Vanya On 42nd Street Page #5

You tell me - is he ill or shamming?

He's ill.

And you? What's your complaint?

A sympathetic nature?

Or could you be sick with love

for the invalid's wife?

- We're just friends.

- Already?

Well, now, what could that mean?

A woman and a man can be friends

only at the end term of this sequence:

First, acquaintances...

and then lovers...

and then -

that's right, friends.

A lovely, elegant philosophy.

Ya think so?

Yes, I confess, I'm becoming a vulgarian.

I'm drunk too.

And when I am this drunk, I become arrogant

and brazen to the last degree.

And nothing in that state

can faze me then.

I undertake and perform

the most difficult feats flawlessly.

I see the future

and devise the most elegant plans.

And during this time,

I no longer seem to myself...

an awkward and useless

member of this world.

No, I seem, on the contrary...

a powerful, a motive force...

with my own system

of thought and philosophy.

And all of you, my dears - because it's true -

look as big as cockroaches...

Or some quite, quite unimportant things.

- Would you play, please?

- Anything for you.

Play, play! Ah!

Let's have a drink. Come on.

And in the daylight, we'll go to my place.

Ya up for it?

Fellow works for me

says that the whole time: "Ya up for it?"

Um - Excuse me, I'm -

I'm going to go get dressed.

Uncle Vanya?

You got drunk with the doctor again?

Two free voices

found each other in the night...

and formed a pact.

Why do you do this?

At your age, it's truly unattractive.

My age doesn't come into it.

No?

A man with nothing in his life...

with no real life...

subsists on a fantasy.

Then that is something in his life.

The hay is cut. Every day it rains.

Everything is rotting.

And you're living on fantasy.

You've thrown your work up,

and I'm working alone, and I'm tired.

You neglect your job.

You know,

just now when you looked at me...

you looked just like your dear mother.

Phew, my darling sister.

Where are you now?

Oh, my dear...

if you only knew.

What is it she should know?

It isn't good. It isn't good.

It's nothing.

I'm going.

Can I have a word with you, please?

If it aids you to drink, then please drink.

But please don't let my uncle drink anymore.

It's very bad for him.

So be it. We'll drink no more.

I can count on you?

Settled and signed.

Ah! Now I'll be getting home.

Well, why don't you just stay

until the morning?

- Oh, no, no.

- It's raining.

Storm will pass.

I think that this is the end of it.

No, I'll go. One thing, please.

Don't call me for your father anymore.

I tell him gout, he says rheumatism.

I say stay in bed, he gets up.

I'm called to see him, he won't speak to me.

He's difficult.

Uh, can - can I get you something to eat?

Yes, I'll take something. Thank you.

They say that through his life,

he had a great success with women...

and that women spoiled him.

Today I didn't eat a thing.

Today I drank.

Yes, your father's difficult.

You know, we're alone here.

Let's speak candidly, do you think?

I couldn't live one month in this house.

I'd suffocate

with your father and his gout...

and your uncle

and his - what is it, depression?

Your grandmother.

Your stepmother.

- My stepmother.

- Hmm.

Beauty should be pure.

Of face, of dress, of the mind.

And here is a beautiful -

a lovely woman...

and all she does is eat, sleep

and stroll through the day...

to enchant us

with that great beauty which is hers.

She does no more. She has no duties.

She has no responsibilities.

Others work for her.

How can an idle life be pure?

Am I too hard?

Perhaps I am.

I'm like your Uncle Vanya -

disappointed in life, become a detractor.

Disappointed in life?

Um, in life? No.

In our life.

Our provincial life.

I hate it with the power of my soul.

And my life - oh, yes.

In my own personal life,

I am pleased to swear to God...

there's not one thing good in it.

When you walk through the woods...

if you walk through

the dark woods at night...

if you have a glimmer,

a small gleam of light before you...

then you needn't feel the night...

nor darkness, fatigue.

Nor the branches as they whip your face.

But, as you know, I work alone...

and live alone.

There is no one.

And those things which assail me...

as there is no light before me...

which could make my burden light.

So, I expect nothing...

and there is nothing for me.

And do you know?

I don't like people.

And for the longest time...

I've loved no one.

You've loved no one?

No one.

Hmm.

Well...

I feel a certain affection.

I feel affection, for example,

toward Nanny.

- You do?

- Yes.

Our peasants are so alive,

living in squalor.

And what do we live in?

Our intelligentsia.

Our good and simple friends,

to put it bluntly, you understand.

Small concerns,

small thoughts and feelings.

And the brighter they are, the worse they are -

assailed by introspection and analysis.

I mean, what's happened to the world?

They whine and spew and slander...

"Oh, this one's a psychopath,

that one's a phrasemonger. "

And then let them find someone

whom they can't pigeonhole...

and that one's the most eccentric person.

I love the forest. I don't eat meat.

A most eccentric person.

Where could we look to find a simple,

unencumbered and spontaneous relation...

to our fellows and the world?

Where? Nowhere.

Nowhere on this earth, I assure you.

Please don't drink anymore.

Why not?

Because it isn't like you, that's why.

Is that what you think?

You are refined.

You - You have a gentle voice.

You, more than anyone I know,

are as you spoke of - beautiful.

- Why do you act in an ordinary way?

- I?

- You drink, you gamble.

- Do I?

Please stop.

You said that we work not to create

but to destroy...

gifts that are given from above.

So why do you do it?

You don't have to do it.

Please don't drink.

Please.

I won't drink.

- You won't drink anymore?

- No.

- Give me your word of honor.

- I give it.

Thank you.

Basta! Eh?

Look at that. I've sobered up.

Sober already...

and I shall stay so,

as I have vowed...

till the end of my days.

Well -

So -

My time has passed.

I'm old. I'm jaded.

I'm overworked.

My feelings are blunt.

I have lost capacity for all attachment.

What attracts me?

What attracts me?

Beauty attracts me.

I can't remain indifferent to it.

Yelena, for example, you see,

she'd turn my head in a day.

But then...

it's not love, now, is it?

What is it?

- It's nothing.

- No, what is it?

Oh, you know, in Lent I had a patient die

under the chloroform.

- It's time you forgot that.

- Mmm.

- Can I ask you something?

- Hmm?

Um...

if I had a friend...

or a younger sister, let's say...

and then if you found out...

that this girl...

loved you...

then...

how would that make you feel?

I have no idea.

I suspect that I wouldn't feel a thing.

You'd feel nothing?

I think what I think

is that I'd give her to understand...

how I could never love her.

Uh, could you perhaps ask me this later?

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