STRIVING FOR THE IMPOSSIBLE

inspired by Ingmar Bergman

based on “The Thief's Journal” by Jean Genet

SHE: BLACK SKIN, BIG EYES AND LIPS. SHE IS A WOMAN WITHOUT AGE. BEHIND HER ARE THE CENTURIES. CENTURIES OF SUFFERING. SHE IS THIN. BUT YOU COULD FEEL HER BONES HEAVY AS A ROCK. SHE IS NOT ABLE TO MOVE, NEITHER TO SPEAK. BLACK TROUSERS, BLACK TOP. ONE EARRING WITH A FEATHER ON HER RIGHT EAR.

HE:WHITE SKIN. BLACK HAIR AND BEARD. HE IS WORKER IN THE IMAGINARY CEMETERY. THE UNDERTAKER. HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY FEELINGS. ONLY RULES: 1ST – THERE MUST BE AN ORDER. 2ND – THERE MUST BE AN ORDER. 3D THERE MUST BE AN ORDER. LATER. HE WILL BRING HIS GUITAR. TRYING TO BRING ORDER EVEN IN THE MUSIC.

INDOOR. BLACK ROOM. ETERNITY.

HER FACE. BLUR. IN A WHILE WE SEE HER LIPS.

SHE

Shhh... Shhh... Shhh...

THE SPACE LOOKS AS A BIG BLACK BOX. IN THE MIDDLE THERE IS A WHITE CHAIR. SHE IS SITTING ON THE CHAIR. SHE IS NOT ABLE TO MOVE. HER HANDS ARE INSIDE TWO BIG METAL BUCKETS. WE DON'T KNOW IF THE BUCKETS ARE EMPTY OR NOT.

SHE

Shhh... Shhh... Shhh...

UNEXPECTEDLY HER BODY MOVES. FAST. ONLY HER RIGHT LEG. THE MOVEMENT STOPS THE SOUND. SHE FEELS THE POWER INSIDE HER. AND SHE IS TRYING TO GO FURTHER. ONLY HER LEGS ARE MOVING FORWARD. WE COULD HEAR THE SOUND OF THE LEGS TOUCHING THE FLOOR. IN ONE MOMENT SHE FEELS SO TIRED THAT SHE IS NOT ABLE TO GO FORWARD.

SHE

Shhh... Shhh... Shhh...

HER LEGS ARE MOVING BACKWARDS. BOTH OF THEM. BACKWARDS. BACKWARDS. NOW THEY ARE UNDER THE CHAIR. ALMOST ON HER KNEES. SHE COLLECTS SOME POWER. YOU COULD SEE THE CONFIDENCE IN HER EYES. AND SHE STARTS TO PUSH THE BUCKETS FORWARD. SHE IS PUSHING FORWARD. PUSHING. AN ONE POINT SHE COULD NOT STAY LIKE THIS ANYMORE. AND SHE FALLS DOWN ON HER HEAD. IN A STRANGE POSITION. THE BUCKETS ARE FALLING TOO. THE CONTENT INSIDE THE BUCKETS COVERS A PART OF THE FLOOR. IT IS A SAND. SHE MOVES HER HEAD ONLY A LITTLE BIT. HER HAND GOES OUT FROM THE BUCKET. AND TRIES TO GATHER THE SAND FROM THE FLOOR. SHE COULDN'T, BUT WE COULD SEE THE TRAILS OF HER FINGERS IN THE SAND. SHE DOESN'T HAVE MORE POWER. SHE IS STAYING LIKE THAT. STARING FORWARD INTO THE EMPTINESS. IN THE SILENCE WE HEAR A SOUND. IT IS A GUITAR. COMING FROM NOWHERE. ORDERED NOTES.

INDOOR. BLACK CORRIDOR. ETERNITY.

THE BLACK CORRIDOR IS NOT CONNECTED WITH THE BOX. BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT IS A PART OF IT. HE IS COMING FROM THE CORRIDOR. AT THE BEGINNING YOU COULD SEE ONLY HIS SILHOUETTE WITH THE GUITAR. THE SOUND GROWS LOUDER AND LOUDER. WE CAN'T SEE EVEN HIS LEGS. IT IS A KIND OF FOG OR LIQUID, MADE BY THE LIGHT.

INDOOR. BLACK ROOM. ETERNITY.

THE SOUND IS TURNING SLOWLY ALMOST INTO A SONG NOW. HE IS LOOKING AT HER. WITHOUT FEELINGS. COLD FACE. HE STARTS TO PLAY ONLY ON ONE STRING . IT BECOMES IRRITAITING.

SHE

Shhh...

HE PUTS THE GUITAR ON THE FLOOR. IT LOOKS AS HE TOOK A DECISION. AND NOW HE STARTS TO ORDER THE SPACE. FIRST HE TAKES HER HAND OUT OF THE BUCKETS. SECOND , HE TRIES TO COLLECT THE SAND IN THE BUCKETS. HOWEVER EVERY TIME HE IS CLEANING THE SAND FROM HIS HANDS, THAT IS PRODUCING A SOUND. WHEN HE IS PUTTING HER HANDS AWAY FROM THE BUCKETS TO COLLECT THE SAND, THEY ARE LIKE THE HANDS OF A DEAD BODY. HE PUTS THE BUCKETS ON THEIR FIRST PLACE – AT LEFT AND AT THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE WHITE CHAIR. IN THE NEXT MOMENT HE TAKES HER BODY UNDER HER SHOULDERS. AND WITH TWO MOVEMENTS SHE IS AGAIN ON THE CHAIR. HER HANDS ARE AGAIN IN THE BUCKETS. HE LOOKS AT HER TO CHECK IF EVERYTHING IS ORDERED. THAN HE TAKES THE GUITAR AND GOES AWAY IN THE EMPTINESS .

INDOOR. BLACK CORRIDOR. ETERNITY.

IT SEEMS THAT THE BLACK BOX HAS WALLS, BUT EVERY TIME HE IS COMING OR GOING AWAY HE IS IN THAT LONG BLACK SPACE, LOOKING LIKE CORRIDOR.

INDOOR. BLACK ROOM. ETERNITY.

WHEN WE ALMOST CANNOT HEAR THE MUSIC...

SHE

Shhh... Shhh... Shhh...

HER MOVEMENTS START FROM THE BEGINNING. THIS TIME FASTER THAN BEFORE. HER BODY MOVES. FAST. ONLY HER RIGHT LEG. SHE FEELS THE POWER GROWING INSIDE HER. AND SHE IS TRYING TO GO FURTHER. ONLY HER LEGS ARE MOVING FORWARD. WE COULD HEAR THE SOUND OF THE LEGS TOUCHING THE FLOOR. THAT MOVEMENT FINISHES WHEN SHE IS ALMOST FALLING FROM THE CHAIR. ONLY HER HEAD STAYS.

SHE

Shhh... Shhh... Shhh...

DURING THE SOUND HER LEGS ARE MOVING BACKWARDS. BOTH OF THEM. BACKWARDS. BACKWARDS. NOW THEY ARE UNDER THE CHAIR. ALMOST ON HER KNEES. SHE COLLECTS SOME POWER. YOU COULD SEE THE CONFIDENCE IN HER EYES. AND SHE STARTS TO PUSH THE BUCKETS FORWARD. SHE IS PUSHING THEM FORWARD. PUSHING. AT ONE POINT SHE IS NOT ABLE TO STAY ANYMORE. AND SHE FALLS DOWN ON HER HEAD. AGAIN IN THE SAME STRANGE POSITION. THE BUCKETS ARE FALLING TOO. THE SAND COVERS THE MAJORITY OF THE FLOOR. IT IS SAND. SHE STARTS TO MOVE MORE USING HER HANDS TO STAND UP. SHE TAKES HER EARRING WITH A FEATHER AND GIVES IT TO THE BOX. A HAND TAKES THE FEATHER AND SHE FALLS AGAIN. SHE MOVES HER HEAD ONLY A LITTLE BIT AND SHE LICKS THE FLOOR. AND SHE STAYS LIKE THAT. HE(THE MAN) ENTERS INTO THE SPACE WITH TWO MORE METAL BUCKETS. HE PUT ONE OF THE BUCKETS ON THE CHAIR AND STARTS TO FILL IT WITH THE SAND FROM THE OTHER BUCKET. HIS FACE LOOKS ETERNAL. THE SAND IS FALLING SLOWLY.

