Set in an unnamed city from which voices and images spring, Crave charts the disintegration of a human mind under the pressures of love, loss and desire.
Produced by Paines Plough and Bright Ltd (Guy Chapman and Paul Spyker), Crave premiered at the Traverse Theatre for the 1998 Edinburgh Festival. It received its English premiere at the Royal Court Theatre, London in September 1998.
Sarah Kane was an English playwright. Her plays deal with themes of redemptive love, sexual desire, pain, torture—both physical and psychological—and death. They are characterised by a poetic intensity, pared-down language, exploration of theatrical form, and, in her earlier work, the use of stylized violent stage action. Kane battled with depression, and her life was brought to a premature end when she committed suicide at London's King's College Hospital. Her published work consists of five plays and one short film, Skin.
نمایشنامه خیلی سختیه هم ار نظر فرم و هم محتوا. خوندنش برای من آسون نبود، فهمش هم مثل همیشه بوسیله دوست همخوانم تکمیل شد( یا گمون میکنم شده باشه) در نهایت این سوال بنیادین مطرح میشه که: آیا عشق یجور بت پرستیه؟
Όλοι μιλάνε για τον μαγικό μονόλογο που κρύβεται μέσα στο βιβλίο. Και δεν έχουν άδικο. Πρόκειται για ένα αληθινό μνημείο έρωτα, σχεδόν απιαστου. Τυχεροί επίσης κι όσοι έχουν δει την μαγική παράσταση του Βογιατζή η οποία μπορεί να μην εξηγεί πάρα πολλά (και γιατί άλλωστε να το κάνει) αλλά η παρακολούθηση της σε κάνει να αισθάνεσαι πως εδώ συντελείται ένα Θαύμα.
آگامبن در مقالها� درباره� کافکا از یوزفک� حرف میزن� و میگوی� یوزف کا پیش از آنکه کسی او را متهم کند، خود خویشتن را متهم کرده بود:
«همه� انسانه� محاکمها� تهمتآمی� علیه خودشان را موجب میشون�. این نقطه� عزیمت کافکا است. به همین خاطر جهان کافکا نمیتوان� تراژیک باشد، بلکه تنها میتوان� کمیک باشد یا در عوض، تنها جرم ممکن همان تهمت زدن به خود است. این تهمت زدن به خود عبارت است از متهم کردن خود به جرمی� ناموجود.»
و این کاریس� که سارا کین دقیقا در این نمایشنامه انجام میده�. ویار یا ( crave) متشکل است از چهار صدا که با حروف الفبا نامگذار� شدهان�. این صداها گاه به گفتاری بدون ارتباط و صرفا به « نویز » در ارتباط با یکدیگر تبدیل میشون�. گاه دیالوگ میکنن� و جز شخصیت A کسی مونولوگی طولانی نمیکن�.
نقطه� مشترک این شخصیته� اما جراحت است. جراحتی که از عشق کشیدهان�. عشق به دیگری و حالا این جراحت به کلمه تبدیل میشود� به صدا_ کافکا در داستان گروه محکومان مینویس�:
«آدم به سادگی سرگشایی میکن� به نوشتار، لبهای� را پی میگیرد� گویی دارد گوش میده�. دیدهای� که سرگشایی از یک دستخ� با چشمهایتا� آسان نیست؛ اما آدم با جراحتهای� سرگشایی میکن�.»
کین به خوبی جراحت را از چهار چوب بدن بیرون میکشد� زخمها� فضا را به تصویر میکش�.و در نمایشنامه ویرانه این ایگوهای از دست رفته را بهتر میبین� که به عمق خشونت رسیدهان�. و این بحران جهانی است؛ دیالکتیکی جهانی میان نویسنده و خواننده:
«شبیه یک آلمانی هستی مثل یک اسپانیولی حرف میزن� مثل یک صرب سیگار میکشی�
درد فرم را به هم میریزد� چه در چهره، چه در نوشتار. خواندن این نمایشنامه برای من گام برداشتن در نقاشیها� فرانسیس بیکن بود_ آشوبی که تمام نمیشود� دلوز مینویس�: هر انسانی که رنج می کشد تکه ای گوشت است؛ و این در بافت کلمهها� کین آشکار است.
If I could be free of you without having to lose you. Sometimes that's not possible.
......and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day and type up your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don't listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the tv programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I'm black and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you're gorgeous and hug you when you're anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I'm rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I'd ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don't believe me and have a feeling so deep I can't find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I'd get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don't want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don't mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it's empty without you and want what you want and think I'm loosing myself but know I'm safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don't deserve any less and answer your questions when I'd rather not and tell you the truth when I really don't want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it's all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it's beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you.
Can't get you out of my system. It's okay. I like you in my system.
If you died it would be like my bones had been removed. No one would know why, but I would collapse.
"διψαω για λευκο στο ασπρομαυρο, αλλα οι σκεψεις μου προσπερνουν σε εκθαμβωτικό τεκνικολορ, και με ταρακουνουν να ξυπνησω, τραβουν απο πανω μου τη ζεστη κουβερτα, το μανδυα του αορατου καθε φορα που μου ορκιζεται πως θα βυθισει το μυαλο μου στο τιποτα."
Η Sarah Kane, το "τρομερο παιδι" του βρετανικου θεατρου, οπως χαρακτηριστηκε, εβαλε τελος στη ζωη της πεισματικα, μεσα στην κλινικη που νοσηλευοταν λογω του οτι πριν λιγες μερες ειχε προσπαθησει να αυτοκτονήσει με υπνωτικα χαπια. Πριν και πανω απο ολα αυτα ομως, αφησε πισω σε εμάς το crave. Η αναγνωση του δεν ειναι ευκολη, καθοτι τα dramatis personae ειναι 4 αρχικα γραμματων - κανενα ονομα, καμια ηλικια, καμια ταυτοτητα, τιποτα συγκεκριμενο-που προσωπικα εμηνευσα καπως ετσι : C(hild), M(other), B(oy), A(ssassin). Προκειται για 4 διαφορετικες εκφανσεις του ερωτα. Ως παιδι που παλευει αθωα να αγαπησει τον εαυτο του και τα σκληρα βιωματα του παρελθοντος, της γυναικας που ακουει το βιολογικο ρολοι της να χτυπα και μπαινει στον ερωτα ως μητερα, του μικρου "μαγκακου" αγοριου που μπαινει με τα μπουνια που λενε με ολες τις ορμες του και του ψυχρου εκτελεστη που τρεφεται στον ερωτα απο το να πληγωνει ανεπανορθωτα τη συντροφο του. Αυτος που με τα λογια και τα παθιασμενα τσιτατα πειθει για μια αγαπη ανυπαρκτη και μετα χορευει πανω απο τις σταχτες του θυματος του. Το εργο θιγει πολλα θεματα με κυριοτερο φυσικα τον ερωτα, απαιτει προσοχη, υπομονη και ισως παραπανω απο μια αναγνωσεις για να μπορεσει καποιος να ακουσει εναρμονισμενα αυτον τον σκοπο που τραγουδουν οι 4 παραπανω φωνες ταυτοχρονα, που αρχικα μοιαζει ανυποφορος, αλλα στη συνεχεια γινεται μια μελαγχολικη μπαλαντα . 🌟🌟🌟🌟/5 αστερια
Μόνο και μόνο για το μονόλογο- ύμνο στην αγάπη και τον έρωτα που περιέχει αυτό το έργο (αρκετά γνωστός νομίζω), αξίζει να διαβαστεί! Όχι ότι το υπόλοιπο υστερεί, αλλά για μένα αυτός ήταν το αποκορύφωμα του έργου.
Reading Sarah Kane is like hahah this is so stupid / wow that hit me right in the gut my body is separating from the self we are transcending dimensions ??
"I smoke till I’m sick. The heat is going out of me. The heart is going out of me. I feel nothing, nothing. I feel nothing. Time is passing and I don’t have time."
Δυνατό, παραληρηματικό, χαοτικό, χωρίς ονόματα προσώπων, οι διάλογοί του ίσως φανούν χωρίς ροή ή σύνδεση. Σίγουρα μιλάμε για ιδιαίτερο τρόπο γραφής και όπως έχει γίνει γνωστό για ένα πολύ ιδιαίτερο άτομο που όπως αποδείχθηκε δεν κατάφερε να διαχειριστεί τον εαυτό του. Διαβάστηκε μόλις σε ένα πήγαινε-έλα με το λεωφορείο σπίτι-δουλειά, δουλειά-σπίτι. Επιστρέφοντας ξαναδιάβασα τον μονόλογο. Θα το λέω για το υπόλοιπο της ζωής μου ότι είνα�� η πιο απόλυτη, η πιο έντονη και πιο αθόρυβα εκκωφαντική δήλωση αγάπης, έρωτα, πόθου και ολοκλήρωσης συναισθημάτων.
Ποιητικό παραλήρημα, από 4 φωνές που δεν ξέρεις αν μονολογούν ή συνομιλούν. Έρωτας κι επιθυμία, μπλεγμένα με απόγνωση κι απαισιοδοξία. Χαοτικό, αλλά μαγευτικό, έντονο και συναισθηματικά φορτισμένο.
Εξαιρετικά ταλαντουχα η συγγραφέας μακαρι να ειχε επιγνωση του πηγαιου ταλεντου της, και να μην χανοταν απο ίδιον χέρι τοσο γρηγορα. Δεν προλαβε να ζήσει. Κι ειχε πολλά ακομη να δωσει. Μια μεγαλη απωλεια για τον κοσμο και τον πολιτισμο.
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Μ: Γιατι πινεις τοσο πολύ; Β: Τα τσιγαρα δε με σκοτωνουν αρκετα γρηγορα C Το γελιο μου ειναι μια εκρηξη απογνωσης [..] C: Tερμα τα αισθηματα B: Tερμα οι συγκινησεις M: Eνα ψυχρο γαμησι και μνημη χρυσοψαρου"
Não será a obra mais agressiva de Sarah Kane, nem sequer a mais difícil de ler e entender, mas está longe de ser pêra doce. O discurso é fragmentado, no habitual tom sombrio e desesperado. As personagens, quatro, não têm nomes, são designadas por letras, A, B, C e M. Não há indicação do sexo a que pertencem e só de três delas percebi a identidade. E sem certezas... Ao contrário do que é habitual nas peças de teatro, aqui não há descrição do cenário, nem posicionamento das personagens. Fica a cargo da nossa imaginação, e depois vamos percebendo que isso são pormenores que não interessam nada; aqui, o que interessa é o que se sente, não o que se vê. É portanto, um mergulho nas trevas, e dos Infernos de Sarah Kane só emerge dor e solidão, e uma busca desesperada por salvação, redenção...mas é uma busca feita de maneiras enviesadas, que acaba tendo o efeito contrário... Os diálogos sucedem-se em catadupa numa cadência desordenada e indistinta; não adianta andar para trás e para a frente na leitura, perdemos sempre o norte... Não há momentos felizes na obra de Sarah Kane, se os houve, emergem do passado em lembranças dolorosas ou são almejados num futuro incerto. Mas há poesia; em cada palavra dura, em cada grito, em cada lamento há poesia... Aos leitores, ou espectadores destas peças, resta-lhes a perspectiva de sair dali tão despedaçados quanto as personagens. Mas volta-se sempre...
This is the first book I've read of Sarah Kane, I found it after watching a video on youtube about part of this play (Reflections of a Skyline). I've got so many mixed feelings that I don't know exactly what to say. However, I'm sure about one fact: I will never forget this reading.It is so ruthlessly honest I just felt overwhelmed by her pain and sorrow. Yet, what a wonderful experience! I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to get out of the comfort zone. After all, life is hard.
-Where you been? -Here and there. -Leave. -Where? -Now. -There. نثر تکامل یافته و درخشان. کمتر تصویری و بیشتر انتزاعی است. با حذف تصویر تنها راه انتقال منظور و ایجاد فضای ذهنی کلماتند. به همین خاطر مواجهه ی نوگرایانه ای با زبان دارد. زبان خمیری در دست کین بوده که به روانی با آن بازی کرده. هرجا زبان را برای حرف زدن کافی ندیده فرم جدیدی به آن بخشیده است.
Και να λυπάμαι όταν έχω άδικο και να χαίρομαι όταν με συγχωρείς και να κοιτάζω τις φωτογραφίες σου και να εύχομαι να σε γνώριζα από πάντα και να ακούω τη φωνή σου στ’αυτι� μου και να νιώθω το δέρμα σου πάνω στο δέρμα μου και να φοβάμαι όταν θυμώνεις και το ένα σου μάτι γίνεται κόκκινο ενώ το άλλο μπλε και τα μαλλιά σου να πηγαίνουν προς τ´αριστερά και το πρόσωπο σου ανατολίτικο και να σου λέω πως είσαι υπέροχη...
To read Crave was to read a vomitous spasm of subconscious longing and confused desires. It didn't take long to read, as the four characters, A, B, C and M, share the stage and overlap their dialogues, producing a kind of unity of character; a schizophrenic yelping of hurt and raw emotion, doubt, a lose of personality as the instinct or animal rises.
To see this live would serve it much better than a simple reading. Because the dialogue and characters are so undefined, I was left with the feeling that whatever combination of actors could be put together they would still amount to fragments of one person, their psyche, unconscious, fantasy or memories. It would be up to a director what extent their actors would be unique or similar.
Sarah Kane's work exists with the proverbial "elephant" of her suicide on the stage; so the work is inevitably linked to a fatalism and a depressive quality that reminds me that the pain of life can be so unbearable that some would end their own existence, perhaps even with some kind of rationality.
I am thankful that she was a dedicated artist though, who was able to craft her vision of life within theatrical and literate terms, sharing that horrible pain, ultimately giving the rest of us something; love and curiosity.
"C - Essa sou eu. Vivo na corda bamba. Nunca parada, nunca uma coisa ou outra, sempre indo de um extremo ao mais distante ponto de outro extremo."
"M - O tempo está passando e eu não tenho tempo."
"A - Só o amor me podia salvar e o amor me destruiu."
"B - A única coisa que eu queria dizer eu já disse, e é uma merda de um tédio dizer de novo, não interessa o quanto de verdade tem nisso, não interessa que o pensamento seja a única coisa que a humanidade tem."
...Sarah Kane...Crave...mais para sentir do que para entender...
“I crave white on white and black, but my thoughts race in glorious technicolour, prodding me awake, whipping away the warm blanket of invisibility every time it sears to smother my mind in nothing.�
So brilliant, so fucking poetic, and so much like a poem even though it’s supposed to be just a play. Reading ‘Crave� felt a lot like reading a long poem. Even though technically there are 4 characters in the plays, I feel like they overlap each other a lot; it was not easy to tell them apart. And because the names are single-lettered � without any indication of whether or not it’s merely an initial, it was hard to tell the characters apart. It’s much easier to read the play without trying to pick them apart too much.
Somewhere in the middle of the play, ‘A� (one of the characters) goes on in an almost ‘stream of consciousness� kind of way � presenting the readers/play-attendees with almost a page long of unpunctuated lines that holds together this bit that I like : “and think I’m losing myself but know I’m safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don’t deserve any less and answer your question when I’d rather not and tell you the truth when I really don’t want to�. It’s hard to tell who ‘A� is referring to, but I’m not bothered by not knowing. I think whatever that was offered/presented in the play was enough; as if knowing more would be unnecessary.
‘A� finishes the whole incredible thing with : “it’s beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you�. It’s a bit of a breath-ey read, but I think it’s interesting how Kane has written this bit in for A/the play in general. It’s so cleverly placed and so cleverly composed. It feels manically poetic, adequately discomforting, and so sharply poignant.
And then there are some lines/descriptions that don’t make much sense, and probably does not bind the play together in any significant or majorly important way, but I truly appreciate the tone and atmosphere they bring to the play. I keep thinking about them long after I finish reading it � wishing that I had come up with those lines instead. Kane is/was such a brilliant writer/playwright � there’s simply no doubt in that. Even though the play is not set in any specific location(s), there are some descriptions of some dreamy/vague landscapes that complements the vibe of the play very well. Perhaps because of that, I did not mind how unconventional/peculiar the play was in terms of setting and characterisation. I’d go as far as to say that it was as if the conversations between the characters were taken place in someone’s mind.
M Sunny landscapes. Pastel walls. Gentle air conditioning.
M A cold fuck and a goldfish memory.
I almost wish that this was a poem instead of a play. But I do think that having very different actors/actresses play out the four characters in the play would allow for the best experience of this brilliant piece of work/art. As with most plays, it’s better to go see it play out on the stage (to get the full effect/experience of it), but I think I was able to enjoy this as it is with a little bit of imagination.
?????????????????? 5/5 for the monologue though - "A circle is the only geometric shape defined by its centre. No chicken and egg about it, the centre came first, the circumference follows. The earth, by definition, has a centre. And only the fool that knows it can go wherever he pleases, knowing the centre will hold him down, stop him flying out of orbit. But when your sense of centre shifts, comes whizzing to the surface, the balance has gone. The balance has gone. The balance my baby has gone."