Eleanor and Eve
2002; Springer International Publishing; Volume: 28; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês
ISSN
0311-4198
Autores Tópico(s)Commonwealth, Australian Politics and Federalism
ResumoThe Blue Mountains region west of Sydney is still thick with writers, musicians, sculptors, painters, actors. This community has a long history of such like minded spirits attracted to a unique and astonishing area. Although it's a community where we live, all too often our work is based in the city. This has been particularly so for the community of actors. Together four of us, Annie Byron, Pip Dodd, Maureen Green, and myself wanted to make a piece of theatre both about and for the people who live in our area. Or at least something of the history of the region in which we find ourselves. The New South Wales Ministry for the Arts thought this was a good idea too and we thank them very much. I had always imagined a play being performed in the atmospheric surroundings of Eleanor Dark's old home, Varuna. When I heard that the novelist Eve Langley had also lived in Katoomba at the same time as the Darks, and that she had changed her name by deed poll to Oscar Wilde, I wanted to learn more. Eve Langley's story is a gift. Poignant and funny; too theatrical not to use. Eleanor's son Mick Dark told us that the two women had never met, despite their apparent similarities and close proximity for fifteen years. Therein lay a premise. A possible structure on which to hang a narrative. Research filled in some gaps; opened others. The play Eleanor and Eve, of which the following is an excerpt, explores with great dramatic licence and apologies to biography, what might have happened had two characters loosely based on these two remarkable women actually met. [The audience assembles in the forecourt of the home of Dr. ERIC and ELEANOR DARK. In time, the elderly Dr. Dark leans from the upstairs window. He waves a pair of red flags to attract their attention.] OLD ERIC: Ah, you're here, good, good. I've been expecting you. Thank you for coming. Would you all please make your way upstairs to the bedroom. Come in, don't be shy. We can't talk like this. And we can't begin until everyone is assembled up here. [Dr. Dark adds whatever words are necessary to persuade the audience to come upstairs to his bedroom, where he is to be found lying in bed.] OLD ERIC: Come in, come in, there's plenty of room. This won't take long. I'm so glad you could come. My there's a lot of you. Squeeze up, there's room over here...Isn't this cosy. We have such a lot of visitors these days. My name is Doctor Dark and I can tell by the look of you just what you're thinking. It's been said I can see into the minds of young people. I can tell you're thinking: `What are we doing squashed into this room with this old man in his pyjamas. What's he planning with us?' Don't worry. I know you've not come to see me, you've come to worship at the shrine of my wife. Dear sweet Eleanor. Yes, she lived here. Slept on this side of the bed. Unless I'm mixing things up. I'm no good at remembering things. Such a fickle skill. She worked in this house. Here is her stick which she used to thump on the floor with when she wanted things. [He takes a stick from under the bedclothes and demonstrates. From downstairs we hear Eleanor's voice call out:] ELEANOR: [off] What is it? I'm busy. OLD ERIC: There she is, hard at work...I had to chase an intruder downstairs with it once. Unless it was a phantom. Too quick for me. And here's her piece of lead pipe. [He takes a piece of lead pipe from under a pillow.] You'll find out later what she kept that for. Look about you, you'll see all sorts of fragments of our life together. The cigarette burns in the furniture. Her books. Perhaps they are relics. Or talismans. Touch them. Feel the aura. Please make yourself at home. Pop the kettle on if you like. If you would please now gather in the loungeroom down stairs I'm sure Eleanor will be along in a moment. Thank you. Off you go. Careful on the stairs. Thank you for coming. People are so shy. [Dr. Dark flops back on his pillows, exhausted. …
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