Autumn Sonata Page #5

You reproach me for going away,

you reproach me for staying at home.

You've probably never realised

that those years were hell for me.

My back hurt, I couldn't practise and

my recitals suffered.

lmportant contracts were cancelled.

My life felt meaningless.

But I always had a guilty conscience

for not being at home.

You smile ironically!

I'm trying to be honest.

I'll tell you how I reasoned -

and I don't care what you think.

Let's have it out this once,

and never again.

I'm trying to understand.

It was in Hamburg. I played

Beethoven's first,

which isn't so difficult,

and everything went well.

After the concert, I went out with

old Schmiess, the conductor,

for a bite to eat - we always did.

When we'd lingered over dinner,

I was very happy,

I could hardly feel my backache.

Then old Schmiess said,

"Why don't you stay at home

with your family

"and live a respectable life,

"rather than suffer

constant humiliation?"

I stared at him,

then I gave a laugh and said,

"Was I that bad?"

"No, not that bad," he said.

"But I can't help thinking of

August 18, 1934.

"We did Beethoven's first together,

in Linz.

"You were twenty,

and the hall was packed.

"We played like gods,

the orchestra was on fire.

"Afterwards, people were screaming

and stamping their feet.

"The musicians showed

their appreciation.

"You were wearing

a simple red summer dress,

"with your hair down to your waist."

"How can you remember all this?"

I asked.

"I have it written down in my score,"

he said.

"I note down all my greatest

experiences."

That night I couldn't fall asleep.

At 3am I called your father and told

him that I'd decided to stop touring.

I was going to stay at home,

we would be a real family.

Josef was so terribly happy.

We both cried with emotion.

We spoke for two hours.

That's that. And that summer

we were...

We were happy then, weren't we?

No.

- You weren't happy?

- No.

You said you'd never been happier.

Yes. I didn't want to hurt you.

Oh, so that's how it was?

- What did I do wrong?

- I was fourteen.

For want of anything better, you

turned all your pent-up energy on me.

You felt you had neglected me,

and were going to make up for it.

I tried to defend myself,

but I didn't stand a chance.

There you were, with your tender care

and concern in your voice.

Not a single detail escaped

your loving attention.

I had a stoop,

so you set me exercises.

You exercised with me,

pleading your back as an excuse.

You thought I had too much bother

with my long hair, and cut it short.

It was horrible.

You decided my teeth were crooked,

so I had to wear braces.

I looked grotesque!

You said I was too old

for my trousers and skirts,

and had dresses made for me,

without asking my opinion!

And I didn't dare say anything,

for fear of hurting you.

You gave me books to read

that I didn't understand.

I read and I read, and then you and l

were to discuss what I had read.

You talked and talked,

but I didn't understand a thing!

I only worried about having my

ignorance exposed. I was paralysed.

One thing I learnt, though.

Not one molecule of the real me

could be loved, or even accepted.

You were obsessed, and I became

more and more scared and crushed.

I said what you wanted to hear,

made your gestures.

I wasn't even myself

when I was on my own,

as I abhorred everything

that was my own!

It was horrendous, Mother!

I still shake all over

when I think of those years.

It was horrible!

I didn't understand that I hated you -

I was convinced we loved each other.

I couldn't hate you, so my hatred

turned into a terrible anxiety.

I had nightmares, I bit my nails,

I pulled out chunks of my hair.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't -

I couldn't utter a single sound.

I tried to scream, but only

stifled grunts came out,

which scared me even more,

as I thought I was going insane!

- Then I met Stefan.

- You couldn't have had a child!

I was eighteen, Stefan was grown-up!

We'd have coped.

- You wouldn't have coped!

- We would have!

We wanted the child, but you ruined

our relationship.

It's not true! I even said to Josef

that we had to show consideration.

You didn't see that Stefan was an idiot!

Do you know everything?

Did you hear me and Stefan talk?

Did you lie under our bed? Do you

know what you're talking about at all?

Have you ever cared about

anybody else but yourself?

I couldn't have forced

an abortion on you.

How could I stand up to you?

I was scared and insecure.

- I needed support.

- I tried to help you.

I was convinced an abortion was the

only solution. I have been until now.

All these years of hatred.

Why didn't you say something?

Because you never listen.

Because you run away from things.

Because you're emotionally crippled.

Because you actually loathe me

and Helena.

You're helplessly locked up inside

yourself, holding yourself back.

Because I loved you.

Because you thought I was a failure,

disgusting and untalented.

You damaged me for life,

just as you yourself are damaged.

You went for everything

sensitive and fragile.

You tried to stifle

every living thing you could get at.

You speak of my hatred.

Your hatred wasn't any less strong.

Your hatred isn't any less strong.

I was small and malleable

and loving.

You tied me down

because you needed my love,

just as you want everyone

to love you.

I was exposed and defenceless.

And it all took place

in the name of love.

You kept on saying you loved me,

and Father and Helena.

And you knew the intonation

and gestures of love.

People like you are lethal -

you should be locked up

and made harmless.

A mother and her daughter.

What a terrible combination...

of emotions and confusion...

and destruction.

Everything's possible and will be done

in the name of love and caring.

The daughter shall inherit

the mother's injuries.

The daughter shall suffer for

the mother's failures.

The unhappiness of the mother

shall be the daughter's unhappiness.

It's as if the umbilical cord

had never been cut.

Mummy...

is that how it is?

Is the daughter's unhappiness

the mother's triumph?

Mummy...

is my grief...

your secret pleasure?

Christ, my back hurts.

Do you mind if I lie on the floor?

It's the only thing that helps.

I remember very little

from my childhood.

I can't recall either of my parents

ever touching me,

either to caress or punish.

I was completely ignorant of anything

to do with love,

affection, touching, intimacy, warmth.

Only through music did I get a chance

to reveal my emotions.

Sometimes when I lie awake at night,

I wonder whether I've lived at all.

And I wonder whether it's the same

for all people,

or if some people have a greater

talent for living than others.

Or if some people never live,

but simply exist.

Then I'm seized with...

I'm seized with anxiety.

I see an ugly picture of myself...

I've never grown up.

My face and my body have aged.

I'm accumulating memories

Rate this script:4.7 / 3 votes