CUHK Series:The Other Shore: Plays by Gao Xingjian

by Xingjian Gao

  Sleepwalker:

  Whether nonsense or not, it’s not important. The im- portant thing is that you’re still saying them. You are you only because you can still say the words.

  Prostitute:

  She asks, how about you? (Closes right eye.) Are you also a word? (Wipes away right eye shadow.)

  Sleepwalker:

  Maybe, maybe not.

  Prostitute:

  (Pours some lotion on her hand.) Maybe what? (Closes both eyes.) Maybe not what? (Wipes her face.)

  Sleepwalker:

  Not anything!

  Prostitute:

  It’s over. (Her hand lets go the cotton ball, which she uses to take off her make-up.)

  Sleepwalker:

  What’s over?

  Prostitute:

  Over is over. (Takes a tissue to wipe her hands.)

  (Prostitute lifts her head. Only a bright red mouth is visible on her face.

  Sleepwalker stares.

  From the suitcase Prostitute takes out a man’s head which bears an extreme likeness to Sleepwalker. She holds it with both hands and inspects it. After a while, she lets go of it carefully and the head starts to roll on the floor. She gets up nonchalantly. The streetlights are off, and Prostitute disappears.

  Sleepwalker approaches the head, bends over to scrutinize it and pokes at it with his foot.

  Tramp enters with a wine bottle in his hand.)

  Tramp:

  It’s almost daybreak, why are you still dawdling out here?

  Sleepwalker:

  Oh! (Quickly stamps on the head with his foot and squashes it. Looks back.) Sorry. You ask him is the head still there?

  Tramp:

  (With disdain.) Head? Sooner or later everybody’s got to lose his head. There’s always a time to lose one’s head, and there isn’t a head which can’t be lost.

  Sleepwalker:

  That’s right. But you’re asking is your head still there?

  Tramp:

  (Raises his eyebrows.) You want to drink some more?

  Sleepwalker:

  (Takes the bottle and immediately takes a gulp. Laughs.) You say you can’t be sure whether it’s you or your head that’s drinking the stuff.

  Tramp:

  It’s all the same. (Raises the bottle to check out the wine inside.) Whatever we drank, it’s gotta be wine anyway. (Throws away the bottle.)

  (Both laugh heartily and loudly.)

  Sleepwalker:

  It’s all the woman’s fault. If that whore hadn’t flashed her legs, wearing only a pair of nylon pantyhose in this freezing cold night, and if she hadn’t walked around coming on to people, you’d have had a good night’s sleep. You say you’re really sorry.

  Tramp:

  Women. They never change.

  Sleepwalker:

  No mistake about it! If there’s got to be a mistake, you say, it’s that you got involved in her stupid business, something you really shouldn’t have done in the first place. But she said there was a hole in her stockings—

  (Tramp gives a guffaw.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You say your mistake was to take up her conversation!

  (Tramp gives another guffaw.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You say you were wrong to have asked her questions.

  Sleepwalker:

  It’d have been alright if you hadn’t said anything!

  (Tramp gives yet another guffaw.)

  Sleepwalker:

  (Laughs as well.) You say but you did ask her.

  (Tramp laughs again.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You say you didn’t expect to get involved like that…

  (Tramp laughs once more.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You ask is he laughing at you?

  (Tramp laughs yet again.)

  Sleepwalker:

  What’s so laughable about that?

  (Tramp keeps on laughing.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You ask is he laughing at you or laughing at the hole in her stockings?

  (Tramp still laughs.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You ask can he stop laughing?

  (Tramp still laughs, blinking his eyes.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You ask what does he mean?

  (Tramp carries on laughing.)

  Sleepwalker:

  It’s absolute nonsense!

  (Tramp still laughs.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You laugh just because it’s meaningless.

  (Tramp still laughs, his mouth open.)

  Sleepwalker:

  You won’t say anything any more. (Walks away.)

