Plasticine E-Book

Vassily Sigarev

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 69

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

An extraordinary and disturbing play about post-Communist Russia by a young Siberian-born writer. In a faceless city in the depths of present-day Russia a young boy dies. Women in the street are drunk, fight and demand sex. Maksim, a schoolboy, makes his way through this urban hell. His only retreat is into a private world moulded by himself, out of which springs a final act of reckless courage. Vassily Sigarev's play Plasticine was premiered in this English translation by Sasha Dugdale at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in 2002. It won Sigarev the Evening Standard Award for Most Promising Playwright, and the Anti-Booker Prize in Moscow.

Leseprobe

Vassily Sigarev

PLASTICINE

translated by

Sasha Dugdale

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Epigraph

Characters

Plasticine

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Plasticine was first performed at Bristol Old Vic on 10 September 2012. The cast was as follows:

MAN IN WINDOW/SEDOY

Daniel Cerqueira

LYOKHA

Bryan Dick

CADET/GROOM

Matthew Dunster

LUDMILA/2ND OLD WOMAN/

Liz Kettle

WOMAN HAVING SEX

MAKSIM

Michael Legge

GRANDMOTHER/2ND WOMAN

Mary Macleod

HEADMASTER/NEIGHBOUR

John Rogan

SPIRA/BOY HAVING SEX

Russell Tovey

TANYA/BRIDE

Myfanwy Waring

NATASHA/TANYA'S MOTHER

Liz White

All other roles played by members of the company.

Director

Dominic Cooke

Designer

Ian MacNeil

Costume Designer

Joan Wadge

Lighting Designer

Johanna Town

Sound Designer

Paul Arditti

Movement Director

Liz Ranken

Composer

Gary Yershon

Assistant Director

Neran Persaud

Casting Director

Lisa Makin

Production Manager

Sue Bird

Company Stage Manager

Cath Binks

It has passed The roses are dead Their petals float down Why did I dream of roses All the time We hunted them together We hunted out the roses . . . . . . It has passed and the roses are forgotten.

Dino Campana

CharactersMAKSIMLYOKHA (Alexei Vassiliev)BRIDEGROOM (Slava)BRIDESCHOOLTEACHER (Ludmila Ivanovna)LYOKHA’S MOTHERHEADMASTER (Oleg Petrovich)MAKSIM’S GRANDMOTHER (Olga Ivanovna)SPIRANEIGHBOURNATASHAMAN IN T-SHIRT (Cadet)BARE-CHESTED MAN (Sedoy)SHE, HER (Tanya)Various MEN, WOMEN and CHILDREN

1

He sits on the floor in a room which is bare, apart from a table, a bed and a carpet hanging on the wall. His fingers are working plasticine into a strange shape. He finishes and puts the strange thing he has created in a bowl of glutinous dirty-white mixture. Then he takes the lead plates out of a car battery and bangs them on the edge of the bed to knock the residue off them, breaks them into pieces and puts them in a pan. He fetches a small hob with a bare element, places the pan on the hob and turns the hob on. He takes the bowl and touches its contents with his hand: it is as hard as stone. He scrapes out the plasticine. He looks into the pan – a small lead-coloured pool of liquid reflects his face and a white pin of light from the lampshade on the ceiling. He takes the pan and pours the lead into the bowl. The remains of the plasticine hiss, catching light, and flare up. Smoke rises to the ceiling and goes in his eyes. The tears well up. He turns away, but the tears continue to roll down his nose and then down to the corners of his mouth. Now he is actually crying. He is sobbing.

Crying as if he knew something . . .

The bowl cracks . . .

2

The entrance hall of a shabby five-storey block of flats.MAKSIMclimbs up the stairs to the fourth floor. People pass him on the way up. They are silent, their faces empty. The stairway comes to an end. There is a door in front ofMAKSIM. It is open; a felt boot stuffed in the crack keeps it ajar. There is a mirror hanging inside opposite the door. A red plush tablecloth with a fringe hangs over it, covering it.MAKSIMstops by the mirror and looks at it. The tablecloth suddenly falls to the floor andMAKSIMsees his own reflection in the mirror. He looks at it in amazement as if he was looking at it for the first time.

Someone touches him on the shoulder.MAKSIMturns around and sees aWOMANin a black shawl.

WOMAN. What you do that for? You shouldn’t have. Are you a schoolmate of his?

MAKSIMnods.

Go on through . . .

MAKSIMgoes into the main room. It is full of people. In the middle of the room there is a coffin with its lid on.MAKSIMstands behindTWO OLD WOMEN. He stands on tiptoe, trying to look at the coffin.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Hey – don’t push!

MAKSIM. You what?

FIRST OLD WOMAN. Get out of it.

MAKSIMlooks at her in bewilderment.

I said get out of it.

MAKSIM. But I . . .

SECOND OLD WOMAN. Go on then.

MAKSIMmoves away.

FIRST OLD WOMAN. There was one like him on the bus. He got right behind me and started to rub himself up and down on me. Got a hard-on straight away. I took a-hold of him and pulled his hair. The things that blimmin’ go on. I mean, you’d think he was only a kid – but he was already getting it up . . .

A VOICE FROM THE ENTRANCE HALL. The crane is here.

TheWOMANin the black shawl goes over to the window and looks out. ALITTLE MANin an over-large jacket goes up to her.

MAN. Where do you want the logs?

WOMAN. What? Oh . . . (She was caught up in her own thoughts.) Put them over there and here. It’s all the same, isn’t it . . .

TheMANgoes out and theWOMANbegins to open up the french windows onto the balcony. The windows are sealed for the winter and the doorframe is stuffed with rags. She rips the rags out, getting angry.

WOMAN (it isn’t clear whom she is talking to). Couldn’t they have opened them up before now? The bastards . . .

She tugs at the balcony door and it flies open with a crash. Cotton wool scatters from the doorframe.

VOICE. It won’t go through there. It’ll have to go through the window.

WOMAN. You’re a lot of help. Why am I killing myself . . . You do it yourselves then – I’ve had about all I can take.

She goes out. A man stands on the window frame and opens up the windows. People begin to leave the flat together, as if by agreement.MAKSIMleaves with everyone else. TheSECOND OLD WOMANcatches up with him; she stops and whispers something in his ear.MAKSIMpales and runs off down the stairs. TheSECOND OLD WOMANsmiles strangely.

3

On the street outside. A lorry with a crane stands under the window of the flat, surrounded by a crowd of people. Everyone is looking up, watching the coffin being fixed to the jib of the crane.MAKSIMstands next to aLADand aGIRL.

GIRL. What’s that for?

LAD. The hallway is too narrow for the coffin. It won’t fit through. My Nan had a flat like that. They unloaded her though, and just carried her out. She was fat, so they had a right lot of trouble.

GIRL. Oooh.

LAD. What if it fell, hey?

GIRL. What?

LAD. Land on his head, wouldn’t he?

GIRL. C’mon, let’s go.

LAD. He won’t fall, will he? It’s a company does it. Their stuff is all tested.

VOICE FROM ABOVE. Take it away!

The jib of the crane begins to lower, swaying, like a tall slender tree. A funeral march pipes up, although from where it is not clear.MAKSIMlooks around for the source of the music. He sees theLITTLE MANin his over-large jacket with a tape-recorder hanging around his neck on a shoulder strap. TheMANis stroking the black plastic body of the tape-recorder lovingly as if it were his only child.

GIRL. So who are they burying then?

LAD. Some nut, I reckon. Hanged himself over a bird. Or so I’ve heard.

GIRL. What, really?

LAD. Like I said. I don’t know. (ToMAKSIM.) Hey, mate, any idea who they’re burying?

MAKSIM. Spira.

LAD. Who?

MAKSIM. This . . . boy.

LAD. What sort of a boy? Who was he, then?

MAKSIM. Just a boy.

LAD. So what happened to him?

MAKSIM. He died.

LAD.I get it. You don’t know fuck all, neither. (He turns away.)

By now the coffin has been lowered, taken off the jib and carried to a car with a stainless steel plaque on it. On the plaque there is a photograph of a little boy smiling. The crowd move after the coffin. TwoWOMENin black dresses are left. One is an old woman, the other is younger, but they look almost identical. They are both drunk.

MAKSIMstops and looks at them.

FIRST. Don’t I even get the bloody clothes?

SECOND. What, to sell for booze? Not likely! I still have grandsons, you know. They’ll get them.

FIRST. Oh right. So I don’t exist anymore, eh?

SECOND. That’s right!

FIRST. I was his Mother, you know!