THE POSSESSED

 

I.  ON DOSTOEVSKY AS POETIC THEATER

  a manifesto by the translator/playwright

 

"They [i.e. Bakhtin's concepts of intersection, consonance or interruption of open dialogue with remarks from the heroes' inner dialogue] emphasize the importance of producing a totality of ideas, thoughts, and words through several separate voices, each of which has a different sound. The dramatizer must not forget that the author's object is the building of a theme on many levels in accordance with Dostoevsky's consistent polyphony and dissonance. The dialogue nature of Dostoevsky's novels, the dialogic vision of the world which permeates all his work, and the dialogic nature of his language make his novels particularly rich material for stage versions. But these qualities also oblige the theatres and the whole theatrical world to bear responsibility for adequate representation of the significance and profundity of the great artist's word." (Dostoevsky In Russian And World Theatre, p. 52)

 

      I would like to propose a translation/adaptation into English poetic drama of Dostoevsky's Possessed. Utilizing blank verse, a variety of other poetic forms, some modern, some traditional, rhymed and unrhymed, these plays in verse will be modern in spirit and will issue from a close, organic reading of the Russian text.

   It is my belief that Dostoevsky's prose novel translates fundamentally better into a poetic, mostly blank verse, drama than into a prose one. A paradox? Perhaps, but an unavoidable one nevertheless.

   As every reader of the Elizabethan dramatists knows, the wonderfully flexible instrument we call the blank verse line or rather cluster of lines is capable of expressing everything ‑‑ or nearly everything ‑‑ on its essentially bare stage: Every emotion, every thought or concept, every kind of action, description, state of mind or state of irony,‑‑ there is nothing that cannot be rendered by it with subtlety or boldness.

   It is my contention that an unbridgeable chasm separates a  prose novel from the prose play based on that novel. The actual experience or act of reading at one's leisure (and alone) a complicated 750 page novel ‑ whether in the original or in translation ‑‑ is fundamentally different from the experience or act of watching  (and hearing, of course) a 75 ‑ 100 page prose dramatization of this same novel in the theater. The prose we read is one thing. The "prose" we watch and hear as spectators is something else altogether‑‑ even when the novel is inherently "dramatic," as is the case with The Possessed.

   The "drama" of the novel is, I think, a rather distant cousin to the "drama" on stage. In fact, I'd venture to say that any and all such 75 ‑100 page "prose" reductions of a work as artistically complex and technically demanding as The Possessed are doomed to failure, indeed, to ignominious failure because all such reductions cause irreparable damage to the organic multi‑faceted texture of the full‑length novel.

   This inherent failure of a prose dramatization is brilliantly developed by Vladimir Seduro in his Dostoevsky In Russian And World Theatre (North Quincy, Massachusetts: Christopher Publishing House, 1977) an exhaustive documentation of Dostoevsky translations, adaptations, scenarios, readings, stage versions, specific performances and film interpretations in every language, on every continent, from the novelist's earliest days to the 1970's. Although occasionally marred by an unidiomatic style, this massive work on Dostoevsky performances is invaluable in demonstrating the complexity of Dostoevsky's dramaturgy in both theory and practice. We come away from it with a deeper appreciation for the excruciating problems attending any attempt at staging his multi‑leveled works.

   I have decided to quote from Mr. Seduro's insightful discussion at length. The dramatizations in question are, of course, all prose ones. The time‑frame is 1910, when Anatolii Kremlev, representing many critics opposed to adaptations in principle, proposed that all stage dramatizations of Dostoevsky, Tolstoy and other famous writers (other than by the writers themselves) be officially prohibited by law.

 

   "The opponents of dramatization of prose usually allude to the laws of drama and stress the formal distinctions between epic narration and a scenic work. In their opinion, nothing can come from a dramatization but a series of illustrations for the novel, despite the most highly sophisticated and talented adapter and theatrical enactment. The novel loses its wealth of nuances, is impoverished and weakened in the theatrical interpretation, and even is distorted. Great art is belittled. Thus arises the problem of the relationship between the novel and drama genre. Undoubtedly, there is no need to deny the special property of dramatic work, that at its center lies a conflict which gives rise to a dramatic collision. In the drama nothing should interfere with the continuous, unfolding action, no retarding digressions outside the plot, whether descriptions, epic elements of information, lyric or historico‑biographical digressions, and so on, should impede the developing movement of the basic actions. Therefore the broader the range of events and more multi‑faceted and diverse a picture of life there is in the epic work, the more difficult it is, naturally, for it to undergo dramatic adaptation. Tolstoy's War and Peace in this respect presents an infinity of difficulties, and many dramatizations of this grandiose work were doomed to failure thanks to the very form, composition, and contents which lend themselves only to the narrative manner of exposition. In the novel there is not one but dozens of dramas, hundreds of scenes and episodes." (pp. 18‑19) 

 

     And if the latter observation is true for the epic, objective, stable narrative technique of Tolstoy, how much more is it true for the dramatically tortuous, unstable, subjective, indeed, multi‑subject structure of Dostoevsky's art.

 

II. DOSTOEVSKY AS POLYPHONIC THEATRE

 

   This latter peculiarity, that is, multi‑subjectivity, has been made famous by Bakhtin under the intriguing term "polyphony." Going to the very heart of Dostoevsky's structure and world‑view, it discloses the novelist's genius as a kind of dialectic in space or set of simultaneous dialectics without resolution. This technique involves the juxtaposition and collision of "independent, unsubordinated voices," whether expressed as the conflict between characters or as a conflict within the soul of a single individual (the phenomenon of "the double") or, more likely, as both.

   This is why Bakhtin considers Dostoevsky's novels "great dialogues," or dialogical novels, instead of the traditional monological novels, where all the characters of the novel are subordinated to a single consciousness, that of the narrator.

   One may go further, as some scholars have, and argue that a Dostoevsky novel is  less a  "transparent" polyphony of dialogic voices , a great dialogue in which these voices participate in the creation of a totality, than an "opaque" polyphony of  monologic voices that refuse to form a compositional whole. That is, Stepan's humanism, Shatov's Christ‑centered Christianity, Shigalov's program for an egalitarian slave society run by an elite, Kirillov's call for mass suicide as a way to God, the Mephistophelean revolutionary nihilism of Pyotr Verkhovensky[1], Nicolai Stavrogin's aristocratic nihilism[2], Varvara Stavrogin's social snobbery, von Lembke's bureaucratic zeal, Marya Lebyadkin as a traditional "holy fool" [yurodivaia ], Captain Lebyadkin's world‑view as the depraved "cockroach" deserving God's grace, etc.‑‑ each of these is a monologue or rather a monomania seeking full realization, total submission, absolute domination. The result is not a "parliamentary" relativism, in which each opinion is ultimately reconciled to all other opinions, but an authoritarian arena in which each character, espousing an absolute truth, seeks to subdue and obliterate all other absolute truths. It is a kind of dialogue of the deaf, where the characters are at war with each other and with each other's truths. However, that's not all. Each is also at war with himself. I have in mind, for example, Kirillov as a gentle, loving young man who advocates a "theology" of mass suicide, Captain Lebyadkin as a scoundrel deserving of God's grace (and our pity) precisely for being a scoundrel, Liputin as a miser advocating utopian socialist ideals, Marya Lebyadkin as an apoplectic half-wit who utters the high wisdom of a holy fool.

   If all the characters in their self‑contradictoriness are at war with each other, then what, one may ask, is Dostoevsky's ultimate point of view in The  Possessed?

      The answer is that Dostoevsky's narrator is a dual figure: He is  Anton, the genial, innocent storyteller, a minor character in the novel, a friend and confidant of Stepan, a link to all the other characters and a conduit for rumors, hearsay and information of all sorts, both spurious and authentic. But more importantly, he is Dostoesvky, the relentless, unsparing Christian tragic satirist, the fervent enemy of Western, rationalistic secularism and of nihilism as its Russian surrogate and of all souls who deny God and man's instinctual longing and need for God. This second, un‑genial, thoroughly un‑innocent, razor‑edged narrator confronts us at every corner through the instrumentality of that same innocent Anton, his rumors, hearsay, suspicions, doubts, speculations and reports. The latter are among a whole array of devices utilized by Dostoevsky. In this respect, Dostoevsky, at once an artist affirming his Christian faith and a naive storyteller  relating a variety of mutually exclusive absolutes, is reminiscent of the Chaucer of The Canterbury Tales, of Voltaire's Candide and of Swift's Gulliver's Travels.

   In his study of Dostoevsky, Vyacheslav Ivanov called these polyphonic compositions "Novel‑Tragedies" and their author "the first Russian Shakespeare."

   Mr. Seduro elaborates on the Shakespearean dimension in Dostoevsky:

 

   "The instinctive creative factor dominated the rational element and, like Shakespeare's talent, contributed to his gift for "penetrating" into an alien "I" and experiencing the other "I" as a fully independent being. This is the source of the independence of each hero and the individuality of each separate world which is not dependent on the author's will, with all its special logic and force of conviction. Dostoevsky seems to say to the true essence of the outer world,  "You are!" and thereby overcomes extreme individualism by a great act of love. His understanding of the tragic responsibility of every person for everyone and everything deepened the catastrophic nature of the whole spiritual side of Dostoevsky's world." (pp. 44‑45)

 

   Such a complex art, I posit, cannot possibly be captured by a dramatization utilizing prose, even if Dostoevsky had come back from the dead to do it himself.

      The only way to recreate the organic whole of Dostoevsky's masterpiece is to approach it organically, that is, to translate the organic prose fabric into an organic poetic fabric, to dismantle all of the major motif clusters of the novel, to select those motifs that the translator/playwright considers most crucial to his conception of the play and then to rebuild and reintegrate them into the new structure of his poetic drama. Nothing else will do.

      My play is an adaptation that is built solidly on the original text. That is, where possible, I "merely" translated. This foundation accounts for anywhere from 25% to 50%  or even more of the text. However, the translated part serves ultimately as a spring‑board for the invented (i.e. adapted) part as it concerns both the action and the dialogue. The transition from the translated to the invented part should be seamless, organic.  This, of course, is crucial. A reader who is familiar with the novel in every detail would no doubt spot such "creative departures," but even then, I hope, only when comparing the two texts analytically. In performance, when on a real stage or on the stage of his imagination, he should feel a natural, organic transition. Only afterwards should he say: "Hey, I don't remember reading this in the novel."

      These invented creative departures are an attempt on my part to bring out on stage what is dramatically and theatrically implicit in Dostoevsky's novel. Admittedly, that's a lot of chutzpah, but that's the whole point. The play either fails or succeeds on the basis of this technique. As an illustration of this principle, let's look at Kirillov's introduction on page 18:

 

            "... somewhat absent‑minded, who is holding a toy soldier with a broken neck."

 

      Obviously, this is an invented detail. There is no mention in the novel of a Mischa or of a toy soldier with a broken neck. The text speaks only of a child tossing a ball to Kirillov. I've changed the child's gender (a minor detail of little importance in the novel) and "orchestrated" this detail in order to bring out the dramatic possibilities of this scene (page 21, middle). 

      The same holds true for Nicolai, his chorus and his oracles in rhyme, for Marya's song, for the utopian verse of Stepan's "revolutionary" circle, etc. This is what I mean by an organic adaptation. It should feel right to the spectator/reader, regardless whether he has ever read the novel or not. On the other hand, a prose script would be no more than a mechanical compilation of motifs. Stripped of all  harmonic/orchestral resonance, it could never hope to overcome its inherent fragmentariness, with the result that a performance based on such a text could only fail ‑‑ by definition. Of course, a poetic drama might also fail, but then only if the poet fails, that is, if his art fails to measure up to the task.

      For example, in presenting Nicolai Stavrogin to the reader, the narrator of the novel gives us a long list of his scandalous sins (Chapter II, section 1). The list runs the whole gamut including insubordination, duels to all sorts, outrageous acts of perversion, sado‑masochism and depravity. The narrator recounts three of Nicolai's more puzzling escapades, namely, dragging a certain general by the nose, sexually explicit public dancing with Liputin's wife, and biting the Governor's ear.

      Quite obviously, no playwright could or should try to incorporate all of these ingredients in his play, whether in the plot or in the dialogue. Not only would such a foolish attempt at "novelistic totality" sink the play. More importantly, the dramatic possibilities of the theatre as a unique art form would never be realized. The whole play would choke on its own excesses, on its own insufferable "completeness."

      Therefore, a playwright should select the strand or strands from the complex offered by the narrator (Dostoevsky‑Anton) and, developing this strand dramatically, incorporate it organically into the symphony of the play. The "dramatic totality" of the play consists of all the selected strands of each character as they resonate with each other within the selective body of the plot. I have thus focussed most of my characterization of Nicolai on his perverse love relationships with Marya Lebyadkin, Liza and Dasha. The challenge is to make Nicolai's "love" theme resonate with many of those other aforementioned motifs (i.e. sins) omitted during the initial process of selection. The same, of course, holds true for all the other principal or secondary characters.

      We can better understand this if we look at Othello. Shakespeare's Iago, as complex as he is, is seen almost exclusively in his Mephistophelian role as the tempter who seeks to destroy Othello by all means. Everything he does, says, thinks is focussed on this obsession. We know little else about Iago, dramatically speaking, because the playwright has selected Iago's relationship with Othello as the pivot of his drama. All development moves relentlessly forward to the consummation of the plot. The point is that while Iago is perceived by the spectator in terms of the "destroyer of Othello" motif which Shakespeare has selected for his theme and characterization, the latter constitutes only one, albeit key, motif from amongst a whole cluster of motifs implicitly associated with Iago. Shakespeare then proceeds to develop this key "destroyer of Othello" motif dramatically through Iago's manipulation of Roderigo, Cassio, Desdemona and just about everyone else in Venice.

      The result is that Iago's destruction of Othello resonates with a whole complex of nefarious thoughts and deeds that go beyond this one act of destruction to encompass a whole universe of evil, which we, the spectators, along with the inhabitants of Venice and Othello himself, have only caught a glimpse of. In other words, we experience this greater universe of evil in Iago  (Iago as the Devil Incarnate) implicitly through his one key strand ("destroyer of Othello") because Shakespeare has developed it in such a way as to make us feel the full range of its resonance with the other implicit strands of Iago's character and personality  (the numerous other unknown dark deeds of his secret  "biography," ) as well as with the key strands of the other protagonists , e.g. Othello as "primeval vengeance," Desdemona as "pure innocence," Roderigo as  the "foolish, unrequited lover," etc.

      Finally, the selectivity of motifs makes possible a transcendence from high tragedy to myth. The visible gives way to the invisible: Othello, Iago and Desdemona incarnate the archetypes of the hero, the eternal feminine and the Devil.

      Similarly, the love theme in Othello is the foundation on which Shakespeare builds the aesthetic, moral, social and metaphysical structure of his play. He does this partly through such linguistic and rhetorical devices as metaphor, parallelism, repetition, rhyme, rhythm, symbolic leitmotifs, classical and Biblical allusions, etc. as well as by structurally incorporating the destruction of Othello and Desdemona by Iago within the cultural framework of Venice (Act I and, by implication, Act V). Thus, the love and love betrayal theme resonate with a whole complex of related themes such as tragic cathersis (aesthetics), moral responsibility (ethics), Christian salvation and the afterlife (religion), appearance vs. reality (philosophy) and, finally, to an archetypal dimension in which the Medieval‑Renaissance hierarchical order is reduced to primeval chaos (myth).

      In The Possessed, we encounter a similar structural complexity as it evolves directly or indirectly from the primal root‑theme of revolt against God, which leads inescapably to perverted love, nihilistic values and political revolution.

      Coleridge claimed that all great poetry issues from the organic "imagination," while the "fancy" is reserved for the lesser category of the merely mechanical and contrived. I contend that a prose stage version is doomed to the lower category of fancy, while a poetic rendition might well succeed on the higher plane of the imagination.

 

 

 

I. STEPAN VERKHOVENSKY AND HIS CIRCLE

 

 

      (Enter alone Stepan Verkhovensky, a fine representative of the Russian liberal intelligencia. In his long, black frock coat buttoned‑up nearly to the top, Stepan walks on stage like a dandy. He is sporting a soft, wide‑brimmed hat, a white tie and a cane with a silver knob. Tall and lean, clean shaven, with hair down to his shoulders, he looks very handsome and imposing. Yet, Stepan is easily given to childish fits of laughter or tears. He is living on Varvara Stavrogin's huge estate not far from Moscow. Her long‑time friend, confidant and tenant, he had once served as tutor to her son Nicolai Stavrogin, who has recently returned from his European travels. Pyotr Verkhovensky, Stepan's son by his first marriage and raised by relatives in the country, has joined Nicolai with the purpose of stirring up the fires of insurrection and revolution. Stepan is as yet ignorant of his son's return. The time is the 1860's, not long after the emancipation of the serfs by Alexander II in 1859‑61. This epochal event in Russian history was inspired in the final analysis by Russia's defeat in the Crimean War of 1855, from which emerged in many enlightened quarters a growing realization that the salvation of Russia depended on the abolition of serfdom and on radical reforms along Western "rational" lines.)

