Spanish Plays

Elyse Dodgson, Mary Peate, Elyse Dodgson, Mary Peate

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781854594181
• eBook ISBN: 9781788502184
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

A collection of modern Spanish and Catalan plays in translations by practising English playwrights, commissioned and first staged by the Royal Court Theatre.

This volume contains:

Sergi Belbel's Caresses translated by John London
A disturbing picture of contemporary society against a background of urban alienation.

Juan Mayorga's The Scorched Garden translated by Nick Drake
About a group of inmates locked up in a mental hospital since the Spanish Civil War.

David Planell's Bazaar translated by John Clifford
Undercurrents of racism surface poisonously during the course of a hilarious attempt to get an accident video shown on TV.

Antonio Onetti's Bleeding Heart translated by Oscar Ceballos and Mary Peate
Set in contemporary Seville where a naive, middle-aged transvestite encounters a petty thief nicknamed 'sour face'.

Lluïsa Cunillé's Roundabout translated by Oscar Ceballos and Mary Peate
A fascinating study of obsession and delusion.

Paloma Pedrero's Wolf Kisses translated by Roxana Silbert
A young woman returns to her rural village home to await her Parisian lover despite the hostility of the villagers.

BAZAAR

by

DAVID PLANELL

translated by John Clifford

David Planell was born in Madrid in 1967. He studied Cinema and Television at the Universidad Complutense de Madrid and has been a script writer for television since 1990. In 1995 he took part in the Royal Court International Summer School where his play Prime Time was given a workshop directed by Roxana Silbert. Bazaar is his first play to be produced. It is the winner of the Comedias Hogar de Teatro prize and premiered in Puerto Santa Maria (Cádiz) in August 1997 followed by a tour throughout Spain. Bazaar had its British premiere as part of the New European Writers’ Season at the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs in November, 1997. He also co-translated Rebecca Prichard’s Essex Girls as part of Nueva Dramaturgia Británica in December, 1987.

Bazaar (Bazar) was first performed in English as a rehearsed reading in the Voices from Spain season in the Theatre Upstairs on 10 April 1997 with the following cast:

HUSSEIN	Henry Goodman
RASHID	Chand Martinez
ANTON	Andy Serkis

Director Roxana Silbert

Translator John Clifford

The British premiere was staged at the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs as part of the New European Writers’ Season, first performance on 25 November 1997 with the following cast:

HUSSEIN	Nicholas Woodeson
RASHID	Nitzan Sharron
ANTON	Adrian Edmondson

Director Roxana Silbert

Translator John Clifford

Designer Simon Vincenzi

Lighting Chahine Yavroyan

Sound Fergus O’Hare

Characters

HASSAN

RASHID, his nephew

ANTON, a guy from the neighbourhood

Setting: the backroom of a Moroccan shop in the city centre.

Act I: 16 August, 7pm.

Act II: next day, 8.30 pm.

ACT ONE

Heaps of boxes in disorder in the room at the back of the shop. Boxes of different sizes containing different kinds of merchandise: radio cassettes, small electrical appliances, cheap novelties, watches, brightly stamped teeshirts hanging on heaped up hangers, and loads of other things that we’ll never get to see because boxes fill all the available space.

Not much furniture. A small table. There’s a door leading to the shop, and a window looking out on the street. No other exits.

ANTON has his arm in plaster. The plaster is all scabby and covered with pictures and signatures. RASHID is putting prices on boxes with a gun that puts on sticky labels.

ANTON. So. Do you want the job?

RASHID. I’ve got a job.

ANTON. No I didn’t mean that.

RASHID. It’s struck eight. I’ve got to put prices on all this stuff.

ANTON. No. You don’t understand. That’s not a job. That’s work. And work is work. And a job is a job. And you work because you’ve got to. Usually because you got to eat. Or pay your rent. You just have to. End of story. But a job… a job is something you do because you want to, and you do it well, because you like doing it. Do you get it? A job is rock and roll, but work… Work is fish fingers . . .

RASHID. I see.

ANTON. Fish fingers in the fullest sense of the word. And another thing. When you do a job, you get the profit. When you work, some other bugger does. Like Hassan. Whether he’s your uncle or not. And don’t get me wrong. Your uncle, as far as I’m concerned, is a great guy. His shit comes out his backside. But. Think about it. And it’s not just something I’m saying. It’s the truth. It’s the real world. Such as it is. Hassan has a job. You work. And that’s the difference between you. It’s easy to see. Fancy a joint?

RASHID. Well…

ANTON. What?

RASHID. Yes.

ANTON. Roll one for us.

RASHID. You’ll roll one better.

ANTON. How do you expect me to roll a joint? With this stump?

RASHID. Oh yeah. Your arm. I didn’t think.

ANTON. I’ve had it on for almost three weeks. It’s got more graffiti than a shithouse wall. I’m telling you, with your arm in plaster you’re on a different fucking planet. My right arm, too. It’s the fucking limit. You can’t imagine what a fucking drag it is after fifteen years, having to learn to wank left handed. Still. With a bit of luck they’ll take it off me next week. OK, where is it?

RASHID. Where’s what?

ANTON. This joint.

RASHID. I don’t know. Still. OK. But make it a quick one.

ANTON. What?

RASHID. Give me.

ANTON. Give you what?

RASHID. The shit.

ANTON. I don’t have any.

RASHID. You don’t have any?

ANTON. Didn’t you tell me you had a joint?

RASHID. No I don’t have one. I want one.

ANTON. For fuck’s sake. I asked you if you had one.

RASHID. I thought you asked me if I wanted one.

ANTON. What a disaster.

Long pause. It looks as though they’re not going to get their smoke. All of a sudden, ANTON brings out a lump of hash.

ANTON. There. But make it a small one.

RASHID. Oh. So you do have shit.

ANTON. Yes, fuck it, but hardly any. Make it a small one. Take it.

RASHID. I don’t know.

ANTON. Now what’s wrong?

RASHID. My uncle doesn’t like it.

ANTON. So what if your uncle doesn’t like it? He’s not going to throw you out for smoking a joint.

RASHID. He doesn’t like it. It’s against the law.

ANTON. Smoking a joint is against the law. What a joke. But your uncle’s a moor. A moor from Marrakech. What are you on about?

RASHID. He’s not from Marrakech, he doesn’t smoke joints, and he doesn’t like people who do.

ANTON. Look just make up your mind. Roll a joint or don’t roll a joint. But stop farting around.

RASHID. He’ll be here in a minute.

ANTON. Look I’m begging you. Even if it is just a short one. Even if he’s just outside the fucking window! Roll me a joint. I can’t roll it with my arm in plaster. And I want a joint! I want a fucking joint!

RASHID. Have you hurt yourself?

ANTON. No. Not at all. This pissy plaster. I want it to disappear.

RASHID. Give me.

ANTON. Thanks. Here. Papers.

Pause. RASHID starts burning the hash.

RASHID. It smells good.

ANTON. It tastes even better. It’s so strong it knocks your head off.

Pause.

So. What do you think. About this job. Interested?

RASHID. I can’t do it now. Hassan’ll be here soon. He’s tense.

ANTON. What’s his problem?

RASHID. It’s just he wants to make the shop bigger. Rent the place next door.

ANTON. So business is good.

RASHID. He still needs money. And planning permission. Loads of money.

ANTON. The same old story. Money. Fucking money. Working your arse off to earn a fucking peseta. That’s why I told you about this job.

ANTON. What job?

ANTON. Rashid, I told you yesterday.

RASHID. I didn’t really understand.

ANTON. You pretend your camera’s been stolen, you go to the police and you report it. And then you claim the insurance. And if you do it well, you make so much money you can wipe your arse with it.

RASHID. So . . . ?

ANTON. For fuck’s sake. It’s so hard to talk to you. You report the theft of your camera and you get half a million from the insurance company.

RASHID. So someone has to steal your camera.

ANTON. A camera or whatever. Something valuable.

RASHID. But first you need a camera. Or something.

ANTON. OK listen. You go on a trip . . .

RASHID. Here. It’s ready.

He gives him the rolled joint.

ANTON. What a joint. What a fucking joint! Christ man you know how to ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Foreword
• Introduction
• Acknowledgements
• CARESSES
• THE SCORCHED GARDEN
• BAZAAR
• BLEEDING HEART
• ROUNDABOUT
• WOLF KISSES
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information