ACT THREE
During intermission stage has been reset with additional bunting, banners, tinsel and garlands of fireworks. At curtain ARMY, CADRE & VILLAGE CHORUSES ENTER to clamor of cymbals and Chinese opera music.
ALL CHORUSES: Great things are about to happen!
Great events are about to unfold!
The moment you have all been waiting for
Has arrived!
Enormous forces are moving in
From the East
And from the West!
ENTER MAO right escorted by TZU-DOH and wearing red silk robe. They remain right as LAY-MEE ENTERS left escorted by SHEN-TEH. LAY-MEE wears green silk kimono. SHEN-TEH and LAY-MEE remain left as:
Darkness and light are converging
The soft and the hard coming together
The Yin and Yang of human destiny
In the disguise of a man and a maiden
See how their eyes flash!
Feel the quickening of their heartbeats!
CADRE CHORUS: The fate of a billion people is at stake!
The spotlight of world history
Is focused on
This clashing of attracted opposites!
ARMY CHORUS: This is no playwright’s fantasy!
These events really did happen!
VILLAGE CHORUS: The Famous Seduction Scene
Is close at hand comrades
So keep your eyes and ears open!
During singing SHEN-TEH and TZU-DOH have been grooming their respective ‘champions’ and coaching them with advice we cannot hear. Lighting concentrates on MAO and LAY-MEE, the two lover/combatants.
CADRE CHORUS: What you will see
Is the attempted seduction
Of a man by a woman
But lying beneath their moonlit surfaces
Are the bones of a great revolution!
Remember!
Ten thousand years of feudalism
Are vying with
Ten thousand years of social justice!
SHEN-TEH: Why can’t political ideology take a back seat for a little while and let these two lovers work out their own destinies?
TZU-DOH: It’s understandable why you want the seduction scene deprived of its social ramifications, Shen-teh. But you can’t expect us to write off all the dead heroes of our revolution just like that! [Snaps fingers and strikes heroic pose preparing to sing as STAGE MANAGER ENTERS.]
THE STAGE MANAGER: Hold it right there! I’m afraid we are really running late tonight. We will have to cut all that "Dead Hero" business and go right to—[Consulting script.]—Shen-teh's soliloquy on her love for a shotdown pilot. [To audience.] Ladies and gentlemen I’m sure you are aware of just how late it’s getting to be so I will briefly summarize the action leading up to The Famous Seduction Scene you have all been waiting for. The dead heroes who were mentioned a moment ago speak to Mao about the sacrifices they made to create a new China, how they died with his name on their lips, how they wrote patriotic messages in the snow with the last drops of their life’s blood, et cetera. Also the ghosts of Marx, Lenin, Rosa Luxemburg and La Pasionara remind Mao that the price of greatness is selfsacrifice, et cetera—[Turning pages.] The Village Chorus states the antithetical argument: "What makes you think one night of love isn’t worth ten thousand years of fame and glory?" The Villagers accuse Marx and Lenin of being puritanical. The Cadre Chorus responds with the counter argument that: "The Famous Seduction scene is really a sexist throwback to the crassest kind of theatrical commercialism." The Army Chorus takes a middle position: They want to see The Famous Seduction Scene as badly as you do but they are also sensitive to its ‘ideological’ implications"—[Turning pages.] All of which brings us to Shen-teh's soliloquy—[Cues SHEN-TEH with nod.]
SHEN-TEH: Once I loved a man with ideas in his head about soaring skyward. How he hated having his feet on the ground! So he offered his services to the People’s Liberation Army boasting that he could: "float like a butterfly and sting like a bee! And the next thing either of us knew, he was lying in my arms with every bone in his body smashed! "Now that your wings are broken, butterfly, what have you got to say to me!" And what did he reply? "It was all a mistake, my darling—just a silly masculine mistake!" That’s why I say to you: Is the fate of all China really more important than the fate of these two lovers? What is life about if not moments like these? Who gives a damn about dialectical materialism, hydroelectric plants, popup toasters, frozen TV dinners or moon rocks? Do you actually want a hamburger stand on every street corner, or would you rather enjoy the simple pleasures of pure love? With love power you will fly higher than any fighter pilot, comrades! With love power the gates of ten thousand Pekings will open to receive you!
THE STAGE MANAGER: Shen-teh's emotional appeal is answered by the Cadre who tell us any argument concerning the outcome of The Famous Seduction Scene is academic anyway because history demonstrates that Mao Tse-tung did indeed go on to fight more battles, enter Peking and establish a new Chinese state, etc., etc. The Peasants, however, raise the rather ingenious point that, since "How Mao" is art and not history, the outcome of the play is still in doubt—
TZU-DOH: That is sheer revisionistic sophistry, of course!
THE STAGE MANAGER: I wouldn’t know about the political fallout, comrade, but it is an interesting idea. So, why don’t we hear your speech, Mrs Muk?
MRS MUK: [Stepping forward from Village Chorus.] We only want to see what would happen if Mao did decide to stay here with Lay-mee and spend the rest of his life writing poetry. Maybe in that way he might revolutionize China with just the power of his imagination; with poems, instead of bullets. Proving once and for all that a man’s pen is mightier than his sword.
MAI-WEI: And who will provide the great poet Mao Tse-tung with his winter underwear and bok choy?
LAY-MEE: I will! I will work and slave for him!
MEE-TOU: Poetry is stupid, bourgeois and a total waste of time!
MRS MUK: Maybe if you spoke more poetically comrade, your propaganda might be more effective!
THE STAGE MANAGER: Alright, I think we’ve got the flavor of that. [Turning pages.] Now there is a very long speech about the exaltation of life through the appreciation of art and an equally long speech about the exaltation of life via the implementation of revolutionary social justice—[Turning pages.] And that brings us to The Famous Seduction Scene itself—where our two putative lovers are led to the couch and the Choruses exit. [EXIT ALL CHORUSES.] Thank you, ladies and gentlemen—that saved us about 25 minutes. [EXIT STAGE MANAGER.]
SHEN-TEH and TZU-DOH have led their respective champions to couch. MAO assumes semireclining pose. His robe removed, he is covered from waist down by blanket. LAY-MEE sits on opposite end of couch brushing her hair. Shen-teh attends Lay-mee, fussing with silk kimono, adjusting its neckline and whispering final instructions. Tzu-doh attends Mao, hands him poet’s pad & pen, arranges covers.
TZU-DOH: What’s going on over there? What is all that whispering about?
SHEN-TEH: It’s none of your business.
TZU-DOH: It most certainly is my business!
SHEN-TEH: It’s all up to them now, you silly old man. [TZU-DOH moves right hand screen to conceal Mao.] What do you think you’re doing?
TZU-DOH: In Peking The Famous Seduction Scene is always played behind the screens.
SHEN-TEH: [Restoring screen to its original position flanking couch.] Well, this isn’t Peking! Here we let the audience see what is going on!
TZU-DOH: [Replacing screen in front of Mao.] That would be both politically and artistically unwise.
SHEN-TEH: [Moving screen away from couch.] You always were a prude!
TZU-DOH: [Having a tug-of-war with SHEN-TEH over screen.] What do you mean by "always?"
SHEN-TEH: Just forget I said that.
TZU-DOH: This is ridiculous! [He is losing tug-of-war.]
SHEN-TEH: I always could outmuscle you!
TZU-DOH: [Stops tugging at screen.] There you go again with that "always" business—can it be? That you—that I—that we—?
SHEN-TEH: Yes, it’s me, you fossilized relic! But this isn’t the time or place for telling the story of how we were young actors playing the provinces and falling in love and being victimized by the gathering storm clouds of war and revolution—
TZU-DOH: The last play we did together was—The Good Woman of Tzechuan! You were Shen-teh and I was your pilot-lover, Sun—until the theater was destroyed in an air-raid and I made my way back to Peking—
SHEN-TEH: While I stayed in Tzechuan playing the part of Shen-teh for real!
TZU-DOH: I thought you were dead! My whole life since then has been—
SHEN-TEH: A desolate wasteland! Yes, yes, yes—I know the feeling! [TZU-DOH breaks down, she consoles him.] Come; we can talk about our longlost lovelife backstage while these two work out their own destinies. [EXIT with TZU-DOH.]
LAY-MEE: At last, we’re alone! What are you writing?
MAO: An ode to your beauty—[Drops pad.] But words are useless to describe what my hands are itching to—[Puts hands on her shoulders. Warning Buzzer previously mentioned by Stage Manager sounds.] How perfectly your shoulders fit in my hands! And how desperately those hands want to push down on that green silk!
MAO starts pushing kimono down from Lay-mee's shoulders. ENTER CARRUTHERS wearing gray business suit, puts screens in front of couch. Absorbed in each other, MAO and LAY-MEE take no notice of this business.
CARRUTHERS: [To audience.] I hate to do this ladies and gentlemen, but in the interest of national security, this scene must be aborted. My name is Bruce Carruthers. I’m a special field agent of the U.S. State Department—[Flashes wallet badge.] At 9:47 p.m. local time our office received this priority dispatch from Washington. It reads: "From State Department, Bureau of Far Eastern Affairs, People’s Republic of China Section, Political Subsection, Cultural Exchange Desk; To Special field office (Insert local place name ); Subject: Performance of Play entitled: ‘How The Most, Most Revered Chairman Mao Tse-tung Struggled With The Triple Temptations of Sex, Selfinterest And Satrapy.’
Paragraph 1: At 1632 hours our time a communique was hand delivered from legation of PRC re impending performance above-entitled play.
Paragraph 2: Gravamen PRC communique is that recent performances of said play contain unhistoric and scandalous portrayal of Mao Tse-tung in socalled ‘Famous Seduction Scene.’
Paragraph 3: You are hereby authorized and directed to proceed (name of theater ) and take all measures necessary prevent embarrassment to U.S. government in connection aforementioned ‘Famous Seduction Scene.’"
The balance of the message is classified but I can tell you that Force Level 9 has been approved for this operation; and the only higher Force Level than that involves the use of nuclear devices; so you can see how serious all of this is.
ENTER STAGE MANAGER.
THE STAGE MANAGER: What’s going on now? Have they changed the script again!
CARRUTHERS: [Flashing badge.] I’m special agent Carruthers, U.S. State Department and this scene has got to be cut.
THE STAGE MANAGER: Wait a minute—this is still a free country isn’t it?
CARRUTHERS: That doesn’t mean you can put filth like this on a stage and get away with it.
THE STAGE MANAGER: You’re insulting the intelligence of this audience, Mr Carruthers. They didn’t come here expecting to see filth. They came to be enlightened by a work of artistic distinction. Isn’t that right, ladies and gentlemen?
CARRUTHERS: It doesn’t matter what motivated them. My job is to prevent the outbreak of World War III!
THE STAGE MANAGER: And what’s supposed to happen now?
CARRUTHERS: We’ll just wait until The Famous Seduction Scene is over and then you can go on with the rest of the play. It’s not as if this was censorship—[Takes look behind screens.] Good God; you weren’t really going to permit the audience to see this, were you!
THE STAGE MANAGER: [Looks behind screen, is not very impressed.] I never know exactly what the actors are going to do in this scene, Mr Carruthers. It’s known as "improvisation"—
CARRUTHERS: Where I was raised they call it "smut!" [To audience after another look behind screens.] Believe me ladies and gentlemen, it’s a good thing for you I got here when I did! [Taking another look.] This is really hard to stomach! One can understand the attitude of the Chinese government on this. How would we like it if the Chinks performed plays about George Washington fornicating his merry way through that long winter at Valley Forge? I’m sure lots of hankypanky went on behind the scene of our revolution while Martha was back at the ranch sewing American flags, but that’s no excuse for some oriental dramatist to take advantage of the situation, is it? Sometimes you have to wonder about these dramatists—I mean, what kind of sick mind does it take to reduce a man like Mao Tse-tung or George Washington to the status of a 4th-rate porno stud?
THE STAGE MANAGER: [Looking behind screens.] That’s not true ladies and gentlemen. The Famous Seduction Scene is being played with the highest level of taste and artistic skill. I just wish you could see what we’re seeing. Simply because there is some nudity involved—
CARRUTHERS: Some nudity!
THE STAGE MANAGER: It was the management’s carefully considered decision that the sight of naked human bodies within the context of a profoundly philosophical play like "How Mao" is not only permissible, it is mandatory. I don’t know how you folks feel about it but personally, I think government intervention of this kind is far more obscene than what is happening behind these screens—
ENTER WEST with Oscar statuette tucked under his arm.
WEST: Why are the screens obscuring the action?
THE STAGE MANAGER: Thank goodness you’re here, Mr West—
CARRUTHERS: So you’re the fellow who wrote this "play!"
WEST: And who the hell are you?
CARRUTHERS: [Flashes badge.] Carruthers of the State Department.
WEST: Not so fast; I want to take a closer look at that I.D. if you don’t mind—[Examines wallet.] This badge looks like a phony to me.
CARRUTHERS: Are you nuts?
WEST: What do you think Max? [Hands wallet to STAGE MANAGER.]
THE STAGE MANAGER: This photo doesn’t seem to match up with his face.
CARRUTHERS: I’ve lost some weight since that was taken—
WEST: I think you’re an importer—an agent provocateur sent to wreck this production! Whose payroll are you really on—NBC? ABC? 20th Century Fox? This play of mine has got them all crapping in their corporate pants, hasn’t it! They know damned well what a hardhitting docudrama like "How Mao" can do to their lock on the mass mind! If the Great Unwashed ever find out how exalting real culture can be they might riot in the streets. Why this Famous Seduction scene alone could trigger an upheaval that would make the Chinese revolution look like a 4th of July picnic!
CARRUTHERS: You really are insane if you think you can overthrow America’s cultural establishment with this kind of esoteric intellectual garbage—
WEST: I’ll show you how insane I am [Rips up Carruthers' I.D.] I say you are an importer, "Carruthers." I say you’re nothing but a dime-a-dozen bit player from some daytime soap opera seeking to sabotage the art form you betrayed by whoring for a TV network.
THE STAGE MANAGER: Now that you mention it, Mr West, he does look like young Dr Stevens from "The Razor’s Edge Of Destiny."
WEST: That tin badge was straight out of the props department at NBC.
CARRUTHERS: [Pulls pistol.] Does this look like a prop!
THE STAGE MANAGER: Things are getting out of hand now, fellows; we’re only dealing with a scene from a play, after all.
WEST: I can’t think of a better reason to die, Max, than for a scene from a play! But we are not going to die because that gun is as fake as he is—[Advances on CARRUTHERS.]
CARRUTHERS: I’m warning you!
WEST: Even your dialogue is unconvincing—it reeks of soap powder! In a good play or even in real life a character like "Carruthers" pulls the trigger on a guy like me without batting an eye.
CARRUTHERS: I’m warning you!
WEST: There you go again with that same bankrupt dialogue! The next thing you’ll say is you’re going to count to 3 and then pull the trigger—
CARRUTHERS: If that’s the way you want it, wiseguy! 1! 2! 3!
He fires several times. WEST falls, mortally wounded.
THE STAGE MANAGER: Do you realize you’ve just killed one of the greatest theatrical minds of our time!
CARRUTHERS: I warned him! [To audience.] You are all witnesses to that fact!
WEST: [Still lying face down and motionless.] Don’t be a complete ass, Carruthers; you can’t expect the audience to believe that anything they see happen on this stage is factual.
THE STAGE MANAGER: Mr West! Thank God you are alive! Are you wounded?
WEST: [Sitting.] Sorry for scaring you like that, Max—but I just couldn’t resist taking that pratfall and becoming the first playwright to "die" on stage for the sake of his art form!
THE STAGE MANAGER: I think we ought to send for the police—
CARRUTHERS: I can explain everything!
WEST: [Rising, brushing dust from clothes.] Explain, Carruthers—or whatever your name is!
CARRUTHERS: My name is really Carlton Standish and I do play Dr Stevens in "The Razor’s Edge Of Destiny"—not that I’m happy doing soap. All my life I’ve dreamed of being part of a legitimate rep company like this one. If you check your files you’ll see I’ve sent you my resume on more than one occasion—
THE STAGE MANAGER: We don’t keep a file of unsolicited resumes. Now that legitimate theater is all the rage we’re inundated with job applications from commercially successful TV actors.
CARRUTHERS: I can certainly believe that! When the network people first approached me on this "project" I told them in no uncertain terms that Carlton Standish wasn’t about to dirtytrick what he knew deep down in his acting core to be the most sacred expression of everything that is fine, decent and noble in a theatrical tradition reaching back to ancient Greece!
WEST: Good for you, Carruthers!!!!
CARRUTHERS: Standish. Carlton Standish, Mr West.
WEST: Continue with your story, Standish—please!
CARRUTHERS: But when they shoved that original contract under my nose; the one I had so impetuously signed and that mortgaged my soul for a shot at primetime immortality—what else could I do but play the role they cast for me. As an actor what choice have you got? If they tell you to play Hitler, you play Hitler; you turn yourself into a massmurdering antiSemite. And if they tell you to sabotage a performance of "How Mao" you salute and give it your best shot. Actually, in a perverse kind of way, I consider the role of "Carruthers" as the greatest acting challenge of my career—
WEST: And you failed it magnificently!
THE STAGE MANAGER: So the network really did send you here to sabotage "How Mao?"
CARRUTHERS: As Mr West says—they are plenty scared. The entire massmedia establishment is sweating bullets! This theatrical renaissance of yours has got them totally buffaloed.
THE STAGE MANAGER: Maybe that explains the "mysterious" fire we had last week in Pittsburgh, and those missing wardrobe trunks in Des Moines—
WEST: And what about those poor bastards who perished in the Grasslands on our way here tonight?
THE STAGE MANAGER: You think they’d really go that far—to murder actors?
CARRUTHERS: They are in the grip of a mindless panic Max; their ratings are headed nowhere but south. Millions of average American couch potatoes are leaving their boob tubes every night to attend plays at a local theater. Even "The Razor’s Edge of Destiny" is being canceled; which is another reason why I was hoping you might take pity on me and—
WEST: All right Carruthers; you said the magic word. We will take pity on you. You can hire on as a supernumerary at $25 a week. How’s that sound?
CARRUTHERS: What can I say Mr West, after the way I spoiled The Famous Seduction Scene—except "thanks?"
THE STAGE MANAGER: I’m afraid Carruthers is right Mr West. The seduction scene has been ruined. [He removes screens from couch. MAO and LAY-MEE are discovered dressing. They are out of character hereafter.] I doubt if they could play that scene twice.
WEST: How do you two feel about it?
MAO: I’m really bushed—
LAY-MEE: Physically and psychologically we would need quite some time to regain the energy we just expended. It takes a terrific head of motivational steam to reach the kind of climax this scene demands.
WEST: I understand.
THE STAGE MANAGER: [To audience.] I hope you understand too, ladies and gentlemen. Normally, at the conclusion of The Famous Seduction Scene the actor and actress who have played it are justifiably finished for the night—
MAO: You can say that again!
LAY-MEE: The emotional drain is awesome!
THE STAGE MANAGER: It is certainly a cut or two above your average love scene. So much more is at stake—
WEST: [To audience.] I think we should clarify something before you folks are sent home. The conclusion should not be drawn that her seduction of him was necessarily successful. All of that "post coital" fatigue and perspiration you are seeing might have been produced just as well by the inner, spiritual struggle unfolding behind those screens; and never actually consummated with an act of sex. Just because Carruthers says he saw some steamy copulation going on doesn’t mean it really did. Despite his lack of classical training, Carruthers may yet be capable of producing a credible theatrical effect now and then.
CARRUTHERS: That’s really very generous of you, Mr West. If you want me to say what I actually saw, I’d be happy to—
WEST: I would prefer it if you didn’t. It’s a question of having the necessary "poetical" skills—
LAY-MEE: Are we finished then?
WEST: Yes, you can go—and thank you both; it was a nice performance despite the—well, you know.
CARRUTHERS: [To MAO and LAY-MEE.] Listen, I’m really sorry about—
MAO: Forget it—
EXIT MAO and LAY-MEE.
THE STAGE MANAGER: [To audience.] If you would like to applaud those two fine actors for their hard work you should do it now ladies and gentlemen, as this play does not provide for any curtain calls.
MAO and LAY-MEE RE-ENTER for applause. CARRUTHERS EXITS with them, still apologizing.
THE STAGE MANAGER: What do you want to do now, Mr West?
WEST: We could do what we did in Barstow when Mao had an attack of appendicitis; or better yet when that theater in Cicero was evacuated because of a bomb threat—
THE STAGE MANAGER: Do you really want to try the Cicero, Illinois version of The Famous Seduction Scene in a conservative town like this?
WEST: What the hell, let’s give it a try and see just how "counterrevolutionary" this audience truly is!
THE STAGE MANAGER: I’ll check backstage to see which of the actresses remembers the Cicero version—[EXIT.]
WEST: It will be just a few moments, ladies and gentlemen. Most of the cast have taken off their costumes and makeup and gotten out of character but Max should be able to scrounge up someone who remembers what we did in Cicero, Illinois a few weeks ago. Actually, The Famous Seduction Scene is interrupted so many times by design and by accident that we’re all rather used to improvising it—[Lights cigarette.] Which, speaking as the playwright who wrote it, is not necessarily a bad thing. To be perfectly candid with you, I’m not sure I’ve ever really gotten a definitive handle on the damned thing! That scene is like a force of nature. It has a will of its own that pretty much defies being fully scripted. When you let two powerpacked elements like sex and selfsacrifice loose in a dramatic situation like this, sometimes all a playwright can do is stand back and watch what happens.
Actually the script itself simply stagedirects the actors to "surrender themselves totally to the situation in which their characters have been placed"—and that can be more than a little scary because we really don’t know exactly what is going to happen on that couch from show to show. I know you think it’s obvious that when you put a sexy young actress and a virile young actor on a piece of furniture like this—[Approaches couch.]—she being stark naked beneath the green silk of her kimono and he, under his light covers, manifestly ready for lovemaking—the only possible outcome is the pornographic kind our friend Carruthers found so difficult to describe just now. And, no doubt that is the way you, or I perhaps, would indeed play The Famous Seduction Scene—by just doing what comes naturally. But we must remember who the actors are portraying. This is no ordinary man—[Takes Mao’s position on couch.]—lying here.
While following speech is delivered to audience it is also part of a continuing dialogue West—the playwright—has with himself concerning the infinite possibilities of ending The Famous Seduction Scene.
This is Mao Tse-tung lying here! A man of towering artistic talent and awesome intellectual capabilities. He has a poet’s eye for "implications." He knows, does he not, that his seduction is more than sexual—that the ravishingly beautiful young woman who shares his bed represents the antithesis of his thrust for political power. It is she who stands between him and all the heroic statuary that will adorn his vast empire of social justice. And there is more than his own hubris that his poet’s eye detects. He actually envisions a hopelessly impoverished China transformed by him into a promised land filled with a billion smiling peasant faces!
Let us be fair, ladies and gentlemen, and stipulate that those ten thousand years of peasant oppression are not a figment of Mao’s Marxist mentality—or my cinematic imagination! Mao Tse-tung has actually seen the brutality of a feudalism which for our civilization became ancient history 2 or 3 centuries ago! Accordingly, the burden of messiahship rests heavily on his shoulders as he lies here pondering the seductive charms of that girl in the green silk kimono. And yet the yin force she represents is not entirely external. The poet Mao is wise enough to know there is a feminine side to his own nature—the artist struggling within the freedomfighter for selfsupremacy! Hasn’t Mao himself proclaimed the power of poetry to alter the way mankind perceives its very being? And has he not also said that all social progress comes from the muzzle of an AK-47? From a playwriting point of view, these are contradictions whose sexual solution demands the utmost finesse—
ENTER STAGE MANAGER with THE GIRL, wearing kimono.
THE STAGE MANAGER: This is all I could find, Mr West. She says she remembers the Cicero, Illinois version—
THE GIRL: [Sitting on couch opposite WEST.] I said I think I remember it.
THE STAGE MANAGER: What do you think, Mr West—it sounds a bit risky to me.
WEST: A little risk is just what we need, Max!
THE STAGE MANAGER: I suppose you’ll want the same sound track and lighting we improvised that night?
WEST: Right.
THE STAGE MANAGER: [Calling backstage or to projection booth.] Let’s have the Cicero lighting scheme for The Famous Seduction Scene! [Lighting changes are made.] Do you like that twilight effect Mr West—or would you prefer dawn?
WEST: How about something between twilight and dawn?
THE STAGE MANAGER: I’ll see what I can do.
EXIT STAGE MANAGER. Thereafter stage lighting will be adjusted to achieve desired effect as:
WEST: Why does Max keep referring to you as my wife?
THE GIRL: Does he? I don’t remember him ever doing it.
Pause. WEST is uncomfortable. He avoids eye contact with THE GIRL.
WEST: That kimono looks good on you.
THE GIRL: Thank you. [Pause.] Are you planning to play the scene with that statuette?
WEST: Good lord, no! I didn’t realize I was still holding the wretched thing!
THE GIRL: It was quite an honor—"a tribute long overdue," as the presenter said.
WEST: It’s just so much egotistical trash; cheap, shoddy garbage—even the way it’s made symbolizes what’s become of the "Hollywood dream." You can see the moldmarks on the damned thing! Nowadays they can’t afford the extra manhours required to finish the job properly—[About to discard Oscar.]
THE GIRL: No! Don’t throw it away! [Takes Oscar from WEST, puts it somewhere out of sight.]
WEST: God how I hated that award ceremony—hated myself most of all for participating in it. And that stupid acceptance speech of mine! Its consummate banality was nothing less than criminal!
THE GIRL: I thought it was a good speech—
WEST: Well you thought wrong. It was a lousy speech. I wanted to tell them all to screw themselves.
THE GIRL: Why didn’t you?
WEST: Because I didn’t have the guts, the integrity—the balls. Because I know I’m no better than any of them and probably a hell of a lot worse because they never had the talent I did.
THE GIRL: Do.
WEST: Did. I am a classic example of the burntout case, my love.
THE GIRL: Then why am I still so hopelessly attracted to you?
WEST: A good question! Can you really play this scene with conviction after the way I’ve treated you all this time?
THE GIRL: You haven’t treated me badly.
WEST: I’ve ignored you—deliberately ignored you since that first day I saw you backstage. How long has that been now—three weeks?
THE GIRL: What difference does it make now how long ago that was?
WEST: I’m trying to establish some reference points; trying to find out what time and place this is—and who the hell we really are.
THE GIRL: That’s easy. It is the spring of 1934 and this is the remotest corner of northeast China. You are Mao Tse-tung and I am the Princess Lay-mee.
WEST: That’s one possibility—that’s one way of playing it; but there are other possibilities. This could be 1989 and we could be on a stage in (name of performance venue.) playing the seduction scene as the people we actually are.
THE GIRL: Is that how you want to play it?
WEST: Yes! I am Artemis West, a writer of stage and screenplays who, despite being the recipient of a certain prestigious plastic statuette, has doubts about his role in the cosmic scheme of things. And who might you be?
THE GIRL: I’m "The Girl" who "suddenly" appears backstage one day and becomes a member of your "How Mao" touring company.
WEST: And when was that exactly—3 or 4 weeks ago in Denver?
THE GIRL: If that is how you remember our first meeting, yes.
WEST: That’s just the it; I don’t remember our first meeting—not clearly anyway. Could it have been more than a month ago?
THE GIRL: Why is the exact time so important?
WEST: For one thing, if it wasn’t so important you wouldn’t be so goddammed evasive about it! So: we are talking more than 3 weeks, aren’t we!
THE GIRL: Yes.
WEST: Significantly more?
THE GIRL: Yes.
WEST: 3 years ? [No response from THE GIRL.] Jesus, you’ve been backstage 3 years and I have ignored you all that time!
THE GIRL: 3 years isn’t that long—
WEST: But it could have been more than 3 years! Why can’t I remember when you entered my life! Closing my eyes I can see—yes! I see you sitting on some stairs—the circular variety one finds backstage in the older theaters. Is that right?
THE GIRL: Yes.
WEST: You’re wearing a green blouse—of a shade very similar to the kimono worn by Mao’s seductress, and made from the same kind of silky fabric. So, it could have been 3 years ago when we were doing "How Mao" in Charleston. As I recall, there is a very fine example of a cast iron circular stairway in that theater.
THE GIRL: Then let it be Charleston.
WEST: But it wasn’t Charleston, was it!
THE GIRL: No.
WEST: Then where? And when? And how could you let all this time pass without calling attention to yourself?
THE GIRL: There were reasons.
WEST: Such as?
THE GIRL: You were busy. It was understandable why you would avoid a nobody like me; and I was content just being near you; watching your brilliant career unfold. I always knew that someday—
: : WEST: Someday what?
THE GIRL: Someday we would be here like this that this time would come and we would be sitting here, just the two of us—
WEST: You make it sound as if it could have been 20, or even 30 years ago when we first—Jesus! Could it have been way back then that I first laid eyes on you? We were only children!
