... Try as they might, they cannot establish their identities or gain an understanding of the workings of the world around them. Rosencrantz simply gives up, reasoning that if no one will explain why he is in this situation, he is not going to fight that. He disappears. Guildenstern is sure that there must have been a time when they could have directed their own destinies, but he cannot identify when that might have been. Proclaiming that they’ll ‘know better next time,’ he too disappears. Thus Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who nobody could ever tell apart, are swallowed up by their own lack of individuality. [pinkmonkey.com]
... Style ... tableaux vivans = living pictures [ named and numbered ]
first scene : not about them, by the world from RosGuil's POV. "Playing Children"...
in acting2 class -- scene analysis -- homework (breakdown this scene, act 3, boat, name episodes, justify action, motivations, and etc.)
... super-ojective or throughline:
* Action (plot)
* Hero - character (how does the scene advance it?)
* Idea (thought) themes --
[ 3 Structural Principles by Aristotle, The Poetics ]
-- Functionality
...
Scenes
ROS: My name is Guildenstern, and this is Rosencrantz.
(GUIL confers briefly with him.)
(Without embarrassment.) I'm sorry - his name's Guildenstern, and I'm
Rosencrantz.
Spectator [ Narrator ], i.e. "Horatio" [ "reads" stage directions as if in Brechtian Theatre ].
(Behind them HAMLET appears from behind the umbrella. The light has
been going. Slightly. HAMLET is going to the lantern.)t
ROS: The position as I see it, then. We, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
from our young days brought up with him, awakened by a man standing on his
saddle, are summoned, and arrive, and are instructed to glean what afflicts
him and draw him on to pleasures, such as a play, which unfortunately, as it
turns out, is abandoned in some confusion owing to certain nuances outside
our appreciation - which, among other causes, results in, among other
effects, a high, not to say, homicidal, excitement in Hamlet, whom we, in
consequence, are escorting, for his own good, to England. Good. We're on top
of it now.
(HAMLET blows out the lantern. The stage goes pitch black.)
(The Black resolves itself to moonlight, by which HAMLET approaches the
sleeping ROS and GUIL. He extracts the letter and takes it behind his
umbrella; the tight of his lantern shines through the fabric, HAMLET emerges
again with a letter, and replaces it, and retires, blowing out his lantern.)
(Morning comes.)
(ROS watches it coming-from the auditorium. Behind him is a gay sight.
Beneath the re-tilted umbrella, reclining in a deckchair, wrapped in a rug,
reading a book, possibly smoking, sits Hamlet.)
(ROS watches the morning come, and brighten to high noon.)
ROS: I'm assuming nothing. (He stands up. GUIL wakes.) The position as
I see it, then. That's west unless we're off course, in which case it's
night; the king gave me the same as you, the king gave you the same as me:
the king never gave me the letter, the king gave you the letter, we don't
know what's in the letter; we take Hamlet to the English king, it depending
on when we get there who he is, and we hand over the letter, which may or
may not have something in it to keep us going, and if not, we are finished
and at a loose end, if they have loose ends. We could have done worse. I
don't think we missed any chance... Not that we're getting much help. (He
sits down again. They lie down - prone.) If we stopped breathing we'd
vanish.
(The muffled sound of a recorder. They sit up with disproportionate
interest.) Here we go.
Yes, but what?
(They listen to the music.)
GUIL (excitedly): Out of the void, finally, a sound; while on a boat
(admittedly) outside the action (admittedly) the perfect and absolute
silence of the wet lazy slap of water against water and the rolling creak of
timber-breaks; giving rise at once to the speculation or the assumption or
the hope that something is about to happen; a pipe is heard. One of the
sailors has pursed his lips against a woodwind, his fingers and thumb
governing, shall we say, the ventages, whereupon, giving it breath, let us
say, with his mouth, it, the pipe, discourses, as the saying goes, most
eloquent music. A thing like that, it could change the course of events.
(Pause.) Go and see what it is.
ROS: It's someone playing on a pipe.
GUIL: Go and find him.
ROS: And then what?
GUIL: I don't know - request a tune.
ROS: What for?
GUIL: Quick-before we lose our momentum.
ROS: Why!-something is happening. It had quite escaped my attention!
(He listens: Makes a stab at an exit. Listens more carefully: Changes
direction:)
(GUIL takes no notice.)
(ROS wanders about trying to decide where the music comes from. Finally
he tracks it down - unwillingly - to the middle barrel. There is no getting
away from it. He turns to GUIL who takes no notice. ROS, during this whole
business, never quite breaks into articulate speech. His face and his hands
indicate his incredulity. He stands gazing at the middle barrel. The pipe
plays on within. He kicks the barrel. The pipe stops. He leaps back towards
GUIL. The pipe starts up again. He approaches the barrel cautiously. He
lifts the lid. The music is louder. He slams down the lid. The music is
softer. He goes back towards GUIL. But a drum starts, muffled. He freezes.
He turns. Considers the left-hand barrel. The drumming goes on within, in
time to the flute. He walks back to GUIL. He opens his mouth to speak.
Doesn't make it. A lute is heard. He spins round at the third barrel. More
instruments join in. Until it is quite inescapable that inside the three
barrels, distributed, playing together a familiar tune which has been heard
three times before, are the TRAGEDIANS.)
(They play on.)
(ROS sits beside GUIL. They stare ahead.)
(The tune comes to an end.)
(Pause.)
ROS: I thought I heard a band. (In anguish.) Plausibility is all I
presume!
GUIL (coda): Call us this day our daily tune....
(The lid of the middle barrel flies open and the PLAYER's head pops
out.)
PLAYER: Aha! All in the same boat, then! (He climbs out. He goes round
banging on the barrels.)
Everybody out!
(Impossibly, the TRAGEDIANS climb out of the barrels. With their
instruments, but not their cart. A few bundles. Except ALFRED. The PLAYER is
cheerful.)
(To ROS.) Where are we?
ROS: Travelling.
PLAYER: Of course, we haven't got there yet.
ROS: Are we all right for England?
PLAYER: You look all right to me. I don't think they're very particular
in England. Al-I-fred!
(ALFRED emerges from the PLAYER's barrel.)
GUIL: What are you doing here?
PLAYER: Travelling. (To TRAGEDIANS.) Right-blend into the background!
(The TRAGEDIANS are in costume (from the mime): A King with crown,
ALFRED as Queen, Poisoner and the two Cloaked figures.)
(They blend.)
(To GUIL.) Pleased to see us? (Pause.) You've come out of it very well,
so far.
GUIL: And you?
PLAYER: In disfavour. Our play offended the king.
GUIL: Yes.
PLAYER: Well, he's a second husband himself. Tactless, really.
ROS: It was quite a good play nevertheless.
PLAYER: We never really got going-it was getting quite interesting when
they stopped it.
(Looks up at HAMLET.)
That's the way to travel...
GUIL: What were you doing in there?
PLAYER: Hiding. (Indicating costumes.) We had to run for it just as we
were.
ROS: Stowaways.
PLAYER: Naturally-we didn't get paid, owing to circumstances ever so
slightly beyond our control, and all the money we had we lost betting on
certainties. Life is a gamble, at terrible odds-if it was a bet you wouldn't
take it. Did you know that any number doubled is even?
ROS: Is it?
PLAYER: We learn something every day, to our cost. But we troupers just
go on and on. Do you know what happens to old actors?
ROS: What?
PLAYER: Nothing. They're still acting. Surprised, then?
GUIL: What?
PLAYER: Surprised to see us?
GUIL: I knew it wasn't the end.
PLAYER: With practically everyone on his feet. What do you make of it,
so far?
GUIL: We haven't got much to go on.
PLAYER: You speak to him?
ROS: It's possible.
GUIL: But it wouldn't make any difference.
ROS: But it's possible.
GUIL: Pointless.
ROS: It's allowed.
GUIL: Allowed, yes. We are not restricted. No boundaries have been
defined, no inhibitions imposed. We have, for the while, secured, or
blundered into, our release, for the while. Spontaneity and whim are the
order of the day. Other wheels are turning but they are not our concern. We
can breathe. We can relax. We can do what we like and say what we like to
whomever we like, without restriction.
ROS: Within limits, of course.
GUIL: Certainly within limits.
(HAMLET comes down to footlights and regards the audience. The others
watch but don't speak. HAMLET clears his throat noisily and spits into the
audience. A split second later he claps his hand to his eye and wipes
himself. He goes back upstage.)
ROS: A compulsion towards philosophical introspection is his chief
characteristic, if I may put it like that. It does not mean he is mad. It
does mean he isn't. Very often, it does not mean anything at all. Which may
or may not be a kind of madness.
GUIL: It really boils down to symptoms. Pregnant replies, mystic
allusions, mistaken identities, arguing his father is his mother, that sort
of thing; intimations of suicide, forgoing of exercise, loss of mirth, hints
of claustrophobia not to say delusions of imprisonment; invocations of
camels, chameleons, capons, whales, weasels, hawks, handsaws - riddles,
quibbles and evasions; amnesia, paranoia, myopia; day-dreaming,
hallucinations; stabbing his elders, abusing his parents, insulting his
lover, and appearing hatless in public - knock-kneed, droop-stockinged and
sighing like a love-sick schoolboy, which at his age is coming on a bit
strong.
ROS: And talking to himself.
GUIL: And talking to himself.
(ROS and GUIL move apart together.)
Well, where has that got us?
ROS: He's the Player.
GUIL: His play offended the king-
ROS: -offended the king-
GUIL: -who orders his arrest-
ROS: -orders his arrest-
GUIL: -so he escapes to England-
ROS: On the boat to which he meets-
GUIL: Guildenstern and Rosencrantz taking Hamlet-
ROS: -who also offended the king-
GUIL: -and killed Polonius-
ROS: -offended the king in a variety of ways-
GUIL: -to England. (Pause.) That seems to be it.
(ROS jumps up.)
ROS: Incidents! All we get is incidents! Dear God, is it too much to
expect a little sustained action?!
