Sotto Voce (TCG Edition)
By Nilo Cruz
4.5/5
()
About this ebook
Received a subsequent production at the On.Stage Black Box in Miami in spring 2014, produced by Cruz’s Florida-based theatre company Arca Images. Received rave reviews by Miami critics.
A dream-like play, it’s an experimental style that deals with historical tragedy and unconventional romance; poetic dialogue and enthralling imagery.
Interesting historical context that could appeal to academic audiences, as a well a cultural appeal to both Latino and Jewish audiences.
Legendary theatre director Peter Brook reportedly plans to stage a French-version of Sotto Voce in Paris sometime in Fall 2015
Cruz won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Drama for his play Anna in the Tropics, becoming the first Latino writer ever to do so.
One of three playwrights to receive the Greenfield Prize, which consists of a $30,000 commission to create a new work of art to be fulfilled by the artist in two years.
Read more from Nilo Cruz
Anna in the Tropics (TCG Edition) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Two Sisters and a Piano and Other Plays Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Exquisite Agony Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Beauty of the Father Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5
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Reviews for Sotto Voce (TCG Edition)
3 ratings1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This story was beautiful. It's one of my favorite plays.
Book preview
Sotto Voce (TCG Edition) - Nilo Cruz
Act One
As the lights begin to dim, we hear the cries of seagulls and the constant sound of a ship’s horn in a harbor. Then, in full darkness, we hear the sound of someone writing on a computer keyboard and the amplified recorded voice of a woman. The sounds become an echo.
Projected on the curtain is an image of the ocean.
BEMADETTE (Recorded voice): Ariel and Nina Strauss boarded the St. Louis ship, Saturday, May 13, 1939. They had left Hamburg with thoughts of starting a new life away from Germany and finding a new home in Havana.
(The lights reveal Bemadette.)
(Spoken voice) I wanted to be on the ship with them, but I clenched my toes inside my shoes to keep from running up the gangway, as I stood immobile on the dock, drenched in my coat with the desire to leave with Ariel, while the air around me became still.
(A phone rings. The lights reveal Saquiel, a young man dressed in a leather coat. Bemadette picks up the phone without speaking.)
SAQUIEL: Hello? Bemadette?
(No answer from Bemadette.)
Are you there?
BEMADETTE: Yes.
SAQUIEL: It’s me. Saquiel.
BEMADETTE: No, you’re not Saquiel. That’s not the name I gave you. You’re Ariel Strauss.
SAQUIEL: I’m leaving—
BEMADETTE: Do you have to remind me?
SAQUIEL: No. But from the beginning I told you my visit would be short.
BEMADETTE: Yes. It isn’t the first time you tell me this.
SAQUIEL: But you never believed me—
BEMADETTE: No. I thought I had dreamt it.
SAQUIEL: My visa expired—
BEMADETTE (Playfully): My dear young man, you could have lied to me—
SAQUIEL: Lied—?
BEMADETTE: Yes.
SAQUIEL: How?
BEMADETTE: By easing the moment.
SAQUIEL: Is that what you want me to do?
BEMADETTE: I thought you would know by now—
SAQUIEL: Know what—?
BEMADETTE: To lie to me.
SAQUIEL: If I knew how to lie to you I would.
BEMADETTE: It would help me forget that you’re leaving.
SAQUIEL: I think it’s too late now.
BEMADETTE: It’s never too late. Something is always beginning.
SAQUIEL: What could begin now?
BEMADETTE: What we have to say to each other one last time.
SAQUIEL: The sound of good-bye?
BEMADETTE: That’s also a beginning. You mustn’t forget to take a look at Central Park one last time.
SAQUIEL: With you?
BEMADETTE: No, by yourself. I’m not leaving. I don’t need to see it one last time.
SAQUIEL: I only know how to go there with you.
BEMADETTE (Her expression is childlike): In the end there’s nothing to it. We only have to close our eyes and enter Central Park.
SAQUIEL: Were my eyes to close now, I’d be waiting for you there.
BEMADETTE: In what part of the park?
SAQUIEL: Where I always like to sit.
BEMADETTE: By the statue of the Cuban poet, José Martí.
SAQUIEL: And we’d visit the park with the specter of the poet.
BEMADETTE: The three of us like ghosts.
SAQUIEL: Yes. And he’d show us the trees he used to know in the park.
BEMADETTE: The last trees to drop their leaves in the fall.
SAQUIEL: And the ones to bloom first . . .
BEMADETTE: Of course, he would’ve known all the trees.
SAQUIEL: And so did Walt Whitman . . .
BEMADETTE: And Edith Wharton . . .
SAQUIEL: Bemadette, I must go. I have to go.
BEMADETTE (Suddenly, desperately but quietly): Don’t go yet! Don’t go, Saquiel!
SAQUIEL: Do you realize that if I don’t leave I might not be allowed to come back?
(She doesn’t respond.)
Bemadette. Are you there? Would you read my letters when I write to you?
BEMADETTE: I’d much rather hear your voice—
SAQUIEL: That’s not what I asked you—
BEMADETTE: I know—
SAQUIEL: Good-bye then—
(Sound of a dial tone. Bemadette is unable to end the phone call. The lights go down on Saquiel.)
BEMADETTE: How did I spend these same hours the past years without his voice?
How did I get myself into this? How did it begin?
(Lights change. Bemadette takes us back to the initial conversation that occurred a month ago with Saquiel.
The telephone rings. The answering machine picks up the call. Lights up on Saquiel.)
SAQUIEL: Ms. Kahn . . . Ms. Kahn . . . it’s me, Saquiel, the student from Cuba. Don’t hang up. It doesn’t matter if you don’t talk to me. You don’t have to tell me a