Overture

 

            Just before showtime, Antheil’s Jazz Symphony begins.  Prominent is a backdrop, decorated with a black couple dancing the Charleston, the woman holding an American flag, the man grasping her buttocks.

            At an appropriate moment the lights go up to reveal the CAST, which is helping to assemble a constructivist-futurist set, reminiscent of the 1920s.  They do this in time to the very jaunty music, in the manner of a dance.  The set they are “assembling” needs to display at least two prominent projection screens, on which slides and film clips will be shown, something that can be used as a bed or couch, the suggestion of a window with a snow bank behind it, and a grand piano.  For Act II, there should also be a ramp or staircase.  (During the play proper something kinetic should always be going on in the background, for example a screen on which is projected a continuous newsreel of twentieth-century events, stagehands carrying in or out props and so on.  Stage directions referring to “doors,” “tables,” “windows” and so on should be interpreted liberally.)

            As the lights come up, SALVATORE and KUNG-MING KAO stand on a larger-than-life player piano as it rises from beneath the stage.  The player piano resembles the type, such as an Orchestrion, with drums, cymbals, etc., but very constructivist.   Lights on the screens will often mimic the player piano, much in the manner of a 1970s light-show.

            The Jazz Symphony is organized into quite distinct musical phrases; after each the soundtrack can be paused if necessary while the actors speak their lines.

            (Note: The Jazz Symphony is a chamber work.  Two versions are available.  The 1955 version is  6’ 30”.  The original version of 1925, which includes banjo, is more authentic but twice the length.  Either version can be excerpted.  There is also a shorter Jazz Sonata, which uses some of the same material.)

 

(YOUNGER HEDY pauses in her activities and turns to the audience.)

YH:                             Any girl can be glamorous.  All she has to do is stand still and look stupid.

(She returns to setting up.  Music.  )

OG:                             If anyone asks--say it’s about Hollywood.

YG:                             Time!  Time!  I plan to present you with the first realization of the fourth dimension!

(OG reacts with surprise.)

SAL:                            Mamma mia, always four dimensions!  Fella, take it from me, eh!  If you go for ten, I can a-get ‘em for you a-wholesale.

(Music.)

OH:                             I’ve never believed in life after death...Ashes to ashes, dust to dust--and I certainly don’t want to come back as dust.  I have enough trouble with it in my housecleaning.

OG:                             Death isn’t important tonight.  On the other hand, let me tell you about the time I was eaten alive by lions in the Sahara...

YG:                             Music, that adventure of time with space!

SAL:                            Eh, you want a-time, you want a-space?  I’ll a-give you a broken watch and a hole in the ground.

KM (spreading arms, with a microphone):  The movement of Heaven is ceaseless and inscrutable...

(Music.)

YH:                             I’ve never enjoyed a kiss in front of the camera.  There’s nothing to it except not getting your lipstick smeared.

KM:                             The movement of Heaven is ceaseless and inscrutable...

OG:                             Four dimensions were the rage.  As Hemingway said to me when we got to reminiscing, “George, that was one helluva spacetime continuum.”

HD (slinking up to OG):  You think time will save you, dribble puss?  Think again, I’m on to you now.  In your face, on your tail, up your nose.  (Inspecting OG with a big magnifying glass, speaking very rapidly, staccato:)  Definite thymocentricity with subparathyroid tendencies.  Subparathyroid.  It all spells murder, M-U-R-D-E-R.  Do you want to confess, or do I have to beat it out of you with a pituitary?

(OG runs away with HD after him.  Music.)

YH:                             American men are interested in only two things: money and breasts.  It seems a very narrow outlook.

YG:                             Machines!  Machines!  The symbol of our age!  In the future there will be only two types of music: music for idiots and music by machines.

(A small laser satellite streaks by, zapping YG, who hops off, pants singed.)

KM:                             ...and they are likely to be the same.

OH:                             Take it from me, men are most virile and attractive between the ages of 35 and 55.  Under 35 a man has too much to learn and I don’t have time to teach him.

KM:                             The superior man stands in awe of only three things: the ordinances of Heaven, the words of sages, and--enormous tits.  Have a nice day.

OG:                             In a nutshell, it’s about...player pianos.

SAL:                            You a-know, life is like a player-piano roll..  It a-moves, it has a-holes in it, it runs out... (makes flapping sound.)

OH:                             I like oversexed people.  The few I knew were always talented and sensitive.  I’m oversexed and I’ve never kept it a secret.

HD (slinking up to OH, examining her): 

                                    She’s not only a pronounced nympho but a mythomaniac.  That’s  M-Y-T-H-O-M-A-N-I-C.   Strike that.  M-Y-T-H-O-M-A-N-I-A-C.  Mythomaniac.  One disposed to fabrications, prevarications, tall tales, inventions and untruths.  Also known as--a liar.  Lies, lies, lies!  All of them!  Remember the adrenal! 

(OH runs off with HD after her.)

OG:                             Salvador Dali once told me, “Clark Gable is not surrealistic.  But you George, your player piano goes beyond...Beyond!   I am going to immortalize it!”  He did too, that famous construction, “Three average surrealistic women holding in their arms the skins of a grilled player piano...

(On Screen One is projected “Three Young Surreal Women Holding in their Arms

the Skins of an Orchestra.”)

(As the music builds):

HD:                             Liar!

OG:                             ...at the end of September.”  Then he tried to sell it to me.  Dali was always broke.

KM:                             The movement of Heaven...

YG:                             The fourth dimension!

YH:                             Sex.

SAL:                            E’ un opera d’arte!  E’ un grande casino!  E’ un fettucini alfredo!  (He begins running around and continues shouting over the others.)  Cappelini, a piacevole, vivace, allegro, rigatoni...

(During the climax of the music):

OG:                             Player pianos.

YG:                             The fourth dimension!

KM:                             Advice.

HD:                             Murder!

KM:                             Destiny.

SAL (breaking in):  Coincidence!

KM:                             Never!

SAL (over the others):  Ghiribizzo, frulatto.... (He continues shouting in Italian.)

YG:                             Machines!

HD:                             Lies!

YH:                             Breasts!

KM:                             Enormous breasts!

OH (to the fore as the coda begins):

                                    Take it from me, girls, quality is more important than quantity, but quality plus quantity is even better.

(At the funky coda of the Jazz Symphony, the CAST links arms and sways back and

 forth to the music.)

End Overture

Act I

            As the music ends, everyone disperses.  YG takes his place at the grand piano,  SAL goes to the player piano and begins working on it like an auto mechanic.  KM climbs into a futuristic “control center” above the player piano, dons a headset and faces a computer.  OH moves to a position where she can watch Screen One, OG to a similar position, where he can watch the Screen Two.

              For the entire first act, both YH and OH should be suitably “upholstered,” so as not to attract undue attention.  When not commenting on the action, SAL attends the player piano, KM the computer; at times they mimic or contrast the action.

            Enter DIRECTOR and CAMERAMAN, who carries a movie camera on a tripod.

OH:                             In my life sex has been an important factor...

(On Screen One we see clips from the famous nude scene of Ecstasy, which shows

Hedy Lamarr standing naked near a fence, jumping into a pond, and running through a grove of trees.)

OH:                             1932.  Ecstasy.  Hedy Kiesler, born Austrian, in the famous nude scene.

YH (to DIR):               No, I won’t take off my clothes! 

DIR (with a strong German accent):  You vill!  If you refuse, the picture vill be ruined and we vill collect our losses from you.

YH:                             I won’t!

DIR:                            You vill jump into the vater and run through the trees.  The camera vill be up on the hill and nobody vill even see you.

OH (uncovering her eyes):  Being 16, I had never heard of a telephoto lens.

HD (offstage):            Yeah.  And she was 18.

OH:                             Of course, the American censors cut the film.  Oh, not the nude scene with my fanny twinkling through the woods, but the close up of my face...

(YH has lain down on the couch, face up.  The DIRECTOR and CAMERAMAN are filming her.   On Screen One we see Ecstasy’s famous “love scene,” which shows Hedy Lamarr’s face and bare arms while she is apparently in the throws of orgasm.  This scene goes by very quickly and it may be more effective to project individual frames several times in the manner of a flip book.)

DIR:                            Nein!  Nein!  A passionate expression on the face!

                                    (YH tries acting.)

                                    Nein!  Stupid girl!  You are in love.  Love!  Do you understand? 

                                    (YH tries again.)

                                    Stupid, stupid, stupid!  (Grabbing a pin):  You see this pin?  I vill sit out of camera and when I prick your little backside, you vill react!  (He jabs her.)

YH:                             Ow!

DIR:                            Again!

YH:                             Ow!

DIR:                            More!

YH (louder):               Ow!

DIR:                            Elbows!

YH:                             Ow!

DIR:                            I vant elbows!

YH (in real pain):       Ow!

DIR:                            Ya, goot!

OH:                             Thus the most daring love scene ever filmed...

(YG begins pounding on the piano, the last few bars of his mechanistic 1922 Sonata Sauvage.  (The entire movement lasts less than 1 minute.)  At the same time, on Screen Two behind him is the famous “concert scene” from the 1924 French film L’Inhumaine, which shows a vast, rioting crowd at the Théâtre des Champs Elysées. The CAST is also on stage, carrying on.  In the midst of this YG stands up, pulls a revolver from a silk shoulder holster and fires into the air.  Screen Two goes dark and the CAST falls silent.)

YG:                             Thank you.  (To Audience): People often ask how I remain so cool during my concerts when each and every performance turns into a riot.  The answer is simple: a thirty-two automatic.

(OG now breaks in, speaking to audience.  He carries a cane and a hat and performs a little soft shoe as he now addresses the audience. )

OG:                             You may be wondering how a young American composer ended up in Paris in the 1920s.

(He is cut off by a sharp cymbal crash from the player piano as SAL works on it.)

SAL (as if not paying attention to OG):  Scusi. 

YG (as if obvious):     It was love.

HD (offstage):            Love.  Tell us another story.

OG (raising a finger):  You may be wondering--

KM:                             In truth, honorable public is wondering who esteemed gentleman is.

OG (sighing):             Esteemed?  The last time anyone called me esteemed was just about the time the Stock Market crashed.  Coincidence? Or--?

KM (rotating in control chair, mysteriously):  --synchronicity?

OG:                             George Antheil--

YG (playing a horror-movie tremolo) :  “Bad Boy of Music.”  (With a flourish): Hah!

OG (a little ruefully):  “Bad Boy of Music.”  That hyperthyroid phrase is the only thing anyone remembers about me.  I’d like to murder the guy who came up with it.  Unfortunately, that would mean suicide.  In those days I was a young man in a hurry, with time only for the essentials.  (As YG interrupts): The thing was....

YG (speaking faster):  You know, people call me a young man in a hurry.  They say I’m ruthlessly ambitious and the only thing on my mind is to become famous at all costs.  (Matter-of-factly):  It’s probably true.

Offstage Voice:          This youth from Trenton seems to be one of the most musically talented creatures this country has ever produced.

OG:                             Critics.  Yes, believe it or not, in 1900 I was born in Trenton, New Jersey.  You may have heard of Trenton-- 

SAL and KM (singing jauntily in the manner of a back-up chorus): 

                                    Trenton Makes, the World Re-gurg-i-tates.

OG:                             That’s “Trenton Makes, the World Takes.”  You know, Trenton, the place the train stops between New York and Philadelphia.

SAL and KM:             Trenton Makes, the World Re-susc-i-tates.

OG (sternly):              Takes.  The World Takes.

Offstage Voice:          All aboard for New Jersey!  Take your travel shots now!

OG:                             New York morons.  Trenton produced me; the world took me.  This boy, growing up across from Trenton State Penitentiary, his father owner of “Antheil’s, A Friendly Family Shoe Store.”  I fell in love with music early, when two elderly maids next door played their piano day and night--as a cover for the most sensational prison breakout in Trenton’s history. 

(SAL and KM mime shoveling.  YG begins pounding on piano.)

YG:                             Day and night I’m at it, twelve, sixteen, twenty hours...!  When my hands get sore there’s always the goldfish bowls.

                                     (YG demonstrates, shoving his hands into two huge goldfish bowls of water on each side of the piano.  Fish are swimming in the bowls)

                                    My hands--like iron!

                                    (Stagehands have carried in a large mirror.  Without looking, YG gives it a karate chop and shatters it. Offstage avalanche of glass breaking.  Stagehands sweep up.)

OG (dryly):                Bravo...Aaron Copland--he’s a composer, you may have heard of him--once asked Artur Rubinstein--a pianist--if there wasn’t anything he was jealous of.  Rubinstein answered--

Offstage Voice (with Polish accent):  George Antheil’s piano playing.  He could do anything.

YG (holding up his hands):  Iron!

                                    (Another karate chop.  Destroys piano.  Stagehands repair it.)

OG (observing the wreck):  Stunning....By the time I was twenty I had written a symphony--about Trenton.  The countryside, the Delaware River, the penitentiary--

SAL and KM:             Trenton Makes, the World Ir-rad-icates.

OG:                             Hey, many pieces have been written about Trenton.  There was one in 1800.  Betcha didn’t know that.  But the great Stokowski decided to premiere my symphony with the Philadelphia Orchestra.

                                    (The opening phrase of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue.)

                                     He would have too--then I disappeared.  (Thoughtfully): I’m always disappearing.

YG:                             It was love.

HD (offstage):            It was your pituitary!

(Lights up on ANNE.  YG begins pursuing her.  She moves backwards.)

OG:                             It was Anne Williams.  Anne was a well-edited version of Lana Turner and Betty Grable rolled into one.

(Photo of LT and BG rolled into one projected on Screen Two.  KM and SAL shrug shoulders and scratch their heads.)

OG:                             We planned to be married.  When her parents found out--bam!--they whisked her off to Europe.

(ANNE vanishes.) 

                                    I set out to find her.

YG (turning to audience):  Not to marry her.  I gave up that harebrained scheme the minute she left without a word.  She had trifled with my love. 

(ANNE reappears.  YG approaches her.) 

                                    I’ll search for her high and low, and at last when I find her, I’ll walk slowly, bravely up to her, stare into her eyes with silent reproach and--turn on my heel.

(YG makes silent karate chop.  ANNE vanishes again.)

HD (Offstage):           Bullllshhhit.

OG:                             Of course, swimming to Europe was out of the question--

YG:                             --despite these hands.   I can’t cook or wait tables either.

OG:                             There was only one thing to do--arrange a concert tour.  In a nutshell--

YG:                             I’m a sensation. 

(On Screen Two, the riot scene is projected again; the shouting and carrying on resume.)

OG:                             Not to mention the original American in Paris.

SAL and KM:             Trenton Makes, the World Forgets.  (Medium gong.)