  (Tramp still laughs, turning towards him.)

  Sleepwalker:

  (Turns towards him.) You ask can’t he stop his silly giggle?

  (Tramp keeps on laughing, his mouth open.)

  Sleepwalker:

  (Yells.) Okay, you old geezer! (Approaches him and grips Tramp’s neck with his hands.) You can’t stand this kind of taunting any more, you’ve got to let him know that you’re not such a coward. You’re alive and kicking, you’re not a shadow of other people, you’re real and you really exist. You may be equally as meaningless as this meaningless world you’re in, but your meaningless resistance against this meaningless world more or less proves your meaningless existence! (Lets go his hands.)

  (Tramp falls on the floor. The laugh still lingers on his face, as if it is frozen)

  Sleepwalker:

  (Startled.) You’ve strangled him to death? That’s impossible!

  (Shakes him.) Stop fooling around, you old geezer! (Slaps his face but there is no response.) You didn’t mean to kill him, you just couldn’t stand the way he was taunting you…

  (Steps back.) You say—(Looks around.) There is no one you could talk to about this, even though you’re sure that everywhere there’s always a pair of inquisitive big eyes, and you’re constantly being spied upon. You really can’t get away from this trap they’ve laid for you, either someone’ll push you down or you’ll fall down there yourself. It’s a futile struggle, you’ve tried to pitch evil against evil, anger against brutality, you’ve tried destroying others to save your own skin, but in the end you still can’t help falling into their trap. No, in a dangerous situation like this, you’ve got to pretend that you haven’t done anything wrong, you’ve got to get this dirty business over with. It doesn’t matter who’s the instigator, cases like who did what to whom first are never resolved, and you still have to cover your tracks whether you’re guilty or not guilty, but how can you possibly be not guilty? Anyway, the verdict is not for you to decide.

  (He picks up the old man and pushes him into the suitcase, tucking in his hands and feet. Then he gives a good hard jump on the suitcase and finally manages to close it. He sits on top, panting.) You are on top of evil, no, you’re outside the realm of evil, no, evil is in your heart, you have to eliminate the feeling of evil in your heart!

  (He stands up and treads on the floor with his feet, making a screeching sound. He halts suddenly and takes off his shoes, which he then holds in his hands.) You’re born with this feeling, you can’t eliminate it, everybody has it, there’s no way you can be innocent, but it’ll be alright as long as you don’t think about it!

  (Dawn breaks over the flyover.)

  Sleepwalker:

  Before it becomes light, and before the garbage truck comes along, you’ll have to return home. Your neighbours will be hurrying to catch the morning train. As long as you manage to avoid them in the corridor, sneak in through the door and close it without making too much noise, you’ll be able to relax and set your mind at ease. Then you’ll take a beautiful hot bath, you’ll be clean all over, and you’ll lie in your bed without a single worry in the world. You don’t need to think about it any more, your nightmare will be over and gone for good.

  (He goes back to get the shoes and walks towards the flyover.) You’ll be able to sleep late. When you wake up afterwards, you’ll turn on the radio to listen t
o the news, or you’ll go downstairs to the street corner to buy yourself a newspaper, and then while you’re enjoying your breakfast and sipping a cup of tea, you’ll take a casual look at the newspaper to see if there is any mention of murders, prostitutes, gangsters, or tramps who were drunk or who were frozen to death in the cold—

  (A masked man wearing an undershirt similar to Sleepwalker’s appears on the flyover. He blocks sleepwalker’s way.)

  Sleepwalker:

  Who are you? What do you want? You want you to step aside and let you pass! You ask what in the world do you want? You want you—to let you—pass—!

  (Neither of them is willing to yield, and they grapple with each other in silence.

  The sound of a subway train approaches while the two are still grappling.

  The train rushes past. The stage light darkens. There is a loud and coarse scream.

  Front left stage gradually becomes light. There is no one in the train coach, just an open book on the floor.