THE GIRL: No, not children—
WEST: Alright, not quite that young—but still very, very far from being adults. And that circular stairway was backstage of the high school auditorium in Mount Olympus! That’s where we first met, isn’t it?
THE GIRL: I only recall sitting—somewhere—and then suddenly seeing you—seeing your face—and making the briefest. most evanescent, contact with your eyes.
WEST: 30 years ago! It can’t be possible you’ve been waiting 30 years to play this scene with me—
THE GIRL: I don’t know. It doesn’t seem that long to me. It could have been 3 weeks. Don’t forget, 3 weeks ago we were doing "How Mao" in Mt. Olympus—
WEST: That’s right! We had gone back there for a special performance of the play after the Pulitzers were announced! That could account for my confusion. Yes; I remember thinking at the time —at the time I first saw you sitting on those stairs wearing that green silk blouse: What is she doing backstage; and who the hell is she? I’ve never seen her before, and yet there is something familiar about her face, as if I had seen it before, but such an incredibly long time ago—
THE GIRL: Yes. That’s exactly how I felt when I first saw you!
WEST: 3 weeks ago in Mt. Olympus?
THE GIRL: Yes, 3 weeks ago.
WEST: Because there was a girl—another girl I saw in a very similar situation—and that was 30 years ago at Mt. Olympus High. I suppose you reminded me of her.
THE GIRL: I’m sure that explains it.
WEST: When I first caught sight of you there seemed to be the most uncanny resemblance. And, of course, we happened to be in Mt. Olympus at the time—
THE GIRL: Yes—
WEST: I’m trying to remember how she looked. It should be easy remembering the face of the very first girl you fell in love with; but for some strange reason I seem to have utterly forgotten hers.
THE GIRL: 30 years is a long time.
WEST: Still, not something to be forgotten. Have you forgotten the face of your first love?
THE GIRL: No. No, I can still recall his face.
WEST: Why is it that no matter how hard I try to see her face I see only yours!
THE GIRL: I’ve got the kind of face that reminds people of other faces! Maybe that is why my career has been such a dismal failure!
WEST: What career is that?
THE GIRL: That’s just it; I don’t seem to have one!
WEST: Yes, yes—but what kind of career did you want to have?
THE GIRL: I wanted to be an actress!
WEST: And that is why you suddenly appeared backstage—
THE GIRL: Yes.
WEST: —3 weeks ago in Mt. Olympus?
THE GIRL: I knew you would be there and I hoped something might develop between us professionally. It was just a crazy, impulsive, desperate idea—
WEST: Maybe, but here you are getting your chance to play The Famous Seduction Scene after all!
THE GIRL: That’s true!
WEST: It still doesn’t explain why you were sitting on those same stairs, wearing that same green silk blouse—just as she was the first time I saw her.
THE GIRL: Who?
WEST: The girl from 30 years ago! The girl whose face I have so much trouble bringing back, and whose name I—how can I have forgotten the face and name of the first girl I ever loved!?
Sounds of a distant battle are heard.
THE GIRL: What’s that noise?
WEST: Max has started the soundeffect tape. The ‘Battle In The East’ is beginning. Those are Koumingtang artillery rounds exploding in the distance.
THE GIRL: So, we are in China after all—
WEST: That’s how we play this scene in the Cicero, Illinois version.
THE GIRL: I thought you just said—
WEST: What?
THE GIRL: It doesn’t matter.
WEST: That’s why you’re wearing the green silk kimono and not the green silk blouse, isn’t it?
THE GIRL: Yes. Of course that’s why.
WEST: [In semireclining position, holding the pad Mao used for writing poetry.] The sound of that artillery is meant to remind me the crucial battle deciding China’s fate is being fought as I dally here with you; and that spoils this precious moment we have together. I’m depressed by the idea that fatal battle might be lost because my mind is preoccupied with thoughts about you.
THE GIRL: You are still very ill from the fever! It is impossible to think of leading an army in battle when you are so sick.
WEST: I don’t buy that easy argument. I believe I’m quite deliberately avoiding the perils of war to remain here so I can make love to you. [Battle sounds are gradually intensifying.] I don’t want to leave you like I left the girl in the green silk blouse so I rationalize my cowardice with the line that goes: "What’s one battle more or less when I’ve already fought ten thousand of them? How many times must I prove my revolutionary commitment?"
THE GIRL: Of course you’re right. One battle more or less doesn’t matter.
WEST: And yet this is no ordinary battle, is it? On this one depends—[Falters.]
THE GIRL: [Attending him as Lay-mee previously attended the fever-stricken Mao.] You must rest, my love. These thoughts of yours are not rational; they emanate from the fever you caught while crossing The Grasslands. It’s a common symptom to become depressed and guiltridden. Feel how cool my hand is on your brow? You are burning with fever, my darling. You must take more of this medicine—[Offers WEST pill taken from folds of kimono.]
WEST: No!
THE GIRL: What’s the matter?
WEST: No drugs—I want to remain lucid. The sound of that Koumingtang artillery is growing louder! We must be taking some heavy losses out there! Many men will die today. There is certain to be panic among the troops—our strategy will begin to unravel! The cadre should send a messenger to me requesting my advice!
THE GIRL: You said the Koumingtang was being drawn into a trap.
WEST: One never quite knows who is being drawn into whose trap. The outcome of this decisive struggle might hinge on a single command decision—and here I lie, so far away—and so safe!
THE GIRL: Your army will make the right moves Mao Tse-tung. Haven’t they seen you in action during all those years of the Long March?
WEST: [Coming out of Mao’s character.] It’s no use. [Sits up.]
THE GIRL: What’s no use?
WEST: I can’t shake myself loose from the idea that you are her.
THE GIRL: [Trying to stay in Lay-mee's character.] Who, my darling?
WEST: Her! The girl I saw 30 years ago! [Rummages in discarded jacket to find and then light a cigarette.]
THE GIRL: [Abandoning Lay-mee's character.] Alright, maybe we should play it that way.
WEST: Then you admit you are her?
THE GIRL: Yes. Isn’t it obvious? I’m much too old to be playing an ingenue!
WEST: And where the hell has all that time gone?
THE GIRL: Who cares when we are together here and now.
WEST: But where, exactly, is "here"—and when is "now?" Is all of this real or make believe? [Rummages in jacket, finds snapshot.] So it’s true. I did go to Hollywood and leave you behind in Mt. Olympus. I really did get entangled with 5 wives and 8 kids —somehow managing in that bargain to also corrupt my dreams, my talent; my everything—
THE GIRL: Everything except the play.
WEST: What play?
THE GIRL: This one. The play you had to write as proof of your genius.
WEST: That’s just it! I haven’t begun to write this play! It’s still up here in my head; vague, unformed, raw—constantly reminding me of my failure as an artist! Don’t you understand? I have yet to put "How Mao" down on paper! All of this is merely the recurring fantasy of a soldout screenwriter!
THE GIRL: Since the play exists in your mind, putting it down on paper shouldn’t be that difficult. You seem to know all of the lines by heart!
WEST: All of them except the ones climaxing the seduction scene—and without them nothing makes sense! Which way will Mao go? Which way will I go?
THE GIRL: Isn’t that why we’re here—you and I: to finish writing The Famous Seduction Scene?
WEST: Like this?
THE GIRL: Yes. Like this. You and I. Here and now.
WEST: [Pauses to consider her argument.] Alright, goddammit, I’ll give it a try!
THE GIRL: And so will I!
WEST: The problem has always been the integration of Mao and myself—the two of us combining into a single character—
THE GIRL: And the merging of my persona with that of the princess.
WEST: It’s a crazy, farfetched idea! There is so much time, space and culture separating us!
THE GIRL: And yet, is there not something universal and timeless linking our spirits to theirs?
WEST: The spiritual linkage! You do understand!
THE GIRL: Even that seemingly incongruous snapshot of your July 4th picnic is not without its thematic relevance—
WEST: The feeling I had on that summer day about being the father of a vast family is quintessentially relevant!
THE GIRL: It is the same feeling Mao has about all of China’s millions being his "children." That is the substance of this scene, isn’t it?
WEST: That is certainly part of it, yes; but—
THE GIRL: But by choosing politics to impose his ideology on the masses Mao may be making a profound miscalculation—
WEST: Yes! Afraid! Terrified! I can’t bring myself to look at that lopsided face of yours—that face of which there is no counterpart in all of China; or all of Christendom for that matter!!
THE GIRL: And that’s why you always avert your eyes when you first see me sitting on the iron steps?
WEST: Yes! But never quite soon enough. The image of you sears itself into my mind no matter how quickly I turn away. Even now, when the crucial battle rages yonder, your grinning face haunts me and mocks my "heroic" resolve to resist you!
THE GIRL: All of that inner turmoil because of this crooked, silly face of mine? Why is that? Why should a face so flawed do that to you? What is any face but just so much flesh and bone and cartilage and muscle? Why should my face, more than my shoulders and breasts and hips unman you so completely? Surely a mind of your analytical preeminence has the answer to a simple question like that! Or is the answer already written on your brow? Can you read in my face what I read in yours? I don’t have your poet’s way with words but I can tell you I see an infinitely vast and dark region behind your brown, almond-shaped eyes. Within you there are galaxies swirling, cosmic storms brewing. Yes! I am gazing into the face of a god, in whom all creation resides! You said before you perceived me as an Earth Mother yearning to swallow you whole; but to me you are the same—a dark God Force into which my being desires to freefall, to be annihilated, atomized and flung into every corner of your universe! Only you have the power to release me from this curse I have borne these ten thousand years. Yes my love—that is how long it’s been since we first met; not days or weeks or months, but years—ten thousand years!
WEST: That’s only the hyperbole of Chinese poetry—
THE GIRL: No! It is the truth! It has been ten thousand years since you saw me sitting on that cast iron staircase and we lay on this couch together! And before that ten thousand years there was another ten thousand! Each time we meet there is this same surprisingly awkward moment of recognition after having searched for what seems like an eternity through an endless crowd of faces for the one face we lost ten thousand years before! I am always sitting on those iron stairs and you are hurrying past on some "crucially important" mission. You see me sitting there, our eyes meet momentarily before you avert yours—and then, later, there is a "seduction scene" with a "battle" raging in the distance and for some reason—there is always a reason!—the seduction scene is never satisfactorily resolved and we separate to begin yet another of our ten-thousand-year-journeys!
WEST: This time it’s different. The future of an entire civilization is at stake!
THE GIRL: You always make that same argument. And you always sit there with your eyes shut, refusing to look into mine because you know what you will see there.
WEST: Don’t you think I am also weary of the eternally postponed climax to our love affair? But it is because we are such unique people that our anguish must be unique. I am not the boatman of Kuei-chi. I am the leader of a great social movement!
THE GIRL: Doesn’t every man think that way? Isn’t every man the leader of his own crusade? Some men march ten thousand li to storm the gates of Peking. Others hop on a plane bound for Hollywood.
WEST: But why would any sane man want to waste another ten thousand years searching for the woman he has spent the previous ten thousand years finding? Why must you always insist that our love affair climax here and now! If we win this decisive battle nothing can stop us from standing on that balcony overlooking Tienamin Square with our linked hands raised in a single salute to the masses celebrating their victory over capitalistic feudalism and ours over satrapy, sex and selfinterest?
THE GIRL: And why must you perpetually procrastinate? After the passage of ten thousand years you always want just "a little more time to harmonize our private lovelife with the public welfare of a billion Chinese!"
WEST: I wouldn’t have to "procrastinate" if you didn’t persist in arriving on the scene prematurely ! Why must you always show up one day early after ten thousand years of waiting!!
THE GIRL: For the same reason our meetings always end with this ridiculous argument we are having now! Because you are blind to the simple truth that love and art are more important than war and politics!
