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Authors: David Henry Hwang

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BOOK: Trying to Find Chinatown: The Selected Plays of David Henry Hwang
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THE SOUND OF A VOICE
 
(1983)
 
Production History
 
The Sound of a Voice
opened with
The House of Sleeping Beauties
under the title
Sound and Beauty
at The Joseph Papp Public Theater/New York Shakespeare Festival (Joseph Papp, Producer), in New York City on November 6, 1983. It was directed by John Lone and assisted by Lenore Kletter; the set design was by Andrew Jackness; the costume design was by Lydia Tanji; the lighting design was by John Gisondi; and the music was by Lucia Hwong. There were two dancers, Elizabeth Fong Sung and Ching Valdes, in this production. The cast was as follows:
 
WOMAN
Natsuko Ohama
MAN
John Lone
 
 
Characters
 
WOMAN (Hanako), Japanese, forties or fifties. MAN, Japanese, fifties.
 
 
Place
 
Woman’s house, in a remote corner of a forest.
 
 
Time
 
Scene One:
evening.
Scene Two:
dawn.
Scene Three:
day.
Scene Four:
night.
Scene Five:
day.
Scene Six:
night.
Scene Seven:
morning.
Scene Eight:
day.
Scene Nine:
night.
 
 
Definition
 
shakuhatchi
: Japanese end-blown bamboo flute.
Scene One
 
It is evening. Woman warms tea for man. Man rubs himself, trying to get warm. The room they are in is sparsely furnished, except for one shelf on which stands a vase of brightly colored flowers. The flowers stand out in sharp contrast to the starkness of the room.
 
MAN: You are very kind to take me in.
WOMAN: This is a remote corner of the world. Guests are rare.
MAN: The tea—you pour it well.
WOMAN: No.
MAN: The sound it makes—in the cup—very soothing.
WOMAN: That is the tea’s skill, not mine.
(She hands the cup to him)
May I get you something else? Rice, perhaps?
MAN: No.
WOMAN: Some vegetables?
MAN: No, thank you.
WOMAN: Fish?
(Pause)
It is at least two days walk to the nearest village. I saw no horse. You must be very hungry. You would do a great honor to dine with me. Guests are rare.
MAN: Thank you.
(Woman gets up, leaves. Man gets up, walks to kitchen door, listens. He crosses to the vase of flowers. He touches them. Quickly, he takes one of the flowers from the vase, hides it in his clothes. Woman reenters. She carries a tray with food.)
 
WOMAN: Please. Eat. It will give me great pleasure.
MAN: This—this is magnificent.
WOMAN: Eat.
MAN: Thank you.
(He motions for Woman to join him)
WOMAN: No, thank you.
MAN: This is wonderful. The best I’ve tasted.
WOMAN: You are reckless in your flattery, sir. But anything you say, I will enjoy hearing. It’s not even the words. It’s the sound of a voice, the way it moves through the air.
MAN: How long has it been since you last had a visitor?
(Pause.)
 
WOMAN: I don’t know.
MAN: Oh?
WOMAN: I lose track. Perhaps five months ago, perhaps ten years, perhaps yesterday. I don’t consider time when there is no voice in the air. It’s pointless. Time begins with the entrance of a visitor, and ends with his exit.
MAN: And in between? You don’t keep track of the days? You can’t help but notice—
WOMAN: Of course I notice.
MAN: Oh.
WOMAN: I notice, but I don’t keep track.
(Pause)
May I bring out more?
MAN: More? No. No. This was wonderful.
WOMAN: I have more.
MAN: Really—the best I’ve had.
WOMAN: You must be tired. Did you sleep in the forest last night?
MAN: Yes.
WOMAN: Or did you not sleep at all?
MAN: I slept.
WOMAN: Where?
MAN: By a waterfall. The sound of the water put me to sleep. It rumbled like the sounds of a city. You see, I can’t sleep in too much silence. It scares me. It makes me feel that I have no control over what is about to happen.
WOMAN: I feel the same way.
MAN: But you live here—alone?
WOMAN: Yes.
MAN: It’s so quiet here. How can you sleep?
WOMAN: Tonight, I’ll sleep. I’ll lie down in the next room, and hear your breathing through the wall, and fall asleep shamelessly. There will be no silence.
MAN: You’re very kind to let me stay here.
WOMAN: This is yours.
(She unrolls a mat)
MAN: Did you make it yourself?
WOMAN: Yes. There is a place to wash outside.
MAN: Thank you.
WOMAN: Good night.
MAN: Good night.
(He starts to leave)
WOMAN: May I know your name?
MAN: No. I mean, I would rather not say. If I gave you a name, it would only be made up. Why should I deceive you? You are too kind for that.
WOMAN: Then what should I call you? Perhaps—“Man Who Fears Silence”?
MAN: How about, “Man Who Fears Women”?
WOMAN: That name is much too common.
MAN: And you?
WOMAN: Hanako.
MAN: That’s your name?
WOMAN: It’s what you may call me.
MAN: Good night, Hanako. You are very kind.
WOMAN: You are very smart. Good night.
(Man exits. Woman picks up the dishes and teapot, returns them offstage to kitchen. She goes to the vase. She picks up the flowers, studies them. She carries them out of the room with her. Man reenters. He glimpses the spot where the vase used to sit. He listens at the various screens, then suddenly hears a sound. He prepares to draw his sword, then hears a
shakuhatchi.
He sits on the mat, looks at his flower, puts it away. Then he sits on guard with his sword ready at his side.)
 
Scene Two
 
Dawn. Man is packing. Woman enters with food.
WOMAN: Good morning.
MAN: Good morning, Hanako.
WOMAN: You weren’t planning to leave?
MAN: I have quite a distance to travel today.
WOMAN: Please.
(She offers him food)
MAN: Thank you.
(He eats)
WOMAN: May I ask where you’re traveling to?
MAN: It’s far.
WOMAN: I know this region well.
MAN: Oh? Do you leave the house often?
WOMAN: I used to. I used to travel a great deal. I know the region from those days.
MAN: You probably wouldn’t know the place I’m headed.
WOMAN: Why not?
MAN: It’s new. A new village. It didn’t exist in “those days.”
(Pause.)
 
WOMAN: I thought you said you wouldn’t deceive me.
MAN: I didn’t. You don’t believe me, do you?
WOMAN: No.
MAN: Then I didn’t deceive you, did I? I’m traveling. That much is true.
WOMAN: Are you in such a hurry?
MAN: Traveling is a matter of timing. Catching the light.
(Woman exits. Man finishes eating, puts down his bowl. Woman reenters with the vase of flowers.)
 
 
Where did you find those? They don’t grow native around these parts, do they?
WOMAN: No, they’ve all been brought in by visitors. Such as yourself. They were left here. In my custody.
MAN: But—they look so fresh, so alive.
WOMAN: I take care of them. They remind me of the people and places outside this house.
MAN: May I touch them?
WOMAN: Certainly.
MAN: These have just blossomed.
WOMAN: No, they were in bloom yesterday. If you’d noticed them before, you would know that.
MAN: You must have received these very recently. I would guess—within five days.
WOMAN: I don’t know. But I wouldn’t trust your estimate. It’s all in the amount of care you show to them. I create a world which is outside the realm of what you know.
MAN: What do you do?
WOMAN: I can’t explain. Words are too inefficient. It takes hundreds of words to describe a single act of caring. With hundreds of acts, words become irrelevant.
(Pause)
But perhaps you can stay.
MAN: How long?
WOMAN: As long as you’d like.
MAN: Why?
WOMAN: To see how I care for them.
MAN: I
am
tired.
WOMAN: Rest.
MAN: The light?
WOMAN: It will return.
Scene Three
 
Day. Man is carrying chopped wood. He is stripped to the waist. Woman enters.
WOMAN: You’re very kind to do that for me.
MAN: I enjoy it, you know. Chopping wood. It’s clean. No questions. You take your ax, you stand up the log, you aim—pow!—you either hit it or you don’t. Success or failure.
WOMAN: You seem to have been very successful today.
MAN: Why shouldn’t I be? It’s a beautiful day. I can see to those hills. The trees are cool. The sun is gentle. Ideal. If a man can’t be successful on a day like this, he might as well kick the dust up into his own face.
(Man notices Woman staring at him. Man pats his belly, looks at her.)
 
 
Protection from falls.
WOMAN: What?
(Man touches his belly, showing some fat.)
 
 
Oh. Don’t be silly.
 
(Man begins slapping the fat on his belly to a rhythm.)
MAN: Listen—I can make music—see? That wasn’t always possible. But now—that I’ve developed this—whenever I need entertainment . . .
(He continues slapping)
WOMAN: You shouldn’t make fun of your body.
MAN: Why not? I saw you. You were staring.
WOMAN: I wasn’t making fun. I was just—stop that!
(He stops.)
 
MAN: Then why were you staring?
WOMAN: I was . . .
MAN: Laughing?
WOMAN: No.
MAN: Well?
WOMAN: I was—your body. It’s . . . strong.
(Pause.)
 
MAN: People say that. But they don’t know. I’ve heard that age brings wisdom. That’s a laugh. The years don’t accumulate here. They accumulate here.
(He pats his stomach)
But today is a day to be happy, right? The woods. The sun. Blue. It’s a happy day. I’m going to chop wood.
WOMAN: There’s nothing left to chop. Look.
MAN: Oh. I guess . . . that’s it.
WOMAN: Sit. Here.
MAN: But . . .
BOOK: Trying to Find Chinatown: The Selected Plays of David Henry Hwang
3.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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