Vanya On 42nd Street Page #3

Chick, chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!

- Uh, Doctor, they've come for you.

- Who?

Uh, from the factory.

There's been - They need you.

Fine. Well, I have to go, damn it.

What a shame.

I'm so sorry. Um, why don't you

come back for supper, after the factory?

Well, it'd be too late then, won't it?

How could I? How could I?

Waffles, get me a glass of vodka,

would you, please?

Glass of vodka.

Well, if you should like to stop by sometime,

perhaps with Sophie here...

I would be most delighted.

I only have the 80 acres,

but if it interested you...

next to me we have a model orchard

such as you won't see within a thousand miles.

It's a state reserve.

And the, um, overseer, the old forester...

he's usually ill, you see...

and actually

I get to oversee the work myself.

- Yes, they told me you loved the woods.

- Oh, yes.

I- I suppose there's much good

to be done there.

Oh, much good.

But my question is, doesn't it interfere

with your real calling?

My real calling?

God knows what our real calling is.

The woods. You find them interesting.

Interesting? Fascinating, yes.

Yes. Fascinating.

You don't seem that old.

What would we say? Um, 36, 37?

So?

Well, how interesting can that be, really,

alone in the woods all the time?

I should find it quite monotonous.

No, it's-it's really -

it's really quite interesting.

Every year he plots new forests

or he makes a plan to conserve the old ones.

He's received both a medal

and a diploma for his work.

If you listen to him,

you'll see what he means.

He says that forests embellish the land...

and that they instill in man

a love of beauty...

that they raise the mind.

Um, they moderate the climate...

and in the lands

where the climate is milder...

then people struggle less with nature...

and the people in those lands

are milder and gentler...

and their speech is more refined,

and their movements are more graceful...

and they cultivate the arts and sciences,

and there's joy in their philosophy...

and they treat women with nobleness.

Bravo! Bravo! This is magnificent.

But now it's not convincing, my friend,

as I still must fuel my stoves...

and build with those same woods

that you prize.

- Burn peat in your stoves.

- Hmm?

Build your barn of stones.

You understand?

Yes, sometimes we cut wood

out of necessity.

But why be wanton? Why?

Our forests fall before the ax.

Billions of trees, all perishing.

The homes of birds and beasts

being laid waste.

The level of the rivers falls,

and they dry up.

Sublime landscapes disappear,

never to return...

because we haven't sense enough to bend down

and pick fuel up from the ground.

Isn't this so?

What must human beings be

to destroy what they can never create?

God's given us reason and power of thought

so that we may improve our lot...

and what have we used these powers for

but waste?

We've destroyed our forests,

our rivers run dry...

our wildlife is all but extinct...

our climate ruined.

And every day, every day,

wherever one looks...

our life is more hideous.

Oh, I see. You think me amusing.

These seem to you the thoughts

of some poor eccentric.

Perhaps -

Perhaps it's naive, too, on my part.

Perhaps you think that, but I pass

by the woods I've saved from the ax...

and I hear the forest sighing.

I planted that forest.

And I think things may be in our power.

You understand?

Perhaps the climate itself is in our control.

Why not?

And if in a thousand years,

people are happy...

I will have played a part

in that happiness.

A small part.

I plant a birch tree.

I watch it take root.

It grows. It sways in the wind.

And I feel such pride.

Well. Well, my time is up.

I must be off.

Thank you, Waffles.

And, of course, it's possible

I am just an eccentric.

And thank you for the honor

of your hospitality.

- When will we see you again?

- I can't say.

Sooner than next month, I hope.

You -

What?

You've fallen into

one of your moods again?

- Excuse me?

- You're being impossible.

- Was I?

- Yes, you were.

Why are you baiting your mother?

And this morning at breakfast,

you quarreled with Alexandr.

Yes!

Excuse me.

- How petty.

- Petty?

- Yes.

- What if I hate him?

- Why should you hate him?

-

He's like everybody else.

He's no worse than you.

Oh, look at yourself.

Look at your face.

Look at the way you move.

You're too lazy to live, with your torpor.

- Too lazy to live?

- Yes, you are.

Yes.

I am.

I'm too bored.

Do you know?

Everyone berates my husband.

Everyone berates him.

Everybody pities me. Oh, the poor woman

saddled with such an old man.

They're so concerned for me.

I mean, you must excuse me,

but it's quite disgusting. Don't you think so?

Why can you not look with indifference

on a woman who's not your own?

Why? Because the doctor's right.

There is in each one of you a demon

of destruction that spares nothing -

neither forests, birds, women...

nor each other.

You know, I don't care for that philosophy.

He has an interesting face.

- "He"?

- Our doctor.

- Yes?

- Nervous face.

A tired face, I think.

Sonya finds him attractive.

I think she's in love with him.

I understand it.

Do you know he's been here three times

since I first came...

and I haven't once

spoken with him properly?

What must he think?

He must think I'm mean.

Oh, must he?

I've never shown him any kindness.

- Do you know why we're such good friends?

- No.

It's because we're both tiresome people.

We're both dull.

No, please don't look at me that way.

I don't like it.

Well, how else am I supposed to look at you?

I love you!

I look at you, and I see my life -

I see my youth and I see my happiness.

I know that the chance that you could

reciprocate those feelings...

is nothing.

But I want nothing.

- I just want you to permit me to look at you -

- Shh!

- And to hear your voice.

- Shh! Someone will hear you.

I just want you to let me speak with you

and just to be near you.

Oh, God.

This is awful.

Good. Okay.

Uh, the next act is -

it's a couple of weeks later.

It's in the dining room,

and it's very late at night.

Would you follow me?

- Who's there? Sonya, is that you?

- It's me.

Lenotchka, I'm in pain. Help me.

Your blankets fell.

I'll close the window.

No, no, no. It's stifling in here.

I dozed off...

and dreamed that my leg

belonged to someone else.

I was awoken by the pain.

I don't think it's gout.

I think it's rheumatism!

What time is it?

Twenty past 12:
00.

In the morning,

please go to the library...

and look for the Batiushkov.

- I think we have him.

- Hmm?

Look for -

In the morning,

please look for the Batiushkov.

I remember we have him.

Why can I not breathe?

Two nights with no sleep.

You're tired.

They say Turgenev

developed angina pectoris from gout.

I'll get it too.

Damn old age.

Damn, revolting, impotent old age.

I grow more repulsive to myself.

And I'm sure you, too,

find it revolting to look on me.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes