Programme Booklet »Fin de partie« by Wiener Staatsoper GmbH

GYÖRGY KURTÁG

FIN DE PARTIE

CONTENTS

SYNOPSIS P.

TO SING IS TO CONVEY IN CONVERSATION WITH GYÖRGY KURTÁG P.

THE FINE SOUND OF IDEAS SIMONE YOUNG P.

“DON’T MENTION ANY OF THIS TO YOUR ACTORS!” SAMUEL BECKETT & ALAN SCHNEIDER

WE WALK AROUND AS IF IT HAD MEANING HERBERT FRITSCH IN AN INTERVIEW P.

“DON’T SEEK DEEP MOTIVATION EVERYWHERE” SAMUEL BECKETT & ALAN SCHNEIDER P.

IMPRINT

GYÖRGY KURTÁG SAMUEL BECKETT:

FIN DE PARTIE SCÈNES ET MONOLOGUES

Text SAMUEL BECKETT OPERA in one act ORCHESTRA

piccolo / 2 flutes / alto flute bass flute / 2 oboes / english horn 2 clarinets in B (both doubling clarinet in E flat) bass clarinet in B flat / 2 bassoons / contrabassoon / 2 horns in F 2 trumpets in C (both doubling flugelhorn in B flat) 2 trombones / tuba / timpani / percussion (vibraphone, xylophone, drum, 3 bongos, 3 tom-toms, tambourine, bass drum, steel drum, 3 piatti sospesi, hand cymbals, tamtam, maracas, flexatone, rattle, 2 triangles, whip, 3 chinese gongs, gongs in F and B, bells in A and G sharp, temple block, wood block, marimba) cimbalom / harp / celesta / pianino / piano 2 bajans / 10 violins / 8 violas / 8 violoncelli, 6 double basses (1–3 5-stringed)

AUTOGRAPH Paul Sacher Stiftung, Basel WORLD PREMIÈRE 15 NOV 2018 Teatro alla Scala, Milan AUSTRIAN PREMIÈRE 16 OCT 2024 Vienna State Opera DURATION

1 H 45 M

NO INTERMISSION

FIN DE PA RT IE

SYNOPSIS 1. PROLOGUE: ROUNDELAY Nell sings a poem about footsteps on the beach at the end of the day.

2. CLOV’S PANTOMIME In an empty room, Hamm sits in his wheelchair, covered with a sheet, as are the two dustbins standing nearby. Clov crosses the room and retrieves a ladder to peer out of the windows. He then glances under Hamm’s sheet and laughs. Finally, he removes the sheet from Hamm’s wheelchair. Hamm’s face is covered with a handkerchief.

3. CLOV’S FIRST MONOLOGUE Clov ruminates on the finality of things. He introduces a parable: If you keep adding one grain upon another, at some point, you have a heap – “the impossible heap.” He wants to go into his kitchen, with its “charming dimensions” – three metres by three metres by three metres – and wait there until Hamm whistles.

4. HAMM’S FIRST MONOLOGUE Hamm awakens with a yawn: it’s now his turn to take the stage. Hamm reflects on the extent of his suffering in relation to other forms of suffering. Hamm speaks of the need to put an end to it, “even in this refuge,” but grapples with his own hesitation to do so. Finally, he decides he would rather go to sleep and so blows on his whistle. Clov enters, having heard the whistle, but refuses to get him ready for bed. He had only just helped him get up and he had other things to do.

Previous pages: GEORG NIGL as CLOV PHILIPPE SLY as HAMM

SYNOPSIS

5. RUBBISH BINS The lid of one of the dustbins opens, and Nagg emerges. He knocks on the other lid, and Nell looks out. At Nagg’s request, they attempt to kiss but fail. For Nell, this daily recurring “comedy” feels tiresome. Nagg has lost a tooth. The two test their senses. Their eyesight has deteriorated, but their hearing remains sharp. Nagg recalls the tandem accident in the Ardennes, where they both lost their legs. They are having a wonderful time. Hamm complains about the noise they are making, which is keeping him from sleeping. He also complains of a drip in his head, a heart, as he calls it. Nagg finds this amusing, but Nell scolds him – although there is nothing funnier than misfortune, one should not laugh at a joke that has been repeated too often. Nagg tells the joke about the tailor, the trousers, and the creation of the world. While he is terribly amused by the punchline, Nell is caught up in a memory of Lake Como, where the two had gotten engaged. After Hamm’s angry rebuke, Nagg retreats into his bin. Hamm calls Clov, telling him to “throw them both into the sea.” Clov takes Nell’s arm and finds that she no longer has a pulse.

6. THE NOVEL Now Hamm wants to tell his story. He promises Nagg a sugar-coated candy to keep him listening. The story is about a man who, it is said, arrived on Christmas night, crawling on his belly, pleading for food for his child – or perhaps begging to be taken in by Hamm. Dissatisfied with his own narrative, Hamm feels it needs more characters. He whistles for Clov, who mentions encountering a rat in the kitchen. The rat hunt was cut short by Hamm’s whistling. Hamm then calls for prayer, but neither he,

SYNOPSIS

Nagg, nor Clov is able to do so. The existence of God is questioned. When Nagg demands his reward for listening to the story, Hamm tells him that he is out of candies.

7. NAGG’S MONOLOGUE Nagg compares their current situation to when Hamm was a child and would call for him at night. He hopes that one day, he will once again be Hamm’s only hope.

8. HAMM’S PENULTIMATE MONOLOGUE Hamm reveals his sadness. He thinks of all those whom he could have helped, whom he could have saved, those who had crawled out of every corner. Yet he reminds us: we are on Earth, and for that, there is no remedy. He weighs his options, reflecting on the end that resides within the beginning. He invokes the parable of the grains and the heap: and all life long, one waits for it to become a life. He whistles for Clov.

9. DIALOGUE BETWEEN HAMM AND CLOV Hamm and Clov discuss their mutual dependency. Clov reports that the rat in the kitchen has escaped. Hamm’s repeated question about whether it’s time for his sedative is at last met with a yes from Clov, only for him to reveal that there are no more left, and there never will be again.

10. “IT’S OVER, CLOV” AND CLOV’S VAUDEVILLE “It’s over,” Hamm declares; he no longer needs Clov. Clov should simply leave him the boat hook. Before Clov goes, Hamm asks him for a few words “from his heart,” and Clov sings him a vaudeville.

