Out of the Wings

Stéfano (c.1928), Armando Discépolo

Stéfano : ACT ONE

Stéfano, translated by Gwendolen MacKeith

ACT ONE

Context:

Alfonso confronts his son, Stéfano, about the price the family has had to pay in order to follow Stéfano's dream to hacerse la America.

Sample text

ALFONSO:: You wanted to be a musician. Damn music! ‘Papá, let me study. I have something else in my soul. I’ll drown here. This place isn’t for me, papa’ … ‘Ah well, if you’re drowning, and you have something else in your head, son, go and study.’ So you went to the school
MARIA ROSA:: The conservatoire.
ALFONSO:: In ‘95, in the holidays, you came back home – where your brothers and I went on sweating to keep you studying – and you fooled me again: ‘Papá … cheer up! … cheer up! … I’m going to be a great musician!’
STEFANO: (Who listens with his hands nervously behind his back, lifts his head.): Oh God! …
ALFONSO:: ‘Really, my blessed son?’ … ‘Yes, Papá, a celebrated musician … like Verdi’ (Stéfano gets embarrassed.) ‘I’ve won a gold medal’ … You showed it to me. We held it in our hands … we all cried.
STEFANO:: I did too.
ALFONSO:: And you fooled me again. ‘Papá, we’re going to be rich. I’m going to write a world famous opera. We’ll buy up a village. For every square metre we have here, there’ll be a block’ … And, shortsighted as I am, I believed you. ‘Well … if God wills it, and it will give you money, write the opera, son, go on.’ And you went. For five years! … In the year 1900, you called for me ‘Mamá … Papá … come. Come all of you. I can’t live without you. I want to repay all that you have done for me. (Tears run down Stéfano’s face.) Our fortune has begun. I’m going to be a director in a theatre. I’m writing an incredible opera. Money will rain down on us. Come’ … This poor lady, who has always believed every word, cried day and night ‘for her favourite son who was alone’ … It wore me down. We sold the house, the vineyard, the olive grove, the animals, the pig … everything … everything! … and we crossed the sea, full of danger … chasing after a … a butterfly which can never be caught. When we arrived you had fooled me again. You hadn’t said anything about marrying an Argentine … a woman too beautiful for life to be an illusion.
STEFANO:: I loved her.
ALFONSO:: And us? And us? … and your mother? Don’t say another word. Be quiet. Choke on it. Wait patiently and we’ll relieve you of the inconvenience. It won’t be long now … but I don’t know how you’ll bury us!
MARIA ROSA:: We’re poor. We’re poor … (She goes to the old man, caresses him.)
STEFANO:: Papá … you’re right. I can’t answer you; I shouldn’t answer you.
ALFONSO:: What would you say?
STEFANO:: Perhaps … that a son’s pain should be to know that his father is suffering.
ALFONSO:: And there’s more? Kill me and be done with it!
STEFANO:: Shh … Calm down Papá. We’ve just had dinner … Yes, I have no justification.
ALFONSO: (To María Rosa.): What?
MARIA ROSA:: Justification.
STEFANO:: You do because you have never believed in me.
ALFONSO:: Never!
STEFANO:: You knew better than I did. You knew the raw material.
ALFONSO: (To María Rosa.): What material?
MARIA ROSA:: He’s talking about himself; he’s talking about himself.
ALFONSO:: He’s always talked about himself; never about us. (Mocking.) And what for? … to end up playing the trombone in a band.
MARIA ROSA:: Orchestra.
ALFONSO:: It makes me laugh. It makes me laugh and it fills me with fear and rage. I said to you in the year 1900: ‘Son, to make a living, work is better than music’.
STEFANO: (Serious.): Pure wisdom.
ALFONSO:: You’re mocking.
STEFANO:: Not anymore.

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