Directed by Ray Renati
Featuring Malcolm Rodgers, Tim Meehan & Will Brown
Characters:
Pyotr Verzilov– Male – Russian/Canadian – a passionate activist and artist – Husband of Nadya (Pussy Riot Activist, recently arrested for action in Russian Orthodox Church) – dressed casually and plainly.
Dmitry Vedenyapin – Male – Russian – Creative writing professor at the Institute of Journalism and Creative Writing in Moscow – lover of Maria Alyokhina (Pussy Riot Activist, recently arrested for action in Russian Orthodox Church) – the father of her child – He is well dressed and wearing a fur coat.
Mr. Samutsevich – Male – Russian – Father of Yekaterina Samutsevich (Pussy Riot Activist, recently arrested for action in Russian Orthodox Church) – he has returned to Russia after 5 years abroad – he is bundled in a coat and hat of working class status.
Setting:
April 2012 – a bar outside Moscow. A bottle of vodka and three glasses are set on a bar with three stools.
Lights up on PYOTR, sitting alone at the bar. His glass is empty and he fills it to the brim with Vodka. He then proceeds to drink it all down, looking toward the door, worried.
Enter DMITRY, bundled in a fur coat, shaking off the cold.
PYOTR
Professor Vedenyapin. (leaves his seat to help DMITRY out of his coat) It’s so good to see you.
DMITRY
Jesus, it’s frozen solid out there. It’ll be a month before my balls fall back out of me.
PYOTR
Let me help you professor.
DMITRY
Pyotr, our children are in school together, call me Dmitry.
PYOTR
Professor Dmitry, then. (he succeeds in removing DMITRY’S coat)
DMITRY
I take it he hasn’t arrived yet.
PYOTR
(Shaking his head) He told me 9 O’clock.
DMITRY looks at his watch and scowls
PYOTR CON’T
Drink?
DMITRY
Please.
PYOTR pours DMITRY a half glass of vodka
and then a half glass for himself. They clink.
PYOTR
Na zdorovye.
DMITRY
Na zdorovye.
They lift the glasses to their lips but before they can drink
Enter MR. SAMUTSEVICH.
PYOTR
Mr. Samutsevich! At last.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Pyotr. There you are. How wonderful to see you. Thank you for meeting me here, I know it’s a bit out of the way. (They shake hands vigorously) I haven’t laid eyes on you since Yekaterina’s graduation.
PYOTR
It’s been too long.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
How’s that little one of yours?
PYOTR
Fine sir, just fine.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
And this must be the man himself. Professor Vedenyapin, what a pleasure.
DMITRY
Dmitry, please. (They share another impassioned handshake)
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Well Gentlemen, I know it doesn’t look like much, but you are standing in a piece of my history. (Takes off his coat and hangs it on a stool) Scratch that, the bulk of my history. I grew up in this place. And so did Yekaterina. (He proceeds to run around the bar joyously indicating the places, and reenacting the moments he recalls) I had my first drink at this very bar. I was newly Eleven, just old enough to see over the top. Now that was a real drunk, a fresh, clean prepubescent drunk, ages before this old thing started to grow (Indicating his belly—laughing). I carved my name into the bottom of the table where you now sit. (Feels blindly with his hands—shakes some gum off and continues) Wait. There it is! (He peers under the table) After all these years! Oh, and here (Walks to center stage, looking toward the audience) I would stare out these windows at two in the morning and watch a field of drunks hobble into the snow like trees in a cherry orchard, if each tree were its own swearing zombie. (Gives himself a moment of silent reverie before snapping out of it.) But enough with idle memory. Where is my little girl? Where is Yekaterina? Five years is far too long for a father to be separated from his Daughter.
DMITRY
That it is. That it is.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Is she in the Ladies room? I remember it being a far sight better than the little boys, that’s for sure. (Laughing)
PYOTR
Mr. Samutsevich. Yekaterina is not here.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Don’t tell me I’ve missed her. Has she gone to Moscow? I can catch the last train if I hurry.
DMITRY
Mr. Samutsevich, stay. You will not be seeing Yekaterina tonight.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
What do you mean? Where is she?
DMITRY
Your daughter is in Moscow, but…(pauses as he prepares to say what he must) she is in prison.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
(Pauses, then laughs) This is supposed to be funny! You two had me, there. You really did. (Yelling out into the bar). Alright, Yekat. You can come out now.
PYOTR
(Look at DMITRY, alarmed) Mr. Samutsevich, she really isn’t here.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
(Calling into the bar) Yekaterina!? Come out!
PYOTR
Your daughter was arrested for a political action by her musical group, her band.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Band? What band. What does she do? Sing?
DMITRY
She plays guitar.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
But she’s terrible.
PYOTR
It only takes four chords to play a punk song.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Fine. What is the name of this alleged “band?”
DMITRY
Pussy Riot.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
(Beat) Impossible. She hates cats.
DMITRY
Mr. Samutsevich, please…
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
(Still jovial) This story makes no sense. Being in a band does not get a person arrested.
PYOTR
Well, they staged a concert…at a church.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
I’m sure that was very nice. A Christmas show?
PYOTR
Not exactly…
DMITRY
(Annoyed) Let us dispense with these niceties. (Matter-of-factly) Mr. Samutsevich, your daughter, Pyotr’s wife, Nadya, and Maria Alyokhina, the mother of my child, are being held without bail in Moscow’s central prison. One month ago their activist group, Pussy Riot broke into the Cathedral of Christ the Savior during a church service, and played a guerrilla punk song accusing Putin and the Russian Orthodox Church of crimes against humanity.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
(Dumbfounded beat) But this is an atheist country.
PYOTR
That was my point!
DMITRY
We can all agree: the situation is not ideal. Frankly Mr. Samutsevich, I have no idea what rock you’ve been living under.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
An African one, Professor. Many in fact, it’s a big continent.
PYOTR
Gentlemen, we are not here to accuse each other. We are here to discuss the facts. Visiting hours at the prison will not begin until tomorrow afternoon.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
(Mournfully) No. My Yekaterina is a good girl. She would never do something like this.
DMITRY
Yes, Mr. Samutsevich. She is a good girl. So good she is willing to risk her freedom to fight for her beliefs, for a better Russia.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
A better Russia?! How about a better job, with better health insurance so she can finally get that mole removed. That was her dream! No, Yekaterina wouldn’t do this, she must be the victim of some scam.
DMITRY
Yekaterina is quite proud of that mole, Sir.
PYOTR
Their sentence is only likely to be three years. And with the amnesty groups involved it could be only a year or two.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
Three years?! This is ridiculous. I’m rescuing my little girl. (Attempts to leave the bar but is stopped by the other two men)
DMITRY
Mr. Samitsevich, she does not wish to be rescued. (They restrain him, seating him on a stool) Neither does my lover or Pyotr’s wife. This is what Yekaterina has chosen, and she will tell you herself tomorrow, but tonight we are going to sit you down in this place that you love and explain the situation.
MR. SAMUTSEVICH makes another break for the door but is stopped again by the other two
MR. SAMUTSEVICH
You brutes! I wish I were back in Zanzibar, sunburned as a beached manatee in cargo pants, but at least then I was dreaming of Yekaterina’s bright future. (He begins to cry quietly)
PYOTR
Don’t think of it that way, Mr. Samutsevich. Why can’t we hold onto this moment? A few short years from now, once my Nadya is home, once we’ve put little Gera to bed and sung her a lullaby, my sweet wife will strap me down and gag me with the beautiful ball-gag we got in Paris. And in between flogs I’ll think back to this night, to this place where three men gathered, not knowing what the future would hold. There’s a word for this in German, “nostalgia for the present…”
DMITRY
Sehnsucht.
PYOTR
Exactly!
DMITRY
But we are Russian, Pyotr. Our nostalgia is built on blizzards and Bolsheviks not ball-gags and bedtime stories.
PYOTR
The Germans were communists once.
DMITRY
(Puts a hand on PYOTR’S shoulder in resignation) We were communists once.
PYOTR
(Pouring three more glasses of vodka) Have another drink Mr. Samutsevich. It’s going to be a long night.
The other two men take their glasses
Black Out
END OF PLAY
Art and Music in Our Souls 