FIN DE PA RT IE

11. CLOV’S FINAL MONOLOGUE Clov reflects on the order of things and the relationship between suffering and punishment, constraints and freedom. His inability to change his habits signifies that it will never end, and he will never leave. He envisions an ending that happens of its own accord. If he falls, he will weep tears of joy.

12. TRANSITION TO THE FINALE Clov and Hamm thank each other formally. Hamm asks Clov to cover him with the cloth before he leaves, but Clov has already left.

13. HAMM’S FINAL MONOLOGUE As Hamm tries to move himself with the help of the boat hook, Clov re-enters wearing travelling clothes. Hamm doesn’t notice him. Clov remains in the room until the end. Hamm wishes to devote himself to the forever-lost final game; he no longer wishes to lose. He returns to his story once again: He had reminded the man who wished to keep his young son with him of what the Earth has become, thereby confronting him with his responsibility.

THE END OF THE NOVEL Hamm whistles again, calling for his father. Then, he tosses his whistle aside. His final words concern his handkerchief, which he wants to keep.

Following pages: HILARY SUMMERS as NELL CHARLES WORKMAN as NAGG

COMPOSER GYÖRGY KURTÁG IN CONVERSATION WITH NIKOLAUS STENITZER

TO SING IS TO CONVEY ns B eckett’s Fin de partie, the drama that inspired your opera, is regarded as one of the texts with the greatest importance for you personally. Could you de scribe your first encounter with the work? gk I first saw the play in 1957 in Paris when my friend, the philosopher and aesthete Róbert Klein, took me with him to the performance. I was already familiar with Beckett, thanks to György Ligeti. He told me that Waiting for Godot is a brilliant play that I absolutely must see if it happens to be on. I must confess that I understood nothing of the Fin de partie performance in Paris owing to my insufficient French at the time. Yet, the performance left a strong impression on me, and I immediately bought both pieces. And since then, I’ve also bought all of Beckett’s other works in French, English, and Hungarian. ns Beckett once said about his play Not I (premiered in 1972) that he hoped it would “work on the nerves of the audience, not its intellect.” In general, Beckett

was known for his categori cal refusal to help interpret or even explain his works. As a piece referred to as Theatre of the Absurd, Fin de partie can be received affectively with “the nerves” in line with the quote from Not I; naturally, the text is also always reinterpreted anew. What is your own take on Fin de partie? Or would you say that we should not interpret the work but rather experience it emo tionally? gk Let’s abandon this notion of Beckett’s theatre as absurd! The entirety of human life is embodied in his works. There’s nothing absurd about Fin de partie. While composing music for Beckett’s texts, it was always crucial for me that both the text and the music had equal value. Just like in L’incoronazione di Poppea or in Otello and Falstaff. ns T he only really substantial change you’ve made to Beckett’s play is the addition of a prologue – Beckett’s poem Roundelay is recited by the actress playing

TO SING IS TO CONVEY

Nell before the start of the play. What lies behind this prologue? And what does Roundelay mean for you? gk The structure of Roundelay mirrors that of the play, revolving around the particular theme of accepting imminent death, just as in Beckett’s play, where the story unfolds in a circular rather than linear manner. Clov’s opening line, “Fini, c’est fini, ça va finir, ça va peut-être finir”, conveys the entire narrative. Beckett’s entire piece is born from this sentence. ns B eckett once said that his favourite line from Fin de Partie was Hamm’s response to Clov’s observation that Nagg is crying: “So he lives.” Which line from the play do you find especially striking? Which line was signif icant for your composition? gk The sentence mentioned just now is most crucial for me: “Fini, c’est fini, ça va finir, ça va peut-être finir.” ns You once recounted a very im portant story about your com positional process. The psy chologist Marianne Stein, who became a key advisor to you, reportedly suggested that you begin by “connecting two tones” – in other words, to focus on an isolated compositional issue. This has been decisive for you in finding your form. Would you say that this still holds true? gk Marianne Stein had intended this pairing of two tones merely as an exercise for me, but to me, it turned into a compositional concept. Fundamentally, my forms originated from this, first and foremost in the Nyolc zongoradarabban [Eight Piano Pieces], which I had already largely worked on in Paris.

Ever since, it has been applicable to all my pieces, including Fin de partie. ns In your compositions, you some times incorporate musical quo tations from other composers, in a way engaging their music in a dialogue with your own. Could you explain this procedure? gk The description would be that the quotations in my work are not quotations but rather reflections. ns Beckett’s Endgame is character ised by especially precise stage directions, which also con cern the rhythm of speech, no tably through the placement of pauses between sentences. Not only have you incorporated this very accurately into the compo sition, but you have also added many unusual performance di rections, such as quasi nitrito (as if neighing like a horse) or lontano-lontano, quasi in sogno (from afar, as if asleep). From your experience, would you say that singers struggle to follow these directions? What are the typical challenges for the sing ers with this score? gk Singers ought to be able to convey the text on their own, regardless of their singing role, as though they were actors. A singer who just sings their part is not doing anything yet. Rather, they need to understand the sentence structure and relay the underlying meanings. For this very reason, we spent two years working with the singers from the Milan premiere before the production opened. ns Numerous reviews emphasise the distinctive aspects of the or chestra in your opera. It boasts a large complement, sometimes

TO SING IS TO CONVEY

featuring some unusual instru ments such as the cimbalom or the bayan. In most cases, how ever, it tends to be smaller, al most chamber-like ensembles. Is it a characteristic of Fin de partie that we hear such a range of sound constellations? gk The task of orchestration is to amplify the words of the text, precisely as in my vocal chamber music. ns You have set roughly 60 per cent of the play’s text to music, and the score for Fin de partie is still marked “non-definitive version.” Which scene would you still want to write? gk I would very much like to write those scenes that involve the dog. Clov’s greatest rebellion is hitting Hamm on the head with the dog. In the closing scene, it becomes apparent that Hamm has surrendered all, eventually throwing the dog away. The opera lacks the backstory for that. ns A re you currently working on another new composition that you are able to discuss? Yes, I am composing a monodrama, a one-act opera based on a text by

Christoph Hein about Maria Dorothea Stechard, who lived with Georg Christoph Lichtenberg; she was, as he wrote, “his wife without a priestly blessing.” She died at the age of 17, and the story is about her waiting in the afterlife for her husband, who went on to live for many decades. This is a fictional story, and at the same time, one I am living through myself. [György Kurtág’s wife and creative collaborator Marta died in 2019, editor’s note] ns In 1959, you returned to Buda pest after your lengthy stay in Paris, where you gained key insights into your future as a musician. You assigned Opus number one to the string quartet that you later wrote. You wanted to mark the new beginning and once described the exposition of this string quartet as the “start ing point for an entire life’s work.” Could you describe how you got from this starting point to Fin de partie? gk I cannot describe the path, but I see the Kafka Fragments, which I likewise dedicated to Marianne Stein, as a similar turning point.

PHILIPPE SLY as HAMM

THE FINE SOUND OF IDEAS SIMONE YOUNG ON FIN DE PARTIE The sound of György Kurtág’s Fin de Partie is that of a language rich in imaginative emphasis. In good musical theatre, it can generally be said that the music is inextricably linked to the text – this is an opera that derives its entire existence from the text. The French is set to music with absolute perfection. This can be captured at a single moment in the score – within just one measure, Kurtág provides markings for triple piano, esitando, legato, misterioso and largamente rinforzando. And all of this within a single measure – almost every word of singing has its own marking. There are also dynamic markings, small grace notes, tenuto lines, and a legato line over the whole thing – it’s incredibly detailed. And ultimately, out of these many small fragments and this incredibly detailed processing of the vocal line, Kurtág was able to compose grand monologues – especially for the two main characters. Language is even written into the orchestral parts, where the musicians play in parallel with the text – such as when Hamm’s voice is doubled by the bass clarinet, or Clov’s, frequently, by the double bass. What is interesting is how the composition shapes the vari-

ous text formats. The beautifully sung monologues are contrasted by passages in which Kurtág, in some way, alludes to Monteverdi in a recitative style that is close to parlando. There is a relationship in the way the language is conducted or how the voices are carried in the dialogues, which can be described as a modern type of recitative, a nod to pre-Mozart opera. There is also an additional special feature in the instrumentation in that the cimbalom, a type of hammered dulcimer, is set within an instrument group that one might refer to as a modern rendition of a harpsichord ensemble – cimbalom, piano, small piano, harp, and two bayans or chromatic button accordions, somewhat like a continuo ensemble woven throughout the piece. But, in a way, that is merely the intricate, finely constructed skeleton of the whole. Overall, the score is considerably more nuanced than that. The orchestral section, broadly speaking, may indeed feel like chamber music; chamber music that, with the right arrangement, performs splendidly on the grand opera stage. In Benjamin Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, there are also long sections composed

THE FINE SOUND OF IDEAS

solely for chamber music. And Richard Strauss also often adopted this approach, particularly in Ariadne auf Naxos, where a massive ensemble is set up, yet only seven musicians perform. All of this can be showcased brilliantly on the large stage with the right setup. This is exactly how it is with Fin de partie.

IN COLLABORATION WITH THE THEATRE OF THE ABSURD György Kurtág is renowned for his penchant for fragments and miniatures – just consider his vocal cycles. In his Kafka Fragments, for instance, there are pieces that consist of just a few measures. This love for the small form also finds its way into the score, and Samuel Beckett’s pared-down text serves as the ideal match for the composer. Yet, throughout the entire work, his musical language forms a consistent line. It is highly complex and difficult to condense into such few words, but what is absolutely crucial is that it remains constantly linked to the theory and ideology of the Theatre of the Absurd. At the same time, it is striking that, even if one doesn’t know the score and only listens to the piece, certain miniatures are very quickly identified and recognised, somewhat akin to leitmotifs. These are the very clear motifs that he labels as “Conductus A” and “Conductus B”, yet there are also minor figures that sound almost like folk music themes. A motif introduced in the bayans, the button accordions, very briefly resembles music of the circus. This motif recurs time and again but in fragments that appear in different instrumental groups, such as the strings in tremolo. They are not

leitmotifs in the style of Wagner or Strauss, but rather subtle clues that weave the thirteen scenes together in a most elegant fashion. Much of this work lies in the subtext; it engages the subconscious. With each meticulous miniature pause, with each marking, and each repeated pianissimo followed by another, subtly accented pianissimo – but played sul ponticello, lending the notes a whispered quality – one might say that this is a music that dwells in the shadows. This is a description that applies also to Beckett’s play; it is a piece that lives in the shadows. We find ourselves in a post-apocalyptic world, and we have no idea what lies beyond – or if there even is an outside world for these four people. A relic, a remnant of a catastrophe. This Theatre of the Absurd emerged in the wake of the Second World War, and Kurtág is able to draw on his experience from the post-Soviet Union years. The theatre lives in the shadows, and the details can be felt and heard in the darkness, yet not, perhaps, be immediately recognisable. The text is clear, but the meaning is obscured. It is the same with the music; there’s a section in the score where Clov sings very deeply, accompanied in triple piano by contrabassoon, bass clarinet, and bass flute – all instruments that are scarcely audible. Cello, even in triple piano, is very legato in chromatic figures. All of this is felt more in the gut than it is heard with the ears, and, consequently, the text is then very prominent, even with Clov’s voice, too, being marked in triple piano. So, it is an incredibly delicate task. There are also rhythmic figures that form the structure of the whole. The “Conductus” mentioned above

SIMONE YOUNG

emerges time and again as a foundational rhythm across various figures, connecting the different scenes together. The term “Conductus”, incidentally, originates from the High Middle Ages and referred to the music that accompanied processions and served as entrance music for church dignitaries. Here, it resembles torn, sometimes stumbling, fragmentary entrance music, introducing monologues – at times also interrupting them. Essentially, everything is so finely crafted that the listener, on hearing it for the first time, is simply unable to grasp and comprehend it all at once. And perhaps that is how it should be. Because Theatre of the Absurd is something one tries to grasp, and the moment one thinks they’ve got hold of it, it eludes them once more. We could refer to this as mercurial. In nearly every measure, Kurtág presents a puzzle, indicating his remarkably close alignment with Beckett’s own vision. He uses the bassoon, for instance, in a manner that could be described as expressing unspoken thoughts. By composing in this manner, he firmly situates himself within the realm of the Theatre of the Absurd, which essentially stands in contrast to meaningful existentialist theatre. It functions on ideas. A story is being told. But it’s entirely unclear exactly where we find ourselves in the timeline of this tale. The performance opens with the line “Fini, c’est fini.” And at the end, Clov leaves – but is it for the first time? The second time, the third time? We remain entirely in the dark about it. And Nell is dying – but is she really dying? Is this a daily occurrence? It is the ambiguity of it all that also leads to these long pauses between the sung lines.

And the music, I believe, is meant to help us fill in these gaps for ourselves. What point are we at in time? From which perspective is the story being told? And these unexpected expressive figures in the bassoon are, to me, our perspective, the perspective of the audience, like our thoughts – the thoughts that remain unspoken. Still, that is a personal interpretation.

PALPABLE SILENCE AND DARK HUMOUR Beckett’s play already pokes fun somewhat of the existentialist theatre that had been in vogue not long before, although without moralising. This is carried forward in Kurtág’s music. At times, it lures us onto paths, leaving us with the expectation of continuity. But then – nothing. Kurtág has rendered the essence of Theatre of the Absurd into music with near perfection. Yet, setting this piece to music fundamentally contradicts the intention of this kind of theatre. Because music evokes specific feelings within us. That’s why, to my mind, Kurtág’s composition has numerous sections noted as pianissimo, whispered, nuanced, with harmonics in the strings and rustling in the maracas or on the cymbals. There are an incredible number of almost-notes, almost-sounds. Almost subliminal. By doing this, the composer sweeps away the emotional elements that would inevitably come with traditional operatic voices and instruments, thus creating space. Yet the space that emerges is not a vacuum. Often, there is what I would call audible silence. Verdi does something similar in Aida during the council scene. Amneris is on stage, and Radamès is

THE FINE SOUND OF IDEAS

at the back with Ramfis and the men’s chorus. He doesn’t answer her questions. Verdi writes that, backstage, Gran Cassa (the big drum) is to play a very quiet tremolo. This is essentially silence, but it is a palpable silence. And this silence is also used by Henze time and again, with either a bass drum, a soft stroke on the maracas, or a delicate vibrato on a harmonic. It’s all, fundamentally, audible nothingness, or a composed white noise. And that is the hidden meaning I was talking about. It’s not the details of the music that the audience should perceive, but the subsequent expression – an effortlessness, a sense of question. Getting to this point requires exceptionally meticulous rehearsal work. Our composer, György Kurtág, is famed for his perfectionism. Fin de partie must, therefore, be rehearsed to perfection. Performing a piece by a living composer invariably carries extra responsibility. This is his baby – we don’t want him to feel that we’ve given the child a haircut or let them put on too much weight. We bear the extra obligation to ensure that this performance is also satisfactory for the composer himself. Yet, this composer remains as creative as ever, which also represents an additional source of inspiration. György Kurtág has always continued to refine the piece, providing new tempos and insights with each new cast. Our task and challenge involved sifting through what was necessary for these particular singers and this particular staging. The remarkable way György Kurtág has captured Beckett’s humour in music is a formidable achievement, and it’s something we are truly eager to share with the audience. Typically, our view

of modern music is that everything is very serious. Everything is very dark, almost reverent. Kurtág wants to get away from this. Just as Beckett wanted to get away from it. The play has given rise to a particular tradition – notably in Germany, as Herbert Fritsch has repeatedly mentioned – that interprets it as very dark, grey, slow, and profound. Both Beckett and Kurtág see a lot more humour in the whole affair. There’s misquoted Baudelaire and misquoted Shakespeare. A moment reminiscent of Stravinsky. Another reminiscent of Bartók. These minor details are meant to bring about something of a smile. What was especially striking for me, as I worked on the score with Kurtág, was the delight he took in the dark, sardonic humour of this text. There are certain passages where Kurtág directly refers to Beckett or also to Baudelaire. He always took great delight in pointing out and explaining these parts to me. Hamm’s line in the 8th scene, for example, he described to me as his “key line” – ”et toute la vie on attend que ça vous fasse une vie” (“and all life long one waits for it to become a life”). I think this dark humour is absolutely a part of Theatre of the Absurd. It’s the secret that underpins the whole play. Kurtág always tended to overdo it in the vocal lines, precisely where this dark humour comes into play. During the summer, I also immersed myself, over the course of two long-haul flights, in Theodor W. Adorno’s text Versuch, das Endspiel zu verstehen (Trying to understand Endgame). I completely agree with him that all this pretentiousness around Beckett is misplaced. When you see Beckett’s plays performed by skilled actors, they are thoroughly captivating.

SIMONE YOUNG

THE REMARKABLE CLARITY OF THE PROVISIONAL VERSION In preparing for the production, I spent several days working closely with György Kurtág in Budapest. We examined the score in detail; he played it on the piano, and we sang all the parts. Many of the questions I had for him in this regard are not particularly important for the listener, but for me, they were highly significant: questions concerning the score, which features numerous different symbols, and the revisions added after the initial performances. We spoke about the “unfinalised” character of the work – it was premiered as a “provisional version”, and, officially, our production is, likewise, considered “provisional.” One aspect that particularly intrigued me was a scene from Beckett’s play – the scene with the dog – which is absent in the opera. This scene is especially grotesque – Hamm asks Clov for “his dog”, which is then revealed to be a puppet that Clov had apparently made and which remains unfinished with only three legs. Perhaps it’s the most peculiar scene in the play, and I genuinely wondered why it hadn’t been included in the opera. When I asked him, György Kurtág explained to me that his wife, Marta Kurtág, had repeatedly urged him to write this very scene, but he never got around to it. Marta Kurtág passed away in 2019, and he felt that without her, he probably wouldn’t have had the strength to complete the

scene; to him, it is she who is truly missing. He also had some additional commentary in his score that was not part of the printed edition, and I felt very honoured to be allowed to make a note of this. Naturally, rigorous study of this score has very much strengthened my relationship with Kurtág’s music. It is not played much in Australia; I became familiar with it primarily in Germany. I have performed some small ensemble pieces myself, and I have long been familiar with many of the small piano pieces from the Jatekok (Games) collection. And he’s still composing! While I was in Budapest preparing, I went to see him in the morning, and he presented me with a piano piece he had composed overnight. These compositions teach us much about his harmonies and their meanings, such as the fifth, which exemplifies an interval that holds great significance in his oeuvre. Over the summer, I revisited much of his music, especially the chamber compositions for which he is well known. This revealed a great deal to me. The rehearsals remind me time and again of how much I admire his composition – that he, even at his age, writes with such clarity. The score contains everything I require, plain and simple. Even if I had understood absolutely nothing about the Theatre of the Absurd or any of its other music, I could still have found almost everything I needed from the score to be able to work with it. That is absolutely remarkable.

PHILIPPE SLY as HAMM GEORG NIGL as CLOV

LETTERS

“DON’T MENTION ANY OF THIS TO YOUR ACTORS!” SAMUEL BECKETT & ALAN SCHNEIDER IN CONVERSATION ON FIN DE PARTIE, PART 1 American director Alan Schneider staged the American premières of Waiting for Godot (1956) and Endgame (1958) and realised Film, the only filmscript Samuel Beckett ever wrote (1967, starring Buster Keaton). Alan Schneider and Samuel Beckett maintained and intense correspondence over many years. On May 3, 1984 Schneider was struck and killed by a motorcycle when attempting to cross a street in London in order to mail a letter to Beckett’s address in Paris.

ALAN SCHNEIDER TO SAMUEL BECKETT November 8 1957 Have, naturally, been pursuing the script further in a search which will never end. But have a few questions at the moment which, if you’re not too busy, would like to have answered or at least dwelt on. I’ll use the pagination of the galley-proofs, because now that we have mimeographed scripts we have various systems of numbering pages.

“DON’T MENTION ANY OF THIS TO YOUR ACTORS!”

So here goes: Page 1 In the beginning stage direction, you say Hamm has a rag over his knees. I don’t remember this. Did he have a rag (in addition to the handkerchief?) What happened to it? Page 2 Am I correct in assuming that you use the ideas of “ending” and “dying” interchangeably throughout? Or is there some reason why you use one word instead of the other at any given place? Page 3 We may have to find a more understandable or familiar equivalent for Spratt’s Medium. [a dog biscuit brand] Have discovered no one over here has heard the phrase. Page 4 Is there any specific reason why Clov says “my light”? – (Hamm, of course, catches him on this.) Page 7 So far. we think we can do the tailor story as written; if censor trouble, will let you know. (Kelly is marvelous in this!) Page 9 Not quite clear to me what Hamm means when he says he saw inside his breast. Page 11 Also not clear why Clov says “So you all want me to leave you.” And Hamm’s answer: “You can’t leave us. Is that “royalty”, “editorial”,????????? Why particulary in this sequence? Page 12 What are Clov’s visions? Page 15 ANYTHING YOU WANT TO TELL ME ABOUT HAMM’S STORY WILL BE WELCOME! Page 17 Not entirely clear to me, or at least I’m not sure, why Hamm says “Keep going, can’t you, keep going” angrily? Page 19 Not entirely clear (though perhaps I’m making too much of it) about the line where Hamm says, absently, head bowed, “That’s right.” Why that particular stage direction? At that moment? Page 20 Have you remembered who “that old Greek” was? And I don’t know if I get why Clov says: “ls your throat sore?” Does he mean to imply that Hamm should himself answer the call of the earth???????????

LETTERS

SAMUEL BECKETT TO ALAN SCHNEIDER, November 21st 1957 Page 1 “Rag” is a printer’s error for “rug.” Blin didn’t use one. Unimportant. Page 2 I think in this text “end” is stronger than “die.” As far as I remember Hamm and Clov never use “die” referring to themselves. Their death is merely incidental to the end of “this ... this ... thing.” But there is no system on my part here and the terms are used as naturally as possible. I do not say “deathgame” as I do not say that Mother Pegg “ended” of darkness. [in margin in AS hand] “existence of the universe ...“ Page 3 The French is “biscuit classique.” If in US there is no particularly well known brand of dog biscuit you could fall back on “classic biscuit” or “standard biscuit” or “hard tack.” Page 4 In his kitchen it is his light, his life. To replace his by the normalizes and kills the line. Page 9 Presumably in a dream – “last night” – he saw the inside of his chest. Page 11 “All” because Nell has just told Clov to “desert.” “Us” means Hamm, Nagg and Nell. Page 12 I only know the one alluded to–his light dying. This if you like is an ironical allusion to Acts 2.17. They endure their “thing” by projection away from it, Clov outwards towards going, Hamm inwards towards abiding. When Clov admits to having his visions less it means that his escape mechanism is breaking down. Dramatically this element allows his perception of life (boy) at the end and of course of the rat to be construed as hallucinations. Page 15 What more can I say about Hamm’s story? Technically it is the most difficult thing in the play because of the number of vocal levels. Dramatically it may be regarded as evoking events leading up to Clov’s arrival, alone presumably, the father having fallen by the way, and to the beginning of the particular horror to which this play is confined. It also allows Clov’s “perception” of boy at end to be interpreted as vision of himself on last lap to “shelter” (which term may be used instead of “refuge” throughout if you wish). Page 17 [in margin in A.S. hand “p. 50”] “Keep going etc” means “keep asking me about my story, don’t let the dialogue die.” Repeated ironically by Clov a little later

“DON’T MENTION ANY OF THIS TO YOUR ACTORS!”

with same meaning. Cf. “return the ball” in Godot. I think this whole passage-up to the recurrence of “end”-motif should be played as farcical parody of polite drawing-room conversation. [ underlined by hand] Page 19 Because Hamm is groggy. Justify it if you like by Clov’s refusal to touch him. Page 20 Hamm’s voice spent after scream (second “What’ll I do!”). Clov’s “pity” means “pity you don’t give me the opportunity of saying ‘there are no more lozenges.’” Old Greek: I can’t find my notes on the pre-Socratics. The arguments of the Heap and the Bald Head (which hair falling produces baldness) were used by all the Sophists and I think have been variously attributed to one or the other. They disprove the reality of mass in the same way and by means of the same fallacy as the arguments of the Arrow and Achilles and the Tortoise, invented a century earlier by Zeno the Eleatic, disprove the reality of movement. The leading Sophist, against whom Plato wrote his Dialogue, was Protagoras and he is probably the “old Greek” whose name Hamm can’t remember. One purpose of the image throughout the play is to suggest the impossibility logically, i. e. eristically, of the “thing” ever coming to an end. “The end is in the beginning and yet we go on.” In other words the impossibility of catastrophe. Ended at its inception, and at every subsequent instant, it continues, ergo can never end. Don’t mention any of this to your actors!

Following pages:

CHARLES WORKMAN as NAGG GEORG NIGL as CLOV PHILIPPE SLY as HAMM

HERBERT FRITSCH IN AN INTERVIEW WITH NIKOLAUS STENITZER

WE WALK AROUND AS IF IT HAD MEANING PROLOGUE BY HERBERT FRITSCH Maybe I’ll answer your questions in the manner of Saint Joseph of Cupertino. Saint Joseph of Cupertino is the patron saint of aviators and examinees. You will understand why in a moment. In his family, Josef was seen as the fool. They were at a loss with him. Eventually, he was taken to a monastery, where he would clean the toilets and perform other such chores. Then came the day of the big priest exam in Bologna. Everyone else went off, telling him, “Cupertino, you stay here.” So, they were already in Bologna when suddenly Joseph of Cupertino thought, wait a minute, I want to be a priest too. And just like that, as the story goes, he took off, bounding across the countryside. He got to Bologna just as the last candidate was coming out of the exam, and he said, “Now it’s my turn.” Nobody thought anything was off, so they said, “Okay,” and gave him this incredibly complex

question, maybe something like proving the existence of God or something equally difficult. Joseph of Cupertino just listened, paused for a moment, and said, “Amen.” And everyone was like, “That can’t be right! – Correct!” They kept asking him more questions, and every single time, he just answered with “Amen.” The examiners were losing it. But in the end, they said, “He passed the exam.” That’s why he’s the patron saint of exam-takers. And just like him, I could answer all your questions with “Amen.” Saint Joseph of Cupertino is also the patron saint of aviators. During prayer, he would enter a state of total bliss – complete ecstasy – and supposedly began to fly. This really didn’t sit well with the others. “That’s not on,” they would say, and they even went to court and sued him – for levitation. That was just one thing too many, really rather presumptuous. He wanted to confess his guilt before the judge, but

W E WA L K A RO U N D AS IF IT HAD MEANING

the more he tried, the higher he levitated. There’s also a picture by El Greco showing Juan de la Cruz and Teresa de Avila levitating together. They were both heads of religious communities, and they were in love with each other. Saint Joseph of Cupertino visited them, stood in front of the abbey gate, and then they both took off, since they weren’t allowed to touch. That’s what El Greco painted. Juan de la Cruz was also thrown into prison for writing poems that were considered downright pornographic. He spent a long time in prison with no writing materials, so he composed new poetry in his head, memorised it, and wrote it all down when he was released. Teresa of Avila wrote The Interior Castle, where she says that God is also behind the saucepans. I’m very interested in all these mystics, Meister Eckhart included. ns You’ve already begun to answer the first question I was going to ask you. The question was: what are you currently reading? hf I’ve been re-reading Meister Eckhart lately, but what I’ve really been diving into is Nietzsche’s The Gay Science. The second book kicks off with an amazing piece – ”To the Realists.” I also just picked up a book on the Thirty Years’ War, as I’m really fascinated by the history of the Westphalian order. I’ve read Grimmelshausen’s Simplicissimus many times – a fantastic book with a captivating account of the Thirty Years’ War. I’m especially curious about all this in light of the current conflicts we’re seeing, though I prefer not to take a firm stance or align myself with any particular side. For me, my work is my confession – that’s what

guides me. When it comes to reading, I usually just open a book in the middle and start there. I find it much more enjoyable than going front to back. It’s a habit I’ve developed thanks to the internet, where hyperlinks let you jump around between ideas. That was also the idea behind my project Hamlet X – envisioning a play where you can cut it up, watch a scene from the middle, and then jump elsewhere, creating a whole new perspective. ns It reminds me of a story that György Kurtág described as a defining moment in his com position. After experiencing a major crisis, he was advised by the psychologist Marianne Stein to start by combining two notes – that is, starting from the most basic unit. This helped him through the crisis and later evol ved into a fundamental tenet of his composition process. Can’t this be applied exactly the same to your directing work? When you stage a piece, it seems you always start from the smallest possible components. hf Absolutely, yes. The smallest element of my work is just a breath in and a breath out, or even an intention – how do I start to speak? The smallest element is a gesture, a signal that something’s about to happen. Gesture is my music. Gesture and grimace. In a time where gestures and grimaces are rare, they can be revolutionary. They can set things in motion. When I’m staging something, I focus a lot on facial expressions and gestures. It’s like connecting tones, one after the other, creating a whole score of gestures and grimaces.

HERBERT FRITSCH IN AN INTERVIEW

And that is created by piecing the small segments together? hf Without giving thought to the bigger picture. It’s as if you’re climbing a mountain. If you’re forever looking up at the summit and saying, “Oh God, that’s a long way” – you won’t make it. Just take it one step at a time, focusing on your feet and the immediate surroundings. ns And when does it become a whole? hf Never. ns Samuel Beckett was able to re call his own birth. You as well? hf No. But I do recall being kidnapped as a baby. It was part of an internal family conflict that I’d rather not go into. What I remember clearly is the image of a moped in front of me. I was being held tight, and the moped sped off. It was an incredibly dramatic moment, and even though I was just an infant, the picture is still in my mind ns And how did that influence your life moving forward? Being separated from my mother left a tension within me that I still carry, and I often wonder about it. It was a deep trauma that I experienced, but the love I received from my grandparents kept me from completely falling apart. I came close, but not entirely. ns How would you put it: Does your work bring to light the thoughts the author wove into their work? Or something else? hf I’m not sure about a lot of things. I also think that an author can’t fully explain what they intended; they just did it. That’s how I feel about my own work – I’m not entirely sure what it’s about, and I think it would be awful if I did. Meister Eckhart plays an important role for me here, especially his

