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Authors: David Henry Hwang

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KAWABATA: But I’ve given you your security.

WOMAN: Yes, yes. I still can’t—but why?
(She steps out from behind the screen)
See? Don’t I look hideous?

KAWABATA: You’re exactly what I want.

WOMAN: Is this what you want? An old hag pretending to be young again?

KAWABATA: Please. Sit down.

WOMAN: The tea—it’s probably cold.

KAWABATA: No, it’s fine. Open that box.

WOMAN: This one?

KAWABATA: Yes.

WOMAN: It’s beautifully wrapped.
(She starts to open it)

KAWABATA: It took me several hours to buy the kimono, and the rest of the day to buy that.

(She removes a vial of clear liquid
.
)

Please. Add it to the tea.
(Pause)
Go on. You said it was all right for us to bring our own medicine, didn’t you?
(Pause)
The top lifts off.
(Pause)
Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to drink it or anything. It’s for me. Now, go on.

WOMAN: Respect me, Mr. Kawabata.

KAWABATA: I do.

WOMAN: Tell me—this isn’t a sleeping potion.

KAWABATA: No.

WOMAN: Do you want a room?

KAWABATA: No.

WOMAN: I want to give you one. Free.

KAWABATA: I’ve already paid.

WOMAN: For what?

KAWABATA: Paid not to have a room.

WOMAN: For me?

KAWABATA: Please, empty the vial.

WOMAN: No.

(Pause.)

KAWABATA: Isn’t this your job? Isn’t this what you get paid to do? For your life’s security, madame, you should be willing to endure a little more than usual.
(Pause)
What’s the matter? I thought of all people in the world, you would understand this.

(Silence. She empties the vial into the teapot
.
)

Good. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, say those things. But I assume . . . we have an understanding. Do we?

WOMAN: Look at me. See this?
(Points to her face)
This?
(Pointing to her Kimono)
That should answer your question. What should I do now?

KAWABATA: Tell me again, why I should come to your house.

WOMAN
(As before)
: Our guests sleep very well here. It’s the warmth, they say.

KAWABATA: Warmth?

WOMAN: Our guests are not afraid to sleep at night. The darkness does not threaten them.

KAWABATA: Oh, it’s so cold tonight. Look at my hand. Could you pour me some tea, please?

(Pause.)

WOMAN: Yes. Certainly.

(She does; her eyes are fixed on him. She watches him drink as she speaks.)

The girl I’ve picked out for you is . . . she’s . . . half Japanese, half Caucasian, very beautiful, like a child, like a pearly-white snowflake child, whose foot never—always—moves, traces circles around the snow—uh—sheet, fleeing—uh—feeling the warmth, the heart—uh—the heat, finding it, the warmth, the heart—uh—the heat, taking it, the warmth, the heat, always . . .
(He puts down the cup. It’s empty. She refills his cup. It sits on the table, untouched. Silence.)

KAWABATA: Now, we are as we should be.

WOMAN: Yes, I suppose so.

KAWABATA: And you look so beautiful.

WOMAN: Don’t be cruel.

KAWABATA: But you do.

WOMAN: I won’t listen.

KAWABATA: If we were thirty, maybe even twenty years younger, who knows?

WOMAN: Mr. Kawabata, for so long now, you’ve been trying to show me that you’re different from my other guests.

KAWABATA: I’m sorry.

WOMAN: No, no, you’ve done it. You’ve gotten your wish. How does it make you feel?

KAWABATA: I wasted so much time.

WOMAN: You’ve proven to me that you’re a thousand times more terrible and wonderful than any of my other guests.

KAWABATA: How sad. I don’t even care about that anymore. If I’m different, it’s only because I believed you when you showed me that I was the same as the rest of them.
(Pause)
It’s funny. I’ve known you all this time, and I don’t even know your name.

WOMAN: Michiko.

KAWABATA: Michiko. Wonderful. You have the hands of a young woman, did you know that, Michiko?

WOMAN: No. My hands are ugly.

KAWABATA: Let me see them, Michiko.

WOMAN: They are the hands of a crow.

KAWABATA: Please. Let me see them.

(She does.)

Amazing. And you—from the country.
(He touches them)
They are long. And firm. And warm with blood.
(He kisses them)
I’m starting to become tired. May I rest in your lap?

The House of Sleeping Beauties

(She nods.)

Thank you, Michiko.

(Silently, she begins to stroke his hair
.
)

You’ve been very kind for allowing me to . . . take these liberties with you. I’m sorry I said those things about you. But I was afraid that you weren’t as strong as I expected, that you couldn’t give me what I needed. I shouldn’t have doubted.
(Pause)
Please. Take the money. Be happy. Enjoy these last years. Buy what you’ve always wanted.
(Pause)
I do want you to take care of yourself.
(Silence)
You can’t believe what a comfort it is for me to be falling asleep, yet able to open my eyes, look up, and see you.

(His eyes close. She looks around the house, continues to stroke his hair. She begins to sing the “Tokyo Ondo” as a lullaby. She picks up the remaining cup of tea, drinks it. She resumes singing and stroking his hair as lights fade to black.)

END OF PLAY

THE VOYAGE

(1992)

Libretto by
David Henry Hwang
for the Opera by Philip Glass

Production History

The Voyage
was commissioned by the Metropolitan Opera in commemoration of the 500th anniversary of Columbus’s arrival in America and opened October 12, 1992. It was conducted by Bruce Ferden; the production design was by David Pountney; the set design was by Robert Israel; the costume design was by Dunya Ramicova; the lighting design was by Gil Wechsler; and the choreography was by Quinny Sacks. The cast was as follows:

SCIENTIST/FIRST MATE	Douglas Perry
COMMANDER	Patricia Schuman
SHIP’S DOCTOR/SPACE TWIN 1	Kaaren Erickson
SECOND MATE/SPACE TWIN 2	Julien Robbins
ISABELLA	Tatiana Troyanos
COLUMBUS	Timothy Noble
EARTH TWIN 1	Jane Shaulis
EARTH TWIN 2	Jan Opalach

Characters

SCIENTIST/FIRST MATE, tenor

COMMANDER, soprano

SHIP’S DOCTOR/SPACE TWIN 1, soprano

SECOND MATE/SPACE TWIN 2, bass (lyric)

ISABELLA, mezzo

COLUMBUS, bass baritone

EARTH TWIN 1, mezzo

EARTH TWIN 2, bass

CHORUS, plays natives, the Spanish court at Granada, dignitaries and world rulers, dominican monks

Prologue

The opera begins with the Chorus, offstage, singing the Music of the Spheres. From the stars, the Scientist/First Mate, in wheelchair with computerized voice box, appears. During his aria, the Music of the Spheres can sometimes be seen to pose certain questions.

SCIENTIST/FIRST MATE:

Quarks, kooks
Heretics, lunatics
Lovers and defilers of God
Set off in leaky vessels
Towards the holes on the horizon
With faulty fuel lines
And failing eyesight
And limbs quite inadequate
And minds finally limited
To the certainty
That the inadequate body can follow
Where the inadequate mind has been

When my daughter was born, I smiled like a hyena
And for a moment I felt my legs and my limbs
For a moment I knew
No boundaries
A body, a planet, a universe, a mind
For whom the limits do not apply

The voyage lies where
The vision lies
There

David Henry Hwang

CHORUS
(Simultaneously; repeated variously, fragmented)
:

Will time run backwards?
Is time a spherical object?
Is real time imaginary?
Can particles escape from a black hole?
Does a finite universe exist without boundaries?
Does God abhor a naked singularity?
What is the mind of God?
Can man picture a universe created without God?
Does God have a purpose?

ACT I

Scene One

Commander, Scientist/First Mate, Ship’s Doctor, Second Mate.

The interior of a spaceship as it hurdles out of control toward our solar system. A time toward the end of our Ice

Age, about 50,000 B.C.

COMMANDER:

No more choices
Don’t rely on options
The concept of free will
Is dead

SECOND MATE:

My children are grandparents
I should have studied law

SCIENTIST/FIRST MATE:

Any fate is better
Than another supper
in the ship’s mess hall

COMMANDER:

Impulse power
Damn the technicians
The tradition of workmanship
Is dead

SHIP’S DOCTOR:

Think of my garden
I plant in my garden, peas and carrots and lilies

COMMANDER:

I did my training
David Henry Hwang

In a box lined with buzzers
All hope of promotion
Is dead

SCIENTIST/FIRST MATE:

We’re nearing a solar system.
Should I inquire?
Of course—look at her, she’s preparing for death.

SECOND MATE:

Nothing could be worse than my wretched childhood.

SHIP’S DOCTOR:

And put out candles in case of a frost.

COMMANDER:

The lights do not flash
The eyes do not blink
The engines do not ignite
The beast rears its ugly head
And smiles, and licks its chops
And lies on the ground, tongue extended, to wait
For the dead

SCIENTIST/FIRST MATE: