Adam Resurrected Page #4

Kommandant, my family.

You're a comfort, Adam...

a lifesaver.

Before you came, it was killing me.

Now it's better.

Bravo.

Bravo, maestro.

Whoo!

Adam, Adam.

- Schwester.

- Adam?

You are looking today so very,

very transcendent.

Thank you.

Tell me, have you been grooming

this little moustachio of yours?

Oh, this is so becoming on a woman.

It's a very, very striking

kind of thing of course.

But do you not think it is a little warm

for the woolen Unterhosen?

Thank you.

Adam, I prayed for you to return,

and you did.

That was nice, Schwester,

bringing a man back into prison

when he's having such a swell time

on the outside.

L'Chaim, Schwester.

Mmm.

I accept your assignment.

I will be your holy ventriloquist.

But just now, I have got to see

a man about a dog, shalom.

Woe be the shepherds of Israel

that feed themselves.

Auf Wiedersehen.

Shouldn't the shepherds feed the flocks?

Good-bye.

I am so sorry that I just

popped up before and ran off.

I got thirsty.

Did they torture you?

Who was it?

Golomb?

That tiny Torquemada

with the jangling keys?

Sturmfuehrer Slonim?

You can tell me.

You're the only one that I can talk to

in this godforsaken place.

Yes, you are not a phony.

And to me, this is a-

this is a very big deal.

Believe me,

I can sniff one a mile away.

And so can you, can you not?

It is you and Adam Stein

against the world.

You and I, we are going to...

take the trial run.

On we go.

Yes, I know you're a dog.

I understand.

There's nothing to be ashamed of.

Don't panic.

No, this is laundry, dirty laundry.

Yeah, let's take a little tour.

Oh, look who's here.

Look who's coming.

Do you really think

this is doing the boy any good?

He's a dog, Gina.

Show a little respect.

- Come on.

- Hey.

Yeah, this is Gina Grey's classy ass.

Shoo.

Yeah, looky, look who's here.

Look at them, kid.

These- these wretched souls

have- have chimneys for hearts.

And Gross tries to heal them

with, mescaline, LSD,

hypnotherapy.

Knows that it cannot be done.

And Seizling?

Yeah, she thought she could save

these walking tombstones too.

Thought I could save them.

But I never said that I could.

I never promised them the burning bush.

Go away, Arthur.

Go light a fire.

How's the knitting, by the way?

You're not the rebel you think you are.

You know what?

Look over there.

There's a man behind the curtain,

pulling your strings.

Yeah, I'm giving another talk tomorrow.

A history of drama from the dawn of man

till the present

entitled "Whisky and Dramaturgie".

Do try to come.

All right, are we all here?

Yes, we are.

Then let's- let's begin.

Mm.

A dog barks.

But a dog barking on a stage

is no longer a dog.

This bottle, for instance, I pour.

I raise this glass to my mouth,

and I swallow.

Mm.

But am I really drinking,

or am I a man playing a man

who is drinking?

Close your eyes.

Yeah, that's right.

Not so fast, Arthur.

You've got to register first, please.

Name.

Schwester, you know my name.

Arthur, we all registered.

Name?

Arthur.

Last name.

Fine.

Arthur Fine.

Perfectly fine, Arthur.

Schwester, where was I?

"But am I really drinking, or am-"

Exactly, folks.

We're all actors...

in a drama which both playwright

and director have long ago abandoned.

Nonetheless, meine sehr

verehrten Damen und Herren,

ladies and gentlemen,

to bring the curtain down is impossible.

The show must go on.

Hey, what's going on?

He's drunk.

He's really drinking up there.

Adam, you're a liar.

Nonsense.

Nonsense, Arthur.

It is water.

You, of all people, should appreciate

what I'm trying to teach

these people, the artifice,

the necessary lie

that we all needed to survive.

Mm-hmm.

Here, here, here's a quick example.

Yeah.

It is 1945.

It is dark.

A man is running through the Naliboki Forest

with a cocktail?

A Molotov cocktail, yeah.

The war is over,

but not everyone knows it yet.

Arthur Fine has been in the camps,

escaped,

lived underground,

with the Bielski Partisans.

Yes, laughter.

For us, back there, no other way.

But then you came to Palestine,

this theater of the absurd.

And for a while,

you forgot the first rule of Dramaturgie.

You found a wife, a daughter.

But it seems you were merely observing

the second law of Dramaturgie,

the pause,

because soon the fires burned again.

Laughter sprang forth.

You laughed as you set fire

to your house.

No.

Your wife, your little girl.

- Bastard.

- To yourself.

Then one day, Mrs. Seizling

showed up at the burn ward.

Fortunately, the Dachau number

on your arm was preserved,

and she recognized you

as one of her flock.

You.

Curtain.

Now, the point of this demonstration?

Just as sadness creates tears,

so laughter creates the joy.

Don't look so horrified,

meine sehr verehrten Damen und Herren,

to laugh, yeah.

If I had not been able

to laugh back there,

I would be dead.

Me, you, all of us.

And in room 285,

there sits a young mutt

who is laughing at us all.

What does he think,

he is better than the rest of us?

I will later give him some corrections.

Open your mouths.

Wide.

Wider.

Relax the neck muscles.

Wrinkle the noses.

Take a deep breath.

Perfect.

Ah.

And laugh.

Ha, ha.

Louder.

Everyone.

Louder, louder.

What are you doing?

- Louder, louder.

- What are you doing?

Everyone.

I know that it hurts, yeah.

No.

Look at me.

- I am burning.

- No.

I am dying, but I can laugh.

No, stop it!

Stop laughing!

He's like a dog.

He's telling us what to do.

He licked his boot.

What do you want from me?

All right, come here.

Let's get this dog collar off of you.

Intestinal bleeding, swollen limbs.

Acute renal failure, I knew it.

I knew it.

Adam!

Gretchen.

- Papa.

- Oh, my dearest one.

Adam.

Try to find her.

Ruthie.

Adam.

Please, Papa.

I love you.

Adam.

Play!

Play!

These people need some Marschmusik.

Play!

What the hell is that?

Shut up.

He's not dead, okay?

It was Purim 1942.

The SS were going door-to-door,

clearing out the ghetto.

My Naomi,

my beautiful little Naomi,

she was Queen Esther that year.

I'd sewn her a dress

and made a crown from a tin can.

That night after services,

we snuck out.

The Nazis were a few blocks away,

so I knew we had some time.

Just outside of the ghetto,

there lived a Mrs. Marshack.

She used to bring me

all her children's coats to mend.

And in her house,

there was a basement.

And under the basement,

there was another basement,

a pit with a trapdoor.

Down that pit went my- my little queen.

As we left her there,

I could hear her whispering,

"Why, Daddy?"

13 months she was down there, Adam.

She was a child.

Her body had to grow,

and this crown,

she never took off this damned crown.

That heartless, blind,

mute son of a b*tch.

Why?

Why?

Come on, you tyrant!

Why?

Wolfowitz.

- Tell me why?

- That's enough.

You're gonna hurt someone.

Tarshish.

This is the point.

Take me inside.

Let him let out some steam, please.

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