Nikolay Rudkovsky’s “Everything as You Wanted (Inflation of Feelings)”

Written by Nikolay Rudkovsky

Translated from Russian into English by Aiste Ptakauke

Staged reading at School of Theater of California Institute of the Arts, Valencia, CA, USA in February 2010

Rudkovsky’s play Everything as You Wanted (Inflation of Feelings) clearly stands out from the Belorussian new drama context due to its optimistic take on the contemporary society. Subtly and wittily depicting vices of modern consumerism, the play looks beyond this surface for indestructible values such as love, friendship, family, and creativity that still hold this society together. Masterfully and playfully intertwining funky modern city culture with the peculiar and secluded lifestyle of a contemporary Belarus village, the play looks into relationship dynamics of couples that belong to three very different generations of the Belarus society. Analyzing the notion of romance as conceived by those who can still remember World War II, those living under the rule of Lukashenka, and those who are only discovering rules of the world as they gradually reveal themselves to them, Inflation of Feelings presents its audience with a fine anatomy of love which as accurately grasps the essence of this feeling as accentuates its different nuances.

Here is a short excerpt from the play:

Scene 9

Sounds of a passing high-speed train. OLD LADY stands at her husband’s grave.

Old Lady: Good day, sweetheart. Good day, my old man. How is it going for you out there? Miss me? You do. How do you miss me? You won’t tell me, will you? This is how I miss you: aaa, aaa. How’s that? You liked it, didn’t you? I tried. Our goat’s had a kid. A baby girl. Very cute, but often naughty – her horns are budding. So young and up for butting already. Our mare’s got a new love. She’s just foaled and, look, up and ready again: comes running to a stud and hits him with a hoof, passionately. He kicks her back with his back legs. She grabs him by the mane and yanks it, yanks it. Oh, and our heifer is in the club for the first time. And I thought she was the proud kind. But feelings got the better of her.

The cow got screwed

And only mooed:

Thank you, dude.

She’s all so genteel now. So full of herself… Now, to the point: I’ve got new information for us. Listen. (She reads from a newspaper): “The Red Sea is the warmest and saltiest sea in the world. Its area is 450,000 square meters. It washes the shores of the Arab Peninsula and Africa. The Red Sea is very young. Its formation started approximately forty million years ago due to a crack in the Earth’s surface”. That’s a bit difficult for us. Here’s more. “The main characteristic of the sea is the fact that no river falls into it. Thus, the water in the Red Sea is always crystal clean”. And now, attention, please! “The water temperature does not fall below twenty degrees even in winter. Additionally, this sea is a habitat for Steller’s sea cows”. There you go! They’re also called… Dugongs. Yeah, that’s right: Dugongs. Almost like Dons. At noon they swim to pasture at undersea grasslands. “They are very kind and a little melancholy”. There are dolphins there too… What are we going to do about it? You won’t tell me, will you? Fine. It’s quite dead on this side, too. No one has ever arrived. Only a few lads came up here for intense leisure the day before yesterday. Maxing, chillaxing, as they say. Little drinking, lots of smoking. Musicians. Lots of playing. Almost as much as smoking. Their music, I don’t really get it, but it somehow makes me happy. Yesterday they were going to town for new supplies, so I asked them for information for us. Maybe today they’ll have something. They live in tents across the river. They come here for milk and eggs. I don’t take money. We’ve got a cultural barter. It’s not just me, is it? I’m not doing it just for myself, eh? You wanted it too, didn’t you? So I am holding on to our silly dreams. I’ll keep looking… Right. And now, for a goodbye, as always, a number from the wish list: listen to this song from a Soviet movie. I don’t remember the title, but the song is good. Most likely.

OLD LADY starts singing. Her song blends into the tune played by the young musicians. Enter their PRODUCER. He approaches OLD LADY.

Producer:        What’s up, Generation Best!

Old Lady:        What’s up, Generation…

Producer:        …Next.

Old Lady:        Next. Next. Got the book?

Producer:        Not entirely. We managed to gank a couple of pages from the local library, though. That should do for a few days. We might go for more supplies then.

Old Lady:        That’ll do.

Producer:        So are we bartering today then?

Old Lady:        Possibly.

Producer:        Any special wishes?

Old Lady:        Yes. I’d like… what d’you call it?

Producer:        Punk? Grunge? Folk?

Old Lady:        Sounds good. But I’d like something more… classical.

Producer:        Rock?

Old Lady:        Completely classical.

Producer:        Completely?

Old Lady:        Totally completely.

Producer:        Songs of the war years?

Old Lady:        God, no! What’s got into you? Much earlier.

Producer:        30s – 20s?

Old Lady:        Pooh!

Producer:        Nineteen…th century?

Old Lady:        At least.

Producer:        Oh no. We won’t pull that off.

Old Lady:        Losers.

Producer:        Hold on! Please, wait. Give us a chance.

Old Lady:        Next time you’re in the library punk some notes.

Producer:        Punk what notes?

Old Lady (exiting): Try Adolphe Adam.

Producer:        Adolph who? Shoot! OK, Adolph is easy. As in Adolph Hitler. And Adam, Adam, Adam… as in Eve and Adam… But without Eve. Adam dumps Eve. Hitler goes by Adolph… Got it! Adam minus Eve plus Hitler minus Adolph. Cool! Adam Adolph. Adolph Adam.

Sounds of a passing high-speed train.

Scene 1

Boy:     I don’t love you.

Girl:     Big deal.

Boy:     I don’t love you at all.

Girl:     But your lips are trembling.

Boy:     No!

Girl:     Yes.

Boy:     Wetawd.

Girl:     What’s “wetawd”?

Boy:     Not “wetawd”. “Wetawd”!

Girl:     I don’t get you.

Boy:     And I don’t love you.

Girl:     What do you know about love?

Boy:     Evewything.

Girl:     What everything?

Boy:     Evewything evewything?

Girl:     OK, tell me then.

Boy:     I’m telling you nothing.

Girl:     Because you know nothing.

Boy:     And what do you know?

Girl:     Well, when Lyosha knocks me around or Kostya calls me names, I don’t care. But when you call me “retard”, it hurts. That’s what I know.

Boy:     Wight, all wight, you’we not a wetawd.

Girl:     Your T-shirt is very cute…