Sports Play by Jelinek Elfriede & Juers-Munby Karen

Author:Jelinek, Elfriede & Juers-Munby, Karen [Jelinek, Elfriede & Juers-Munby, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781849436380
Amazon: B008LT9D32
Goodreads: 20765109
Publisher: Oberon Books
Published: 1998-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

INTERIM REPORT

An illuminated holy shrine opens up. Inside there is a kind of pieta. An OLD WOMAN in old-fashioned underwear (combinations, sensible shoes etc) sitting on a chair with the corpse of her son Jesus across her lap. Jesus is always called ANDI here and is wearing body-building trunks. He could also be dressed as a suckling babe, or can be played by a woman, because he should appear somehow sexless. In the background, well lit, is a photo of Arnold Schwarzenegger, maybe there are also short film sequences of him, shown again and again. In front of them are beribboned wreaths that are half-decayed. ANDI’s monologue, which follows this, is constantly interrupted by the OLD WOMAN with the words: “hello, who’s speaking?”. You could also interweave the two long monologues however you fancy.

THE OLD WOMAN, about 60, in old-fashioned underwear:

Hello who’s speaking is there any news?

As you’re speaking to me so confidentially, I dress my voice in ice skates and slide straight into you. You’re already so worn out. No, your eyes do not deceive you: all this that is around me, yes, precisely that which is dragging itself around half-drugged, always hanging back so that you believe it’s no longer coming – that’s death. It appears to me in the shape of wealth; glorified work, with others it appears in the shape of inactivity. Hm, didn’t I manage that well? I work non-stop. Just like electricity, it appears alien to us and yet its effect on household gadgets is familiar. When I’m not actually killing, I’m either thinking about killing or I’m practising on primitive objects. I kill, that is the service I produce. Others work so that their bodies remain smooth, and are shaped by means of sport or food, never the two together. An alteration that could never be made by clothes alone. Yes the vital spirits are all still here, it’s just the spirit itself that will soon not be. Death: I couldn’t stand anything else around me, nothing but this omnivore that irons out the surfaces in a way that the best housewife would not be able to. I can hardly hang my Alois on the washing line and then watch to see if he can pull himself back into shape on his own. He doesn’t have any interests any more. As a woman I give more than I take, in general, when not specifically specified – life. I balance out what others have in abundance: nature. Nature strives for exceptions, but in the end everything has to go the same way. Most women give life out like a tip, they just throw it down, like counters on a card table. Or like chicken-feed on a battleground. But I play much better! Albeit not in casinos, where I’ve been a regular for years. There I lose by giving everything away. How clumsy! Here however is where I win, by taking. Most women believe that they have something to waste. They squander it in the spin cycle, albeit backwards.

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