Sermon on Unknowing. He talks about the transition from knowing to not knowing, and that resonates with me. I’m interested in refining a text, breaking it down to achive an oracle. I’ve said many times that I don’t agree with explaining everything in great detail. I think it’s right to focus on the sound, to capture an atmosphere as it emerges spontaneously during rehearsal. An atmosphere where things unfold naturally. ns Who plays the roles in your work? hf Essentially, each performer has something that defines them – a peculiarity. I once encountered an actress who could move her eyes in different directions. For me, that kind of thing is so fascinating I think I could fill an entire evening with it. Then there’s a singer with a superb voice, singing the most complicated rhythms while coupling it with dramatic expressions that leave me in awe. This, too, is a unique quality, a talent. These are just examples, but essentially, it’s the performer as the individual that I want to work with. In opera, at some point, this becomes clear – everyone is a virtuoso when it comes to their vocal technique. This goes for actors as well, but in acting, it’s usually a journey from speaking to singing. For me, though, it always has to be the singing. The moment the mouth opens, it has to be a song. And every movement is dance. ns This, then, is the performer. And what is the person? hf If only I knew. Or at least, I find myself thinking about that a lot lately. As I wander through the streets, I ask myself what these people are all doing here. What are they all up to? Did I choose this path myself, or was

W E WA L K A RO U N D AS IF IT HAD MEANING

it chosen for me? Am I being tested somehow? Might it be that all these people potentially represent possibilities for me if I were only to reach out and talk to them? Surely, each person has something about them that makes them approachable to me. Maybe I’m frittering away my life right now by not understanding what it might mean when a cyclist on the street nearly runs me over and yells at me. That I might find myself caught up in a story yet steer clear of it. The sum of all this is what makes the person. ns The sum of the decisions? hf Perhaps the sum of the decisions left undecided. Perhaps I should simply approach someone on the street and say: “Excuse me. As it is, we are together here on planet Earth. Maybe we could just have a chat sometime.” But then, on the other hand, I remind myself, this has to happen naturally. Grabbing someone on the street and telling them, “We have to talk with one another”, is a bit forceful, after all. ns What role does the passing of time play for you? hf In the Book of Revelations, there is the well-known passage – ”There should be time no longer” – I often think about this. I’ve always contemplated my own death, and now, more than ever. I spend a lot of time wondering what it is, what happens to you. Honestly, as long as there’s no pain, I’m actually quite intrigued by it. What it is, what happens next. It naturally makes you think about your own limitations – about the limitations of the senses. When I see a dog, for example, it has senses I don’t have. A dog can smell when someone is about to have an epileptic seizure. Some creatures

can detect radioactivity. We can’t do that. So, there must be a sensory space where things exist that we can’t perceive. And this connects to the idea of time – we have a sense of time that other living beings might not have. And this sense changes as we age. The older I get, the faster everything seems to go. And then I realise, soon there won’t be any time left. I’m also really fascinated by boredom in relation to time. The ability to just sit somewhere and do nothing. And then suddenly realising that a great deal is happening – that you actually feel the passage of time. That you experience time almost as a kind of suffering. When something is described as “fast-paced” or “absorbing”, I tend to be quite sceptical. If something causes “time to fly”, it means I’m burning through my life too quickly. I’m burning it like a torch. Why can’t I just sit here and amuse myself, taking things slowly, “grain by grain”? And we layer note by note. Step by step. ns You quote the passage from Fin de Partie, or Endgame, where it discusses the sophistic paradox – you place grain upon grain, but at what point does it become a heap? Beckett conveys this sen timent through the phrase: “and one’s whole life is spent waiting for it to become a life.” hf But as you grow older, you begin to peel away the layers. Letting go of more and more things. You begin to clarify things more from an external perspective rather than internally. Coming to terms with time, accepting that we have this perception of time, and that we cannot even begin to imagine other perceptual dimensions.

W E WA L K A RO U N D AS IF IT HAD MEANING

And with this perhaps develops a different kind of humility. After Beckett was attacked and stabbed in Paris, he asked the attacker during the subsequent trial why he had done it. And he said: “I don’t know.” Both question and answer are remarkable – and so fitting for Beckett. In our work, we are now also getting to the stages where singers ask me, “Why am I doing this now? Why am I saying this?” And all I can say is there is no reason. You’re acting as though you know something. You’re conveying authority. You’re playing the role of someone who knows everything. This is the human – an assertion. ns An assertion of importance? hf In the play, this question even comes up once. Hamm says: “Are we beginning to mean something now?” And Clov laughs: “Meaning! That’s a good one!” With this, Beckett captures exactly how I feel. So, when a singer asks me why they are moving this way or that, I just say, “I’ve been

asking myself the same thing all day.” This is what we do – we walk around as if it had meaning. Hamm is such a fascinating character because of how he asserts himself. He tells a story, and sure, it can be interpreted as meaning that the little boy he’s talking about was actually him, and the other figure in the story was his father. But that’s uninteresting. Far more intriguing is the dramatic way in which he tells the story. Whatever he says gets sensationalised – and before you know it, there’s something there, something to believe in. And yet, there’s absolutely nothing there! I recently stumbled upon the part in Thomas Bernhard’s book Extinction where there’s this huge tirade about how everyone is an actor. Everyone pretends to be working as if they have some meaning in what they’re doing. And that sums it up perfectly! This is exactly what our play is about. It’s about displaying meaning, presenting meanings – a generator of meaning.

GEORG NIGL as CLOV

LETTERS

“DON’T SEEK DEEP MOTIVATION EVERYWHERE” ALAN SCHNEIDER AND SAMUEL BECKETT IN CONVERSATION ON FIN DE PARTIE, PT. 2 ALAN SCHNEIDER TO SAMUEL BECKETT January 5, 1958 Have looked all over NY for a whistle that sounded as good as the one you had in Paris. Is there any chance of your having someone connected with the Paris production locating another one and sending it to us vite? We’ll pay the duty, if any. Otherwise, we use an American-type whistle which doesn’t have the age and experience of yours. Thanks. Will try to take a snap of the set to send you. Did you ever receive those snapshots of our Paris adventures? Or is that why you haven’t written lately????? Some questions that have come up during this week of rehearsal, some not really significant, but any help would be appreciated: Why are the faces of Hamm and Clov “very red” and Nell and Nagg’s “very white”? (Has this to do with age, energy, “blood-pressure”?)

“DON’T SEEK DEEP M O T I VAT ION E V E RY W H E R E .”

We like idea of having a rug (blanket) over Hamm’s knees at the beginning and throughout; could Hamm therefore say later when he asks for a blanket, “another blanket” (rug)? That matter of Clov’s light – Still not clear to me why Hamm says: “take a look at me and then come back and tell me what you think of your light.” When Hamm says: “I don’t like that. I don’t like that”, I assume he is referring to his own gag to Clov – ”Why? Have you shrunk?” ls that correct? When Nagg says in the middle of his long speech “One must live – with the times, sequence of thought not entirely clear. Why does Hamm say: “am I very white?” (This is related to my first question). Still wish you could get a stronger word than “petting parties.” That doesn’t mean much over here. “Orgies” is better; but maybe you can think of another one. I hear George Devine is having censorship problems. Over here, we think of only two rough spots: the pee-which we probably will get away with the bastard! He doesn’t exist, – which we probably won’t get away with and may have to cut: the bastard. The real puzzle to me: “a few more gags like that and I’ll call.” I assume Hamm means the gag: Peace to our .... arses ............ but why does he say ... “and I’ll call.”? Did you or Roger Blin concern yourselves with the problem of not seeing the irises of his eyes-since “they have gone all white”? I don’t remember this. I have even thought of contact lenses though the actor may not be able to wear them. Otherwise, though, we do see his eyes when he takes the glasses off unless he keeps them closed, which begs the question. How is the production in Vienna doing? […] And so on. Can’t tell you how much I am enjoying working on the play, how strongly I feel about it, how much we’re all getting out of it. It’s a real privilege. I just wish you were here with us every day. As soon as we’re open, will redouble my efforts to lure you over. Should we be in for a good run ....

LETTERS

SAMUEL BECKETT TO ALAN SCHNEIDER PARIS January 10, 1958 Here goes to elude your teasers: 1. Faces red and white probably like Werther’s green coat, because the author saw them that way. Don’t seek deep motivation everywhere. If there is one here I’m unaware of it. Actually illogical that H and C, living in confinement, should have red faces. Scenically it serves to stress the couples and keep them apart. 2. Even if H uses rug throughout “give me a rug” is much better than “give me another rug.” He is so cold he doesn’t realise he has one already. 3. I thought we had had this. Every man has his own light. Hamm, blind, is in the dark, his light has died. What he means is: “think of me in my black world and don’t come whining to me because yours is fading.” I hope this accounts for importance of stressed “your.” 4. Yes, “that” is the shrinking of Clov. 5. Typical illogism. Life is an asking for and a promising of what both asker and promiser know does not exist. 6. This is also related to 10. H does not know he is red. He thinks he is (bled) white (immediate cause of line being cold from open window if you like), as he thinks his eyes are white. That in reality his eyes are not white is unimportant. Blin also thought of contact lenses. But this is the Antoine approach and wrong here. H’s preoccupation with white appears also in dog scene. The need of white and light of the blind. 7. Perhaps “leching.” Good strong old word and follows well on “lick your neighbour.” I used “petting parties” for its sneer. 8. To please Lord Scarborough I have consented to change “pee” to “relieve myself” and, when it occurs later as noun, to “relief”, “arse” to “rump” and “balls (of the fly)” to “hames.” But I have refused to touch the prayer passage the omission of which was demanded. It is indispensable this should be played as written. If you must change “pee” I prefer “leak” or “urinate” to “relief.” “He doesn’t exist” without “the bastard” is simply inacceptable to me. Devine is coming over to see me. There are limits to the damage one can accept. 9. What H is doing here is putting off, with the help of such ”business” as the gaff, toque, glasses, verse and story, the moment when he must whistle for Clov (“call”)

“DON’T SEEK DEEP M O T I VAT ION E V E RY W H E R E .”

and call out to his father, i.e. the moment of his definite dereliction. His whistling for Clov throughout play is with growing fear of its remaining unanswered (cf. notably at end of previous monologue beginning “you weep, and weep etc”). This time he feels certain that Clov will not “come running” and that his father will not answer. But he cannot be absolutely certain until he has whistled and called in vain. (This also explains why Clov must enter throughout play [“throughout play” is handwritten] immediately when whistled.) It is this absolute and final certainty that H shrinks from with his “business.” “Gags” is not good. In the English edition I changed it to “squirms”, which is not good either but perhaps better expresses Hamm’s situation. Perhaps “business” would be possible. “A little more business like that etc.” 10. Cf. 6. 11. Roger left for Vienna yesterday. Opening end of February. […] 13. Anemometer of course correct. My bad proof-correcting. With Blin gone to Vienna, probably with whistle, not much I can do about that. If I find another I’ll send it on. Herewith letters with one or two cuts. Thanks for all you are doing and the great trouble you are taking. Greetings to the players.

GEORG NIGL as CLOV PHILIPPE SLY as HAMM

IMPRINT GYÖRGY KURTÁG SAMUEL BECKETT:

FIN DE PARTIE SCÈNES ET MONOLOGUES SEASON 2024/25 PREMIÈRE OF THE PRODUCTION 16 OCTOBER 2024 Publisher WIENER STAATSOPER GMBH, Opernring 2, 1010 Wien Director DR. BOGDAN ROŠČIĆ Music Director PHILIPPE JORDAN Administrative Director DR. PETRA BOHUSLAV General Editors SERGIO MORABITO & NIKOLAUS STENITZER Design & concept EXEX Layout & typesetting MIWA MEUSBURGER Printed by PRINT ALLIANCE HAV PRODUKTIONS GMBH, BAD VÖSLAU TEXT REFERENCES Nikolaus Stenitzer: Synopsis – To sing is to convey. Nikolaus Stenitzer in conversation with György Kurtág – Simone Young: The fine sound of ideas – We walk around as if it had meaning. Nikolaus Stenitzer in an interview with Herbert Fritsch – REFERENCES AND TRANS LATIONS Alan Schneider & Samuel Beckett: Letters, from: No author better served. The correspondence of Samuel Beckett & Alan Schneider © Harvard University Press 2000 IMAGE REFERENCES Cover: Eckart Hahn, The Hole, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 120 x 100 cm © Bildrecht, Wien 2024 / Image concept cover: Martin Conrads, Berlin / All performance fotos by: Michael Pöhn / Wiener Staatsoper GmbH (pages 8/9, 19, 24/25, 31) & Sofia Vargaiová / Wiener Staatsoper GmbH (pages 2/3, 12, 37) ENGLISH TRANSLATION Paul Talbot. Reproduction only with approval of Wiener Staatsoper GmbH / Dramaturgy. Holders of rights who were unavailable regarding retrospect compensation are requested to make contact.

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