MOSCOW - NEW YORK
A play inspired by the work and life of Nobel Price winner Isaac B. Singer written in 2009
Premiere Belgium, Arenberg Schouwburg Antwerpen, October 2009
Premiere New York, JCC Manhattan, February 2011
Through monologues a brother and sister reflect on their lives and the choices they made. In search of a better life, they left Warsaw during the Thirties for places where the grass would always be greener, Moscow for the sister, New York for the brother. He wanted to be somebody. She believed in the socialist ideology. He took his chances on a capitalist society.
Years later they meet again in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. An imaginary Jewish-American wedding provides the setting for self-confrontation and a touching reunion, while a live soundtrack by the best Russian and American composers of the first half of the previous century accompanies them. Regret, bitterness, and pain alternate with universal laws like roots, blood ties, and the love between siblings…
This musical theatre production is supported by edited images and film. The musicians of Quartet Enigma interpret a repertory from Shostakovich to Gershwin on stage. Opera soprano Valerie Vervoort presents vocal impressions of this poignant but hopeful story. Inspiration for this Jewish drama is the work of Nobel Prize winner Isaac Singer as well as the theatre makers, Noémi Schlosser, own family saga and life experiences. She has both struggled with and been surprised by the tragic but enriching history of her Jewish ancestors, who belonged to the artistic and trendsetting elite of pre-war Prague.
CHARACTERS
The play is for 2 actors, piano quartet and a soprano
a male actor in his late 70s-80s
a young actress in her 20-30s.
For more information, videos and press go to THEATRE
MOSCOW – NEW YORK
ACT 1 SCENE 1 Monologue BROTHER
Hmmm... Put any old man in front of a window and he will turn into a philosopher.
What the hell became of me? My life is a routine. I have breakfast I like having breakfast I wouldn’t have a problem eating three breakfasts a day. To sit down and have breakfast. What a luxury.
Take my time. Chew extensively. Let the coffee cool off till it’s just right. Allow the butter to melt. Feed the pigeons on the balcony with the crumbs you wiped off the table. Go downstairs for a little walk around the block. I know the pigeons I feed. But I don’t really know them that well. I mean, it’s not as if they introduced me to their kids or anything.
Look through my mail, a substantial job. Letters, credit transfers, invitations, obituaries. When I consider how many people write me for this or that reason It seems like the life I led was meaningful after all. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t know anyone here, Don’t really know anyone. After all these years I can say: That every country’s share of evil outweighs its share of good. That people are people, wherever they are. That intelligence is scarce. And idiots are abundant.
n conclusion, this country isn’t worse than any other country. America America.
It’s a country where if you are dreaming about a doughnut, A doughnut will appear. If you were to dream about a doughnut where I come from... You would have a dream but no doughnut.
Or a bublik, like it’s called over there.
My cab arrived. I’m going to a wedding today. A Jewish wedding in Brownsville.
It might be a cosmic wedding. America America.
What am I still doing in America? America turned into a country that won’t force you to work if you don’t feel like it. A pack of cards is opened. Old folks would die of boredom without cards or gossip.
You know what my problem is? I don’t know how to play cards. People have tried to teach me but I can’t be bothered.
If you suffer a heart attack or cancer here, in the States, you will just keep on living.
Why did G'd create a Hitler, a Stalin?
Why did he need the world wars?
“To my right Michael And to my left Gabriel, In front of me Uriel And behind me Raphael, And over my head God's Shekhinah In your hand I commend my spirit You saved me, Eternal, True God”
Once a window philosopher, now a car window philosopher.
What were they thinking, these pious uncles of mine, while they dug their own graves?
Is there any such thing as immortality?
We don’t die all of a sudden, but in phases Is there any such thing as a soul? The arguments for and against are completely worthless.
I can already hear them say; “Great weather for a wedding.” What if the weather would never change? Who would be able to imagine a summer's day, a moonlit night, spring?
How far can man’s capacity to imagine actually reach?
I am not exactly a poster boy for a pious lifestyle. Even though, every year, I remember to say a Kaddisj in remembrance of my deceased father, no matter how busy I am. In the end, one must remember to say Kaddisj, even if it’s the only thing one remembers. I don’t know anything about my father’s death. The date. The place. So that’s how far man’s capacity to imagine reaches. Picking a date for your father’s irrevocable death and sticking to it.
A traffic accident. Another victim. One wrong turn on the steering wheel and nothing remains of all the plans the victim made. Maybe he was on his way to a wedding as well. It’s even possible he was going to the same wedding as I am. It turned into a cosmic wedding for him. I always wondered why people that are condemned to the electric chair choose a special last meal. They order raw steak and lemon meringue pie. Why would anyone care what they`d eat an hour before they die? Personally, I couldn’t savor it.
When you die you shit yourself. You relax and release everything. That was my mom’s biggest obsession, dying in dirty underpants. `Oh no`, she would say, `dying in dirty underwear, I’d be mortified! ` Mom, you would be dead… Just try to get that through to her… Whether you die here in the States, or over there, you’ll end up shitting yourself anyhow. Life and death seem to have something in common as it is. Even if you decide to die tomorrow, you would still want to eat something good & tasty today… And sleep in a warm bed…
Sleeping is good, but can be too good too. Why do people get the chance to escape for seven or eight hours? If man was put on earth to suffer, why not suffer 24/7? It seems like I suffer more when I`m asleep than awake. I failed at sustaining relationships with other people and realize that I will just have to be all by myself.
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