FEMALE VOICE IN BULGARIAN

Това изплъзване не може да трае вечно,

това изхлузване и свличане на времето.

Излизам от тялото ставам Онази Жена,

Жената, облечена в меланхолия.

Добър ден, тишина.

Отказвам да чакам онези ритмични садисти.

Някой прорязва часовника.

Някой е скъсал процепа между Мен и Аз

и сега съм обречена да се

изсипвам,

разсипвам,

разливам,

огъвам.

Ето.

Ето как тялото ми съблича своята кожа.

Ето ме водна, хлъзгава и безформена.

И ето как от Мен не остава никакво Мен, а само стъпки от беззвучие.

Не искам да обличам този фарс, но не мога и да прекъсна собственото си изтичане.

Отвън окото ми е прорез – през него времето излива себе си.

Отвътре съм натъпкана с думи.

И нямам как да се обърна.

Нямам как да се помръдна.

Проклет да си, Жьоне!

Проклет да си и ти и тази кофа пълна с пясък!

MALE VOICE IN FRENCH

Je suis seul au monde, et je ne suis pas sûr de n'être pas le roi, peut-être la fée de ces fleurs. Elles me rendent au passage un hommage, s'inclinent sans s'incliner, mais me reconnaissent. Elles savent que je suis leur représentant vivant, mobile, agile, vainqueur du vent. Je peux sans pitié considérer toutes les fleurs, elles sont de ma famille. Si par elles je rejoins aux domaines inférieurs - mais c'est aux fougères arborescentes et à leurs marécages, aux algues, que je voudrais descendre - je m'éloigne encore des hommes. De la planète Uranus, paraît-il, l'atmosphère serait si lourde que les fougères sont rampantes; les bêtes se traînent écrasées par le poids des gaz. À ces humiliés toujours sur le ventre, je me veux mêlé. Si la métempsycose m'accorde une nouvelle demeure, je choisis cette planète maudite, je l'habite avec les bagnards de ma race. Parmi d'effroyables reptiles, je poursuis une mort éternelle, misérable, dans les ténèbres où les feuilles seront noires, l'eau des marécages épaisse et froide. Le sommeil me sera refusé. Au contraire, toujours plus lucide, je reconnais l'immonde fraternité des alligators souriants.

MUSIC

The Tiger Lillies "Forever together"

THE FEMALE VOICE, THE MALE VOICE AND THE MUSIC ARE WORKING TOGETHER, THEY ENTER INTO A CANON. THE SPECTATOR CAN SEE THE SAND FOLLOWING DOWN INTO THE BUCKET, WHEN THIS IS FINISHED HE STARTS TO COVER HER BODY WITH THE SAND FROM THE SECOND BUCKET. SAND. WORDS. MUSIC. THE LAST GRAINS OF SAND ARE COMING DOWN. HE LOOKS AT HER AND ANOTHER DECISION APPEARS. HE GRABS HER BODY USING ONLY ONE OF HIS HANDS AND STARTS TO DRAG HER BODY. THE BODY LEAVE TRACKS IN THE SAND. AT THE LAST MOMENT SHE GRIPS ONE OF THE BUCKETS AND STARTS TO DRAG IT. THEY DISAPPEAR INTO THE CORRIDOR. SILENCE. THE WHITE CHAIR STANDS ALONE IN THE BOX. HE IS COMING AGAIN, THIS TIME WITH THE GUITAR AND SITS ON THE CHAIR. THE MUSIC STARTS TO APPEAR SLOWLY UNDER HIS FINGERS. FOR HIM TO SING IS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE.

HE (SINGING)

Forever... Forever... Forever...

we will be...

Forever we will be

Together...

In our grave we'll lie side by side through hate and pride we will die