Mister Paul by Tankred Dorst
Mister Paul
Exquisite translation
Rhoda Koenig, The Independent
Originally commissioned by the Royal National Theatre, and subsequently performed at the Old Red Lion. A young man, Helm, inherits a property which turns out to be inhabited by the elderly (and large) ‘Mr Paul’ and his genteel sister Louise. While Luise goes off to the opera, Paul does everything possible to resist his settled existence being disturbed Helm’s plans to build a new business on the site, aided and abetted by streetwise developer Schwarzbeck. Even the distraction of Helm’s wayward girlfriend Lilo and Anita, the disturbed little girl from next door, cannot deflect the young man however, and the end is bloody. Or is it?
Script Excerpt
Louisa: (From the next room) Who are you talking to? I keep hearing you talk, and there’s no one there.
Paul: I’ll shut up now.
Louisa: (Still next door) You talk the way trees rustle. –– I just cannot find my brooch.
Paul: Suddenly there’s someone here listening to me! –– Crept up on me unawares.
Helm: (Laughs this off) Listening, was I? You do know who I am?
Louisa: (Still next door) For once I decide to wear that lovely old brooch, and can I find it amongst all this mess?
Paul: (To Helm) You’re standing there, eyeing up the length and breadth of the room, trying to work out its square footage.
Helm: (Laughs unabashed) Am I?
Paul: And breathing our air.
Helm: More’s the pity. I can’t say it smells that good. (Laughs casually)
Paul: We don’t use deodorants.
Helm: It’s like dead cats. –– And the windows are nailed up.
Paul: Not all of them.
Louisa: (Next door) I’ve found it. (Coming in) And here I am!
Helm: Evening.
Louisa: How did you get in, without so much as a by-your-leave?
Helm: I did try ringing first.
Louisa: Did you hear anything, Paul?
Paul: The bell doesn’t work.
Louisa: It’s quite scandalous.
Helm: So I came in. Up the stairs ––
Louisa: When do we ever have visitors?
Helm: I wrote you a letter.
Louisa: You have such a pleasant laugh. And still so young.
Helm: Yeh. What were you expecting?
Louisa: Paul, tell me, does the brooch look all right?
Helm: I wrote the letter! You must have got it!
Louisa: Such a shame I’m going to the opera this evening. I have a free ticket. From my former dressmaker. Her son-in-law works at the opera-house. I always enjoy it so much. As I’m sure you’ll appreciate. I’m afraid I simply can’t spare the time.
Helm: You won’t need to. I won’t be here long. Mister Paul, where’ve you put my letter? All I want’s your signature, then I’ll be off.
Paul: Fine, fine …
Louisa: What’s this about a letter, Paul?
Paul: Fine, fine …
Louisa: I’m afraid he doesn’t even open them any more. Hasn’t for years. –– But I do! Then he laughs at me and says I’m still hoping for a windfall. (Giggles) He’s right, I am!
Helm: He throws your post away?
Paul: I never throw post away!
Louisa: (Threatening him playfully) Pauly! Pauly!
Paul: Why bother? –– Just let it sit there. A bit more comes, it sits there with the rest. It piles up a bit, makes a small heap, then a bigger one. Then it slides off the table. You step on it a couple of times as you walk by. Then someone pushes it aside, something gets put on top of it … gradually it disappears.
Louisa: You see what I mean?
Helm: But this time I really must ask you ––
Louisa: Paul, have a look please, be so kind.
Helm: It’s about the lease. On the building. I’ve inherited it. I put it all in the letter.
Paul: (Sucks his teeth)
Louisa: Well don’t let me interfere. Anything to do with business, I leave to my brother. –– Oh dear, look at the time. –– I hope all your grand plans work out, I do so hope so. (She goes, calling back) There’s still some pasta in the blue pot, Paul. Try not to wolf it down cold as usual.