  Conductor enters. He picks up the book and exits.

  Curtain.)

  The end

  18 November 1993, Paris, France

  (This play was commissioned by the Beaumardrais Foundation of France. Premiere rights belong to France.)

  Some Suggestions on Producing Nocturnal Wanderer

  1. The play’s subject matter is a nightmare. Naturally it should avoid real life situations and a naturalistic presentation; on the other hand, neither should it resort to the bizarre. The pursuit of psychological reality and that of theatricality are not mutually exclusive; in fact they are to be equally emphasized for the reason that their interaction also contributes to the tensions in the play. It is hoped that the actors can first build up their neutrality on the stage before they start to listen, narrate and play the roles. This kind of actorial neutrality also helps them to achieve a balance between experiencing the characters’ inner feelings and their awareness of being performers on the stage.

  2. The props in the play, apart from being objects on the stage, are also partners interacting with the characters. Once the actors make the shoes, the suitcase, the cardboard boxes, the heads, and the doors come alive, the performance will be enriched and the longer monologues will not be relegated to the status of mere recitations. Stage designers should pay attention to highlighting the props so that they are not buried in the set.

  3. The play makes frequent use of magic. Its many tricks and uncanny transformations bring about surprises for the audience and help to enhance the play’s dramatic effect. The magical tricks are easily adaptable to different stage and lighting designs. Their execution should be clean and tidy; there is no need to overcome the audience’s feeling of disbelief.

  4. The play attempts to arrive at an explanation of some traditional themes such as the relationship between God and Satan, man and woman, good and evil, and salvation and suffering, and modern man’s concerns for language and consciousness, as well as the relationship between the individual and the Other. When the play is performed in Chinese, the characters may be sinicized and endowed with Chinese cultural traits. For instance, Tramp may model himself after the image of Jigong 濟公, the Living Buddha in Chinese folklore and not the image of God in Western culture. Other characters can also be sinicized in the same manner: Thug may become the leader of an underworld gang, and Ruffian may become an assassin in traditional Chinese stories. As for costumes, all the characters may wear modern day street clothing. Prostitute should avoid wearing the Chinese qipao 旗袍, and it is better for Sleepwalker not to wear a tie. When the play is performed in Western languages, costume design is discretionary.

  The above suggestions are for reference only.

  Weekend Quartet

  Early summer, cherry season.

  A lazy weekend, an old house in a country farm.

  Anne, a rather sluggish woman.

  Bernard, a painter in his twilight years.

  Cecile, a coquettish girl.

  Daniel, a middle-aged writer who has run out of things to write about.

  Quartet No. 1

  Bernard

  That afternoon, you’re both in the garden, the sunshine is very good, the sunshine is gorgeous, she says. She chooses her words carefully, if you said the sunshine is gorgeous, she’d pick another word to correct you, correcting you has become one of her hobbies. She doesn’t do anything, all day long she just holds a book in her hands and then picks up some words and throws them at you. She wants to write, if a woman wants to write, well, let her write. That’s a matter of course. The problem is she never actually writes, she just wants to write. Just try it, try spending a whole day with a woman who aspires to be a writer! You’ve got to discuss things with her all the time, she’s not there to be your company, to wait on you, oh no, instead you’ve got to wait on her. The fair sex, well, their temperament is as fickle as the weather. If you tried arguing with her, just one word out of you and she’d be up in arms against you…. That afternoon, you and she are in the garden, and the sunshine is very good, originally—

  Anne, Bernard

  The sunshine is gorgeous.

  And there’s no war!

  What did you say?

  You said there’s no war, what’s wrong with that? Then when you see her frowning, you can only force a smile on your face as if you were begging her not to throw one of her tantrums at you. She’s still quite a charmer despite her age, well-preserved no doubt, and if time could be turned back twenty years, she’d have been quite a dish, a young and beautiful dish. And look at you, you’re left with just a baggy and moldering face. On the other hand, no frowning woman is a beautiful woman, no matter how young or beautiful she is; believe it or not, the more beautiful the woman is, the more you’ll feel the pain. Of course when that happens, you’ve just got to turn your face away and pretend not to see anything…The door bell is ringing, the guests have arrived. You go and open the door, ah, he has brought his girlfriend along with him, you’ve invited him to spend a quiet weekend in the country, but now it’s more apt to say that you’ve invited him and his girlfriend. Yeah, the guy never runs out of babes, a lady-killer just like you were in those days.

  Anne, Daniel, Cecile, Bernard

  Anne.

  Daniel.

  Cecile.

  You can call me old Bern. I’m a bit older than all of you.

  Daniel, Bernard

  The sunshine is so good!

  The sunshine is gorgeous, you immediately correct the guest, or rather, remind the guest, and when you turn around, you suddenly discover that her kneaded eyebrows have disappeared, she’s welcoming the guests, all smiles, of course it’s directed towards him and only him, and not that radiantly perky kiddie girlfriend of his beside him. She’s really out of line with her meanness, you know it yourself. When you’re at your age, so advanced in years, you’re able to understand yourself perfectly, if nothing else.

  Cecile, Bernard, Daniel

  What a huge garden!

  It goes all the way to the pasture over there, originally this was a farmstead, you could keep horses here if you wanted to…Look at you, you’ve made it big, haven’t you? And what a beautiful young companion you have here. I’ll give you a tour of the place later. In the meantime, you might as well enjoy the place while you’re here, hey, do whatever you want, make yourself at home. You want to drink something before we go? Wine or tea?

  It’s so quiet here, not a bit of noise, you can even hear the bees humming.

  Bernard, Cecile

  There’s only one country road that leads to the house, it’s really far away from the highway.

  Look, Daniel, you can take a bath while looking at the garden!

  See this glass door here, it can be opened completely. In the morning, the sunlight goes right through and shines straight into the bathtub, that is, if you like tanning yourself while taking a bath.

  Where’s your studio, sir? May we please look at your paintings as well?

  Over there in the stab
le. And don’t call me sir. Once you step through the door, there’s no need for ceremony, and don’t respect me for my age either.

  Okay, I’ll call you old Bern then, I like that.

  Why not? I may be old, but I still have to live, and live happily I will.

  Daniel, Anne

  This is like paradise on earth.

  There’re lots of rooms here, nobody’d bother you if you wanted to write, it’s totally quiet.

  You write too?

  Sometimes, just for fun.

  Cecile, Daniel, Anne

  I envy you. Daniel, let’s buy a house in the country, okay?

  Sure, if we can afford it.

  It wasn’t that expensive when we bought it, but we renovated the place afterwards. He was his own designer.

  It’s not too difficult, is it? You just have to write a best-seller.

  A love triangle, better yet, add one more angle and make it a quadrangle, and spice it up with something juicy, you know, cops and robbers, political scandals, sex changes, exotic places, and things like that.

  Got to have sex.

  Daniel, Anne

  Are you writing about sex? Is that what you plan to write about?

  I only write about myself, and I’m the only one to read it.

  A kind of private writing? Not for publication?

  Cecile, Bernard

  Look at these, Daniel. Wow! What a life!

  Let there be wine! A beautiful weekend, a friend from the city, and the company of a charming young lady to boot, this is the best time to get drunk, wouldn’t you say? What a beautiful sunset, and there’s no war, what more could we ask for, eh? People, what music shall we put on? Take your pick, but not those crazy teenyboppers’ rocking and rolling stuff, you’re too old for them. Not that you haven’t been crazy before, from self-obsession to revolution, or to be more specific, from subversive art to the art of subversion, you’ve tried your hand at all of them. In the final analysis, art is still art, and revolution, where’s it now? Anyway, you’re lucky to be still alive! Here, let’s propose a toast to all of them!