to scratch an angel

 

containing the impressed history of a master's last hour,

and -- in its forceful brevity -- projecting us

to the limits of the actual world

 

 

original libretto & music by ari frankel

 

 

Duration: app. 90 minutes without intermission

 

PRIMO                                                  lyric baritone

 

MESSENGER                                        countertenor           

 

MOTHER, dbl. MELENCOLIA            mezzosoprano        

 

WIFE, dbl. EUTERPE                          soprano                    

 

DAUGHTER                                         soprano                    

 

CONCIERGE                                         mezzosoprano        

 

SON, dbl. CADMUS                             tenor                         

 

FATHER, dbl. Uncle & CRONUS       bass                           

 

NEIGHBORS                                        SATB ensemble       

 

 

SECTIONS

 

               1.         Skin                                         Neighbors

               2.         The Shave                              Messenger

               3.         Prelude                                  Instrumental

               4.         Check/Mate                           Mother, Computer/Messenger, Primo

               5.         Oh, Primo                              Mother, Son, Intercom Voice, Primo

               6.         Home                                     Wife, Daughter, Mother, Messenger, Primo

               7.         Dirty Feet                              Primo, Neighbors

               8.         Mail Dance                            Wife, Daughter, Primo

               9.         Not To Worry                      Primo, Concierge

               10.       Gray Zones                            Wife, Concierge, Neighbors

               11.        Living, But Not Alive           Son, Primo

               12.       Walk In My Footsteps        Primo, Neighbors

               13.       It Can. It Is.                           Messenger, Primo, Father

               14.       Like you, caro babbo           Primo, Father

               15.       Sand                                       Son, Primo, Cronus

               16.       Broken                                   Euterpe, Neighbors

               17.       Point. Comma. Point.          Melencolia, Primo

               18.       Afar [dust]                            Neighbors

               19.       Chemistry                              Primo, Neighbors

               20.       Does Not Equal                    Neighbors

               21.       Some Never Do                    Melencolia, Neighbors

               22.       Ask Me                                   Euterpe, Concierge, Cronus

               23.       Arm Patrol                            Messenger, Cadmus

               24.       Burning Coal                         all but Primo

               25.       Non ne posso piu                 Primo alone

 

 

 

Melencolia I, Albrecht D€rer

 

The stage may be a 3-dimensional cut of Levięs family house. At its center - a wide, spiraling staircase, –hugging” an elevator shaft. The staircase has a low railing.

The different floors are visible, or –marked”, and at least the ground and 3rd floors –are there”. The PRIMO apartments occupy all of the 3rd floor. Other neighboring apartments are also visible.

 

MOTHERęs room is visible to stage right. At the bottom of the vertical, caged, elevator shaft, descending the middle of the stairwell, one also sees its well and bottom elevator door. On the ground floor, the CONCIERGEęs apartment door is visible, on the far left.

 

Alongside this center –column”, there are projection screens / activity areas, that will allow virtual tableaux to be both staged/performed and/or screened. When PRIMO falls, his –body”, or morphed projections thereof, can actually be contained inside this elevator cage/shaft; the cage itself can sometimes morph into barbed wire or glass/chemical tubing or some lit mesh.

 

As morning breaks, PRIMO is still sleeping in bed, the house awakens, as neighbors start their day. PRIMO slowly rises.

 

 

1. Skin

Neighbors

 

                                                                                               translation:

[crease, cease,] doubt thou the stars are fire;         [crease, cease,] doubt thou the stars are fire;

[crease, cease,] doubt that the sun doth move       [crease, cease,] doubt that the sun doth move

[crease, cease,] doubt truth to be a liar;                   [crease, cease,] doubt truth to be a liar;

[crease, cease,] but never doubt I love.                      [crease, cease,] but never doubt I love.[1]

 

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita                          In the middle of the journey of our life

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura                                 I came to myself within a dark wood

che la diritta via era smarrita.                                     where the straight way was lost.[2]

 

Grau, teurer Freund, ist alle Theorie                         All theory, dear friend, is gray but the

Und gr€n des Lebens goldner Baum.                            golden tree of actual life springs ever green.[3]

 

Verde que te quiero verde,                                            Green I love you green,

Verde viento. Verde ramas.                                            Green wind. Green branches.[4]

 

Tacitae per amica silentia lunae                                   Through the amicable silence of the soundless

Verbum caro factum est.                                                moonlight[5] The word was made flesh.[6]

 

On lęenterra... aux vitrines ňclairňes,                          They buried him... in the lighted windows,

ses livres disposňs trois par trois veillaient              his books arranged three by three kept watch

commes des anges aux ailes ňployňes...                        like angels with outspread wings...

Les vrai paradis                                                                  The true paradises

sont les paradis quęon a perdus.                                  are paradises we have lost.[7]

 

BATHROOM in the childhood house where PRIMO was born. After brushing teeth, he proceeds to shave. MESSENGER, who may not yet be –visible”, sings, mimicking, or shadowing, or guarding PRIMO, and his reflected mirror image.

 

 

2. The Shave

Messenger

 

MESSENGER:         I come with whiskers rather short.

                                 I hate to shave, oh, help me grow.

                                 I know your time is in much demand;

                                 I only ask you to be my friend, with

                                 worlds colliding, cultures lost;

                                 have no control, find no God;

                                 be my savior: try it on.

                                 Oh, be my savior.

 

                                 I come with questions, answer not.

                                 I come to hold you in my dark.

                                 The sheets are dirty, I care not

                                 My laundryęs rich and full of stuff, so

                                 be my savior, try it on;

                                 wear the crown, wear the crown.

                                 Be my hero, one and all;

                                 be my savior.

                                 Shave me close.

 

                                 The cream is burning from outside.

                                 The blade is bright and smooth and nice.

                                 With drugs available for free,

                                 Ięm somewhat worried, wouldnęt you

                                 be my savior, try it on.

                                 Be my savior, wear the crown.

                                 Be my hero, one and all.

                                 Oh, be my savior.

 

                                 I knock, and wait, and watch TV;

                                 Play with computers in search of me;

                                 Life is fleeing, sleep no more;

                                 Ięm always tired, so alone with

                                 worlds colliding, cultures lost;

                                 have no control, find no God;

                                 Be my savior.

                                 Oh, be my savior.

 

                                 Be my savior: wear the crown.

                                 Be my savior: try it on.

                                 Be my hero, one and all.

                                 Be my savior.

 

                                 I come with whiskers rather short.

                                 I hate to shave, oh, help me grow.

                                 I know your time is in much demand;

                                 I only ask you to - - - shave me - - -

                                 shave me - - - shave me.

 

 

3. Prelude

Instrumental

 

 

As PRIMO finishes dressing, he moves into his STUDY, fixing his shirt into his trousers. Booting the COMPUTER, he looks around for some notes. He launches a chess program, and sits to play –against” the computer. Its –voice” will actually be the processed voice of MESSENGER).

 

 

4 . Check/Mate

Mother, Computer/Messenger, Primo

 

 

COMPUTER:          Your move.

 

PRIMO:                   My move?! Why, yes. Youęre right

I must have dosed off; not quite awake yet.

                        Queen takes Knight 4.

 

COMPUTER:          Watch out. Youęll score.

 

PRIMO:                   This house° This room. This game°

 

COMPUTER:          Were you born here?        

What do you know?

 

PRIMO:                   One thing° one thing° [frustrated] I forget.

 

Your move.

COMPUTER:          Bishop bows. Pawn is out. I have doubts.

 

PRIMO:                   How is that possible?

Ięll re-boot you and youęll know.

Doubts are human.

 

COMPUTER:          Watch out, you men.

 

PRIMO:                   This house° This room.

 

BOTH:                     This game°

 

PRIMO:                   I write.

 

COMPUTER:          You record.

 

PRIMO:                   I delete.

 

COMPUTER:          Erase some more.

                     Help me with this game.

 

PRIMO:                   Prostate pills † go away!

Post-op was hard°

 

COMPUTER:          Pawn takes White Heart.

 

PRIMO:                   Check?

 

COMPUTER:          Check.

 

PRIMO:                   This house. This game°

 

MOTHER:               [from other room] Primo!

 

COMPUTER:          Who calls?

 

MOTHER:               Primo!

 

PRIMO:                   Mother calls.

[toward Motheręs voice] Ięll  be°

 

COMPUTER:          Right away you jump to her side!

 

PRIMO:                   What else can one do?

What else would you do for an ailing mom?

[pause] Check?

 

COMPUTER:          Check-mate.

 

MOTHER:               PRIMO!

 

PRIMO:                   Yes, mother. Coming.

 

Rising from the desk, PRIMO slowly, with effort, turns to go to his MOTHERęs room. On his way, the apartmentęs intercom buzzer sounds. He answers.

 

 

5. Oh, Primo

Mother, Son, Intercom Voice, Primo

 

”I go to the door of my motheręs room and

I feel the weight of the whole world on me.”

 

† Primo to relative

 

PRIMO:                   Prego.

 

VOICE:                    Is Renzo there?

 

PRIMO:                   No. He is Number Four.

 

VOICE:                    Sorry!

 

PRIMO proceeds through the corridor, as the apartment door swings open.

 

SON:                        Sorry, father. My friend pressed the wrong bell.

 

PRIMO:                   Not to worry, son.

 

SON:                        Weęll be in my apartment for a while, if you need anything.

                                 Ci vediamo [be seeing you].

 

PRIMO:                   [waving son away] Ci vediamo.

 

Passing through the landing, PRIMO transforms from a moral compass, from the celebreated guru of a writer that the world perceives, into a controlled child, eager to please mommy.

 

MOTHERęS ROOM. Bedridden for months, with Primoęs DAUGHTER at her side, the ill woman complains. Seemingly senile, weak, she remains stubborn.

 

MOTHER:               Oh, Primo, Primo.

Ięve been calling you forever.

Where have you been?!

 

PRIMO:                   In my study, Mama.

 

MOTHER:               Why donęt you answer?

You donęt care at all about me°

Itęs only –work” with you!

 

PRIMO:                   Sorry, Mama. I am sorry.

 

MOTHER:               [answering, as if she was asked:]

Sleep? I had no sleep.

All I had was pain.

I want to go home.

 

PRIMO:                   But, mother, you ARE home. We ARE home.

This IS home. (looking around at the room)

This has always BEEN our home.

 

MOTHER:               No, my words° you donęt understand.

You donęt understand my words.

I want to go to my true home.

My home in the sky.

 

PRIMO:                   Mama, what nonsense!

                                 Donęt TALK like that.

 

w/SON:                   Donęt talk°

 

PRIMO alone:        ° like that.

MOTHER:               Ah, it hurts!

 

TOGETHER:           It hurts.

 

MOTHER:               Yes, it hurts so much!

 

PRIMO:                   Ięm sorry, Mama.