His Dark Materials (Stage Version) (NHB Modern Plays) E-Book

Philip Pullman

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

A two-play dramatisation of Philip Pullman's extraordinary award-winning fantasy trilogy, first seen at the National Theatre. His Dark Materials takes us on a thrilling journey through worlds familiar and unknown. For Lyra and Will, its two central characters, it's a coming of age and a transforming spiritual experience. Their great quest demands a savage struggle against the most dangerous of enemies. They encounter fantastical creatures in parallel worlds – rebellious angels, soul-eating spectres, child-catching Gobblers and the armoured bears and witch-clans of the Arctic. Finally, before reaching, perhaps, the republic of heaven, they must visit the land of the dead. Note to performers: although conceived for a theatre with rich resources, this adaptation can also be staged in imaginative ways without the aid of sophisticated technology. 'Nicholas Wright... has risen to the challenge with brilliance' - Mail on Sunday '"Unstageable" was the first reaction of the National Theatre's artistic director, Nicholas Hytner, to the idea of dramatising His Dark Materials. But last night's opening has triumphantly proved him wrong' - Sunday Times 'Children's theatre of an uncommon maturity and ambition... dazzling in just the right way... moments of heart-stopping simplicity' - Independent 'The hottest ticket in town long before press day... Book to see it next Christmas' - Financial Times

Leseprobe

HIS DARK MATERIALS

Based on the novels by

Philip Pullman

Adapted for the stage by

Nicholas Wright

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Original Production

PART ONE

Characters

Act One

Act Two

PART TWO

Characters

Act One

Act Two

Production Note

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Introduction

When Nicholas Hytner asked me to adapt His Dark Materials for the National Theatre, I said ‘yes’ without a moment’s hesitation. The first reason was that I had read the books and loved them. The second was that the dates were fixed, the show would happen whether I agreed to be part of it or not, and I thought it would be deeply pathetic to watch the train take off on its fabulous journey when I could be on it. The third reason was the nature of the work that I would be doing. Playwrights like to think that they’re the sole author of everything that happens onstage. But in this case I knew that I would be sharing the driver’s compartment with many others. Like the book-writer of a big musical, or the screenwriter of a film, I would be referring constantly to the designer, the movement director, the composer and every other member of the creative team. I would be working with the producer and the director, both united in the form of Nick Hytner. And I would be working with Philip Pullman. All this was very attractive.

On 2 March 2004, Philip, Nick and I sat in the Olivier Theatre watching the last performance of the first run. It went incredibly well and we were all very proud of it. And it occurred to all three of us that, since we knew the show would come back at the end of the year, we had the chance to bring it even closer to the impossible ideal that we had set ourselves when the project began. This is a luxury that one gets very rarely, and it seemed crazy not to take advantage of it. It took about five minutes in the Green Room afterwards for us to say to each other, in general terms, what we thought was needed. I outlined the changes that I wanted to make to the script, as well as one or two others that I wanted to do but wasn’t sure how. Philip promised to help by putting his thoughts in writing, which he duly did in a long, appreciative and thoughtful letter. Nick, like every great producer, gave me inspiration, responsibility and the illusion of freedom.

This revised play-script is the result. It contains a lot of small changes, a few middling ones and one big piece of restructuring in the last half-hour or so. My hopes for it are simple ones: that the story is thrilling, that the great issues that it tackles will excite the imagination of a young audience and that Philip Pullman’s central themes of innocence and experience, child-hood and adulthood, belief and rationality, will stand out clearly.

Out of the whole experience of the show’s creation, these are some of the moments that I will never forget:

The moment at home when I stole a speech from a delightful character in Northern Lights named Ma Costa, and gave it to Mrs Coulter: this is when the play began to breathe. The workshop at the National Theatre Studio when Nick turned to me, his eyes ablaze with a kind of white, unearthly energy, and said of the script, ‘It’s just not working.’ The first daemons being unpacked from Michael Curry’s Oregon workshop. The way their personalities subverted the room, like ventriloquists’ dummies out of a Hoffman story. The first bear coming to life. The first time Lyra’s Death appeared. Walking into a rehearsal room, finding it packed with people and being reminded of the Israelites amassed on the shore of the Red Sea, waiting for the miracle that would take them across it. The morning that Giles Cadle showed the cast how the set would work, to half-comprehending wonderment. The first time Jonathan Dove played the music, and the emotional power of the story felt newly unleashed. The first time that we got to the end. And on and on, through previews and opening-day until, finally, a moment in the summer of 2004, the weekend before I was about to deliver this revised script. There was a theme in the play – it doesn’t matter which – that I had always known was important but that I had never known how to make sense of. On that Sunday afternoon, a speech arrived from nowhere that gave it meaning. I looked back in my diary and discovered that it was exactly two years to the day since I had started writing: two years of synopses, drafts, workshops and the most exciting rehearsals, because the most dangerous ones, that I had ever experienced.

I was helped and supported for every second of that time. By Nick Hytner, with his optimism, his grasp of the big issues and his ferocious analysis. By the many actors who took part in workshops, rehearsals and performance. Nick Drake read the script in several drafts and gave me excellent advice. Andrew Steggall helped me by compiling a vast concordance of phrases, descriptions and references from the books, and he also came up with some radical thoughts, at least one of which plays a big part in the show.

Finally, Philip Pullman has been supportive at every stage, from the moment that Nick Hytner and I first met him. It must be strange to see your writing being taken over to fit the demands of a different medium. But Philip has always been first to say, ‘Don’t worry! The books are one thing, and this is another.’ And his advice has always led us closer towards a piece of theatre that stands up in its own right, not as a shadow of his stupendous novels.

Nicholas Wright November 2004

His Dark Materials was first performed in the Olivier Theatre at the National Theatre, London, on 3 January 2004 (previews from 6 December 2003), with the following cast:

Part One

Lyra BelacquaAnna Maxwell MartinPantalaimon, her daemonSamuel BarnettWill ParryDominic CooperOXFORDMaster of Jordan CollegePatrick GodfreyProfessor HopcraftIain MitchellProfessor of AstronomyAndrew WestfieldLord AsrielTimothy DaltonStelmaria, his daemonEmily MyttonThorold, his manservantNick SampsonMrs CoulterPatricia HodgeThe Golden Monkey, her daemonBen WrightFra Pavel, an emissary from GenevaTim McMullanCawson, Steward of Jordan CollegeDaniel TuiteMrs Lonsdale, housekeeperKaty OdeyRoger Parslow, a kitchen boyRussell ToveySalcilia, his daemonHelena LymberyBilly CostaJamie HardingTony CostaRichard YoumanLONDONLord BorealJohn CarlisleMacaw-LadyHelen MurtonRetired GeneralNick SampsonDaisyHelen MurtonJessieKatie WimpennyLilyInika Leigh WrightStallholderChris LarkinTop-hatted manIain MitchellBen, Tony Costa’s friendJason ThorpeTROLLESUNDJohn Faa, Lord of the Western gyptiansStephen GreifFarder CoramPatrick GodfreyIorek Byrnison, an armoured bearDanny SapaniBear-keeperAkbar KurthaMayorDaniel TuiteKaisa, Serafina’s daemonBen WhishawLee Scoresby, a balloonistTim McMullanHester, his daemonHelena LymberyBOLVANGARSister ClaraKaty OdeySister BettyCecilia NobleDr WestAndrew WestfieldDr CadeAkbar KurthaDr SargentIain MitchellTortured WitchInka Leigh WrightSVALBARDIofur Raknison, King of armoured bearsChris LarkinBear PatrolStephen Greif Iain Mitchell Andrew WestfieldGENEVAPresident of the Consistorial CourtStephen GreifBrother JasperBen WhishawLAPLANDSerafina Pekkala, Queen of the Lapland witchesNiamh CusackRuta Skadi, Queen of the Latvian witchesCecilia NoblePipistrelleHelen MurtonCaitlinKaty OdeyGrimhildEmily MyttonGrendellaKatie WimpennyJopari, a ShamanChris LarkinCITTÀGAZZEAngelicaKatie WimpennyPaoloJamie HardingGiacomo ParadisiPatrick GodfreyTullioBen WrightOXFORDLibrarianInka Leigh WrightAssistantBen Wright

Part Two

Lyra BelacquaAnna Maxwell MartinPantalaimon, her daemonSamuel BarnettWill ParryDominic CooperGENEVAPresident of the Consistorial CourtStephen GreifBrother JasperBen WhishawOXFORDLord BorealJohn CarlisleMrs CoulterPatricia HodgeThe Golden Monkey, her daemonBen WrightCITTÀGAZZESerafina Pekkala, Queen of the Lapland witchesNiamh CusackKaisa, her daemonBen WhishawPipistrelleHelen MurtonCaitlinKaty OdeyGrimhildEmily MyttonGrendellaKatie WimpennyGiacomo ParadisiPatrick GodfreyAngelicaKatie WimpennyPaoloJamie HardingLORD ASRIEL’S FORTRESSLord AsrielTimothy DaltonStelmaria, his daemonEmily MyttonLord Roke, a GallivespianTim McMullanThe Chevalier Tialys, a GallivespianDaniel TuiteLady Salmakia, a GallivespianKaty OdeyCITTÀGAZZE MOUNTAINSRuta Skadi, Queen of the Latvian witchesCecilia NobleJopari, a ShamanChris LarkinBalthamos, an angelNick SampsonBaruch, an angelJason ThorpeNORTHERN MOUNTAINSIorek Byrnison, an armoured bearDanny SapaniOUTSIDE THE LAND OF THE DEADPerkins, an officialDaniel TuiteJeptha JonesAndrew WestfieldHannah, his wifeHelen MurtonOld Mother Jones’ DeathPatrick GodfreyLyra’s DeathSamuel BarnettBoatmanJohn CarlisleLAND OF THE DEADNo-Name, a harpyCecilia NobleHarpiesInka Leigh Wright Helena LymberyUNKNOWN WORLDKirjava, Will’s daemonHelena Lymbery

Scholars, students, stolen children, party guests, Trollesunders, witches, clerics, bears, cliff-ghasts, ghosts, Tartar guards and others played by members of the company.

DirectorNicolas HytnerAssociate Director/ChoreographerAletta CollinsSet DesignerGiles CadleCostume DesignerJon MorrellPuppet DesignerMichael CurryLighting DesignerPaule ConstableComposerJonathan DoveMusic AssociateMatthew ScottMusic DirectorSteven EdisFight DirectorTerry KingSound DesignerPaul Groothuis

The production was revived in the revised version published here on 8 December 2004 (previews from 20 November).

PART ONE

CHARACTERS IN PART ONE Between the Worlds LORD ASRIEL and STELMARIA JOPARI THOROLD, Lord Asriel’s manservant

Lyra’s WorldJORDAN COLLEGE LYRA BELACQUA and PANTALAIMON ROGER PARSLOW and SALCILIA THE MASTER PROFESSOR HOPCRAFT MRS LONSDALE CAWSON, a college servant

LONDON MRS COULTER and the GOLDEN MONKEY LORD BOREAL DAISY JESSIE LILY STALLHOLDER TOP-HATTED MAN

THE CHURCH THE PRESIDENT FRA PAVEL BROTHER JASPER and PERPETUA

GYPTIANS LORD FAA FARDER CORAM TONY COSTA BILLY COSTA BEN

TROLLESUND LEE SCORESBY and HESTER MAYOR BEAR-KEEPER

WITCHES SERAFINA PEKKALA and KAISA RUTA SKADI GRIMHILD PIPISTRELLE CAITLIN GRENDELLA

BOLVANGAR DR SARGENT DR CADE DR WEST NURSE

BEARS IOREK BYRNISON IOFUR RAKNISON

Cittàgazze ANGELICA PAOLO GIACOMO PARADISI TULLIO

Our World WILL PARRY LIBRARIAN LIBRARY ASSISTANT

SCHOLARS, STUDENTS, STOLEN CHILDREN, PARTY GUESTS, GYPTIANS, TROLLESUNDERS, WITCHES, CLERICS, BEARS, TARTAR GUARDS, CLIFF-GHASTS and others

ACT ONE

Oxford / Oxford. The Botanic Gardens. Night. A tree with spreading branches. LYRA and WILL, both aged about twenty, are waiting on a wooden bench. WILL has an old green leather writing-case.

