA: How romantic.
SAUL: Get your coat and let’s go.
EDWINA: Very romantic.
LIZ: I’m sorry you missed Gaz.
SAUL: We’ll call you in the morning. If it’s a nice day we might have a picnic somewhere. The Megalong Valley.
EDWINA: I’d rather look at Katoomba.
SAUL: You can’t look at Katoomba. Katoomba’s hideous. They’ve ruined it.
EDWINA: I suppose you remember the good old days—before they ruined it.
SAUL: I do, as a matter of fact.
EDWINA: Oh for a lover with no ‘good old days’.
GAZ comes in. He stands in the doorway, not really registering their presence. LIZ crosses to kiss him.
LIZ: What took you so long?… You nearly missed Saul and Edwina. That would have been had luck, wouldn’t it?
GAZ stands, blank and unresponsive, as if she has not spoken.
Gaz?
He walks past her to the sofa without looking at any of them and sits.
SAUL: What’s up, mate?
EDWINA: You look awful.
LIZ: What’s the matter?
GAZ is staring straight ahead, still with the same blank expression.
Are you all right? [She crosses to him.] Here, give me your coat.
GAZ does not move.
Gaz?
GAZ: Could I have a drink?
LIZ: Of course.
She pours him a glass of wine. SAUL pours him a brandy. EDWINA hands him her own glass. He ends up with three drinks offered to him. He continues with Edwina’s. EDWINA takes the full glass LIZ had poured.
What’s happened?
GAZ is silent.
You’re not hurt, are you?
GAZ: No. I’m not hurt.