Beckett happy days summary. Theatre. Happy days. Pushkin. Press about the play

06.03.2022

The play is based on a monologue of a not too young woman about the meaninglessness of human life, and the only, but very serious feature of the “mise-en-scene” is that at first the heroine of Vera Alentova is covered in sand up to her waist, and then almost completely.

The Irish play Happy Days by Samuel Beckett was written in 1961 and is rightly considered one of the banners of absurdism. It is based on a monologue of a not too young woman about the meaninglessness of human life, and the only, but very serious feature of the “mise-en-scène” is that at first the heroine named Winnie is buried in the sand up to her waist, and then almost with her head. Beckett, author of several novels and winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, is best known as a playwright. And when the theater suddenly bursts into fashion for his “Waiting for Godot” or “Macbeth”, it becomes clear that the directors are not only still haunted by misanthropic philosophy, but also seem to be a promising field for activity. Not in vain.

In the play by Mikhail Bychkov (the Moscow debut of the famous director of the Voronezh Chamber Theatre, who came to Moscow for the "Masks" and the New Drama festival), this field was cultivated by the St. Petersburg artist Emil Kapelyush. On the tiny stage of the branch of the Pushkin Theater, he created a miniature apocalypse: the ocher coast is studded with sedge, bent by the wind, wire rails are stretched from above, along which metal helicopters ride smoothly and quickly, like lifts in the mountains. In the middle of this red desert there is a deep rift, from which one can see half the torso of Vinnie - Vera Alentova ("Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears"), the main and practically the only living soul in Beckett's airless space.

With an impeccable staged move, the director turned the woman’s endless monologue (who keeps repeating: “What a happy day it could have been!” and is clearly preparing for death) into the final text of the last person who survived after the nuclear disaster, without gender and without psychology. Of course, in the Russian theater without sex, and even more so without psychology, there is nowhere. And therefore, the heroine of a very good and, as they say in such cases, cultural performance of Bychkov is a lady sorting out trinkets from her purse and occasionally throwing to her husband who is always absent or sick: “Willie, where are you ?!”. The lady tries (and it turns out, I must say, not bad - the merit of Alentova's concentrated and sharp game) not to portray character and, God forbid, a difficult female fate. And therefore, when in the second act, covered with sand (by Beckett) and lowered into a rift (by Bychkov and Kapelyush), Winnie hardly moves her tongue and feels sorry for her, you drive these most sympathetic emotions away from yourself. The classics of the avant-garde does not involve sensitivity.

UDC 821.22(Beckett S.)+791.45 BBK Shch374.0(2)6.40+SH33(4Gem)-8

E. G. Dotsenko Yekaterinburg, Russia

BECKETT IN RUSSIAN IN THE "HAPPY DAYS" OF ALEXEY BALABANOV: SUMMING UP

Annotation. The article analyzes the film by A. Balabanov "Happy Days" (1991) from the point of view of its correspondence to the original and translated texts by S. Beckett. Becket's cycle "Four Novels" is considered, on the basis of which the director created the script for the film. The film uses the traditions of the "Petersburg text" in literature and, despite the free interpretation of the "motifs of Beckett's works" in the film, has become a valuable contribution to Russian Beckettiana. Key words: Samuel Beckett, Alexei Balabanov, film adaptation, Petersburg text, The Exile.

Yekaterinburg, Russia

BECKETT IN RUSSIAN IN ALEKSEY BALABANOV'S HAPPY DAYS: SUMMING UP

abstract. The article is dedicated to Happy Days, a 1991 Russian drama film, written and directed by Aleksey Balabanov. The movie is not actually an adaptation of the original Samuel Beckett's play, but is based on Beckett's novellas First Love, The Expelled and The End. Balabanov's movie is connected with the so-called St. Petersburg text of Russian literature and became an interesting interpretation of Beckett in Russian cultural space.

Keywords: Samuel Beckett, Aleksey Balabanov, cinematographic version, St. Petersburg text of Russian literature, “The Expelled”.

"Happy Days" (1991) - "based on the works of S. Beckett" - the first full-scale film by Alexei Balabanov, perceived today as a kind of dramatic prologue to the work of the director, "the brightest in his generation", the author of the "main picture of the 90s" [ Culture shock]. A. Balabanov's appeal to Beckett is much less known than the sensational thrillers, but it turned out to be very organic: the film

"Mentally" close to Beckett, being at the same time already recognizably Balabanov's, and by the director himself (in his later interviews), and critics mentioned as a significant beginning of a long journey. "Happy Days", respectively, is not deprived of criticism and audience reviews, but the film, nevertheless, practically did not receive an assessment in connection with the history of "Russian Bekketiana", although it occupies a very special niche in this sense: it is not only an absolutely rare film " according to Beckett" in Russian cinema, but also in general one of the most successful attempts to translate Beckett's works into the language of another art.

"Russian Beckett" is, of course, a problem of translation in the literal sense: from French and English into Russian. A. Balabanov's film, oddly enough, can be interpreted at the level of the history of Beckett's assimilation in Russia - in the Soviet and "early post-Soviet" periods. Today, when the works of S. Beckett are firmly established in the Russian cultural space, and domestic Becket studies are actively developing, the problems of the reception of Beckett's texts in Russian translation may seem to be a thing of the past. Actually, the translation of the entire artistic heritage of Beckett into Russian can hardly be called systematic even now, although among the existing sources in Russian there are now such solid

publications, such as "Useless Texts" in the series "Literary Monuments" [Beckett 2003], or "Theater: Plays" in the publishing house "ABC, Amphora" [Beckett 1999]. The lifetime glory of S. Beckett (in the 5080s) affected our country to a small extent: as the largest representative of the theater of the absurd, Beckett was known in the Soviet Union, and the section on French anti-theater was necessarily included in textbooks on foreign literature or theater of the 20th century , but the first translations of Beckett's most famous plays were few. However, Beckett's works are objectively difficult to translate - with language play, allusions and ambiguity. Therefore, the first attempts at the Russian adaptation of Beckett today probably deserve more respect than criticism - despite the obvious ideological background of the early articles about the absurd playwright. Thus, the play “Waiting for Godot” translated (from French) by M. Bogoslovskaya was published by Foreign Literature in 1966 [Beckett 1966].

Significant for its time preface

A. Elistratova to the Russian translation of “Godo”: “Here, most fully, defiantly, with frankness bordering on hysterical anguish, the destructive tendencies characteristic of the “theater of the absurd” were expressed: the denial of a reasonably comprehensible plot, characters, stage action, naturally leading from the plot to denouement... And through the aotic fragments of the destroyed drama, diligently reduced to inarticulate absurdity, the idea of the tragicomic absurdity of the whole world, of the enduring meaninglessness of human existence, emerged” [Elistratova 1966: 160]. The acquaintance of the Russian reader with the prose of the Irish-French author - in 1989 - coincided with the year of S. Beckett's death; collection-

The nickname of works under the general title "Exile" (under the editorship of M.M. Koreneva) included both separate short stories and several plays. It is this collection that in this case is in the sphere of our attention, since almost all the works from this collection somehow found a place in the film by Alexei Balabanov “based on Beckett”, and in the script developed by the director himself, they are guessed even more clearly.

"The Exile" (L'Expulsё, 1946) - one of the short stories of the collection, included in the cycle "Four short stories" (Quatre nouvelles) by the author himself; besides her, the Russian compilers combined in one edition the short stories "The End", "First Love", "Dante and the Lobster", the plays "Endgame", "About All Falling", "Happy Days". The last of the named plays, in turn, gave the name to the film by Alexei Balabanov: the director, so to speak, regroups the components of the collection, not using any of them as a single “plot” or dramatic basis. At the same time, Balabanov succeeded in revealing the unity of Becket's style in the selection, which represents Beckett quite fragmentarily, and conveyed this unity in his own, already cinematic, work. Winnie, the heroine of the play “Happy Days” is not in the film, and the hero, wonderfully played by Viktor Su orukov and designated by the script as “ON”, mostly comes from “Four Novels”: “They dressed me and gave me money ... Clothes : boots, socks, trousers, shirt, jacket, hat - all this was put on. I then tried to change this bowler hat for a cap or a felt hat to cover my face with brim, but not very successfully, and I could not walk around with my head uncovered in such a state of my crown ”[Beckett 1989: 176]. "Happy" - both in Becket's and, obviously, in Balabanov's logic - are any days of human life, and the very theme of time, "days", and fullness and length will arise sooner or later, "if I want to continue. And then I realized that soon the end, well, in general, pretty soon” [Ibid.].

The mysterious "state of the crown" of the hero, the hat hiding the wound on his head, and the periodically arising offer or request to "show the crown" - set one of the recognizable and defining characteristics of the central character. He comes to this world (of a movie or a lifetime?) in a hospital, from where he is almost immediately expelled, regardless of the ungrown crown, and at the end of the film / life, without finding a home among people, the hero hides in a large deep box - boat, independently sliding the lid behind him. According to the script, “he looked unimportant. A sparse stubble, a wrinkled coat with spots, a damp hat with drooping brim” [Balabanov v]. The hero’s restlessness is supported in the film by a number of “objective” images, both originally Beckett’s and reminiscent of the director’s artistic vision exclusively: a box, a hedgehog, parsley, a donkey, a tram. The box, for example, could well belong to Winnie from S. Beckett's "Happy Days" - with her

love for things carefully stored in a handbag. The protagonist of the film has a casket - in fact, the only property, carefully guarded, exalting tenderness and giving the opportunity to immerse himself in another world, perhaps the world of art. Music is pouring from the box, a porcelain ballerina is spinning on a small stage. At the stage of the scenario, the inhabitant of the box was an elephant, but the ballerina, I think, is an even more successful image: her life also turns out to be happy days spent “in the box”.

The images of animals - if we exclude rats and cockroaches (but what can we say about them: the environment, of course, is aggressive) - they are reminiscent of Beckett's works and, having taken their place in the clearly built video sequence of the film, turn into independent signs to be deciphered. The hedgehog shows up - along with the music box - among the hero's few sympathies, especially warm as it requires care. Beckett: “You feel sorry for the hedgehog, he is probably tired, and you put him in an old hatbox, providing him with worms. So, the hedgehog is in his cardboard box, in a rabbit cage, with an excellent supply of worms” [Beckett 1989:205]. In the film, the hedgehog is given to the hero, who lives at that moment on a cemetery bench, by the heroine Anna, who appears here along with the theme of “First Love” (Premier amour, 1946, from the Quatre nouvelles cycle). The hedgehog will accompany the protagonist of the film, as if helping to unite heterogeneous spaces, which alone determine the ronotope of Becket's different texts: Anna's apartment, "living in prostitution", Blind's closet. Comfort and shelter for the hero - only temporarily, of course - will coincide with the presence of the hedgehog, until HE says: "The hedgehog is no more."

The donkey is associated with a deeper layer of allusions, including biblical allusions, which were originally set by Beckett, but turned into an extended visual metaphor in the film. In the radio play All That Fall (1956), which was also published in the collection The Exile, Mrs. Rooney reflects on gospel imagery1:

“This, it turns out, was not a young donkey at all. I asked the professor of theology. Yes, this is the life of a mule. He rode into Jerusalem - or where is it? - on a mule. (Pause.) It means something” [Beckett 1989:84].

The donkey in the film belongs to the Blind Man, whom the protagonist also meets at the cemetery. The blind character in "Happy Days" lives with his weak father in a closet in the basement and turns out to be the successor of two Beckett's heroes at once: Hama from the play "Endgame" (or "Endgame", Fin de partie, 1957) and the blind man from the short story "The End" (La Fin, 1946). The character from The End Game is blind and motionless, and the theme of the relationship between father and son is one of the most important for the play. The hero of the short story with the name "The End" lives in

1 “Jesus, finding a young donkey, sat on it, as it is written: “Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion! Behold, your King is coming, sitting on a young donkey” (John 12:14-15).

cave by the sea, and he has a donkey, small and already old. The protagonist of both the novel and the film leads the donkey away from the owner at some point, and the passage of the hero V. Su orukov on a donkey along the monumentally deserted bridges and streets of St. Petersburg to the music of R. Wagner is perceived as one of the most pathetic scenes of the film ( however, immediately replaced in contrast by the wretchedness of the surrounding houses and the beating of the hero): “He drove into Jerusalem - or where is it? - on a mule.

Petersburg in Balabanov's film, as well as the relationship of the hero with the blind man, lead directly to the problem of the name in Happy Days. The protagonist of the film and short stories from the Quatre nouvelles cycle does not have a proper name, or, in any case, the hero does not know it. Other characters in the film - as the hero encounters them - can equally well call him Sergey Sergeevich (like the owner of the apartment where HE rents a room), or Borya (like Anna), or Peter. The name changes seem completely arbitrary, but in the overall structure of the film, they serve as markers for the three main Beckettian sources used by the director: The End, The End Game, and First Love. Blind calls the hero Peter, “calling” him after him, as if the Savior - the Apostle Peter: “And Jesus said to them: follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men” (Mark 1:17). The name "Peter" in the film by A. Balabanov actualizes the association with the Apostle Peter as the patron saint of St. Petersburg and through the spatial solution of the picture.

The urban space is not literally named in "Happy Days": in the script it is referred to as a "city", and the filmmakers have repeatedly indicated that they did not seek to project Beckett's text onto the northern Russian capital. In an interview for the book “Petersburg as a Cinema” (!) the cinematographer Sergei Astaov explained: “Beckett's work, like this film by Balabanov, has no geography. That is why Petersburg here is not Petersburg, but the space of an absurdist play. This is a cemetery, a bell tower, an alley, a woman, a man who spits from a balcony on others: this is a fictional, invented city. And so Petersburg can be. Now, however, it would be more difficult to shoot such an absurd timelessness. For example, the cemetery in Happy Days is the Alexander Nevsky Lavra, which now, of course, looks completely different. And then, from the point of view of a certain neglect, strangeness, it was very good there” [Shavlovsky].

From the standpoint of modern Beckett studies, one can seriously argue that "there is no geography in Beckett's work." Beckett's "Irishness" and directly ronotopically images in his works today are devoted to entire works and scientific conferences. But, whether we accept this point of view or consider the space of Becket's works as exclusively conditional, it can be unequivocally asserted that Ireland is not in A. Balabanov's film. But Petersburg is: the city is recognizable both at the level of specific types, and

its glaring contrasts between high and low, and even its "namelessness" works for the "fictitiousness" of space, which is important for the Petersburg text. As a "fictitious", artificial city of St. Petersburg has its own myth and its own history, affecting, in particular, the history of repeated renaming. The city that we see in Balabanov's film was still called Leningrad during the filming. And the biography of the director himself is by no means mystical, but very revealingly connected with several cities that changed their names from old to new and vice versa: Yekaterinburg / Sverdlovsk is the hometown of A.O. Balabanov, in Nizhny Novgorod / Gorky, the future filmmaker studied and received the profession of a military translator, his formation as a director is connected with St. Petersburg / Leningrad. “Another name is, as it were, not a name: the true name is internal,” notes V.N. Toporov [Toporov 1995:297]. Names, as already mentioned, are easily changed in the film by the hero. But isn’t the name “Happy Days” a fictitious one for this film work, “replacing” proper names

some Becket texts?

Attitude of "Happy days" and creativity

A. Balabanov to the "Petersburg text" and "Petersburg symbols" in the meaning given to these concepts thanks to the works of N.P. Antsiferova, Yu.M. Lotman, V.N. Toporova, - theme, you-

dressing for the scope of one article. The action in Balabanov's work often unfolds in the space of Leningrad or St. Petersburg, and criticism notes the motive of restlessness, homelessness of the character as repeatedly realized against this background. For example, the theses of N. Bratova speak about the perspective of the study, where the “Petersburg myth in modern Russian cinema” is considered on the example of the most famous film by Alexei Balabanov “Brother”. In "Happy Days" the internal dialogue that builds up between Beckett and the "Petersburg text" leads to many new meanings that can and should be heard.

In the film "Happy Days", or rather, in S. Beckett's short story "The End", there are many water images. K. Eckerley and S. Gontarski explain that the action of the novel "occurs in a strange Dublin", and the river - Liffey - is present as a kind of vision [Askegley, Gontarski 2004:172]. In the finale of the film, like the novels, the protagonist "on-dit a boat, in which he seals himself, as in a coffin." In the interpretation of A. Balabanov, this scene is graphically emphasized: the film begins with a children's drawing with a little man and the caption: "It's me." At the end of the film, the boat is rocking on the wave, the same signature, but the little man is gone. The motif of the end in the version “death by water” is exceptionally significant for the Petersburg text. "An eccentric city, - in the terminology of Yu. Lotman, - is located "on the edge" of the cultural space: on the seashore, at the mouth of the river" [Lotman 1992: 10]. By

V. Toporov, “the folk myth of water death was also assimilated by literature, which created a kind of peter-

Burg “flood” text” [Toporov 1995: 296]. Based on the significance of the “flood” discourse, one can also consider the image of the cemetery as a symbolic one, persistently appearing in both the Becket novel and the film. It is curious that for this film, the graves at the Alexander Nevsky Lavra are the only opportunity to draw a parallel with the olm, into which the heroine of the original play "Happy Days" grows. Traditionally, the space of the "city on the edge" is different from the "city on the olma".

For a city that has developed its own "text" in classical Russian literature, the little man - the hero of the film - is not so absurd and unusual. Minimization here can be found at the level of the name Peter, which has not only an exalted (ascending both to heavenly patrons and to Tsar Peter the Great), but also a comic version. The language game, working to reduce the image of "Peter - Petrushka - parsley", is the property of an exclusively Russian version, but S. Beckett would probably like it. In the 1930s Becket watched two productions of I. Stravinsky's ballet "Petrushka" in London and spoke of "Petrushka" as "a kind of philosophy." In Balabanov's film, the parsley plant becomes a kind of philosophy for the hero: “I asked her if I could eat parsley from time to time. Petrushka! she shouted in such a tone as if I had asked for a Jewish baby to be fried. I remarked to her that the parsley season was coming to an end, and if for the time being she would feed me exclusively with parsley, I would be very grateful to her. Parsley, in my opinion, tastes like violets. If there were no parsley in the world, I would not like violets” [Beckett 1989:173]. (The filmmakers apparently got lucky with the "parsley" translation. In the English version, the root vegetable in question is parsnips.)

But Beckett's images in Happy Days are harmoniously correlated with the director's own preferences. On the site so often present at the Irish author of bicycles, you can see the tram, which is often considered as a trademark of Balabanov's film imagery: “I love old trams. There is no metaphor of modernity in this, no Bulgakovism. They are beautiful, that's all" [Balabanov a]. In "Happy Days", the tram passes through the deserted streets several times, becoming another through image, eventually echoing all the others. During its last journey, the tram leaves the hero overboard: the melody of a worn-out record sounds, and as if from the windows of the tram the viewer will be able to see familiar houses, and the “real” Sergei Sergeyevich with a donkey. The final picture, in addition to the boat, also draws a tram sunken and useless in stagnant water. Perhaps a metaphor is not needed here. A. Balabanov's debut film is black and white and made in a minimalist style (which characterizes the work of S. Beckett): “Balabanov, of course, is distinguished by an inclination towards minimalism -

visual, but above all to the verbal-rhythmic” [Sukhoverkhov 2001]. For Alexei Balabanov's work, ambiguity is also typical, which also makes the director related to the playwright, whose work he comprehends in his first film. Alexey Balabanov passed away in the current year, 2013. May his creative heritage, which did not accidentally begin with an appeal to the classics, be destined to have a long life.

LITERATURE

Balabanov A. Other rules of life. Interview with N. Sorokin. URL: http://esquire.ru/wil/aleksey-balabanov. Retrieved: 07/15/2012.(a)

Balabanov A. Happy days: script. URL: http://a1ekseyba1abanov.ru/index.php?option=com content&vie w=artic1e&id=96%3А-1-r&catid=17%3А:2010-11-30-08-30-49&Itemid=17&snowa11=1 ( Retrieved: 10.10.2013.) (c) Beckett S. Waiting for Godot / per. from fr. M. Bogoslovskoy // Foreign Literature. 1966. 3 10. S. 165195.

Beckett S. Exile: plays and stories / trans. from fr. and English; comp. M. Koreneva, I. Duchen. - M.: Izvestia, 1989. - 224 p.:

Beckett S. End / trans. from fr. E. Surits. pp. 176-194. Beckett S. Communication / trans. from English. E. Surits. S. 195220.

Beckett S. First love / trans. from fr. E. Surits. pp. 157-175.

Beckett S. About everything that falls / trans. from English. E. Su-rits. pp. 59-86.

Beckett S. Worthless texts / transl. E.V. Baevskaya; comp., approx. D.V. Tokarev. - St. Petersburg: Nauka, 2003. - 339 p. Beckett S. Theatre: Plays / per. from English. and fr.; comp.

B. Lapitsky; int. Art. M. Koreneva. - St. Petersburg: Azbuka, Amphora, 1999. - 347 p.

Elistratova A. Beckett's tragicomedy "Waiting for Godot" // Foreign Literature. 1966. 3 10.

"Culture shock". On E, Moscow is remembered by Alexei Balabanov. URL: http://a1ekseyba1abanov.ru/index.

php?option=com_content&view=artic1e&id=443:1-r------&catid

38:2012-04-03-10-33-26&Itemid=59 (Accessed:

Lotman Yu.M. Symbolism of St. Petersburg and problems of the semiotics of the city // Lotman Yu.M. Selected articles: in 3 vols. T. 2. - Tallinn: Alexandra Publishing House, 1992. P. 9-21.

Sukhoverkhov A. The space of a teenager. Film language of Aleksey Balabanov // Cinema Art. 2001. 3 1. S. 65-74.

Toporov V.N. Petersburg and "Petersburg text of Russian literature" (Introduction to the topic) // Toporov V.N. Myth. Ritual. Symbol. Image. Research in the field of mythopoetic. - M.: Ed. group "Progress" - "Culture", 1995. S. 259-367.

Shavlovsky K. Interview with Sergei Astakhov. URL: http://seance.ru/b1og/made-in-1eningrad/ (Date of access: 07/15/2012.)

Ackerley C.J., Gontarski S.E. The Grove Companion to Samue1 Beckett. - New York; Grove Press, 2004. P. 172.

Beckett S. The Comp1ete Short Prose / Ed. by S.E. Gontarski. - New York: Grove Press, 1995. P. 46-60.

Bratova N. The Myth of Saint-Petersburg in Modern Russian Cinema. URL: http://conference2.so1.1u.se/poeticsof memory/documents/Bratova abstract.pdf (Accessed:

Knowlson J. Damned to Fame. The Life of Samue1 Beckett. - New York: Grove press, 1996. - 800 p.

Dotsenko Elena Georgievna - Doctor of Philology, Professor of the Department of Russian and Foreign Literature, Ural State Pedagogical University (Yekaterinburg).

Address: 620017, Yekaterinburg, avenue Cosmonauts, 26.

E-mail1: [email protected]

Docenko E1ena Georgievna is a Doctor of Phi1o1ogy, Professor of Russian and Foreign Literature Department of Ura1 State Pedagogica1 University (Yekaterinburg).

Samuel Beckett

Happy Days

Oh les beaux jours / Happy Days by Samuel Beckett (1961)

Translation from English by L. Bespalov

Characters

Winnie- a woman in her fifties

Willie- a man in his sixties

Act one

In the middle of the stage is a low hill covered with scorched grass. Smooth slopes to the hall, to the right and to the left. Behind a steep cliff to the platform. Ultimate simplicity and symmetry. Blinding light. An extremely pompous realistic backdrop depicts uncultivated plain and sky converging on the horizon. In the very middle of the mound up to the chest in the ground is Winnie. Nearly fifty, well-preserved, preferably blonde, in body, arms and shoulders bare, low neckline, full breasts, string of pearls. She sleeps with her hands on the ground in front of her, her head in her hands. To her left on the ground is a roomy black utility bag, to the right is a folding umbrella, a handle bent by a beak protrudes from its folds. To the right of her, Willy is sleeping, stretched out on the ground, he is not visible because of the hillock. Long pause. The bell rings piercingly, for, say, ten seconds, and stops. She doesn't move. Pause. The bell rings even more piercingly, for, say, five seconds. She wakes up. The call is silent. She raises her head, looks into the room. Long pause. He stretches, rests his hands on the ground, throws back his head, looks at the sky. Long pause.

Winnie (looks at the sky). And again the day will be outstanding. (Pause. She lowers her head, looks out into the audience, pause. She folds her arms, raises her to her chest, closes her eyes. Her lips move in inaudible prayer for, say, ten seconds. They stop moving. Her hands are still at her chest. In a whisper.) In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, amen! (Opens her eyes, lowers her hands, puts them on the hillock. Pause. Brings her hands to her chest again, closes her eyes, and again her lips move in inaudible prayer for, say, five seconds. In a whisper.) Forever and ever amen! (Opens his eyes, puts his hands on the hillock again. Pause.) Go ahead Vinnie. (Pause.) Start your day, Vinnie. (Pause. Turns to the bag without moving it, rummages in it, takes out a toothbrush, rummages again, takes out a flat tube of toothpaste, turns his head to the audience again, unscrews the cap, puts the cap on the ground, with difficulty squeezes a drop of toothpaste onto brush, holding a tube in one hand, brushing her teeth with the other. Shamefully turns away, spits back over a hillock. Her gaze lingers on Willy. She spits. She leans back even more. Loudly.) Hey! (Pause. Even louder.) Hey! (With a gentle smile, he turns back to the audience, puts down the brush.) Poor Willy - (looks at the tube, smiles gone)- ends - (looks for a cap)- anyway - (finds a cap)- do not write anything - (screw cap on)- things grow old, they come to an end - (puts tube down)- here she came - (turns to bag)- nothing to do about - (digging in bag)- can't help you - (takes out a mirror, turns to the audience)- well yes - (looks at teeth in mirror)- poor Willy - (feels upper teeth with finger, unintelligible)- God! - (pulls up upper lip, looks at gums, also unintelligible)- My God! - (turns lip away to one side, mouth open, exactly the same)- anyway - (on the other hand, exactly the same)- no worse - (releases his lip, in a normal voice)- no worse and no better - (puts down the mirror)- no change - (wipes fingers on grass)- without pain - (looks for a brush)- you can say almost without - (takes a brush)- what a miracle - (looks at brush handle)- what could be better - - Real… what? - (pause)- what? - (puts down brush)- well yes - (turns to bag)- poor Willy - (digging in bag)- it has no taste - (digs)- to nothing - (pulls out glasses in case)- no interest - (turns back to the room)- to life - (takes glasses out of case)- my poor Willy - (puts down case)- sleeps forever - (pulls back temples)- amazing ability - (puts on glasses)- nothing could be better - (looks for a brush)- in my opinion - (takes a brush)- always thought so - (looks at brush handle)- I would like that - (looks at pen, reads)- real ... no fake ... what? - (puts down brush)- and there you go completely blind - (takes off glasses)- anyway - (sets aside glasses)- and so many - (climbs into the cutout for a scarf)- saw - (takes out a folded handkerchief)- in my time - (shakes handkerchief)- marvelous lines, how is it there? - (wipes one eye). When my time has passed (wipes another)- and that one - my rolled up there ... - (looking for glasses)- that's it - (takes glasses)- what happened, it happened, I wouldn’t refuse anything - (wipes glasses, breathes on glasses)- maybe she refused? - (wipes)- pure light - (wipes)- emerge from the darkness - (wipes)- underground baked light. (Stops wiping his glasses, raises his face to the sky, pause, lowers his head, starts wiping his glasses again, stops wiping, bends back and to the right.) Hey! (Pause. With a gentle smile, he turns to the audience and begins to wipe his glasses again. The smile is gone.) Amazing ability - (stops wiping, puts glasses away)- I would like that - (folds handkerchief)- anyway - (puts handkerchief in neckline)- a sin to complain - (looking for glasses)- that's not, - (takes glasses)- no need to complain (brings glasses to his eyes, looks into one glass)- you have to be grateful: so many good things - (looks into another glass)- without pain - (puts on glasses)- one might say, almost without - (looks for a toothbrush)- what a miracle - (takes a brush)- what could be better - (looks at brush handle)- except that the head sometimes aches - (looks at pen, reads)- real ... no fake, natural ... what? - (brings brush closer to eyes)- real, not fake - (Pulls out a handkerchief from behind the neckline.)- well yes - (shakes handkerchief)- sometimes, a mild migraine pesters - (wipes brush handle)- grab - (wipes)- let go - (wipes automatically)- well yes - (wipes)- great mercy to me - (wipes)- truly great - (stops rubbing, stopped, distant look, in a dead voice)- and prayers may not be in vain - (pause, exactly the same)- in the morning - (pause, same)- for the coming dream - (lowers his head, starts wiping his spectacles again, stops wiping, raises his head, calms down, wipes his eyes, folds his handkerchief, puts it back behind the neckline, peers into the handle of the brush, reads)- real, not fake ... natural - (brings closer to eyes)- natural... (takes off glasses, puts away glasses and brush, looks straight ahead). Things get old. (Pause.) Eyes age. (Long pause.) Come on Vinnie. (She looks around, her eyes fall on the umbrella, she examines it for a long time, picks it up, pulls out a handle from the folds of incredible length. Holding the tip of the umbrella with her right hand, bends back and to the right, leans over Willie.) Hey! (Pause.) Willy! (Pause.) Remarkable ability. (Strikes him with the handle of an umbrella.) I would like that. (Strikes again.)

The umbrella slips from her hand, falls behind a hillock. Willy's invisible hand immediately brings him back.

Thank you, little one. (She shifts the umbrella to her left hand, turns to the audience, examines her right palm.) Wet. (He takes the umbrella again in his right hand, examines his left palm.) Well, okay, well, at least not worse. (Throws her head, joyfully.) No worse, no better, no change. (Pause. Exactly the same.) Without pain. (He leans back to look at Willy, as before, holding the tip of the umbrella.) Please don't fall asleep, honey, I might need you. (Pause.) Nothing in a hurry, just don't curl up like you have in the factory. (Turns towards the hall, puts down the umbrella, examines both palms at once, wipes them on the grass.) And yet the view is not the same. (He turns to the bag, rummages in it, takes out a revolver, raises it to his lips, kisses it briefly, puts it back in the bag, rummages, takes out an almost empty bottle of red potion, turns to the audience, looks for glasses, lifts, reads the label.) Loss of spirit... loss of interest in life... loss of appetite... newborns... children... adults... six tablespoons... daily - (throws head, smile)- if you approach with old standards - (smile as if never happened, lowers his head, reads.)“Daily…before and after…meals…gives instant… (brings closer to eyes)… improvement". (Takes off, puts glasses away, moves hand with bottle to see how much is left, unscrews the cork, tilting his head back, empties, throws the cork and bottle away over the hill towards Willy.)

Current page: 1 (total book has 3 pages)

Samuel Beckett
Happy Days

Oh les beaux jours / Happy Days by Samuel Beckett (1961)

Translation from English by L. Bespalov

Characters

Winnie a woman in her fifties

Willie- a man in his sixties

Act one

In the middle of the stage is a low hill covered with scorched grass. Smooth slopes to the hall, to the right and to the left. Behind a steep cliff to the platform. Ultimate simplicity and symmetry. Blinding light. An extremely pompous realistic backdrop depicts uncultivated plain and sky converging on the horizon. In the very middle of the mound chest-deep in the ground is Winnie. Nearly fifty, well-preserved, preferably blonde, in body, arms and shoulders bare, low neckline, full breasts, string of pearls. She sleeps with her hands on the ground in front of her, her head in her hands. To her left on the ground is a roomy black utility bag, to the right is a folding umbrella, a handle bent by a beak protrudes from its folds. To the right of her, Willy is sleeping, stretched out on the ground, he is not visible because of the hillock. Long pause. The bell rings piercingly, for, say, ten seconds, and stops. She doesn't move. Pause. The bell rings even more piercingly, for, say, five seconds. She wakes up. The call is silent. She raises her head, looks into the room. Long pause. He stretches, rests his hands on the ground, throws back his head, looks at the sky. Long pause.

Winnie(looks at the sky). And again the day will be outstanding. (Pause. She lowers her head, looks out into the audience, pause. She folds her arms, raises her to her chest, closes her eyes. Her lips move in inaudible prayer for, say, ten seconds. They stop moving. Her hands are still at her chest. In a whisper.) In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, amen! (Opens her eyes, lowers her hands, puts them on the hillock. Pause. Brings her hands to her chest again, closes her eyes, and again her lips move in inaudible prayer for, say, five seconds. In a whisper.) Forever and ever amen! (Opens his eyes, puts his hands on the hillock again. Pause.) Go ahead Vinnie. (Pause.) Start your day, Vinnie. (Pause. Turns to the bag without moving it, rummages in it, takes out a toothbrush, rummages again, takes out a flat tube of toothpaste, turns his head to the audience again, unscrews the cap, puts the cap on the ground, with difficulty squeezes a drop of toothpaste onto brush, holding a tube in one hand, brushing her teeth with the other. Shamefully turns away, spits back over a hillock. Her gaze lingers on Willy. She spits. She leans back even more. Loudly.) Hey! (Pause. Even louder.) Hey! (With a gentle smile, he turns back to the audience, puts down the brush.) Poor Willie - (looks at the tube, smiles gone)- ends - (looks for a cap)- anyway - (finds a cap)- do not write anything - (screw cap on)- things get old, they come to an end - (puts tube down)- here she came - (turns to bag)- nothing to do about - (digging in bag)- can't help you - (takes out a mirror, turns to the audience)- well yes - (looks at teeth in mirror)- Poor Willy - (feels upper teeth with finger, unintelligible)- God! - (pulls up upper lip, looks at gums, also unintelligible)- My God! - (turns lip away to one side, mouth open, exactly the same)- anyway - (on the other hand, exactly the same)- no worse - (releases his lip, in a normal voice)- no worse and no better - (puts down the mirror)- no change - (wipes fingers on grass)- without pain - (looks for a brush)- you can say almost without - (takes a brush)- what a miracle - (looks at brush handle)– what could be better – – real… what? - (pause)- what? - (puts down brush)- well yes - (turns to bag)- Poor Willy - (digging in bag)- has no taste - (digs)- to nothing - (pulls out glasses in case)- no interest - (turns back to the room)- to life - (takes glasses out of case) my poor Willie (puts down case)- sleeps forever - (pulls back temples)- amazing ability - (puts on glasses)- nothing could be better - (looks for a brush)- in my opinion - (takes a brush)- always thought so - (looks at brush handle)- I would like that - (looks at pen, reads)- real ... no fake ... what? - (puts down brush)- and there you go completely blind - (takes off glasses)- anyway - (sets aside glasses)- and so many - (climbs into the cutout for a scarf)- saw - (takes out a folded handkerchief)- in my time - (shakes handkerchief)- marvelous lines, how is it there? - (wipes one eye). When my time has passed (wipes another)- and that one - my rolled up there ... - (looking for glasses)- that's it - (takes glasses)- what happened, it happened, I wouldn’t refuse anything - (wipes glasses, breathes on glasses)- Or maybe she refused? - (wipes)- pure light - (wipes)- emerge from the darkness - (wipes)- underground baked light. (Stops wiping his glasses, raises his face to the sky, pause, lowers his head, starts wiping his glasses again, stops wiping, bends back and to the right.) Hey! (Pause. With a gentle smile, he turns to the audience and begins to wipe his glasses again. The smile is gone.) The amazing ability (stops wiping, puts glasses away)- I would like that - (folds handkerchief)- anyway - (puts handkerchief in neckline)- a sin to complain - (looking for glasses)- that's not it - (takes glasses)- no need to complain (brings glasses to his eyes, looks into one glass)– you have to be grateful: there are so many good things – (looks into another glass)- without pain - (puts on glasses)- one might say, almost without - (looks for a toothbrush)- what a miracle - (takes a brush)– what could be better – (looks at brush handle)- except that the head sometimes aches - (looks at pen, reads)- real ... no fake, natural ... what? - (brings brush closer to eyes)- real, not fake - (Pulls out a handkerchief from behind the neckline.)- well yes - (shakes handkerchief)- sometimes, a mild migraine pesters - (wipes brush handle)- will take - (wipes)- let go - (wipes automatically)- well yes - (wipes)- great mercy to me - (wipes)- truly great - (stops rubbing, stopped, distant look, in a dead voice)- and prayers may not be in vain - (pause, exactly the same)- in the morning - (pause, same)- for the coming dream - (lowers his head, starts wiping his spectacles again, stops wiping, raises his head, calms down, wipes his eyes, folds his handkerchief, puts it back behind the neckline, peers into the handle of the brush, reads)- real, without fake ... natural - (brings closer to eyes)– natural… (takes off glasses, puts away glasses and brush, looks straight ahead). Things get old. (Pause.) Eyes age. (Long pause.) Come on Vinnie. (She looks around, her eyes fall on the umbrella, she examines it for a long time, picks it up, pulls out a handle from the folds of incredible length. Holding the tip of the umbrella with her right hand, bends back and to the right, leans over Willie.) Hey! (Pause.) Willy! (Pause.) Remarkable ability. (Strikes him with the handle of an umbrella.) I would like that. (Strikes again.)

The umbrella slips from her hand, falls behind a hillock. Willy's invisible hand immediately brings him back.

Thank you, little one. (She shifts the umbrella to her left hand, turns to the audience, examines her right palm.) Wet. (He takes the umbrella again in his right hand, examines his left palm.) Well, okay, well, at least not worse. (Throws her head, joyfully.) No worse, no better, no change. (Pause. Exactly the same.) Without pain. (He leans back to look at Willy, as before, holding the tip of the umbrella.) Please don't fall asleep, honey, I might need you. (Pause.) Nothing in a hurry, just don't curl up like you have in the factory. (Turns towards the hall, puts down the umbrella, examines both palms at once, wipes them on the grass.) And yet the view is not the same. (He turns to the bag, rummages in it, takes out a revolver, raises it to his lips, kisses it briefly, puts it back in the bag, rummages, takes out an almost empty bottle of red potion, turns to the audience, looks for glasses, lifts, reads the label.) Loss of spirit... loss of interest in life... loss of appetite... newborns... children... adults... six tablespoons... daily - (throws head, smile) (smile as if never happened, lowers his head, reads.)“Daily…before and after…meals…gives instant… (brings closer to eyes)… improvement". (Takes off, puts glasses away, moves hand with bottle to see how much is left, unscrews the cork, tilting his head back, empties, throws the cork and bottle away over the hill towards Willy.)

The sound of broken glass.

So it's better! (He turns to the bag, rummages in it, takes out lipstick, turns to the audience, examines the lipstick.) Ends. (Looks for glasses.) Anyway. (Puts on glasses, looks for a mirror.) There is no need to complain. (Takes a mirror, paints her lips.) Wonderful line, how is it there? (beautiful) If copper, ta-ta ta-ta and the sea do not stand when their time comes (paints) that can survive, arguing with death. (Paints. Willie's fuss tears her off.)

He sits down. She lowers her lipstick, mirror, leans back to look at him. Pause. The bald back of Willie's head, through which blood flows, rises above the slope and freezes. Winnie raises his glasses to his forehead. Pause. Willie's hand sticks out with a handkerchief, covers his bald head with a handkerchief, disappears. Pause. A hand sticks out - in it is a boater with a club tape - daringly pushes the boater on its side, disappears. Pause. Winnie leans back a little more.

Put on your underpants, honey, you'll burn yourself. (Pause.) Won't you wear it? (Pause.) Look, you've still got some of that muffin left. (Pause.) Get it right, little one. (Pause.) And now another. (Pause. She turns to the audience, looks straight ahead. Happy expression.) What a happy day today will be! (Pause. The happy expression is gone. He puts his glasses down on his nose, paints his lips.)

Willy opens the newspaper, his hands are not visible. Yellowed newspaper pages frame Willie's head. Winnie stops painting her lips, slightly moving the mirror aside, looking at them.

Victory red banner.

Willie turns the page. Winnie puts down her lipstick and mirror and turns to her bag.

Not like before - a dull white flag.

Willie turns the page. Vinnie rummages through the bag. takes out a smart meningitis hat with a crumpled feather, turns to the audience, preens the hat, smoothes the feather, raises the hat to his head, but freezes with the hat in his hand while Willie reads.

Willie. His Reverend Father in Bose Carolus Colt rested in a basin.

Pause.

Winnie(turns to the audience - hat in hand - recalls with fervor). Charlie Colt! (Pause.) As soon as I close my eyes (takes off glasses, closes eyes, hat in one hand, glasses in the other).

Willie turns the page.

- and again I sit on his lap in the back garden of the house in Paulden Hills, under the horse beech. (Pause. She opens her eyes, lifts her spectacles, fiddles with her hat.) What a happy time!

Pause. She raises her hat to her head, but when she hears Willie's voice, she freezes with her hat in her hand.

Willie(is reading). We offer a variety of hats.

Pause. She raises her hat to her head, but still freezes with a hat in her hand, takes off her glasses, looks into the hall, hat in one hand, glasses in the other.

Winnie. My first score! (Long pause.) My second score! (Long pause. Closes eyes.) My first kiss!

Pause. Willie turns the page.

(Opens eyes.) Some Mr. not the Rim, not the Trunk. With bushy moustaches, quite red. (Tremblingly.) Just not fire. (Pause.) In a barn, but whose, for the life of me, I don’t remember. We didn't have a barn, and he didn't have one, that's for sure. (Closes eyes.) As now I see piles of pots. (Pause.) Boxes of apples. (Pause.) Shadows thicken between the beams.

Pause. She opens her eyes, puts on her glasses, raises her hat to her head, hearing Willy's voice, freezes with a hat in her hand.

Willie(is reading). We buy linden.

Pause. Winnie hastily puts on his hat, looking for his glasses. Willie turns the page. Winnie takes the mirror, examines the hat, puts the mirror away, turns to the bag. The newspaper disappears. Winnie rummages in his bag, takes out a magnifying glass, turns to the audience, looking for a toothbrush. The newspaper comes out again, this time folded, fanning Willy's face, his hand is not visible. Winnie takes the brush, peers through the magnifying glass into the handle.

Winnie. Real, not fake...

natural…

(He brings the brush closer to his eyes, reads.) Real, not fake...

Willie stops fanning himself.

natural…

Pause. Willy starts fanning himself again.

(Puts down the magnifier and brush, pulls out the handkerchief from behind the cutout, takes off the glasses, wipes the glasses, lifts up the glasses, looks for the magnifying glass, takes the magnifying glass, wipes it, puts down the magnifying glass, looks for the brush, takes the brush, wipes its handle, puts down the brush, puts the handkerchief back in cut, looks for a magnifying glass, takes a magnifying glass, looks for a brush, takes a brush, peers through a magnifying glass into a pen.) Real, not fake...

Willie stops fanning himself.

…natural…

Pause. Willy starts fanning himself again…. pork… Willy stops fanning himself, pause.

…stubble. (Pause. Puts down magnifying glass and brush, newspaper disappears. Takes off glasses, puts them down, looks into the room.) Pig bristle. (Pause.) After all, it's just a miracle what is - days - (smile)- by old standards - (smile gone)- Literally, not a day goes by without some fact enriching your mental baggage, however insignificant, in the sense, an insignificant fact, if you make an effort.

Willie's hand sticks out again with a postcard, he brings it closer to his eyes, looks at it.

Well, if for some reason you can't make an effort, well, then just - just close your eyes - (does so)- and wait, the day will come - (opens eyes)- so hot that the body melts, and there is no end to the moonlit night - so many hours it lasts - another happy day! (Pause.) When you become discouraged and envy every creature, it is a miracle how it consoles. (Turns to Willie.) I hope you don't miss my words. (He sees the postcard, bends even lower.) What do you have there, Willy, let me see. (Holds out his hand.)

Willy hands her a card: a hairy hand sticks out from behind the slope, hands the card back, and freezes until it gets back. Winnie turns to the audience, examines the postcard.

No, what have you come to! (Looks for glasses, puts them on, peers at the postcard.) Yes, this is the real most that neither is natural indecency! (Looks at the postcard.) What an abomination - just turns back from the soul!

Willie twiddles his fingers in impatience. Winnie looks for a magnifying glass, takes it, examines the card through a magnifying glass. Long pause.

And that third one, what is he doing? (Brings the card closer to her eyes.) Oh no, it can't be!

Willie twiddles his fingers in impatience. Long last look.

(Puts down the magnifying glass, takes the card by the edge with the index and thumb of the right hand, turns away, pinches his nose with the index and thumb of the left.) Ugh! (Drops the postcard.) Take her away!

Willie's hand disappears. And then it sticks out again - there is a postcard in it. Winnie takes off his glasses, puts them down, looks ahead. In the future, Willy enjoys the card, turning it this way and that, now bringing it closer, then moving it away.

Pig bristle, yes, pig bristle. (Puzzled face.) Pig, pig, what is it? (Pause. Same expression.) I remember what a boar is, I remember a boar, but what a pig is ... (There is no confusion.) Well, okay, it doesn’t matter, what else can I say, everything is eventually remembered - well, isn’t it a miracle: everything - everything is remembered. (Pause.) All? (Pause.) No, not all. (Smile.) Here it is not. (The smile is gone.) Not everyone. (Pause.) Yes, something. (Pause.) One fine day, yes, and it will pop up in my memory. (Pause.) Well, isn't it a miracle? (Pause. She turns to her bag.)

Both the hand and the postcard disappear.

(She reaches for her bag, but freezes with her hand outstretched.) No. (Turns to the audience. Smile.) Here it is not. (The smile is gone.) Don't rush, Vinnie. (Looks into the hall.)

Willie's hand sticks out again, takes off his hat, disappears with the hat.

The hand sticks out again, removes the handkerchief from the bald spot, disappears along with the handkerchief.

(Sharply, as if addressing an inattentive interlocutor.) Winnie!

Willie's head goes down, out of sight.

Is there any other way out? (Pause.) Is there another...

Willy blows his nose for a long time, neither his head nor his hands are visible. Winnie turns, looks at him. Pause. His head sticks out again. Pause. A hand with a handkerchief sticks out again, covers his bald head with it, disappears. Pause. Again the boater's hand sticks out, daringly pulls it on its side, disappears. Pause.

Yes, sleep as much as you want. (Turns to face the audience. Absently pulls at the blades of grass.)

The head - to give her words more expressiveness - goes up and down.

Except I can't stand being alone, I mean, I can't stand talking alone when no one is listening to me. (Pause.) No, no, Willie, I don't flatter myself that you hear everything. God forbid! (Pause.) It is possible that there are days when you hear nothing. (Pause.) But there are also those when you answer me. (Pause.) In a word, we can say that always, even when you don’t answer anything, and it’s possible that you don’t hear anything, you don’t hear everything, and I don’t just talk to myself, just like in the desert - I always endure this could not - could not endure for a long time. (Pause.) That's what gives me strength, strength to talk, that is. (Pause.) Well, what if you were to die? (smile)- if you approach with old standards - (smile gone)- or left me for another, what would I do then, what would I do with myself all day, from call to call, in the sense, from getting up to going to bed? (Pause.) I would look at one point, closing my mouth - what else? (He does so. Long pause. Stops pulling grass.) And she wouldn’t say a word more until her last breath, she wouldn’t break the local silence in any way. (Pause.) Is that sometimes, occasionally, would sigh in front of the mirror. (Pause.) Or… she would snort if something made me laugh, as she used to. (Pause. Breaks into a smile, it seems that the smile is about to turn into laughter, but suddenly it is replaced by an expression of alarm.) Hair! (Pause.) Did I forget to comb my hair? (Pause.) Most likely I haven't forgotten. (Pause.) Usually I don't forget. (Pause.) And how to forget - there is not much to do. (Pause.) So you do everything you can. (Pause.) All that is possible. (Pause.) Because you can't. (Pause.) Such is human nature. (Looks around the hillock, raises his eyes.) Such is human weakness. (Looks around the hillock again, looks up.) natural weakness. (Looks around the hillock again.) The comb has gone missing somewhere. (Looks around the hillock again.) And a brush. (He looks up. His face is bewildered. He turns to the bag and rummages through it.) The comb is here. (Facing the audience. Perplexity. Facing the bag. Rummages.) And the brush is here. (Facing the audience. Perplexity.) Apparently, I combed my hair and put them in place. (Pause. Same expression.) But after all, as a rule, I don’t put anything in the bag afterwards - no, on the contrary, I scatter things at random and put them in the bag only at the end of the day. (Smile.) By old standards. (Pause.) By good old standards. (The smile is gone.) And yet ... it seems to be ... I remember ... (With unexpected recklessness.) Well, okay, it doesn’t matter, what else can you say, I’ll take it and scratch myself later, there’s no hurry ... (Pause. Puzzled.) Scratch? (Pause.) Or will I brush my hair? Will I take it and brush it? (Pause.) Something is wrong here. (Pause. Half turns to Willy.) How would you say Willie? (Pause. Turns even more to Willy.) How would you say, Willy, if it was about hair, scratch it or brush it? (Pause.) I mean, the hair on your head. (Pause. Turns even more towards Willy.) So, how would you say, Willy, in this case - scratch or comb your hair?

Long pause.

Willie. I'll comb my hair.

Winnie(turns to the audience, joyfully). You will talk to me today - what a happy day it will be! (Pause. Joy is gone.) Another happy day! (Pause.) Oh yes, where did I stop, on the hair, but oh well, then, I will do a prayer of thanks later. (Pause.) I put on - (puts hands on hat)- of course, wearing a hat - (drops hands)- but you can't take it off. (Pause.) Just think: after all, it happens that you are not able to take off your hat, for the life of you. Sometimes you can't put it on, and sometimes you can't take it off. (Pause.) How many times have I said to myself: put on your hat, Winnie, there’s nothing left for you, and now take off your hat, Vinnie, don’t be stubborn, you yourself will be better - and I couldn’t. (Pause.) There was no strength. (Pause. He raises his hand, releases a strand of hair from under his hat, brings it to his eyes, squints his eyes, throws a strand, lowers his hand.) You called them golden on the day when the last guest finally left - (hand flies up like a glass in it)- let's drink to your golden ones ... let them never ... (crackling voice)... let them never ... (Lowers hands. Lowers head. Pause. In a whisper.) In that day. (Pause. Exactly the same.) What day? (Pause. Raises her head. In her normal voice.) And then what? (Pause.) I can’t find the words, it also happens that you won’t find the words either. (He half turns to Willie.) Right, Willy? (Pause. Turns even more towards him.) Isn't it true, Willie, that it sometimes happens that you can't find the words either? (Pause. Turns to the audience.) What to do until you find the words? Combing your hair if you haven’t combed it yet, well, if you don’t remember exactly, filing your nails if they need to be filed, all this helps to stay afloat. (Pause.) Here's what I wanted to say. (Pause.) That's all I wanted to say. (Pause.) Well, isn't it a miracle - not a day goes by - (smile)- by old standards - (smile gone)- so as not to repeat: there would be no happiness -

Willie falls, his head disappearing behind the slope.

(Turns to see what happened to him)- Yes, misfortune helped. (Bends down.) Climb back into your hole, Willie, it's not good to lie naked for so long. (Pause.) Look, Willie, stop lying in the sun and get back into your hole. (Pause.) Come on, Willy.

Invisible Willy crawls to the left towards the pit.

Well done! (Without taking his eyes off, he follows his progress towards the pit.) No, no, fools, first the legs, then the head, you won't turn around there. (Pause.) So, so… turned… now… we back away. (Pause.) I know, I know, dear, it's hard to crawl backwards, but it's worth it. (Pause.) You forgot the vaseline. (Watches him crawl out of the pit for Vaseline.) Lid! (Watches him crawling back towards the hole. Annoyed.) How many times do I have to tell you - first the legs, then the head. (Pause.) Take right. (Pause.) You've been told to the right. (Pause. Annoyed.) And ass, you hear, don't lift your ass! (Pause.) And once! (Pause.) Whoops! (All instructions were given in a loud voice. Now - still turning towards him - in a normal voice.) Can you hear me? (Pause.) Willie, I beg you, just say yes or no, you hear, just yes or don't say anything.

Pause.

Willie. Yes.

Winnie(turns to the audience, in the same voice). And now? Willie (irritated). Yes. Winnie (quiet). And now? Willie (even more annoyed). Yes.

Winnie(even quieter). And now? (A little louder.) And now? Willie (furious). Yes!

Winnie(same way). My soul is dark! (Pause.) Did you hear what I said? Willie (irritated). Yes! Winnie (same way). What? (Pause.) What? Willie (even more annoyed). My soul.

Pause.

Winnie(same way). What? (Pause.) What is your soul?

Willie(ferociously). My soul!

Winnie(in a normal voice, blurts out in one breath). God bless you for your kindness, Willie, I know what it's worth to you, but now rest, I won't bother you anymore, except at the very least, I mean, unless I go to the edge and don't find it at all what to do, and I hope it won’t come to that, to know that you hear me at least theoretically, even if you don’t actually hear me, to know that you are nearby and supposedly on the alert - I don’t need anything else, I won’t say anything like that, what you don’t like, I won’t blurt out for a sweet soul everything that tears my soul, otherwise I don’t know - you hear, you don’t hear - but I want to ease my soul. (Pause. She catches her breath.) The soul is out of place. (He searches for a heart with his index and middle fingers, moves his fingers back and forth, finally finds it.) Whether here. (Moves fingers.) Whether not. (Retracts his hand.) I feel that there will come a time when, before speaking a word, I will have to make sure that you have heard the previous one, and I feel that another time will come, yes - yes, quite another, when I will have to learn to talk to myself, and this I can’t stand it at all – it’s the same as in the desert. (Pause.) Or look ahead with your mouth closed. (It does so.) All day long. (Same expression.) No. (Smile.) Here it is not. (The smile is gone.) (Turns to her.) There is and will be. (Facing the hall.) I hope it will. (Pause.) Even when you're gone, Willie. (Half turns to him.) You'll be gone soon, Willie, right? (Pause. Louder.) You really won't be around very soon, Willie, right? (Pause. Louder.) Willy! (Pause. She leans back to look at him.) You, I see, took off the boater and did the right thing. (Pause.) You can’t say anything, it seems that you are so very comfortable - you rest your chin on your hands and stare at me from the darkness with your blue eyes. (Pause.) Can you see me from there - that's what I think, I always think. (Pause.) Can't you see? (Facing the hall.) I know - how not to know: when two people are connected - (crackling voice)- so closely - (in normal voice)- and one sees the other, it does not follow at all that the other also sees him, life has taught me this ... and this. (Pause.) That's exactly what life is, you can't say more precisely. (Half turns to him.) Willie, could you see me, what do you think, if you looked in my direction? (More turns to him.) Turn your eyes in my direction, Willie, and tell me if you see me, well, do it for me, and I will try to lean over. (He does so. Pause.) Will not say? (Pause.) No problem. (He turns to the hall with difficulty.) The earth somehow squeezed me today like a vise - I got fat, or something, but no, it seems not. (Pause. Absently, eyes lowered.) Nothing but the heat. (Slaps, strokes the ground.) Everything you take expands. One more. (Pause. Pats, strokes.) Another is less. (Pause. Same gestures.) I understand, it’s impossible not to understand what you’re thinking about: listening to her is utterly tired, and then there’s something else - if you please, look at her, but you can’t refuse. (Pause. Same gestures.) It seems to be asking for such a small thing, it seems, - (voice fades to a whisper)- you can’t ask for less - from your neighbor - at least - but in fact - you can’t help but understand - if you look into your soul - into your neighbor’s soul - what he wants - peace - to be left alone - and then how you can't understand better - that all this time - the moon - the moon from the sky, that's what you asked for. (Pause. The hand that was stroking the ground suddenly freezes. Lively.) Oh what is it? (Bends his head to the ground, stunned.) A living creature, she - she! (Looks for glasses, puts them on, bends even lower. Pause.) Ant! (She recoils. Shrieks.) Willie, the ant, the live ant! (Seizes the magnifying glass, again bends down to the ground, looks through the magnifying glass.) Where does he go? (Looks.) There he is! (Follows the progress of the ant through a magnifying glass.) Dragging some little white spool! (Follows the progress of the ant. Hands do not move. Pause.) Crawls on the grass. (Continuously looks at the ground through a magnifying glass, slowly straightens up, puts down the magnifying glass, takes off his glasses, looks straight ahead, glasses in his hand. Summing up.) Crawled away. (Long pause. He reaches out to put his glasses on.)

Willie. By ant.

Winnie(hand with glasses freezes). What-oh?

Pause.

Willie. By ant.

Pause. She reaches over to put her glasses on.

An ant crawls on the grass.

Winnie(hand with glasses hangs in the air). What-oh?

Pause.

Willie. An ant crawls on the grass.

Pause. She puts down her glasses, looks ahead.

Winnie(persuasively, in a whisper). God.

Pause. Willie laughs softly. After a while, she joins him. They laugh softly together. Willie breaks out laughing. She laughs alone for a minute. Willie joins her. They laugh together. She breaks out laughing. Willie laughs alone for another minute. She breaks out laughing. Pause.

(normal voice.) Still, Willy, I can't tell you how happy I am to hear you laugh again, I thought I wouldn't laugh again, and neither would you. (Pause.) Perhaps some will consider our laughter blasphemous, but I do not like such accusations. (Pause.) There is no better way to magnify the Lord than to laugh heartily at his petty jokes, especially flat ones. (Pause.) I think, Willie, you will agree with me on this. (Pause.) What if we weren't laughing at the same thing? (Pause.) And all the same, it doesn’t matter, what else can I say, as long as ... yes, you remember ... marvelous lines, how is it there? (Pause.) And then what? (Long pause.) Willy, could I ever like you? (Pause.) Could I ever like? (Pause.) Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking if you liked me, everything is clear to us here, I'm asking you if I could have liked me at all - once? (Pause.) No. (Pause.) Can't answer? (Pause.) I admit it's not an easy question. You already did everything in your power today, lie down, rest, I won’t bother you, unless it becomes very unbearable, just to know that you are there and, in theory, almost always ready ... this is ... uh- uh ... already heavenly bliss. (Pause.) The day is fading into evening. (Pause.) By old standards. (The smile is gone.) Still, it's too early to sing the resenka. (Pause.) You should never sing a song too early, I think. (Turns to the bag.) At worst, I have a bag. (Looks at the bag.) Here she is. (Facing the hall.) I wonder if I could list everything that is in it? (Pause.) No. (Pause.) Let's say I could, if a kind soul happened to be here and she asked me: Winnie, what is that in your big black bag? - to give an exhaustive answer? (Pause.) No. (Pause.) And as for what is at the bottom, and even more so, who knows what treasures are there. (Pause.) And what a help! (Turns to look at bag.) Yes, yes, I have a bag. (Facing the hall.) But something tells me, don't rely too much on your bag Winnie, of course, use it, let it help you ... survive when you hit a dead end, for God's sake, but look beyond your nose, Vinnie, and remember what will come the time when you can't find the words, (closes eyes, pause, opens eyes)- and don't rely too much on the bag. (Pause. Turns to look at the bag.) Unless to poke around once in a hurry. (He turns to face the audience, closes his eyes, reaches out with his left hand to the bag, takes out a revolver. Disgust.) You were just missing. (Opens his eyes, holds the revolver in front of him, examines it. He weighs it in his palm.) So heavy - it would seem that he belongs at the bottom ... along with the last cartridges. So no. No matter how. Forever "in sight, exactly - exactly like a Browning. (Pause.) Our Brownie... (He half turns to Willie.) Remember him, Willy? (Pause.) Do you remember how you did not give me life, demanded that I put it away? "Take him away, Vinnie, take him away, there is no more strength to endure my torment!" (Facing the audience. Contemptuously.) Your anguish! (To the revolver.) Perhaps it’s even comforting to know that you are here, but you hurt my eyes - that’s it! (Pause.) I'll evict you outside - that's how I'll deal with you! (Puts the revolver on the ground to his right.) You will live here from today! (Smile.) By old standards! (The smile is gone.) And then what? (Long pause.) Do you think, Willy, is gravity still active? In my opinion, no. (Pause.) I have such a feeling, and every day it is getting stronger, that if I were not chained - (gesture)- like this, I would just - simply fly away into the sky. (Pause.) And that one fine day the earth will part and let me go - it pulls me so high, yes, yes, it will part and let me go. (Pause.) Don't you ever feel like you're being carried away, Willie? (Pause.) Willie, don't you ever feel the urge to cling to something? (Pause. Half turns to him.) Willy.

Samuel Beckett

Happy Days

Oh les beaux jours / Happy Days by Samuel Beckett (1961)

Translation from English by L. Bespalov

Characters

Winnie- a woman in her fifties

Willie- a man in his sixties

Act one

Beckett happy days summary. Theatre. Happy days. Pushkin. Press about the play

Samuel Beckett
Happy Days

Act one

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