Autumn Sonata Page #2

- Are you sure she's better off here?

- Yes, she is.

And I have someone to care for.

Has she... I mean, has she...

Is she... worse?

Yes, of course she's worse.

It's part of the illness.

Then let's go and see her.

- Are you sure you want to?

- Do I have a choice?

I've never had a taste for people

who are unaware of their motives.

- Do you mean me?

- Take it the way you like. Come on.

My dearest Lena.

I've thought of you so often,

every day.

She's got a cold. She's afraid

she'll give it to you.

I'm not afraid - I haven't had a cold

for twenty years!

What a lovely room you have. And the

view is the same as from my room.

Helena wants you to hold her head

and look at her.

- Like this? Is this good?

- Yes.

I'm so glad Eva's taking care of you.

I thought you were still at the home.

I was going to come and see you

before I left. But this is much better.

- We can be together every day.

- Yes.

Are you in pain?

No.

Your hair looks lovely.

It's in your honour, Mummy.

If you want, I could read to you.

Would you like that?

And we could go out in the car.

I've never been to these parts.

- What is she saying?

- You must be tired.

You needn't exert yourself

further today.

Mummy's been very good.

- Doesn't Lena have a clock?

- Yes, on the bedside table.

Have my watch.

I was given it by an admirer

who thought I was always late.

- Will Lena eat dinner with us?

- No, lunch is her main meal.

Anyway, Lena is on a diet.

She ate too much at the home.

Why do I feel feverish?

Why do I want to cry?

How stupid! There I stand - shamed.

And that's the idea.

And the guilty conscience,

always the guilty conscience!

I was in such a hurry to come here.

What did I expect?

What was it I longed for,

that I didn't dare admit to myself?

This inconceivably peculiar mother!

You should have seen her

when I told her that Helena lived here.

She even managed a smile,

despite her surprise and dismay.

And then, outside Lena's door,

the actress before her entrance.

Awfully frightened - but composed.

An outstanding performance.

Why did she come?

What did she expect from a reunion

after seven years?

- Who knows?

- What did I expect?

Do we never give up hope?

Never stop being mother and daughter?

No point in crying.

Damn!

There she was, looking at me

with her big eyes.

I held her face in my hands

and I could feel

the illness tugging at

her neck muscles.

Damn!

Why can't I hold her and comfort her,

like I did when she was little?

That ravaged, soft body,

that's my Lena.

Don't cry, damn it!

A writer - I forget the name - said,

"It's like a heavy ghost that falls over

you when you open the nursery door,

"because you've long ago forgotten

it's the nursery door."

Do you think I'm adult?

To be an adult is to be able to deal

with one's dreams and expectations.

- One has stopped yearning.

- Do you think so?

Perhaps one ceases to be surprised.

You look so sensible, sitting there

with your old pipe.

- You're altogether adult.

- Hardly. I'm surprised every day.

- At what?

- At you, for example.

Besides, I nurture some unreasonable

dreams and expectations,

as well as a kind of yearning.

- Yearning?

- I yearn for you.

Those are pretty words, aren't they?

Words that don't mean anything real.

I was brought up on pretty words.

Mother is never mad,

or disappointed or unhappy.

She "feels pain".

You use words like that, too.

I suppose it comes with the job.

When you say you yearn for me

when I'm right here, I get wary.

- You know very well what I mean.

- No.

If I knew that, you wouldn't

think of saying you yearn for me.

I have to check on the roast.

Mother thinks I'm a poor cook.

She's a real glutton.

- I think you're...

- .. a wonderful cook. Thank you.

I mustn't forget she wants

decaffeinated coffee.

I'll shorten my stay.

Four days - I could make that.

Then I'll go to Africa, as I planned.

This hurts, Charlotte.

Hurts.

Viktor, I've often wondered why she

suffers from insomnia. I think I know.

If she slept normally, her vitality

would crush those around her.

Insomnia is nature's way

of making her bearable.

I'll wear my red dress.

And I'm doing it out of sheer spite.

Eva will think I should wear something

more seemly after Leonardo's death.

Viktor, she will have dressed up

for dinner, you'll see.

Note the perfect clothes

which discreetly will remind us

that she's in mourning, after all.

All this anger.

All they've done is show

how happy they are to have me.

Viktor's a kind soul. Lucky for Eva,

the crybaby, to have such a good man.

I bet the shower's not working.

It is.

- What a beautiful dress!

- Does it suit me?

I met my old 'girlfriend',

Samuel Parkenhurst, and he said,

"I've just come from a fashion show,

there's a red dress that's so you."

Let's have a toast. Welcome to

the vicarage, dear Charlotte.

Eva, are my glasses on the table

by the window?

Thank you, darling.

My agent - he's so sweet.

He's my only friend these days.

Do you remember Paul, Eva?

We've worked together for 30 years.

What a lovely old instrument!

Such a beautiful timbre!

And it's newly tuned.

Now I'm happy!

- I worried unnecessarily.

- What do you mean?

I was anxious about seeing you

after all this time. I nearly cancelled.

No sugar, thanks.

This coffee isn't much fun,

but what to do when one can't sleep?

I see you're playing

the Chopin Preludes.

- Won't you play for me?

- Not now, Mother.

Don't be childish. It would give me

great pleasure to hear you play.

You told me you were hoping

your mother would listen to you.

I just dabble at it, I lack all technique.

I haven't even learnt the fingering

of this prelude. I couldn't...

Enough excuses, darling. Get to it!

My dearest little Eva.

- Is that all you have to say?

- No, no, I was just so moved.

- Did you like it?

- I liked you.

- I don't understand.

- Play something else, it's lovely.

- I want to know about my mistakes.

- There weren't any.

You didn't like the way

I played the piece.

- We all have our own opinion.

- Right.

- I want to hear yours.

- You're already cross.

I'm sad that you don't find it

worthwhile to give me your opinion.

If you insist.

We'll disregard your technique,

which wasn't so bad,

though you could have paid more

attention to Cortot's fingering,

as it helps the interpretation. But we're

only talking about the conception.

Chopin was emotional, Eva,

not sentimental.

There is a chasm between emotion

and sentimentality.

The prelude you played speaks of

suppressed emotion, not reveries.

You have to be calm,

clear and austere.

Take the first few bars...

It hurts, but he's not showing it.

Then - brief relief.

But almost instantly it fades away

and the pain remains the same,

not greater, not lesser.

A constant and complete restraint.

Chopin was proud, sarcastic,

impetuous, tormented

and very manly.

He was no sentimental old woman.

This prelude must be played

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