北京麻雀 (Sparrows of Beijing)

北 Beijing 2008 - 12

13

Pope and Garrick

An Imagined London

Somewhere in the early 1700s, but not too early

FADE IN

Back of an ALLEYWAY to Georgian theatre

This is an alleyway, with a door to the left and is receded going down. There are numerous tiny windows on both the left and the right. One man in shabby dress is going down, it is DAVID GARRICK, and he is fumbling for his keys. Wall dressed in a jacket, and breeches, they are quite worn and tell in pattern. From the left forward comes a figure of ALEXANDER POPE who is more refined, with a long coat in off-white with delicately sewn embroidery.

DAVID GARRICK

Stop there. (Lowers voice) You're too punctual as usual. (He takes out a hander kerchief and blows his nose.)

ALEXANDER POPE

(Looking up, the shock of recognition.) Garrick, why did you gasp me to the players' entrance?

DAVID GARRICK

I have some news from an inside man - very inside - and you would certainly want to hear it.

ALEXANDER POPE

So, what news comes from inside the bedchamber? And whose? After all, to err is human, to span sublime.

DAVID GARRICK

So is repeating lines. But more importantly, Walpole has decided to censor plays, effective immediately.

ALEXANDER POPE

Do you have the act?

DAVID GARRICK

(Hand him a paper.)

If this will do, though I do not see what you are trying to find.

ALEXANDER POPE

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.

DAVID GARRICK

I have just said, he will read plays before they are put on. We are ruined.

ALEXANDER POPE

(Reads the act.)

It says new plays.

DAVID GARRICK

New plays satirize. Shakespeare may have had interesting things on Anne Boleyn, but nothing more current.

ALEXANDER POPE

If you call the Church's obsessions drab...

DAVID GARRICK

I shan't be running a Lullified Theatre with all the Gods and thees and thous.

ALEXANDER POPE

Then we will do as the ancients did.

(Garrick waiting.)

ALEXANDER POPE

Shakespeare wrote the play, I just plumped the verse.

(Hands the paper to Garrick, then walk down the alley,)

DAVID GARRICK

Where are you going?

ALEXANDER POPE

(Looking back)

A verse is the thing, to catch the ire of the king.

FADE OUT:

the end

14

Later that Afternoon,

Along with a narrow room,

Connected to a Hutong just at the edge of the second rim

Beijing, 2008

Doorway stopped them - which came from the alleyway behind them. This was the third ring of Beijing, and it had a scruffy angular way about it, with taxis that were shown their age on blocks to repair. What people drove was different as well, there were none of the imported cars here. And most were at least a decade old and trying to get a bit more mileage than was good for them. This was a place where the Chinese handmade present met the Chinese imported present, and the two of them settled in together. This was where things were repaired and replaced. Modern China did not like to admit that around every large metropolitan zone, was this gray area. The men had teeth missing and were thin; the women were large and formless – and yelling at the men. Now amidst across the color of the light.¹

The alley between the large thoroughfares was just large enough to fit a Chinese-style van – but just barely. Forget about getting a Japanese-style taxi, though a Chinese-style taxi could be wedged in by a suspicious driver. These were the days of soot and smoking rather than cleaner water from the exhaust pipe. But he would have to be clever about it, one could tell by the way his face was carried – there was a certain look to the ones who could do it. Along the space near the doorway, there were three or four closets – which held a variety of junk, which no one wanted, but they would be ill to throw any of it out. They reached the doorway, and there was no sign on it because it was shared by four people – each of whom taught classes at one time or another. The door was slightly ajar, and she led him into the room – standing along the opposite wall was a thin man – but if you looked closely, the features between himself and the woman bespoke of some resemblance. They were, in fact, brother and sister, even though they were 15 years apart. If he noticed the two at the door, he did not show it. It was a slightly off-white room with a blackboard, literally, on one side with three long wall-to-wall desks in the middle – which had accordions from very old to very new. There was only one light in the room, and that was the top with no covering on it.

What was curious to the American man, was it seemed that there was no one to open the doorway. So, he edged around the door and looked down at a small fluffy black cat – which looked back at him. The Chinese girl motioned that the cat had opened the door, something that had not been seen by the American male. Of course, these were the same people we had been following – but there was something about them that was different, they were not him and her, but they. Yes, she was chubby, yes, he had a paunch - but for the first time they were a couple, and everyone who looked at them realized it. It was a communion of souls, granted by whatever deity one selects – a mélange of piles of scores, Memorabilia – such as accordion vessels around the world, for that is what her brother taught – picture postcards, and some handwritten letters from various teachers and students, as well as accordion, both old – with keys – and new – with buttons.

“This is his teaching room, though I think you can see that already.” She began as if she needed something to say to start a conversation because there had been none to this point on the drive over there. He nodded – and then realized he was to make a verbal interjection because the nod would simply have her racking her brains for another entry into dialogue. Realizing that this was actually something he wanted to gain some information about, he shook his brain into conversation mode. That was the primary difference between most men and most women - men had to go into conversation mode, whereas women were always ready to launch into any topic under the sun. And he was among the most gregarious of men.

“He seems to like French a great deal. Am I writing about this?” Glancing around at where he most likely had shown up and reading some of the correspondence that was lying around. A less observant onlooker would not have grasped such details – now or even later, it was a gift from his forbearers. Along with other tricks of memory – there was a difference between bright and gifted, though he was both.

“Yes, he even speaks French better than he does English if you can believe that.” She too was looking around, a fresh, looking at the memories that each object conveyed to her – whether she was with him or receiving postcards from him. Since he was so much older than his younger sister, it was clear that she was in awe of him. From the time she was small, he opened up another world. Teaching any foreign subject was a trial, and though she did not know it at the time – he had the tenacity to engage in it.

At this point, a thin and tall man came walking in, though he was obviously the older brother from his face. But the juxtaposition of his thin features came as a shock, there was none of his younger sisters’ fleshiness of form. But there was the same intensity on his face, and intensely of look which said that he was seizing up his opposite number, and measuring the intelligence, cunning, and eloquence – even if his partner had not spoken. This was his gift – by looking at the innumerable signs, to measure a person, almost as if he were made to be what he was. The zen of the body. The American noted this – and would be more careful than usual - there was no telling what he would pick up from the smallest glance.

With a bound, he crossed over the room and offered his right hand in an offer to shake it. “Her sister has told me so much about you when date did you become enamored with the instrument?” he had sculpted the movements of his face and body to reflect wrapped attention – and he formed his eyes very tightly on the altar brother. It was as if he were saying with every attention that he was listening only to one person and paying close attention. But in reality, he was preparing his mind to be absolutely bored with the delicate sound of the accordion, which is not one he usually thought of as pleasant. This distance between his outward appearance and his inward reticence was nothing new to him, he almost thought of it as a duty to her.² A kind of tipping his hat off to her. Because while musicians know other musicians, accordion players know other accordion players, and that is it. They were a crowd unto themselves.

And he was rewarded: after a short greeting, the brother launched into how he was both teaching his regular students and getting ready for a European tour which included three stops in France, two in Italy, and an additional two in Spain. There were details about which people they were going to stay with, which ones were dearest friends, and talking about the difficulties of playing old-style ones in some places, and new-style ones in others. Then the American realized that he would go on forever – if he was allowed to do so. It seemed that he too was born with the gift of gab, and it made the American question his sexuality – because there was a degree - though not definitive – between the flourishing tone of voice and some degree of homosexuality. He had learned this because two of his uncles were the same way. The climate change, she is changing.

On the side, she was watching very closely – for signs of his distress. She was carefully watching whether he would be offended - or worse – by her brother's antics, though that was not how she thought of them, keeping in mind her worship of him from small. She knew – as opposed to guessing – what the details of his life were like. That is why she was born, as a matter of fact – because he would not bear any children. While her parents grappled with this, they knew that there was nothing they could do about it. So, by manipulating their doctor, they caused an additional child to be brought into the world. And even if it was a girl – she had at least the prospect of having children. This to two lower-order members of the Communist party was not as big a deal as for some, it would still be a blot on the family. Because each one of them was an only child – so they did not want to have their line extinguished.

After a while, he remarked: “Every great idea gestates in many minds but is born when one handset it to permanent form, on paper, stone, or written on the souls of those that it has healed. All bad ideas seethe in the hearts of many, and writ in the blood of those that they kill.” She said nothing but remember this happenstance quip. But there was little humor, though she noticed the wit enlivened him.

They both agreed to watch him teach – one of the brother's best students – go through her paces. The brother was obviously proud, of both his teaching and that she was precociously opted – even bright, for there was a difference. An apt pupil copied things by ear – a bright pupil understood implicitly and went beyond. They were verging on the latter through her playing, but as yet there was something missing. And perhaps would always be.

15

London in the Legendary Past, Again

FADE IN:

A writer's bedroom

This room is piled with papers and books pile high. And the bed with wrinkled JACKET, WHITE SHIRT, and rather creased PANTS and HOSE sits JOHN GAY scribble with a QUILLED PEN. He look up at the bedside and the camera pans to ALEXANDER POPE in reads the penultimate page. Over his shoulder is CATHERINE DOUGLAS dress in middle class clothes but everyone there knows she is the DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY, she's reading the page, but looking up at John Gay.

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

(Looking down at the around, then at the page.)

You could have a servant to clean up.

(Looking around and sniffing at the cups and dishes.)

Why do not Polly and Lucy ascertain it is a small shift to watching the knife and being cleaved by it?

(John Gay sitting on the bed.)

JOHN GAY

You are neat, but relaxed, I am a slug, thus a servant would quit. As for the ladies, as the beggar says, because you look at pretty things until the shark bites and the Black-Eyed Susan bleeds.³

(Cut to overhead of Catherine and Pope.)

ALEXANDER POPE

They are flattered by the attention. And they do not see the knife.

(Tries to get under her skirt, but she turns away.)

(Cut to: John Gay writing something.)

JOHN GAY

And he keeps it out of sight.

(Close-up with Pope and Catherine.)

ALEXANDER POPE

Until the billows start to spread. There is nothing that moves one so much as a great Man-in-Distress.

(John Gay sitting on the bed.)

JOHN GAY

And, with fancy gloves, he is re-elected. Till he is hanged or cohabiting in the square...

(Medium with Pope and Catherine.)

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

Would I might be hanged! And they will recognize him as a figured of Walpole?

(John Gay sitting with hand on face.)

JOHN GAY

The ones who can read. The is a sign in the first scene. It says “Wall Pole” And has some nondescript alabaster busts underneath. It is a clear connection with the teeth.

(Medium with Pope and Catherine.)

ALEXANDER POPE

Five will get you ten, they bear a slight resemblance to Mr. Walpole.

(John Gay sitting on the bed.)

JOHN GAY

'Tis a plain proof that the world is all alike and that even our gang can no more trust one another.

(Far away through the window with Pope and Catherine.)

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

It seems like the line forms on the right.

(John Gay stretches out with feet on top.)

JOHN GAY

Now that MacHeath is back in town.

(Medium with Pope and Catherine.)

ALEXANDER POPE

The cement is just for the weight. The water has its secrets. What is your secret, Catherine? It is not want of money. Is it want of gentlemen?

(He glances at the small arm and then looks back.)

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

A man who loves money might as well be satisfied with one pound, as I am with one prick.

(A wide shot of a three.)

ALEXANDER POPE

The Mist is dispell'd when a man appears?

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

Or one disappears... But a Duke is to be annoyed.

John shifted on the bed, putting pen and paper down.

JOHN GAY

I thought you had produced an heir?

(Cut to Catherine and Pope)

ALEXANDER POPE

She has produc’d an heroic couplet.

(Tries, and fails, to kiss her ear.)

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

Yes, but there is only one problem.

(Coyly moves out of Pope's grasp.)

(Cut to John, getting up, but only halfway.)

JOHN GAY

And that is?

(Worm's eye view of Catherine, shows her already made up.)

CATHERINE DOUGLAS

They are both like their father.

(Cut to the two men, both sniggering.)

(Back to Catherine, alone.)

Adieu, my two wretched schemers.

(She exits to the front.)

(The two men hanging around the bed.)

ALEXANDER POPE

What are we going to do with her?

(Both move to the window. Camera moves with them.)

(Profile shot, Gay in front.)

JOHN GAY

That is obvious.

(Opposite angle.)

ALEXANDER POPE

How so?

(Profile shot, Gay in front.)

JOHN GAY

You will support her in her trollopes, and I will be supported in my writing, because you have credits, and I have debts.

ALEXANDER POPE

You seem very sure of your judgment.

JOHN GAY

You have genius, and I am a meager talent.

FADE OUT:

1 Joe Jackson, “Steppin' Out”

2 In the fine script, Ardelle Li wrote:

Unicorn riot

precipitated torrent brutally racist

horror invitation assault civilians -

captured outraging conscience

moral duty uprising

concussive glut smut correspondents

conflagration Unicorn riot Reservation

journalistic narrative updating

activist reporting

3 Gay, John; Black-Eyed Susan

“All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,

The streamers waving in the wind,

When black-eyed Susan came aboard;

‘O! where shall I my true-love find?

Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true

If my sweet William sails among the crew.’

William, who high upon the yard

Rock’d with the billow to and fro,

Soon as her well-known voice he heard

He sigh’d, and cast his eyes below:

The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,

And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast

If chance his mate’s shrill call he hear,

And drops at once into her nest:—

The noblest captain in the British fleet

Might envy William’s lip those kisses sweet.

‘O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain;”

We only part to meet again.

Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be

The faithful compass that still points to thee.

‘Believe not what the landmen say

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:

They’ll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,

For Thou art present wheresoe’er I go.

‘If to fair India’s coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,

Thy breath is Afric’s spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white.

Thus every beauteous object that I view

Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

‘Though battle call me from thy arms

Let not my pretty Susan mourn;

Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms

William shall to his Dear return.

Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,

Lest precious tears should drop from Susan’s eye:

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The sails their swelling bosom spread,

No longer must she stay aboard;

They kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head.

Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land;

‘Adieu!’ she cries; and waved her lily hand.