Complete Works, Volume IV Read online

  Sometimes, the director says to me in rehearsal: ‘Why does she say this?’ I reply: ‘Wait a minute, let me look at the text.’ I do so, and perhaps I say: ‘Doesn’t she say this because he said that, two pages ago?’ Or I say: ‘Because that’s what she feels.’ Or: ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. But somehow we have to find out.’ Sometimes I learn quite a lot from rehearsals.

  I have been very fortunate, in my life, in the people I’ve worked with, and my association with Peter Hall and the Royal Shakespeare Company has, particularly, been greatly satisfying. Peter Hall and I, working together, have found that the image must be pursued with the greatest vigilance, calmly, and once found, must be sharpened, graded, accurately focused and maintained, and that the key word is economy, economy of movement and gesture, of emotion and its expression, both the internal and the external in specific and exact relation to each other, so that there is no wastage and no mess. These are hardly revolutionary conclusions, but I hope no less worthy of restatement for that.

  I may appear to be laying too heavy an emphasis on method and technique as opposed to content, but this is not in fact the case. I am not suggesting that the disciplines to which I have been referring be imposed upon the action in terms of a device, or as a formal convenience. What is made evident before us on the stage can clearly only be made fully evident where the content of a scene has been defined. But I do not understand this definition as one arrived at through the intellect, but a definition made by the actors, using quite a different system. In other words, if I now bring various criteria to bear upon a production, these are not intellectual concepts but facts forged through experience of active participation with good actors and, I hope, a living text.

  What am I writing about? Not the weasel under the cocktail cabinet.

  I am not concerned with making general statements. I am not interested in theatre used simply as a means of self-expression on the part of the people engaged in it. I find in so much group theatre, under the sweat and assault and noise, nothing but valueless generalizations, naïve and quite unfruitful.

  I am aware, sometimes, of an insistence in my mind. Images, characters, insisting on being written. You can pour a drink, make a telephone call or run around the park, and sometimes succeed in suffocating them. You know they’re going to make your life hell. But at other times they’re unavoidable and you’re compelled to try to do them some kind of justice. And while it may be hell, it’s certainly for me the best kind of hell to be in.

  However, I find it ironic that I have come here to receive this distinguished award as a writer, and that at the moment I am writing nothing and can write nothing. I don’t know why. It’s a very bad feeling, I know that, but I must say I want more than anything else to fill up a blank page again, and to feel that strange thing happen, birth through fingertips. When you can’t write you feel you’ve been banished from yourself.

  Old Times

  Old Times was first presented by the Royal Shakespeare Company at the Aldwych Theatre, London, on 1 June 1971, with the following cast:

  DEELEY Cohn Blakely

  KATE Dorothy Tutin

  ANNA Vivien Merchant

  All in their early forties

  Directed by Peter Hall

  The play was produced for television by the BBC in October 1975 with the following cast:

  DEELEY Anna Cropper

  KATE Barry Foster

  ANNA Mary Miller

  Directed by Christopher Morahan

  It was produced at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, London, in April 1985 with the following cast:

  DEELEY Michael Gambon

  KATE Nicola Pagett

  ANNA Liv Ullmann

  Directed by David Jones

  PLACE

  A converted farmhouse.

  A long window up centre. Bedroom door up left. Front door up right.

  Spare modern furniture.

  Two sofas. An armchair.

  Autumn: Night.

  ACT ONE

  Light dim. Three figures discerned.

  DEELEY slumped in armchair, still.

  KATE curled on a sofa, still.

  ANNA standing at the window, looking out.

  Silence

  Lights up on Deeley and Kate, smoking cigarettes.

  Anna’s figure remains still in dim light at the window.

  KATE (Reflectively.) Dark.

  Pause

  DEELEY Fat or thin?

  KATE Fuller than me. I think.

  Pause

  DEELEY She was then?

  KATE I think so.

  DEELEY She may not be now.

  Pause

  Was she your best friend?

  KATE Oh, what does that mean?

  DEELEY What?

  KATE The word friend . . . when you look back . . . all that time.

  DEELEY Can’t you remember what you felt?

  Pause

  KATE It is a very long time.

  DEELEY But you remember her. She remembers you. Or why would she be coming here tonight?

  KATE I suppose because she remembers me.

  Pause

  DEELEY Did you think of her as your best friend?

  KATE She was my only friend.

  DEELEY Your best and only.

  KATE My one and only.

  Pause

  If you have only one of something you can’t say it’s the best of anything.

  DEELEY Because you have nothing to compare it with?

  KATE Mmnn.

  Pause

  DEELEY (Smiling.) She was incomparable.

  KATE Oh, I’m sure she wasn’t.

  Pause

  DEELEY I didn’t know you had so few friends.

  KATE I had none. None at all. Except her.

  DEELEY Why her?

  KATE I don’t know.

  Pause

  She was a thief. She used to steal things.

  DEELEY Who from?

  KATE Me.

  DEELEY What things?

  KATE Bits and pieces. Underwear.

  Deeley chuckles.

  DEELEY Will you remind her?

  KATE Oh . . . I don’t think so.

  Pause

  DEELEY Is that what attracted you to her?

  KATE What?

  DEELEY The fact that she was a thief.

  KATE No.

  Pause

  DEELEY Are you looking forward to seeing her?

  KATE No.

  DEELEY I am. I shall be very interested.

  KATE In what?

  DEELEY In you. I’ll be watching you.

  KATE Me? Why?

  DEELEY To see if she’s the same person.

  KATE You think you’ll find that out through me?

  DEELEY Definitely.

  Pause

  KATE I hardly remember her. I’ve almost totally forgotten her.

  Pause

  DEELEY Any idea what she drinks?

  KATE None.

  DEELEY She may be a vegetarian.

  KATE Ask her.

  DEELEY It’s too late. You’ve cooked your casserole.

  Pause

  Why isn’t she married? I mean, why isn’t she bringing her husband?

  KATE Ask her.

  DEELEY Do I have to ask her everything?

  KATE Do you want me to ask your questions for you?

  DEELEY No. Not at all.

  Pause

  KATE Of course she’s married.

  DEELEY How do you know?

  KATE Everyone’s married.

  DEELEY Then why isn’t she bringing her husband?

  KATE Isn’t she?

  Pause

  DEELEY Did she mention a husband in her letter?

  KATE No.

  DEELEY What do you think he’d be like? I mean, what sort of man would she have married? After all, she was your best—your only—friend. You must have some idea. What kind of man would he be?

  KATE I have no idea.

  DEELEY Haven’t you any curiosity?

&
nbsp; KATE You forget. I know her.

  DEELEY You haven’t seen her for twenty years.

  KATE You’ve never seen her. There’s a difference.

  Pause

  DEELEY At least the casserole is big enough for four.

  KATE You said she was a vegetarian.

  Pause

  DEELEY Did she have many friends?

  KATE Oh . . . The normal amount, I suppose.

  DEELEY Normal? What’s normal? You had none.

  KATE One.

  DEELEY Is that normal?

  Pause

  She . . . had quite a lot of friends, did she?

  KATE Hundreds.

  DEELEY You met them?

  KATE Not all, I think. But after all, we were living together. There were visitors, from time to time. I met them.

  DEELEY Her visitors?

  KATE What?

  DEELEY Her visitors. Her friends. You had no friends.

  KATE Her friends, yes.

  DEELEY You met them.

  Pause

  (Abruptly.) You lived together?

  KATE Mmmnn?

  DEELEY You lived together?

  KATE Of course.

  DEELEY I didn’t know that.

  KATE Didn’t you?

  DEELEY You never told me that. I thought you just knew each other.

  KATE We did.

  DEELEY But in fact you lived with each other.

  KATE Of course we did. How else would she steal my underwear from me? In the street?

  Pause

  DEELEY I knew you had shared with someone at onetime . . .

  Pause

  But I didn’t know it was her.

  KATE Of course it was.

  Pause

  DEELEY Anyway, none of this matters.

  Anna turns from the window, speaking, and moves down to them, eventually sitting on the second sofa.

  ANNA Queuing all night, the rain, do you remember? my goodness, the Albert Hall, Covent Garden, what did we eat? to look back, half the night, to do things we loved, we were young then of course, but what stamina, and to work in the morning, and to a concert, or the opera, or the ballet, that night, you haven’t forgotten? and then riding on top of the bus down Kensington High Street, and the bus conductors, and then dashing for the matches for the gasfire and then I suppose scrambled eggs, or did we? who cooked? both giggling and chattering, both huddling to the heat, then bed and sleeping, and all the hustle and bustle in the morning, rushing for the bus again for work, lunchtimes in Green Park, exchanging all our news, with our very own sandwiches, innocent girls, innocent secretaries, and then the night to come, and goodness knows what excitement in store, I mean the sheer expectation of it all, the looking-forwardness of it all, and so poor, but to be poor and young, and a girl, in London then . . . and the cafés we found, almost private ones, weren’t they? where artists and writers and sometimes actors collected, and others with dancers, we sat hardly breathing with our coffee, heads bent, so as not to be seen, so as not to disturb, so as not to distract, and listened and listened to all those words, all those cafés and all those people, creative undoubtedly, and does it still exist I wonder? do you know? can you tell me?

  Slight pause

  DEELEY We rarely get to London.

  Kate stands, goes to a small table and pours coffee from a pot.

  KATE Yes, I remember.

  She adds milk and sugar to one cup and takes it to Anna. She takes a black coffee to Deeley and then sits with her own.

  DEELEY (to Anna.) Do you drink brandy?

  ANNA I would love some brandy.

  Deeley pours brandy for all and hands the glasses. He remains standing with his own.

  ANNA Listen. What silence. Is it always as silent?

  DEELEY It’s quite silent here, yes. Normally.

  Pause

  You can hear the sea sometimes if you listen very carefully.

  ANNA How wise you were to choose this part of the world, and how sensible and courageous of you both to stay permanently in such a silence.

  DEELEY My work takes me away quite often, of course. But Kate stays here.

  ANNA No one who lived here would want to go far. I would not want to go far, I would be afraid of going far, lest when I returned the house would be gone.

  DEELEY Lest?

  ANNA What?

  DEELEY The word lest. Haven’t heard it for a long time.

  Pause

  KATE Sometimes I walk to the sea. There aren’t many people. It’s a long beach.

  Pause

  ANNA But I would miss London, nevertheless. But of course I was a girl in London. We were girls together.

  DEELEY I wish I had known you both then.

  ANNA Do you?

  DEELEY Yes.

  Deeley pours more brandy for himself.

  ANNA You have a wonderful casserole.

  DEELEY What?

  ANNA I mean wife. So sorry. A wonderful wife.

  DEELEY Ah.

  ANNA I was referring to the casserole. I was referring to your wife’s cooking.

  DEELEY You’re not a vegetarian, then?

  ANNA No. Oh no.

  DEELEY Yes, you need good food in the country, substantial food, to keep you going, all the air . . . you know.

  Pause

  KATE Yes, I quite like those kind of things, doing it.

  ANNA What kind of things?

  KATE Oh, you know, that sort of thing.

  Pause

  DEELEY Do you mean cooking?

  KATE All that thing.

  ANNA We weren’t terribly elaborate in cooking, didn’t have the time, but every so often dished up an incredibly enormous stew, guzzled the lot, and then more often than not sat up half the night reading Yeats.

  Pause

  (To herself.) Yes. Every so often. More often than not.

  Anna stands, walks to the window.

  And the sky is so still.

  Pause

  Can you see that tiny ribbon of light? Is that the sea? Is that the horizon?

  DEELEY You live on a very different coast.

  ANNA Oh, very different. I live on a volcanic island.

  DEELEY I know it.

  ANNA Oh, do you?

  DEELEY I’ve been there.

  Pause

  ANNA I’m so delighted to be here.

  DEELEY It’s nice I know for Katey to see you. She hasn’t many friends.

  ANNA She has you.

  DEELEY She hasn’t made many friends, although there’s been every opportunity for her to do so.

  ANNA Perhaps she has all she wants.

  DEELEY She lacks curiosity.

  ANNA Perhaps she’s happy.

  Pause

  KATE Are you talking about me?

  DEELEY Yes.

  ANNA She was always a dreamer.

  DEELEY She likes taking long walks. All that. You know. Raincoat on. Off down the lane, hands deep in pockets. All that kind of thing.

  Anna turns to look at Kate.

  ANNA Yes.

  DEELEY Sometimes I take her face in my hands and look at it.

  ANNA Really?

  DEELEY Yes, I look at it, holding it in my hands. Then I kind of let it go, take my hands away, leave it floating.

  KATE My head is quite fixed. I have it on.

  DEELEY (To Anna.) It just floats away.

  ANNA She was always a dreamer.

  Anna sits.

  Sometimes, walking, in the park, I’d say to her, you’re dreaming, you’re dreaming, wake up, what are you dreaming? and she’d look round at me, flicking her hair, and look at me as if I were part of her dream.

  Pause

  One day she said to me, I’ve slept through Friday. No you haven’t, I said, what do you mean? I’ve slept right through Friday, she said. But today is Friday, I said, it’s been Friday all day, it’s now Friday night, you haven’t slept through Friday. Yes I have, she said, I’ve slept right through it, today is Saturday.

  DEELEY You mean she lit
erally didn’t know what day it was?

  ANNA No.

  KATE Yes I did. It was Saturday.

  Pause

  DEELEY What month are we in?

  KATE September.

  Pause

  DEELEY We’re forcing her to think. We must see you more often. You’re a healthy influence.

  ANNA But she was always a charming companion.

  DEELEY Fun to live with?

  ANNA Delightful.

  DEELEY Lovely to look at, delightful to know.

  ANNA Ah, those songs. We used to play them, all of them, all the time, late at night, lying on the floor, lovely old things. Sometimes I’d look at her face, but she was quite unaware of my gaze.

  DEELEY Gaze?

  ANNA What?

  DEELEY The word gaze. Don’t hear it very often.

  ANNA Yes, quite unaware of it. She was totally absorbed.

  DEELEY In Lovely to look at, delightful to know?

  KATE (To Anna.) I don’t know that song. Did we have it?

  DEELEY (Singing, to Kate.) You’re lovely to look at, delightful to know . . .

  ANNA Oh we did. Yes, of course. We had them all.

  DEELEY (Singing.) Blue moon, I see you standing alone . . .

  ANNA (Singing.) The way you comb your hair . . .

  DEELEY (Singing.) Oh no they can’t take that away from me . . .

  ANNA (Singing.) Oh but you’re lovely, with your smile so warm . . .

  DEELEY (Singing.) I’ve got a woman crazy for me. She’s funny that way.

  Slight pause

  ANNA (Singing.) You are the promised kiss of springtime . . .

  DEELEY (Singing.) And someday I’ll know that moment divine, When all the things you are, are mine!

  Slight pause