Adapted from a story by Israel Zangwill. A YIDDISH HAMLET
This Etext is for private use only. No republication for profit in print or other media may be made without the express consent of the Copyright Holder. The Copyright Holder is especially concerned about performance rights in any media on stage, cinema, or television, or audio or any other media, including readings for which an entrance fee or the like is charge. Permissions should be addressed to: Frank Morlock, 6006 Greenbelt Rd, #312, Greenbelt, MD 20770, USA or frankmorlock@msn.com. Other works by this author may be found at http://www.cadytech.com/dumas/personnage.asp?key=130
A Play by F. J. Morlock C 1982
Etext by Dagny
CHARACTERS M. PINCHAS - A Yiddish poet OSTROVSKY - A Yiddish playwright SCHNEEMAN - His toady TUCH WITBERG - A violinist VON MIESES - Another poet, also Horatio HEATHEN JOURNALIST - Also Polonius GRUNBITZ GOLDWATER - An actor manager, also Hamlet KLOOT - his factotum CHARACTERS IN THE HAMLET PLAY THE QUEEN OPHELIA - Mrs. Goldwater
I. AN EAST SIDE CAFE AT THE TURN OF THE CENTURY, DAY.
The customers are almost exclusively Jewish except for the HEATHEN JOURNALIST. Many are dressed in traditional costumes, with black hats, black clothes and long beards. GRUNBITZ, TUCH and the Heathen Journalist are seated at a large table, awaiting the arrival of Pinchas. SCHNEEMAN and OSTROVSKY sit nearby at another table.
SCHNEEMAN
He's coming, this seven-day wonder.
OSTROVSKY (bitterly)
They do nothing but talk about this fool poet from Warsaw. They forget Ostrovsky overnight. Fifty-three plays I've written, fifty-three.
SCHNEEMAN
They'll forget him overnight too. This "Yiddish Hamlet" is sure to flop.
OSTROVSKY
Who knows? The public is fickle.
(PINCHAS enters escorted by WITBERG and VON MIESES, who lead him very deferentially to the table at which the Heathen Journalist, Tuch and Grunbitz are waiting. Pinchas is greeted and congratulated by all and begins to hold forth.)
PINCHAS
It is the greatest play of the generation. (complacently) It will be translated into every tongue.
OSTROVSKY
Will you listen to that conceited ass. Wait till Goldwater gets through rewriting it.
SCHNEEMAN
I can't wait to see Goldwater squeeze his fat carcass into a pair of tights to play "Hamlet".
PINCHAS
I, Melchitzedek Pinchas will soon be world famous. See, my initials M. P. make Master Playwright.
OSTROVSKY (to Schneeman)
Also Mud Pusher. Who is this uncombed bunco artist?
SCHNEEMAN
He calls himself the sweet singer of Israel.
TUCH (to Pinchas)
But look here Pinchas. You said the other day your initials made Messianic Poet.
PINCHAS
And don't they? You call yourself a ward boss, a political leader and statesman and you don't know your ABC's.
(There is a roar of laughter at this sally.)
TUCH (nettled)
They can't stand for everything.
PINCHAS
No, they can't stand for mad politician. (another burst of laughter) But, as there are many meanings in every letter of the Torah, so there are meanings innumerable in every letter of my name. (ingenuously) If I am a playwright as well as a poet, was not Shakespeare also?
TUCH (sarcastic but not ill natured)
You wouldn't class yourself with that low down barnstormer?
PINCHAS (modestly)
My superiority to Shakespeare I leave to others to discover. I discovered it for myself in writing this very play, but I cannot expect the world to admit it until the play is produced.
WITBERG (innocently)
How did you come to find it out yourself?
PINCHAS
It happened quite naturally. You see when Goldwater was touring with his Yiddish troupe through London, he had the idea of acquainting the Jewish masses with Hamlet, and he asked me to make the Yiddish translation, as one great poet translating another. Well I started the job and then of course the discovery was inevitable.
TUCH (drily)
Doubtless.
PINCHAS (munching on some food which he brandishes from time to time)
The play which I had not read since my youth appeared unspeakably childish in places. (brandishing) Take for example the ghost. (munches, then slightly annoyed) This bagel is as stale as a sermon. Command me a cream tart, Witberg. (Witberg goes to a waiter) (resuming) What was I saying?
TUCH
The ghost-
PINCHAS
As yes . . . now, how can a ghost impress a modern audience which no longer believes in ghosts?
TUCH
That is true.
PINCHAS (sensing approbation, waives his index finger them presses it on the side of his nose)
I translated Shakespeare, yes. But into modern terms. The ghost vanished. Hamlet's tragedy remained only the incapacity of the thinker for the base activity of action.
OSTROVSKY
The higher activity, you mean.
TUCH
Thought has no value until it is translated into action.
SCHNEEMAN
Exactly, you've got to work it up.
PINCHAS
Schtuss! Acts are but the soldiers. Thought is the general.
WITBERG (having returned with a cream tart)
It is not much use thinking about playing the violin, Pinchas.
PINCHAS
You performers are all alike. Every tune you play, every word in the mouth of an actor, was put there by someone else. (waving his arms) Yet you think you are indispensable!
WITBERG
Well, someone has to perform it, in order to test your ideas.
PINCHAS
No doubt the leading man who plays my Hamlet will think he is more important than the playwright. Woe be to the mummer that dares tamper with a single syllable.
OSTROVSKY
Your Hamlet! Since when?
PINCHAS
Since I recreated him for the modern world without tinsel and pasteboard; since I conceived him in fire and bore him in agony; since . . . (biting into his cream tart and making a face) even this cream tart is sour!-since I carried him to and fro in my pocket as a young kangaroo in the pouch of its mother.
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
Why didn't Iselmann produce it in London?
PINCHAS
Because of the ghost. (disgusted) I have changed Iselmann's name to Eselmann, the donkey man. I had hardly read him ten lines before he brayed out, "Where is the ghost?" I said, "I have laid him. He cannot walk on the modern stage." Eselmann tore his hair. "But it is for the ghost that I was interested. Yiddish audiences love a ghost." "They love your acting too," I replied. He failed to comprehend the withering irony of that retort. Oh, I gave that donkey man a piece of my mind.
GRUNBITZ (jesting)
But he didn't take a piece.
PINCHAS
As if a great poet were to consider the tastes of the mob. Bah! These managers are all men of the earth. Crass materialists. (rising)
Once, in my days of obscurity, I was made to put a bosom into a play, and it swept all my genius off the boards. But I am glad Eselmann gave me my Hamlet back, for before giving it to Goldwater, I made it even more subtle. No vulgar nonsense of fencing and poison at the end . . . a pure mental tragedy, for in life it is the soul alone that counts. My play is the eternal tragedy of the thinker. (turning to Witberg) Another bagel.
(Witberg goes in search of a waiter.)
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
Strikes me, Pin'cuss, you're giving us Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark.