Read Online Rock 'n' Roll by Tom Stoppard - Free Book Online

everything.
    ELEANOR (
furious
) Don’t you dare, Max—don’t you dare reclaim that word
now.
I don’t want your ‘mind’ which you can make out of beer cans. Don’t bring it to my funeral. I want your grieving soul or nothing. I do not want your amazing biological machine—I want what you love me with.
    She hits bottom and stays there. Max waits, not comforting her. Then he crouches close to her.
    MAX But that’s what I love you with. That’s it. There’s nothing else.
    Her drowned face comes up.
    ELEANOR Oh, Max. Oh, Max. Now that did take some guts.
    Max gathers her in and rocks her.
    Blackout and ‘Welcome to the Machine’ by Pink Floyd, three minutes and fifty seconds in.
    Smash cut to:
    November 1976. Jan’s room.
    Summer 1977. Prague exterior.
    Jan’s records have been smashed and scattered among torn-up album covers. Jan enters, wearing cold-weather clothes. He stands looking at the debris. He takes his top clothes off. He picks up a broken record and looks at the label.
    Ferdinand walks in, wearing cold-weather clothes. He has a plastic bag with an album in it. He stands stunned among the vinyl shards.
    FERDINAND Shit.
    Jan nods.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) Bastards.
    Jan nods.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) Shit.
    Jan nods.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) Sorry.
    Jan goes abruptly into the bathroom. Ferdinand waits.
    Milan enters the exterior, in summer clothes and dark glasses. He sprawls on a bench.
    The lavatory flushes. Jan comes in, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrists.
    Ferdinand holds up the plastic bag, embarrassed.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) I borrowed it when you were inside.
    Jan grunts a laugh.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) And then what with everything …
    JAN Yeah. Amazing time. There wasn’t one policeman at Jirous’s wedding. The concert was a joy. I thought—okay, so eight years of the Plastics living underwater did the trick. Then they arrested
everybody.
    He looks at the record in the bag.
    JAN (
cont.
) Beach Boys … You’re so sweet, Ferdinand—
    FERDINAND I knew you wouldn’t mind.
    JAN I owe you. That was a good letter, that first one.
    FERDINAND I didn’t write it.
    JAN Well, I didn’t think you’d
write
it, the guy had the Nobel Prize for Literature. But you were great, you and the other tossers—you got us out, nearly all of us. I heard we were on radio and TV in America!
    FERDINAND (
excited
) I’m telling you, the trial stripped the system naked, Jan, and held it up so plain you felt almost sorry for the prosecutor. The absurdity rose and rose till it covered his head and the judge’s head … but they were trapped in the ritual. Going away from the court afterwards Havel said to me, ‘Ferda, from now on being careful seems so … petty.’
    Ferdinand takes a typed document from his pocket.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) So I’m collecting signatures.
    Ferdinand gives the document to Jan. ‘Charter 77’ is a substantial document, about 1,500 words.
    FERDINAND (
cont.
) It’s not a dissident thing, it’s a charter—there’s Party members who’ve signed it …
    Jan gives him a look and sits down to read it to himself.
    Exterior—a balloon floats across. There is a leaflet dangling from it.
    Milan, suffering in the heat, is waiting for Max.
    The exterior scene has its own music, which is cheerful but not loud, like a hurdy-gurdy being played in the street.
    A second balloon floats in. Milan grabs hold of the second balloon without difficulty. He detaches the leaflet and glances at it. He casually crumples it.
    Max shows up, in summer clothes.
    MILAN
Ahoj,
Max.
    MAX
Ahoj, ahoj.
It always gets me … As if everyone here’s in the navy.
    MILAN The Czech
navy? (pause
) You’re not at the … thing?
    MAX I get invited to speak, not to listen to brain science. And you. Big fish now.
    MILAN No, no. Medium size. With a desk.
    MAX What’s the balloon?
    MILAN Ha!