At this point battle reaches its climax. Distant sound of bugles beating retreat is heard.
WEST: Listen! The decisive battle is reaching a state of crisis! One side is sounding the signal for retreat!
THE GIRL: And what about our battle? Won’t you at least look at me before we part again! Another ten thousand years will have to pass until we see each other again, Mao Tse-tung! Think of the torment we will both suffer—the nightmarish landscapes we must traverse; the billions of faces we must scan hoping to see the one that stops our hearts! There can be no escape, Mao Tse-tung—or whoever you will be when next we meet. There can be no peace for either of us until we two lost souls become one. Or is that what really terrifies you so much about love—ceasing to be what you alone are?
WEST: It’s so quiet out there now! One side has won the battle!
THE GIRL: Or have they destroyed each other? Perhaps there is nothing out there but desolation and death! Open your eyes poet! Open them to the truth! [She has brought her face close to his. WEST opens his eyes.] Now! What do you see!!!! [Houselights come up. The stage lighting also brightens and generalizes. THE GIRL comes out of character to say:] God damn it!!! Kill those lights!!!
ENTER STAGE MANAGER.
THE STAGE MANAGER: What’s the matter?
THE GIRL: Isn’t it bloody obvious! We are not finished with the seduction scene yet! We have just arrived at that climactic moment when he opens his eyes and we are finally face to face!
THE STAGE MANAGER: I’m sorry—but according to the Cicero, Illinois version the climax should have occurred several minutes ago—
THE GIRL: I don’t give a shit about what should have occurred! Just kill those fucking lights and let us continue this scene!
THE STAGE MANAGER: Is that the way you want it, Mr West?
WEST: [To THE GIRL.] It’s no use. The mood’s been shattered. We were on a tight schedule and we just didn’t make it—
THE STAGE MANAGER: That’s the point of the Cicero, Illinois version of The Famous Seduction Scene, Mrs West. Once that sound track starts the two actors have precisely 19 minutes and 20 seconds in which to reach their climax. That deadline represents the ruthless way time has of frustrating our—
THE GIRL: Will you shut up and let us get on with this scene!!!!
WEST: The scene is finished!
THE GIRL: No! Not yet—not like this! Look at me, damn you! Look at me and tell me it’s finished!
WEST: Maybe another night, in some other place—
THE GIRL: It has to be now or never, here or nowhere; if we don’t do it tonight on this stage we are condemning ourselves to spend another ten thousand years waiting for this moment—
As this argument proceeds sotto voce, STAGE MANAGER beckons 2 STAGEHANDS on to dismantle the set, then comes downstage to address audience:
THE STAGE MANAGER: Well folks, that’s it. The Epilogue is over. What you are seeing now is not part of the play; although there is a certain relationship between the characters in this final scene and the actors playing them that might overlap into real life. Some of you may be disappointed with the way things turned out tonight, but if you do some hard thinking about it on the way home, you might discover the way The Famous Seduction Scene was resolved—or not resolved—has some satisfying aspects to it. After all, isn’t life itself one long seduction scene? And isn’t life itself full of "unresolved contradictions?" Maybe even your own lives bear a certain resemblance to what happened on this stage tonight—the constant interruptions, the ten thousand years of searching? Which reminds me. One thing I should point out about this ten thousand year business—it shouldn’t be taken too literally. I wouldn’t want you to think these two lovers have been searching for each other ten thousand actual years. In China the number ten thousand is used to indicate the passage of a very long time. In some cases—when you have a toothache—or you are in love, for instance, that might only be a few seconds, minutes or hours. So let’s not feel too sad about this man and this woman; whether they are Mao Tse-tung and a Chinese Princess—or a Hollywood screenwriter and his childhood sweetheart—or only two actors who’ve fallen in love. No. This evening shouldn’t end with you thinking they will have to wait a whole ten thousand years for another chance to—to—well, to do whatever it is lovers must do—[He stops when STAGEHAND 1 whispers in his ear. STAGE MANAGER nods.] Well, goodnight ladies and gentlemen; and thank you for attending tonight’s show. That’s right, just gather your things and turn your backs on what is going on up here as you set off on your own journeys; either singly, or in the company of someone whose face has a very special meaning for you—[Turns and gives orders to STAGEHANDS.] Let’s get to work comrades, we’ve got to strike this set and move on to the next town—
STAGEHAND 1: What town is that, Max?
THE STAGE MANAGER: [Checking notebook.] Tomorrow night we’re playing King City—then it’s on to Bedford Falls, Kee-lung, Grovers Corners, South Bend, Peng-wei—
STAGEHAND 1: [Striking mock ‘heroic’ pose.] Bringing culture to the masses!
THE STAGE MANAGER: Just thank your lucky stars you are involved in a revolution as important as this one is!
WEST and THE GIRL converse quietly between themselves. STAGEHAND 2 has exited briefly and now RE-ENTERS with pitcher of coffee.
STAGEHAND 2: How about some nice hot Java Mr and Mrs West? [After no reply, to STAGEHAND 1.] They’re really into it tonight, aren’t they!
THE STAGE MANAGER: We’ll be fortunate to reach King City by dawn at this rate!
STAGEHAND 1: How far is it to King City, Max?
THE STAGE MANAGER: I’d guess about—170 li.
Whistles from STAGEHANDS.
STAGEHAND 2: Another long hike!
STAGEHAND 1: How’s the terrain?
THE STAGE MANAGER: Not too bad—a small river to ford, a few hills—and a "marshy" area that might cause us one or two problems—but we’ll make it.
STAGEHAND 2: The show must go on!
STAGEHAND 1: The revolution must go on!
THE STAGE MANAGER: We’ll save the couch for last—
STAGEHAND 2: I was noticing one of those legs needs mending, Max.
STAGEHAND 1: That couch takes a beating all right.
THE STAGE MANAGER: Yes. Some day we’ll have to think about retiring it. We’ve been using this one for just about—ten thousand years!
Actors continue dismantling set and improvising until auditorium is empty.
End of Play