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    Beauty of the Father
    Beauty of the Father
    Beauty of the Father
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    Beauty of the Father

    By Nilo Cruz

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    About this ebook

    -Newest play by the Pulitzer Prize winning author of "Anna in the Tropics."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTheatre Communications Group
    Release dateAug 1, 2008
    ISBN9781559366083
    Beauty of the Father

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    • 5/5
      Nilo Cruz is so talented I loved it 5 stars

    Book preview

    Beauty of the Father - Nilo Cruz

    ACT ONE

    SCENE 1

    The sound of bells. A long shaft of orange light bathes Federico García Lorca. He is dressed in a 1930s white linen suit.

    LORCA: Five o’clock in the afternoon. The hour that bullfighters

    get killed. (Writes a note) There was no death today at five o’clock in the afternoon. No, no death reported. Perhaps there was a wound. But there is always a wound in the world, open and exposed for everybody to see, and a little sand bucket of tears by the edge of the sea.

    (A flash of white light. Emiliano stands with a pair of espadrilles in the palms of his hands. Flamenco music plays.)

    EMILIANO:

    This is a picture of a pair of espadrilles I bought for you.

    In the South of Spain we use espadrilles in the summer.

    If you come to Salobreña, you have a pair waiting for you.

    Now that your mother is no longer alive, why don’t you come and live with me.

    Love, your father, Emiliano.

    (A flash of white light. Marina stands holding an old birdcage.)

    MARINA:

    This is a picture of me with a birdcage I bought at the market.

    I’m going to buy myself a green parakeet.

    This way the house will seem less lonely.

    I can’t get used to living without Mamá.

    I think I’m coming to see you.

    (Marina exits. A flash of white light. Emiliano holds a bird’s nest.)

    EMILIANO:

    This is a picture of a nest I found in one of my walks to the woods.

    I’ve been making sculptures of nests ever since you told me that you’re coming to see me.

    I want to father you again after all these years.

    Don’t buy the green parakeet. Just come to Spain!

    (A flash of white light.)

    LORCA: I would’ve been a hundred this year. Yes, me, Federico

    García Lorca. But now I’m dead and gone, and there is no difference between a wisp of smoke and myself, so I constantly have to remind myself that I’m only a spirit and I have to look at life from a distance and not get too involved with humanity. But the living have a way of beckoning us back to life through prayer or a work of art, and sometimes what pulls us to the world exists independently of our will. And it’s only natural that we respond, because as spirits we have our little sad attachments to the world, and there’s always work to be done.

    (The lights change. Paquita enters the stage running. She holds a cloth and is drying her hands.)

    PAQUITA: She’s here, Emiliano. She called from the airport. She took an earlier flight from Madrid.

    EMILIANO: How long ago did she call?

    PAQUITA: Twenty minutes.

    EMILIANO: How do I look? Why didn’t you call me?

    PAQUITA: I did. But your phone didn’t pick up.

    EMILIANO: Where are my car keys? I have to change my shirt.

    PAQUITA: No. You stay here. I sent Karim to pick her up in your car.

    EMILIANO: Will he recognize her? He doesn’t know her.

    PAQUITA: Vale, hombre! Calmate! Calm down . . . He’s seen pictures of her.

    EMILIANO: Damn it! I wanted to pick her up at the airport. (Takes out his cellular phone) What’s wrong with this shit!

    PAQUITA: I’ll go tell Tomasa she can start preparing lunch.

    (Paquita exits. Emiliano stays with Lorca.)

    EMILIANO: It’s my daughter.

    LORCA: Good!

    EMILIANO: I have to pick up this place. I started painting and I made a mess . . . (In a sort of frenzy he starts organizing the mess on top of his work table)

    LORCA: How long has it been since you saw her last?

    EMILIANO: Almost ten years.

    LORCA: Why that long?

    EMILIANO: Her mother thought I was unfit as a father.

    LORCA: And what on earth does that mean?

    EMILIANO: I think you understand.

    LORCA: Bah, that’s like saying that a woman in order to be a mother has to knit, milk cows and know how to cut a sausage.

    EMILIANO: I have to change my shirt.

    LORCA: Then change your shirt, hombre, and wash your face. You’ve been out in the fields gathering your nests. You must smell like a horse.

    EMILIANO (Running offstage to get a clean shirt): Yes, I want to look good. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression of her father. (Reenters wearing a clean shirt) We really don’t know each other that well. I left home when she was a little girl. Does this shirt look better?

    LORCA: Much better. Oh, I wish I had a daughter!

    (Emiliano sees a mess under the table and starts arranging his paint tubes.)

    EMILIANO: I have to pick up these paints. And if you don’t mind, Federico,

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