A clock strikes twelve.

LYRA. Will?

WILL. Lyra?

LYRA. This morning I half woke up, and I felt so happy. Even before I knew what day it was. Then I remembered it was Midsummer Day. I looked at the clock and I thought, it’s only sixteen hours to midnight. Sixteen hours, and I’ll be sitting right next to you.

WILL. I had to scramble over the wall this time. There was a copper on duty till quarter to twelve.

LYRA. I know you’re there.

Pause.

WILL. I’m wearing my one good shirt and I’ve cleaned my trainers. I don’t usually look so smart. I’m sharing a house now with three other students, and one of them said, ‘Hello, Will, don’t tell us you’ve got a date at last.’ I said, ‘I do, in fact.’ He said, ‘Oh, nice one, when do we get to meet her?’ I said, ‘That might be difficult.’

He laughs, then stops.

I still miss you.

PANTALAIMON. Say something.

WILL. I miss Pantalaimon too. Your daemon. Your soul. I miss him as much as I miss you. Because he is you.

PANTALAIMON. Tell him about the college.

WILL. I know he’s there. I know you’re there. Even though you’re further away from me than the furthest star . . . you’re here. Right here. On the same bench. In a different world.

LYRA. I’ve had a very good year at college. It’s like they told me, all those years ago . . . if I work very hard I can start, just start to do the things that came so naturally to me when I was a kid.

WILL. ‘I spread my wings, and I brush ten million other worlds, and they know nothing of it.’

LYRA. It’s different for me, from what it’s like for the other students. Jordan College is new for them. They see the obvious things, like books and towers and ancient stones. I see the place where I grew up. I see Mrs Lonsdale, who was meant to look after me and keep me tidy . . .

MRS LONSDALE is there to change LYRA’s clothes.

MRS LONSDALE. Just what do you think you’re wearing, Miss Lyra?

LYRA. I see the mouse-holes and the secret doorways, and the hiding-places. And the mouldy old scholars with their flapping gowns. I see Roger, like he was on the day I met him. I was twelve. Me and the other college kids had been fighting the kids from town. Then we all joined up to fight the brick-burners’ kids down by the clay-pits. And then we remembered it was the horse-fair week . . . so we all rushed down to the river to fight the gyptian kids. I was fighting Billy Costa.

LYRA’s Oxford. WILL and his world disappear. LYRA is twelve. Assorted KIDS are yelling at the GYPTIAN KIDS.

KIDS. Oi! Gyppoes!

Water rats!

Fortune-tellers!

Tea-leaves!

Want any knives sharpened?

Any old iron!

GYPTIAN KIDS and other KIDS fight. LYRA gets BILLY COSTA down on the ground in a headlock. The others clear.

LYRA. Give up, Billy?

BILLY. No!

LYRA. Now?

BILLY. No!

LYRA. What about now?

BILLY. Yeah! Get off.

They stand.

How’d you do that?

LYRA. It’s a headlock. Look, I’ll show you.

BILLY. Leave off!

BILLY’s brother TONY appears.

TONY. Oi, Billy! Our ma says, get back home this minute or she’ll give you a clip.

LYRA. Hello, Tony.

TONY. Don’t you ‘hello’ me, you horrible little tyke. Wasn’t it you throwing mud at our boat just now?

LYRA. That weren’t me. It was some other kids.

TONY. Oh yeah!

LYRA. They come down from Abingdon in a special coach . . . all painted black, with a skeleton driving. And he saw your boat, and he pointed his bony finger . . .

TONY. Oh aye. Lyra the liar. En’t that what they call you? Go on, get back home. Come on, Billy.

He and BILLY go. LYRA stays, dejected. ROGER runs on.

ROGER. Where’s the fighting?

LYRA. You missed it.

ROGER. Who won?

LYRA. Dunno. Don’t matter either. See yer, whoever you are.

ROGER. See yer.

They turn to go.

PANTALAIMON. I’m Pantalaimon.

SALCILIA. I’m Salcilia.

PANTALAIMON. I en’t seen you before.

SALCILIA. That’s ’cause we only just arrived from London.

The DAEMONS approach each other. LYRA and ROGER look at them in surprise.

ROGER. That’s funny.

LYRA. They wanna be friends.

ROGER. That could be. My mum always says, you know at once when you like somebody. An’ I like you. I’m Roger. Roger Parslow. My dad’s the new head gardener at Gabriel College, an’ me mum’s a cook an’ I’m gonna be a kitchen boy.

LYRA. I’m Lyra Belacqua an’ I’m at Jordan College. I don’t work there or nothing. I just play around.

ROGER. Jordan’s bigger’n Gabriel, en’t it?

LYRA. It’s bigger an’ richer an’ ever so much more important. You wanna see it?

ROGER. Yeah, don’t mind.

LYRA. Come on, then.

They walk on.

ROGER. Where’s your mum an’ dad?

LYRA. En’t got none. I’m nearly an orphan.

ROGER. You can’t be nearly an orphan.

LYRA. You can if you’re me. I got an uncle, and he’s famous.

ROGER. Bet I never heard of ’im.

LYRA. Bet you have.

ROGER. So what’s his name?

LYRA. Lord Asriel.

ROGER. Him? What, the explorer an’ all?

LYRA. That’s right.

ROGER. Well, that is famous. What’s he like?

LYRA. He’s old, like . . . forty at least. And he’s ferocious. There was some Tartars caught him once, and they tied him up, and one of ’em was just gonna cut his guts out, and Lord Asriel looked at him – just looked, like that – and he dropped down dead.

PANTALAIMON. Lyra the liar!

LYRA. It was summat like that.

They have arrived at Jordan College. A couple of STUDENTS cycle past. SCHOLARS are circulating. The MASTER appears with FRA PAVEL.

Right, this is the quad, an’ underneath us there’s the crypt, with tunnels windin’ everywhere like a ’normous sponge. An’ those are the scholars, an’ that’s the Master of the College.

ROGER. Who’s that snakey feller who’s picking his nose?

LYRA. That’s Fra Pavel. He comes to look at me twice a year and asks me questions.

MASTER. Lyra, one moment.

LYRA approaches.

Fra Pavel is here. He arrived this morning from the Consistorial Court of Discipline in Geneva to inspect your progress.

FRA PAVEL. Good evening, Lyra.

LYRA (guarded). ’Ello.

FRA PAVEL. Are you still happy at Jordan College?

LYRA. Sort of.

FRA PAVEL. Do you learn your lessons? Do you say your prayers to the Authority?

LYRA. Mm hm.

FRA PAVEL. Have you decided what you will do, once you’ve grown up and your daemon is settled?

LYRA. I’ll go exploring with Lord Asriel. He’s gonna take me up the Amazon river, or into the desert, or the Arctic Circle . . .

FRA PAVEL. Is this true?

MASTER. No, not at all. You surely remember her weakness for fantastic stories. Your uncle is far too busy to see you when he comes to Jordan College, isn’t he, Lyra?

LYRA. But he’s coming on Wednesday week. Mrs Lonsdale told me. And he’ll see me then, I’m gonna make sure he does. I’ll follow him round, till . . .

FRA PAVEL (to LYRA). Play with your friend.

LYRA goes.

Why was I not informed of Lord Asriel’s visit?

MASTER. I would have warned you, if you’d given me time. Lord Asriel has offered to show us the findings of his latest expedition to the Arctic. Some of the scholars are most enthusiastic. Others, of course, are as shocked as you. I try to steer a moderate course, but . . .

FRA PAVEL. There is no moderate course. You are either for the Church or you’re against it. Don’t you see that? Don’t you know what’s happening outside your smug little ivory tower? Fears of war. Rebellion. Dissent, confusion, schism, doubt. All fuelled by the mad ambitions of Lord Asriel and the complacency of academics like yourself.

MASTER. Then what must I do?

FRA PAVEL. Since that heretic has been foolish enough to place himself in your hands, you must take advantage of it. You must render him harmless, by the most extreme of measures. Is that agreed?

