Verwandte Artikel zu The God of Hell: A Play

The God of Hell: A Play - Softcover

Shepard, Sam

 
9781400096510: The God of Hell: A Play
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1400096510 ISBN 13: 9781400096510
Verlag: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2005

Inhaltsangabe

Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard’s latest play is an uproarious, brilliantly provocative farce that brings the gifts of a quintessentially American playwright to bear on the current American dilemma.

Frank and Emma are a quiet, respectable couple who raise cows on their Wisconsin farm. Soon after they agree to put up Frank’s old friend Haynes, who is on the lam from a secret government project involving plutonium, they’re visited by Welch, an unctuous government bureaucrat from hell. His aggressive patriotism puts Frank, Emma, and Haynes on the defensive, transforming a heartland American household into a scene of torture and promoting a radioactive brand of conformity with a dangerously long half life.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

SAM SHEPARD was the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of more than fifty-five plays, three story collections, and two works of prose fiction. As an actor, he appeared in more than sixty films, and received an Oscar nomination in 1984 for The Right Stuff. He was a finalist for the W. H. Smith Literary Award for his story collection Great Dream of Heaven. In 2012 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Trinity College, Dublin. He was a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, received the Gold Medal for Drama from the Academy, and was inducted into the Theater Hall of Fame. He died in 2017.

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Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard's latest play is an uproarious, brilliantly provocative farce that brings the gifts of a quintessentially American playwright to bear on the current American dilemma.
Frank and Emma are a quiet, respectable couple who raise cows on their Wisconsin farm. Soon after they agree to put up Frank's old friend Haynes, who is on the lam from a secret government project involving plutonium, they're visited by Welch, an unctuous government bureaucrat from hell. His aggressive patriotism puts Frank, Emma, and Haynes on the defensive, transforming a heartland American household into a scene of torture and promoting a radioactive brand of conformity with a dangerously long half life.

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Scene One

Set: Early morning. Interior, very simple Midwestern farmhouse. Frosty windows looking out to distant vague, snowbound pastures-no details. Two rooms separated by a simple kitchen counter. Small kitchen stage left with faded linoleum floor. Modest living room, stage right, with plank wood floor; small couch downstage right. Many potted plants of various sizes line the walls of the living room, not arranged with any sense of design or order. An exterior door upstage right leading out to a small mudroom and porch landing. A black cast-iron school bell hangs from the porch ceiling on a short rope. Stage left wall of kitchen has an open arched entranceway leading to other rooms dimly lit offstage. The usual kitchen appliances, cupboards, and sink-all dating from the fifties. Down left corner of kitchen is a semiconcealed staircase leading down to the basement, dim yellow light leaking up from stairs. Handrail and first flight of stairs leading down are all that's visible to the audience.

Lights up on EMMA in blue terry-cloth bathrobe, slippers, moving methodically back and forth from the kitchen sink, where she fills a yellow plastic pitcher with water and carries it to the plants. She waters plants and returns to refill pitcher, then repeats the process. FRANK, her husband, sits on couch with pair of work boots in his lap, greasing them with mink oil. It's a while before they speak.

EMMA: He's not up yet?
FRANK: Haven't heard him.
EMMA: I thought they were supposed to be early risers.
FRANK: Who?
EMMA: These scientists.
FRANK: He's not a scientist. What made you think that?
EMMA: I thought you said he was a scientist.
FRANK: Nope.
EMMA: Well, what is he then?
FRANK: I'm not sure. I mean, I'm not sure about his official title.
EMMA: Official? So, he's working for the government or something?
FRANK: I think he's in research.
EMMA: I thought you said it was something to do with the government.
FRANK: No, I don't think I said that.
EMMA: Arms or something.
FRANK k: Arms?
EMMA: Munitions.
FRANK: I don't know. It has initials.
EMMA: What does?
FRANK: The outfit he works for. Out there in Colorado. DMDS or SSCI or something like that. You know how everything has initials now.
EMMA: DMDS or SSCI? Is that what you said?
FRANK: Something like that.
EMMA: What the heck is that? What does that stand for?
FRANK: I have no idea, Emma. I wasn't really following it. He was kind of panicky on the phone.
EMMA: Panicky?
FRANK: Yes. Panicky. Breathless. Like he was in a rush.
EMMA: Running?
FRANK: What?
EMMA: Running away from something, maybe?
FRANK: No-just-flustered.
EMMA: Oh, flustered. That's different. Flustered.
(Pause. She continues watering.)
Well, how come I haven't met him before this? He's such an old friend of yours, supposedly.
frank: Supposedly? There's no "supposedly" about it.
EMMA: Well, how come you've hardly ever mentioned him?
FRANK: I don't know. He kind of disappeared for a while. I thought he was dead, actually.
EMMA: Dead?
FRANK: Yeah-or missing.
EMMA: Really?
FRANK: Yeah-or tortured even.
EMMA: Tortured? My God!
FRANK: Maybe.
EMMA: What kind of research is he involved in where he gets tortured?
FRANK: I didn't say he was tortured. I said, I thought he might have been-he could have been.
EMMA: Well, that's kinda serious, isn't it? I mean, tortured-criminy!
FRANK: He said it was all top secret.
EMMA: Oh-so that's why you're not telling me then.
FRANK: No, no-I'm telling you as much as he told me, Emma. It's just that-
EMMA: You don't get tortured unless you know something or somebody thinks you know something.
FRANK: No-yeah, well, he probably wasn't tortured then.
EMMA: You were exaggerating.
FRANK: No! I really don't know anything about it, Emma. I didn't want to stick my nose into his business. He just said that the bottom had fallen out and he needed a place to stay. That's all he told me.
EMMA: What bottom was he referring to?
FRANK: See, there you go again.
EMMA: There I go again, what?
FRANK: Sticking your nose into his business.
EMMA: I don't know this man.
FRANK: He's a friend of mine. I told you.
EMMA: I don't know anything about him. He could be hiding, as far as I know.
FRANK: Hiding? What would he be hiding from?
EMMA: How should I know? He's your friend.
(FRANK puts his boots on and stands.)
FRANK: I'm going down to feed the heifers.
EMMA: How long's he going to stay here, Frank?
FRANK: Long as he needs to.
EMMA: I'll start the bacon.
FRANK: Good.
EMMA: Should I wake him up?
FRANK: I wouldn't.
EMMA: Maybe he'd like some bacon.
FRANK: You never know. (short pause) You're going to drown those plants.
(FRANK exits. EMMA alone-stares out window as FRANK crosses, outside. He waves to her. She blows him a kiss. She crosses to the kitchen, dumps the empty pitcher into the sink. It rattles around. She goes to the stove, turns on a burner, sets frying pan on it. She goes to the fridge, takes out bacon, peels off slices. She crosses to top of basement staircase landing, stops, and yells down to their unseen guest, the bacon strips hanging from her hand.)
EMMA: Mr. Haynes? Are you up yet, Mr. Haynes?
(No answer. She goes to the stove and slaps bacon into the frying pan. She turns fire down slightly. Suddenly, the doorbell rings: a very loud, old-fashioned, crank-style doorbell with a rasping, brittle sound. emma turns abruptly toward door, very surprised. She pauses a moment, as though wondering if she imagined it; then the doorbell rings again-longer and more persistent this time. She picks up a dishtowel and wipes her hands as she crosses to door. She opens door, which swings downstage, blocking the audience's view of who is standing there. A man's arm pops into view, dangling a large cookie in the shape of an American flag, with red, white, and blue frosting. emma jumps back. A male voice is heard from behind door.)
male voice: Cookie? American made. Oat and raisin. Totally organic-even the frosting.
(EMMA just stares bewilderedly at the cookie dangling from the hand.)
EMMA: No-uh-what is it? What-we don't-need anything.
(WELCH steps into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. EMMA backs up a little, holding the dishrag to her chest. welch-dark suit with American flag pin in his lapel, short cropped hair, crisp white shirt, red tie, attaché case in one hand and the cookie in the other. Big grin.)
WELCH: (offering cookie) American-made cookie? One of the best you ever tasted. Guaranteed. Take a bite.
EMMA: No-thank you.
WELCH: Hold it then. Just take ahold of it and feel its wonderful weight and texture.
EMMA: No-I'm sorry, but-we're not interested.
WELCH: Not interested-not at all interested.
EMMA: In cookies-
WELCH: Aah-
(WELCH bites into the cookie himself and savors it, smiling broadly at EMMA. EMMA stares back as welch crunches.)
EMMA: Did you, uh-come to see my husband or something? Who exactly are you? welch: Your husband. That's him, down below in the barn, I take it. Mumbling to the cows. Riding around on the tractor like a little boy. A child of the plains.
EMMA: Yes. That's him. And he's not a little boy. He's a big man. welch: He looks pretty American, doesn't he?
EMMA: I beg your pardon? welch: I mean-descent-hereditary-wise. Authentic! He looks authentic, is what I'm driving at. He could fool somebody.
EMMA: Fool? welch: Hard to tell from a distance, of course. Easy to make snap judgments. He could be one of those middle Europeans or something. Latvian maybe. Belarusian.
EMMA: I think you must have the wrong house or something. I don't know what in the world-...

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Verlag
Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2005
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1400096510
ISBN 13 
9781400096510
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
112
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
GPSR Kontakt
gpsr@libri.de

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