自己对着舞台剧的剧本敲下来的
Setting
Theaction of the play takes place in a Paris prisonin the present, and in recall, during the decade 1960 to 1970 in Beijing,and from 1966 to the present in Paris.
actone
Scene 1
M.Gallimard’s prison cell. Paris. Present.
Lightsfade up to reveal Rene Gallimard, 65, in a prison cell. He wears a comfortablebathrobe, and looks old and tired. The sparsely furnished cell contains awooden crate upon which sits a hot plate with a kettle, and a portable taperecorder. Gallimard sits on the crate staring at the recorder, a sad smile onhis face.
UpstageSong, who appears as a beautiful woman in traditional Chinese garb, dances atraditional piece from the Peking Opera, surrounded by the percussive clatterof Chinese music.
Then,slowly, lights and sound cross-fade; the Chinese opera music dissolves into aWestern opera, the “Love Duet” from Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. Song continuesdancing, now to the Western accompaniment. Though her movements are the same,the difference in music now gives them a balletic quality.
Gallimardrises, and turns upstage towards the figure of Song, who dances without acknowledginghim.
GALLIMARD:Butterfly, Butterfly…
Heforces himself to turn away, as the image of Song fades out, and talks to us.
GALLIMARD:The limits of my cell are as such: four-and-a-half meters by five. There’s onewindow against the far wall; a door, very strong, to protect me from autographhounds. I’m responsible for the tape recorder, the hot plate, and this charmingcoffee table.
WhenI want to eat, I’m matched off to the dining room - hot, steaming slop appearson my plate. When I want to sleep, the light bulb turns itself off – the workof fairies. It’s an enchanted space I occupy. The French – we know how to run aprison.
But,to be honest, I’m not treated like an ordinary prisoner. Why? Because I’m acelebrity. You see, I make people laugh.
Inever dreamed this day would arrive. I’ve never been considered witty orclever. In fact, as a young boy, in an informal poll among my grammar schoolclassmates, I was voted “less likely to be invited to a party.” It’s a title Imanaged to hold onto for many years. Despite some stiff competition.
Butnow, how the tables run! Look at me: the life of every social function in Paris. Paris? Why be modest? My fame has spread to Amsterdam, London, New York. Listen to them! In theworld’s smartest parlors. I’m the one who lists their spirits!
Witha flourish, Gallimard directs our attention to another part of the stage.
Setting
Theaction of the play takes place in a Paris prisonin the present, and in recall, during the decade 1960 to 1970 in Beijing,and from 1966 to the present in Paris.
actone
Scene 1
M.Gallimard’s prison cell. Paris. Present.
Lightsfade up to reveal Rene Gallimard, 65, in a prison cell. He wears a comfortablebathrobe, and looks old and tired. The sparsely furnished cell contains awooden crate upon which sits a hot plate with a kettle, and a portable taperecorder. Gallimard sits on the crate staring at the recorder, a sad smile onhis face.
UpstageSong, who appears as a beautiful woman in traditional Chinese garb, dances atraditional piece from the Peking Opera, surrounded by the percussive clatterof Chinese music.
Then,slowly, lights and sound cross-fade; the Chinese opera music dissolves into aWestern opera, the “Love Duet” from Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. Song continuesdancing, now to the Western accompaniment. Though her movements are the same,the difference in music now gives them a balletic quality.
Gallimardrises, and turns upstage towards the figure of Song, who dances without acknowledginghim.
GALLIMARD:Butterfly, Butterfly…
Heforces himself to turn away, as the image of Song fades out, and talks to us.
GALLIMARD:The limits of my cell are as such: four-and-a-half meters by five. There’s onewindow against the far wall; a door, very strong, to protect me from autographhounds. I’m responsible for the tape recorder, the hot plate, and this charmingcoffee table.
WhenI want to eat, I’m matched off to the dining room - hot, steaming slop appearson my plate. When I want to sleep, the light bulb turns itself off – the workof fairies. It’s an enchanted space I occupy. The French – we know how to run aprison.
But,to be honest, I’m not treated like an ordinary prisoner. Why? Because I’m acelebrity. You see, I make people laugh.
Inever dreamed this day would arrive. I’ve never been considered witty orclever. In fact, as a young boy, in an informal poll among my grammar schoolclassmates, I was voted “less likely to be invited to a party.” It’s a title Imanaged to hold onto for many years. Despite some stiff competition.
Butnow, how the tables run! Look at me: the life of every social function in Paris. Paris? Why be modest? My fame has spread to Amsterdam, London, New York. Listen to them! In theworld’s smartest parlors. I’m the one who lists their spirits!
Witha flourish, Gallimard directs our attention to another part of the stage.
