Alisa, Alice

Dragica Potocnjak

• Publisher: Intellect Books
• Year: 2003
• ISBN:
  9781841508863
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Medien & darstellende Kunst
• Subtopic: Darstellende Kunst

'Alisa, Alice' is a humanely cruel and deeply moving drama, full of passion and desire. The clash of two cultures – two worlds – is described with psychological accuracy and depth. Alisa, a young Muslim refugee scarred by the Balkan war finds shelter with Magda, a representative of the common so-called civilised but self-destructive and self-loving western world. Magda, through the sadism arising from her despair and loss of purpose, her psychological confusion, causes the suicide of Alisa. Their relationship permeated as much with love as with hatred, is decanted through the dictatorship of language into a miraculous, irrational and mysterious atmosphere. In places, the style of the play is reminiscent of Pinter's comedy of menace. The realistically based dramatic events are firmly grounded in a recognisable and actual contemporaneity. Poetic ambiguity facilitates universal interpretation, and here and there extends to the magical and surreal.

Alisa, Alice

Although the immediate context is the exile of a Bosnian refugee in Slovenia, the play is about broader European attitudes towards refugees. Directors may choose to change the specific context.

The action takes place in Magda’s living-dining room, from the evening until the following morning.

The furniture is of various styles, predominantly baroque reproductions. The room, though large, gives the impression of being crowded because of the large number of poorly arranged ornaments. Vases are choked with every possible variety of flower, particularly dried ones; goblin tapestries, pictures and photographs in old, heavy frames cover the walls. There is an over-abundance of gilt, crystal and porcelain. The covers and cushions on the sofa are colour co-ordinated with the red velvet carpet and curtains. At least the red velvet is of a shade that, next to the gold, somehow saves the room from complete incongruity, providing a gentle breath of elegance that helps to create a feeling of harmony.

When Alisa is trying to annoy Magda, or to get revenge, she speaks with deliberately poor grammar and a strong accent, and adds some Bosnian words.

The Characters

Alisa (a seventeen year-old refugee from somewhere else)

Magda (a fifty year-old office worker)

Irena (a forty-five-year-old, Magda’s friend)

Leo (a fifty-five-year-old, Irena’s husband)

Vladimir (a fifty year-old, Magda’s husband)

Act One

A festively decorated table for two has been laid in the large living-dining room. ALISA is singing barely audibly what to our ears is a foreign sounding melody, full of feeling, tense, deep (we will hear the same melody again at the end). She makes the final adjustments to the table, then sits there and pulls a notebook out of one pocket and a packet of tablets from the other. She searches through her notebook for the words she needs.

ALISA

(Reading from her notebook, quoting.) ‘I invite you to Alice’s dinner party this afternoon.’ Afternoon? No, evening. Evening dinner party. Yes! (Reading again, quoting.) ‘I didn’t know I was to have a party at all’, said Alice, ‘but if there is to be one, I think I ought to invite the guests.’ O.K. No problem about that! Last supper if you want.

(The phone rings once, twice, three times…ALISA pays no attention to it.)

(Reading again, quoting.) ‘Look up, speak nicely, and don’t twiddle your fingers all the time.’

(The telephone continues to ring.)

(Shouts.) Leave me alone, just leave me alone! I’ll cut it off! (The telephone stops ringing.)

Prasac! Shithead!

(She takes out a large number of pills of various colours, placing them one by one onto the plates and into the glasses, sharing them out slowly and carefully. She then proceeds to act out dining. Her behaviour is exaggeratedly ‘fancy’ and affected, her voice fairly coarse, producing sounds of munching, belching and laughter. She enjoys herself hugely when speaking in an artificial voice, overdoing it a lot, and obviously imitating someone. MAGDA has told her this story several times. She speaks throughout with a strong foreign accent.)

It happened many times that he came home very late in the evening, you know. And me poor thing I was waiting for him, was waiting and was…And I did not eat. Uopšte, I did not. I was not starving, not at all, razumiješ ti to? Can you imagine? But when the hunger started, I knew he is on the way home. And I was not wrong, jer on was already coming up the stairs. The next moment he rang the bell and me full of joy runned into his arms. Kiss! Kiss! Strašno! Disgusting! He put down his bag, took off his coat and his shoes…And the fresh towel was already there in the bathroom waiting for him. Every day thesame, kao neki ritual…like a ritual…Yes? There is something majestic in that! And then a wonderful smell came from the kitchen. Mmmmmmmmm…The most pleasant titillation followed by the most stupefactioned (Like a dialogue)– stupefactioned? – no, vaporising – vaporising? – no, šta me briga! I don't care. Vapour! No! (Very depressed.) I hate it! I'll never learn it. Neču, neču da učim. Mrzim vas, sve vas mrzim! I hate you, I hate this…this...everything! No more learning, no more living. No more languages! No more Alisa! Nothing! Ništa! Ništa! (Gestures as though she were going to knock things over on the table, then suddenly stops and slowly calms down.) Alisa – Alice, you naughty Alice! – Alice? – Yes. – No, no. – Here we go again!

(Continues speaking as she was before her outburst.) All the time in the rythm of pleasant and unobtrusive music. Muzika! La, la, la, la, la, la... la! The king's smile spread over his slightly swollen and saliva sprinkled lips. Oh, yes! His grateful eyes melted over my fingers, which were serving him this ready-made artificial food with completely unartificial elegance.

(The telephone rings again.)

And Vladimir the king, with a small ‘k’, he was – ooh and aah, and oh – he was sighing and clicking and smacking and licking his lips and he was exerting himself with satisfaction and delight. (Speaks into the telephone.) He was delightfuly satisfied, oh, no, satisfactionally delightful! His stomach swelled up like risen bread, so all the buttons of his snow-white shirt bursted and jumped merrily around the kitchen – pok, pok, pok! There. (Gestures with her hand. Now speaking to the person on the telephone, she changes her voice.)

Don't you understand? How come you... It's me, I do not understand you. Who? You. Molim te…ne volim, I don’t want… molim. Please…No, not pleased. Please! Just leave me please, not love me, leave me, I've said leave me! Ostavi me, neču više! No, no, ne, rekla sam ne! I said no! Sad? You are sad? Sad? Who is supposed to be sad here?! Sad?! (Hangs up.) Fooey, fooey, fooey…Disgusting!

(Puts the pills back into their packet during the following.) And then my little hands lifted him up, pleasant dozy, like this and most carefully leaded him over to couch, where the poor devil fall to sleep. But I happily (and whistlingly) skip off to wash the di...