Well, it’s 6:15 in the morning and you know what that means! It’s time for a Chekhov excerpt! I’m a lunatic.
Next up in my Daily Book Excerpt:
More from my The Plays of Anton Chekhov
This one’s for my dear friend Kate, who is currently doing a production of Vanya in Chicago, which I wish I could see!
I think Uncle Vanya is my favorite of all of his plays. It makes me cry.
This is the scene between Yelena and Sonya. It’s late at night. People are retiring for the night. The two women are alone. It’s a perfect scene, that’s all, just a perfect perfect scene. Right up until the very last line, which is an absolute KILLER moment, if played correctly (by both women.) I’ve seen the last moment sort of skipped over, or missed – which is a shame, but I’ve also seen it land like a ton of bricks … Yelena has no lines, it’s Sonya’s line that ends the scene … but if the actress playing Yelena misses the opportunity of that last moment … the scene doesn’t really work. At least the last moment doesn’t.
It’s a perfect scene.
EXCERPT FROM Uncle Vanya, by Anton Chekhov.
SONYA. (alone) He didn’t say anything … I still don’t know what he thinks or feels about me, so why do I feel so happy? I told him he was sensitive, that he had a gentle voice … I hope that was a proper thing to say … When I said that about having a younger sister, he didn’t understand. Oh, why aren’t I beautiful? It’s awful, just awful, being so plain, and I am, I’m ugly, I know I am, I know I am! Last Sunday coming out of church, I heard two ladies talking about me, and one of them said, “She’s such a good girl, such a sweet disposition; it’s too bad she’s so plain.” Plain …
(Enter Yelena; she goes to a window and opens it)
YELENA. The storm is over. Fell how fresh the air is! (Pause) Where’s the doctor?
SONYA. He left.
(Pause)
YELENA. Sophie…
SONYA. What?
YELENA. How long are you going to stay mad at me? We haven’t done anything to hurt each other; it doesn’t make sense, being angry like this. Let’s stop it, shall we?
SONYA. Oh, I’ve wanted to … (hugs Yelena) I’m tired of being angry all the time.
YELENA. Oh, I’m so glad!
(Both women are genuinely moved)
SONYA. Is Papa asleep?
YELENA. No; he’s sitting up in the living room. It’s been weeks now that you and I haven’t been speaking — God only knows why. (Notices the sideboard is open) What’s all this?
SONYA. I fixed the doctor something to eat.
YELENA. There’s some wine left. Let’s drink to friendship — you want to?
SONYA. All right, let’s.
YELENA. Out of the same glass. (Pours a glass of wine) That’s the best way. Friends?
SONYA. Friends.
(They drink and kiss)
SONYA. I’ve wanted to make up for a long time, but I was ashamed, I don’t know why … (starts to cry)
YELENA. What are you crying for?
SONYA. I don’t know … it’s just me.
YELENA. There, there … (begins crying herself) You silly, now you’ve gotten me started. (Pause) You were mad at me because you thought I took advantage of your father when I married him. I swear to you, Sonya, I married him out of love. Won’t you believe me? I was dazzled by him; he was so famous and so intelligent. It wasn’t real love, it was all a fantasy, but at the time I thought it was real. And I’m not sorry I married him. But ever since the wedding you’ve been looking at me with those intelligent, accusing eyes of yours.
SONYA. Oh, don’t. Friends, friends — remember?
YELENA. You mustn’t look at people like that. It’s not really like you. If you can’t trust people, what’s the point of living?
(Pause)
SONYA. Tell me something truly, as a friend … Are you happy?
YELENA. No.
SONYA. I knew you weren’t. Let me ask another question. Be honest now … Wouldn’t you rather have a younger husband?
YELENA. What a child you are! Of course I would. Well, go on — ask me something else.
SONYA. Do you like the doctor?
YELENA. Yes, very much.
SONYA. I must seem stupid, don’t I? He just left, and I can still hear his voice and his footsteps, and I look at the darkened window and I think I see his face — no, let me finish. Only I really can’t say it out loud; I’m too embarrassed. Come on up to my room; we can talk there. Do you think I’m being stupid? Do you? (Beat) Talk to me about him.
YELENA. What should I say?
SONYA. He’s so smart, he knows about everything, he takes care of people, he plants trees —
YELENA. Oh, it’s much more than just caretaking and tree planing. Don’t you understand, darling? That man has genius! Do you know what genius means? It means daring, a free-ranging mind, a sense of vision. To plant a tree and be able to imagine that tree a hundred years from now — that means to imagine the future happiness of humanity! People like that are very rare; they deserve to be loved. Yes, he drinks; yes, he’s messy and vulgar; but what’s so wrong with that? These days you can’t expect a man of genius to be neat and orderly. Think of the life that doctor leads! The miserable roads, the cold, the rain and snow, huge distances he has to travel; these people out here, they’re all backward and filthy. A man who struggles with all that day in, day out, you can’t expect him to reach his forties and still be sober. With all my heart, I want you to be happy. You deserve to be. Me? I’m boring, I’m trivial. When I play the piano, when I’m home with my husband, in all my relationships, it’s always the same. I’m a trivial person. It’s the truth. When I think about it, Sonya, I have to face it. I’m a very, very unhappy woman. There is no happiness for me anywhere; no, none. Why are you laughing?
SONYA. Because I am happy — I’m so happy!
YELENA. I feel like playing the piano now, I really do.
SONYA. Then go play something. I can’t go to sleep now. Please play something.
YELENA. All right, I will! (Beat) But your father’s still awake. When he’s feeling like this, music drives him crazy. Go ask him. If he doesn’t mind, I will. Go on.
SONYA. I’ll be right back. (Goes out)
(Outside, the watchman’s tapping is heard)
YELENA. I’ve been without music for such a long time. All I want to do now is play and weep, weep like a lost soul. (at the window) Is that you, Yefim?
WATCHMAN: (off) Yes, ma’am, it’s me.
YELENA. Don’t make so much noise; the Professor isn’t feeling well.
WATCHMAN: (off) All right; I was just going home. (whistles to his dog) Here, boy! Come on, boy! Come on!
(Sonya appears in the doorway)
SONYA. He said no.
CURTAIN
Thank you, Sheila!
Here’s a small excerpt from the Friel translation that we’re using. Or, his “version”. I’ll do the monologue that immediately precedes the scene because I’m an impatient typist.
Sonya: Oh my God –“You are that beautiful person”– that’s what I said straight into his face! Oh my God, I should never have said that, should I? Yes, I should –it’s true– it’s true! And he revealed so little. Nothing! God knows what he really thinks. But for some reason I am happy. Are you? Yes, I am, I think I am very happy. I love his vibrant voice. I love his calming eyes. I love his weary expression. And when he looks at me — Dear God, I would love to be beautiful. I would so love to be beautiful to him so that he could delight in just looking at me.
And then beautiful “Elena” ( no Y in this version–I’m still trying to get used to it) waltzes right in, looking, um, beautiful. God, I love this play.
Here’s something that I think you’d appreciate, Sheila. So far, our audiences have really gotten the Professor, particularly the humor of it, what an egomanical pain in the ass he is. In Act 4, as he and Elena are preparing to leave (it’s late at night, the same day of the pathetic botched murder attempt.) He barely says anything to Sonya, only “And Sonya. Thank you for a thousand kindnesses.” (Bullshit platitudes for everyone. ) Even though it’s HER HOUSE and she took care of him and their arrival pretty much ruined her life and any chance of happiness. She tries to engage at least a semblance of conversation with “Father. You’re looking stronger.” And the Professor’s reply is “Facade. The pain is hell.” And people laughed, which I found rewarding, because every time I got to that on the page, I howled. And at the readthrough I howled. And then even in the dress rehearsal I cracked up. (You know me, I’m a rock.) I would employ all the lame-ass tricks we do to try to hide that we’re laughing. I would bite my lip and look at the floor. I pretended I was crying (there were in fact tears streaming down my face!) I turned upstage–oh wait, can’t do that, you’re in the round! Shit! Even now, in performance, I have to fixate on a spot on the floor and just breathe.
Thanks again. By the way, I saw Batman last night. I agree with their statement. Because it really is all about Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman’s contribution. Hers seems like sort of an afterthought.
Kate – hahahaha
All I can remember is you strolling out onstage, during our first invited preview, and starting to sing:
“If I could see the world …”
and your voice cracked FROM LAUGHTER during the “I” …
George and I huddled backstage, he looked at me, and said with that flat George tone: “Oh no.”
hahahahaha