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Buried Child (Anglais) Broché – 28 février 1997


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Broché, 28 février 1997
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Broché
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--Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Broché.

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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

Buried Child, the revised edition, was produced on Broadway at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre by Frederick Zollo, Nicholas Paleologos, Jane Harmon, Nina Keneally, Gary Sinise, Edwin Schloss, and Liz Oliver on April 30, 1996. The production transferred from the premiere production at Steppenwolf Theatre Company (Martha Lavey, Artistic Director; Michael Gennaro, Managing Director) in Chicago, Illinois, which opened on October 1, 1995. It was directed by Gary Sinise; the set design was by Robert Brill; the costume design was by Allison Reeds; the lighting design was by Kevin Rigdon; the sound design was by Rob Milburn; and the production stage manager was Laura Koch. The cast was as follows:

DODGE James Gammon

HALIE Lois Smith

TILDEN Terry Kinney

BRADLEY Leo Burmester

SHELLY Kellie Overbey

VINCE Jim True

FATHER DEWIS Jim Mohr

Buried Child was produced at Theater for the New City, in New York City, on October 19, 1978. It was directed by Robert Woodruff. The cast was as follows:

DODGE Richard Hamilton

HALIE Jacqueline Brookes

TILDEN Tom Noonan

BRADLEY Jay O. Sanders

SHELLY Mary McDonnell

VINCE Christopher McCann

FATHER DEWIS Bill Wiley

Buried Child received its premiere at the Magic Theatre, in San Francisco, California, on June 27, 1978. It was directed by Robert Woodruff. The cast was as follows:

DODGE Joseph Gistirak

HALIE Catherine Willis

TILDEN Dennis Ludlow

BRADLEY William M. Carr

SHELLY Betsy Scott

VINCE Barry Lane

FATHER DEWIS Rj Frank



CHARACTERS

DODGE in his seventies

HALIE Dodge's wife; mid-sixties

TILDEN their oldest son

BRADLEY their next oldest son, an amputee

VINCE Tilden's son

SHELLY Vince's girlfriend

FATHER DEWIS a Protestant minister



Act One

Scene: day. Old wooden staircase down left with pale, frayed carpet laid down on the steps. The stairs lead offstage left up into the wings with no landing. Up right is an old, dark green sofa with the stuffing coming out in spots. Stage right of the sofa is an upright lamp with a faded yellow shade and a small night table with several small bottles of pills on it. Down right of the sofa, with the screen facing the sofa, is a large, old-fashioned brown TV. A flickering blue light comes from the screen, but no image, no sound. In the dark, the light of the lamp and the TV slowly brighten in the black space. The space behind the sofa, upstage, is a large screened-in porch with a board floor. A solid interior door to stage right of the sofa leads from the porch to the outside. Beyond that are the shapes of dark elm trees.

Gradually the form of dodge is made out, sitting on the couch, facing the TV, the blue light flickering on his face. He wears a well-worn T-shirt, suspenders, khaki work pants, and brown slippers. He's covered himself in an old brown blanket. He's very thin and sickly looking, in his late seventies. He just stares at the TV. More light fills the stage softly. The sound of light rain. dodge slowly tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling for a while, listening to the rain. He lowers his head again and stares at the TV. He starts to cough slowly and softly. The coughing gradually builds. He holds one hand to his mouth and tries to stifle it. The coughing gets louder, then suddenly stops when he hears the sound of his wife's voice coming from the top of the staircase.

HALIE'S VOICE: Dodge? (DODGE just stares at the TV. Long pause. He stifles two short coughs.) Dodge! You want a pill, Dodge? (He doesn't answer. Takes a bottle out from under a cushion of the sofa and takes a long swig. Puts the bottle back, stares at the TV, pulls the blanket up around his neck.) You know what it is, don't you? It's the rain! Weather. That's it. Every time. Every time you get like this, it's the rain. No sooner does the rain start than you start. (Pause.) Dodge? (He makes no reply. Pulls a pack of cigarettes out from his sweater and lights one. Stares at the TV. Pause.) You should see it coming down up here. Just coming down in sheets. Blue sheets. The bridge is pretty near flooded. What's it like down there? Dodge? (DODGE turns his head back over his left shoulder and takes a look out through the porch. He turns back to the TV.)

DODGE: (To himself.) Catastrophic.

HALIE'S VOICE: What? What'd you say, Dodge?

DODGE: (Louder.) It looks like rain to me! Plain old rain!

HALIE'S VOICE: Rain? Of course it's rain! Are you having a seizure or something! Dodge? (Pause.) I'm coming down there in about five minutes if you don't answer me!

DODGE: Don't come down.

HALIE'S VOICE: What!

DODGE: (Louder.) Don't come down! (He has another coughing attack. Stops.)

HALIE'S VOICE: You should take a pill for that! I don't see why you just don't take a pill. Be done with it once and for all. Put a stop to it. (He takes the bottle out again. Another swig. Returns the bottle.) It's not Christian, but it works. It's not necessarily Christian, that is. A pill. We don't know. We're not in a position to answer something like that. There's some things the ministers can't even answer. I, personally, can't see anything wrong with it. A pill. Pain is pain. Pure and simple. Suffering is a different matter. That's entirely different. A pill seems as good an answer as any. Dodge? (Pause.) Dodge, are you watching baseball?

DODGE: No.

HALIE'S VOICE: What?

DODGE: (Louder.) No! I'm not watching baseball.

HALIE'S VOICE: What're you watching? You shouldn't be watching anything that'll get you excited!

DODGE: Nothing gets me excited.

HALIE'S VOICE: No horse racing!

DODGE: They don't race here on Sundays.

HALIE'S VOICE: What?

DODGE: (Louder.) They don't race on Sundays!

HALIE'S VOICE: Well, they shouldn't race on Sundays. The Sabbath.

DODGE: Well, they don't! Not here anyway. The boondocks.

HALIE'S VOICE: Good. I'm amazed they still have that kind of legislation. Some semblance of morality. That's amazing.

DODGE: Yeah, it's amazing.

HALIE'S VOICE: What?

DODGE: (Louder.) It is amazing!

HALIE'S VOICE: It is. It truly is. I would've thought these days they'd be racing on Christmas even. A big flashing Christmas tree right down at the finish line.

DODGE: (Shakes his head.) No. Not yet.

HALIE'S VOICE: They used to race on New Year's! I remember that.

DODGE: They never raced on New Year's!

HALIE'S VOICE: Sometimes they did.

DODGE: They never did!

HALIE'S VOICE: Before we were married they did!

DODGE: "Before we were married." (DODGE waves his hand in disgust at the staircase. Leans back in sofa. Stares at TV.)

HALIE'S VOICE: I went once. With a man. On New Year's.

DODGE: (Mimicking her.) Oh, a "man."

HALIE'S VOICE: What?

DODGE: Nothing!

HALIE'S VOICE: A wonderful man. A breeder.

DODGE: A what?

HALIE'S VOICE: A breeder! A horse breeder! Thoroughbreds.

DODGE: Oh, thoroughbreds. Wonderful. You betcha. A breeder-man.

HALIE'S VOICE: That's right. He knew everything there was to know.

DODGE: I bet he taught you a thing or two, huh? Gave you a good turn around the old stable!

HALIE'S VOICE: Knew everything there was to know about horses. We won bookoos of money that day.

DODGE: What?

HALIE'S VOICE: Money! We won every race I think.

DODGE: Bookoos?

HALIE'S VOICE: Every single race.

DODGE: Bookoos of money?

HALIE'S VOICE: It was one of those kind of days.

DODGE: New Year's!

HALIE'S VOICE: Yes! It might've been Florida. Or California! One of those two.

DODGE: Can I take my pick?

HALIE'S VOICE: It was Florida!

DODGE: Aha!

HALIE'S VOICE: Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! The sun was just gleaming. Flamingos. Bougainvilleas. Palm trees.

DODGE: (To himself, mimicking her.) Flamingos. Bougainvilleas.

HALIE'S VOICE: Everything was dancing with life! Colors. There were all kinds of people from everywhere. Everyone was dressed to the nines. Not like today. Not like they dress today. People had a sense of style.

DODGE: When was this anyway?

HALIE'S VOICE: This was long before I knew you.

DODGE: Must've been.

HALIE'S VOICE: Long before. I was escorted.

DODGE: To Florida?

HALIE'S VOICE: Yes. Or it might've been California. I'm not sure which.

DODGE: All that way you were escorted?

halie's voice: Yes.

DODGE: And he never laid a finger on you, I suppose? This gentleman breeder-man. (Long silence.) Halie? Are we still in the land of the living? (No answer. Long pause.)

HALIE'S VOICE: Are you going out today?

DODGE: (Gesturing toward rain.) In this?

HALIE'S VOICE: I'm just asking a simple question.

DODGE: I rarely go out in the bright sunshine, why would I go out in this?

HALIE'S VOICE: I'm just asking because I'm not doing any shopping today. And if you need anything you should ask Tilden.

DODGE: Tilden's not here!

HALIE'S VOICE: He's in the kitchen. (DODGE looks toward left, then back toward the TV.)

DODGE: All right.

HALIE'S VOICE: What?

DODGE: (Louder.) All right! I'll ask Tilden!

HALIE'S VOICE: Don't scream. It'll only get your coughing started.

DODGE: Scream? Men don't scream.

HALIE'S VOICE: Just tell Tilden what you want and he'll get it. (Pause.) Bradley should be over later.

DODGE: Bradley?

HALIE'S VOICE: Yes. To cut your hair.

DODGE: My hair? I don't need my hair cut! I haven't hardly got any hair left!

HALIE'S VOICE: It won't hurt!

DODGE: I don't need it!

HALIE'S VOICE: It's been more than two weeks, Dodge.

DODGE: I don't need it! And I never did need it!

HALIE'S VOICE: I have to meet Father Dewis for lunch.

DODGE: You tell Bradley that if he shows up here with those clippers, I'll separate him from his manhood!

HALIE'S VOICE: I won't be very late. No later than four at the very latest.

DODGE: You tell him! Last time he left me near bald! And I wasn't even awake!

HALIE'S VOICE: That's not my fault!

DODGE: You put him up to it!

HALIE'S VOICE: I never did!

DODGE: You did too! You had some fancy, idiot house-social planned! Time to dress up the corpse for company! Lower the ears a little! Put up a little front! Surprised you didn't tape a pipe to my mouth while you were at it! That woulda looked nice! Huh? A pipe? Maybe a bowler hat! Maybe a copy of the Wall Street Journal casually placed on my lap! A fat labrador retriever at my feet.

HALIE'S VOICE: You always imagine the worst things of people!

DODGE: That's the least of the worst!

HALIE'S VOICE: I don't need to hear it! All day long I hear things like that and I don't need to hear more.

DODGE: You better tell him!

HALIE'S VOICE: You tell him yourself! He's your own son. You should be able to talk to your own son.

DODGE: Not while I'm sleeping! He cut my hair while I was sleeping!

HALIE'S VOICE: Well he won't do it again.

DODGE: There's no guarantee. He's a snake, that one.

HALIE'S VOICE: I promise he won't do it without your consent.

DODGE: (After pause.) There's no reason for him to even come over here.

HALIE'S VOICE: He feels responsible.

DODGE: For my hair?

HALIE'S VOICE: For your appearance.

DODGE: My appearance is out of his domain! It's even out of mine! In fact, it's disappeared! I'm an invisible man!

HALIE'S VOICE: Don't be ridiculous.

DODGE: He better not try it. That's all I've got to say.

HALIE'S VOICE: Tilden will watch out for you.

DODGE: Tilden won't protect me from Bradley!

HALIE'S VOICE: Tilden's the oldest. He'll protect you.

DODGE: Tilden can't even protect himself!

HALIE'S VOICE: Not so loud! He'll hear you. He's right in the kitchen.

DODGE: (Yelling off left.) Tilden!

HALIE'S VOICE: Dodge, what are you trying to do?

DODGE: (Yelling off left.) Tilden, get your ass in here!

HALIE'S VOICE: Why do you enjoy stirring things up?

DODGE: I don't enjoy anything!

HALIE'S VOICE: That's a terrible thing to say.

DODGE: Tilden!

HALIE'S VOICE: That's the kind of statement that leads people right to an early grave.

DODGE: Tilden!

HALIE'S VOICE: It's no wonder people have turned their backs on Jesus!

DODGE: TILDEN!!

HALIE'S VOICE: It's no wonder the messengers of God's word are shouting louder now than ever before. Screaming to the four winds.

DODGE: TILDEN!!!! (DODGE goes into a violent, spasmodic coughing attack as tilden enters from left, his arms loaded with fresh ears of corn. TILDEN is dodge's oldest son, late forties, wears heavy construction boots covered with mud, dark green work pants, a plaid shirt, and a faded brown windbreaker. He has a butch haircut, wet from the rain. Something about him is profoundly burned-out and displaced. He stops center with the ears of corn in his arms and just stares at dodge until he slowly finishes his coughing attack. DODGE looks up at him slowly. DODGE stares at the corn. Long pause as they watch each other.)

HALIE'S VOICE: Dodge, if you don't take that pill nobody's going to force you. Least of all me. There's no honor in self-destruction. No honor at all. (The two men ignore the voice.)

DODGE: (To TILDEN.) Where'd you get that?

TILDEN: Picked it.

DODGE: You picked all that? (TILDEN nods.) You expecting company?

TILDEN: No.

DODGE: Where'd you pick it from?

TILDEN: Right out back.

DODGE: Out back where?!

TILDEN: Right out in back.

DODGE: There's nothing out there--in back.

TILDEN: There's corn.

DODGE: There hasn't been corn out there since about nineteen thirty-five! That's the last time I planted corn out there!

TILDEN: It's out there now.

DODGE: (Yelling at stairs.) Halie!

HALIE'S VOICE: Yes, dear! Have you come to your senses?

DODGE: Tilden's brought a whole bunch of sweet corn in here! There's no corn out back, is there?

TILDEN: (To himself.) There's tons of corn.

HALIE'S VOICE: Not that I know of!

DODGE: That's what I thought.

HALIE'S VOICE: Not since about nineteen thirty-five!

DODGE: (To TILDEN.) That's right. Nineteen thirty-five. That was the last of it.

TILDEN: It's out there now.

DODGE: You go and take that corn back to wherever you got it from!

TILDEN: (After pause, staring at dodge.) It's picked. I picked it all in the rain. Once it's picked you can't put it back.

DODGE: I haven't had trouble with the neighbors here for fifty-seven years. I don't even know who the neighbors are! And I don't wanna know! Now go put that corn back where it came from! (TILDEN stares at dodge, then walks slowly over to him and dumps all the corn on dodge's lap and steps back. dodge stares at the corn then back to tilden. Long pause.) Are you having trouble here, Tilden? Are you in some kind of trouble again?

TILDEN: I'm not in any trouble.

DODGE: You can tell me if you are. I'm still your father.

TILDEN: I know that.

DODGE: I know you had a little trouble back there in New Mexico. That's why you came out here. Isn't that the reason you came back? --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Broché .

Revue de presse

“Shepard is an uncommon playwright and uncommonly gifted.” –The New York Times

“Wildly poetic, full of stage images and utterances replete with insidious suggestiveness.” –New York

“Shepard is one of the most prolific playwrights, and for that matter, certainly one of the most brilliant.” –New York Post --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Broché .


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Amazon.com: 5 commentaires
10 internautes sur 12 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Wacky, bizarre and very entertaining! 10 septembre 2007
Par 웃 R I Z Z O 웃 - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché
It's clear to see why Buried Child won the 78-79 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. The play borders on theatre of the absurd with it's illogical circumstances, and bizarre plot. We learn soon that a baby was buried, but we are entertained as the story processes and unfolds through the eyes of this dysfunctional family. The conflict is between the need to reveal the truth, and refusal to speak about the truth. A visitor to the home causes the revealing of the truth.

Dodge is a sickly 70ish year old drinker, smoker and frequently has violent coughing outbursts. Married to Halie, 65 year old, they have 3 boys. Halie spends time (tipsy time) with the church Father.

Tilden, the oldest, shows up after 20 years, spent time in jail and got run out of New Mexico. Tilden was an All-American quarterback or fullback, the family can't remember which. Now he is mixed up in the head and can't take care of himself.

Bradley, they determine isn't very bright; he chopped his leg with a chainsaw. Bradley has serious conflict with Dodge.

And Ansel, the soldier who died in a motel, on his honeymoon with the Catholic Italian girl, the mob. Haley swears he was doomed when he married her. Ansel played basketball and could have made money, could have taken care of Dodge and Halie.

Father Dewis just tries to mediate. For Halie, he would erect a statue of Ansel with a rifle in one hand and a basketball in the other.

Vince, the grandson, Tilden's son arrives after 6 years and nobody recognizes him. He is symbolic of the buried unwanted child.

Shelly, Vince's girlfriend is thrust into this bizarre scenario, and it is she who becomes the focus of the unveiling truth of the child.

The most prominent symbolism in Buried Child is the rain, and how the vegetables in the field have grown. The rain is mentioned a lot, and it serves to be the nuturing of the vegetables, like nuturing the family for the truth.

This play is brilliant, engaging, and very entertaining. The dialogue is real, paces well and there are a few lengthy monologues. Like good literature, it requires a second reading. Don't skip that.......Rizzo
3 internautes sur 3 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
A 15 juin 2009
Par Lauren Magnussen - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché
With enough symbolism to keep a literary student happily busy for weeks, Sam Shepard's Pulitzer Prize-winning play throws you into a surreal world grounded in the decay of the American Dream. The family centered in the drama is dysfunctional, to put it mildly, and is a microcosm of the hopes and eventual destruction of those hopes in America. The action plays out like a combination between American Gothic and Frida Kahlo - based in reality, but little bits here and there remind the audience that they are not in a world structured realistically. Shepard has stunning skills in the way he paints pictures with words. The only gripe is that the motivations of Halie, the matriarch of the family, are never fully developed or explained. Perhaps Shepard's intention was to keep emotions and feelings as buried as the title implies.
9 internautes sur 13 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Real and Unreal 30 janvier 2000
Par Susan R Murray - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché
Buried Child is a story of coming home and coming to terms with the past. Sheppard's use of visual imagery and his mastery of simple, stark, but powerful dialog make this one of the better modern American plays. 5 men, 2 women, one set.
0 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Daring American Theater by an underrated playwright 23 mai 1999
Par Peter Carrozzo - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché
A courageous work that deserved the Pulitzer. It's American Theater of the Absurd at its best.
The familes dysfunction is depicted in a disturbing climax. The title depicts the family's metaphorical "skeletons in the closet" in a quite literal way.
Be prepared, this is not your usual drama. If you enjoy the absurd, you've come to the right place.
7 internautes sur 20 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
A two-fold level in Buried Child 12 octobre 2000
Par Huang, Hsinkai - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché
There might be some people who tend to think of Buried Child as an elusive play, for there are a lot of actions they don't quite understand. Nevertheless, I think something is weird because Shepard's focus is not simply on the realistic level, but on the symbolic level as well. The backyard in this play, for one, is conveying this two-fold level. On the one hand, it is physically a backyard as many people have in real life. It is, on the other, a mysterious place inasmuch as there is no detailed description of the place, yet a few significant events all so happen to take place at the backyard. That is, growing crops and burying the child is all relating to the backyard. In my opinion, there are many other actions and events that have such a two-fold meaning in this play.
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