MASTER. No, certainly not! Or only if . . . though, on the other hand . . . I’ll do as you say. But under protest.

FRA PAVEL. Let’s walk on.

They do.

Lyra has changed. I see in her both the child she is, and the woman she will become.

MASTER. Is anything wrong with that?

FRA PAVEL. Time will tell.

They go.

Two weeks later. Oxford. Evening. SCHOLARS appear, and continue to assemble. LYRA and ROGER enter.

LYRA. He’s here, Pan. He’s here!

1ST SCHOLAR (to LYRA). Out of the quad! Out of the quad! He’s here! Look, there’s his zeppelin!

They look.

2ND SCHOLAR. I do believe he’s going to moor it to the roof of the chapel.

3RD SCHOLAR. Disgraceful.

5TH SCHOLAR. Rather amusing, though!

4TH SCHOLAR (who is very old). Is something happening?

1ST SCHOLAR. Yes, Lord Asriel’s just arrived.

4TH SCHOLAR. What did he say?

Someone explains as:

1ST SCHOLAR. We’ll exchange a few polite formalities, and then we’ll take him through to dinner in the Great Hall.

2ND SCHOLAR. Look! He’s getting out!

6TH SCHOLAR. Professor Hopcraft has arrived.

HOPCRAFT. Gentlemen, gentlemen! What’s going on? It’s not a welcoming party, surely?

3RD SCHOLAR. We mustn’t let Lord Asriel think that we approve of him.

1ST SCHOLAR. Well, some of us do.

Disagreement breaks out, as:

5TH SCHOLAR. The Master’s gone to greet him, so he can’t be totally in disgrace.

THOROLD appears, followed by a college servant, CAWSON, who is carrying equipment.

2ND SCHOLAR. There’s his manservant.

SEVERAL. Welcome, Thorold!

THOROLD. Evening, gentlemen.

1ST SCHOLAR. The lecture is in the Retiring Room, just behind the Lodge.

THOROLD. I en’t forgotten my way, sir. Mind that box, Mr Cawson, there’s glass inside it.

He goes.

1ST SCHOLAR. I hear that Lord Asriel is going to give us a magic-lantern show.

HOPCRAFT. Is he? Really? Doesn’t that smack of entertainment?

The MASTER appears.

MASTER. Our guest is here.

LORD ASRIEL enters with his snow-leopard daemon, STELMARIA. There’s a ripple of applause from theSCHOLARS, who shake his hand while greetings are exchanged. LYRA tries hard to attract his attention.

LORD ASRIEL (to a SCHOLAR). Professor Tonkin, I hear your book’s been a great success.

LYRA. Hello!

LORD ASRIEL ignores her, and the MASTER bustles her aside.

MASTER. Out of the way!

LORD ASRIEL (to another). Congratulations on your professorship, Richard.

LYRA is back.

LYRA. It’s me!

MASTER. Now then, Lyra!

She is shunted out of the way.

LORD ASRIEL. Professor Hopcraft, may I say how much I admire your writing?

HOPCRAFT (charmed). Oh, you’ve read it? Well, I’m flattered. Though I . . .

MASTER. Shall we go to the dining hall, My Lord?

LYRA and ROGER watch as they all go.

ROGER. He’s awesome.

She starts to go.

Hey, where you goin’?

LYRA. Where d’you think? We’re gonna sneak into the Retiring Room while they’re still having their dinner. I know a secret way.

PANTALAIMON. Lyra, we can’t! It en’t just any old room.

SALCILIA. Kids can’t go in there, and nor can women.

PANTALAIMON. Yeah, and it’s probably haunted.

LYRA. Good, that settles it. Come on, Rodge, this is gonna be fun.

They go.

The Retiring Room appears. THOROLD and CAWSON are there, CAWSON setting down a tray with glasses and a decanter.

CAWSON. This wine is for Lord Asriel’s pleasure only. It’s the 1898.

THOROLD. That’s very thoughtful of the Master. It’s His Lordship’s favourite year. After you, Mr Cawson.

They go. LYRA and ROGER appear through a secret doorway. They look round.

LYRA. Wow.

ROGER. It’s spooky all right.

PANTALAIMON. This is a bad idea.