 

 

Stepan Verkhovensky

            (Spotlight. Alone.  Alternately arrogant and obsequious, thunderous and sobbing)

 

                        I've been forgotten (Mesdames et Messieurs),

                        Banished... from the orbit of their thoughts.

                        I'm of no use to them (vous comprenez?)

                        I've shouted out my truths on every square‑‑

                        My lips, like leeches, can command no more‑‑                      

                        Gulliver, too, returning from abroad,

                        From the crumbling shores of Lilliput,

                        Harangued the streets of London all night,

                        Waiting in the wings to  crush their bones. 

                        It's no secret,

           

                        (in a loud voice like a circus ringmaster)                 

 

                                                Madames et Messieurs,

 

                        (his voice suddenly faltering)

 

                        It's ...  no secret at all‑‑

 

                                                             (whispering)

 

                                                                        I'm a dissident,

           

                        (voice rising triumphantly)

 

                        A mighty bear driven to a sad exile,

 

                                    (Tears well up in his eyes)

 

                        Hunted down from one end of Russia

 

                                    (Strikes a pose as a sacrifical victim)

 

                        To another (comme je souffre toujours!)

                        A sacrifical victim on their altar...

 

            (his shoulders stooping, he points up with his finger)

 

                        Up there they fear me, up there

                        Every  other minister, every clerk

                        Quakes in his boots at the very mention

                        Of my persecuted name. I'm no mouse,

                        I'm ready to step forward, to do battle

                        For a glorious mankind...

                        (oui, mesdames, ...

                                                pour la beauté, pour l'ideal)

 

                        (Another spasm of cholera. Beaming radiantly)

 

                        To bring to fruition the universal dream

                        Of human regeneration, of eternal beauty,

                        Of the Sistine Virgin shimmering down,

                        A penumbra of spots erupting from the sun.

                        Oh, what I wouldn't have done for the cause,

                        Were it not for them ‑‑

                                               

                                    (pointing up with his finger)

 

                                                              for their petty decrees,

                        The whirlwind of circumstances that fell

                        On my bare head.

 

                        (sobbing intermittently as if carrying a great burden))

 

                                                             Oh, beauté eternelle,

                        Had you not come between me and my career,

                        Had you stayed put in your exalted niche,

                        In the Sistine chapel of the drooping sky, ...

 

            (regaining his composure and tilting his head back in a gesture of heroic defiance, he speaks dramatically and with ever greater forcefullness)

 

                        I would have set out against the tide

                        Like a knight‑errant storming the citadel

                        Or a noble athlete scaling Mount Olympus!

                        Oh, Holy Reason, constant as the North Star,

                        Queen of all who hunger for your lofty rules,

                        Show me the way, the truth, the steady light,

                        Which I, a mere insect, crawling...

                         (N'est‑ce pas, mes chers amis? Mais oui!)

 

                                    (pointing to a book in his hand)

 

                        Do you know this book? No?!... Up there

                        They are still trembling from my brilliance‑‑

                        Yes, you are looking at The Revolt of Babylon!

                        A work surely not for the faint of heart!

                        Were it not for armies of spiteful clerks,

                        For envious ministers and fanatic saboteurs,

                        My valiant heroes would have surely long since

                        Put the finishing touches to a tower of hope,

                        Of cosmic harmony, love and understanding.

                        (Nous nous comprendrons en ce jour‑là)

                        They've forgotten me, banished me quite

 

                                    (sobbing intermittently again)

 

                        To wander forever under the stagnant stars

                        Of Varvara Stavrogin's luxuriant estate.

 

                                    (in a tone of Biblical prophecy)

 

                        Victory shall be mine at the end of days:

                        They‑‑

 

                                    (pointing up)

 

                                     shall stoop down to reap my light,

                        They shall come to me on tattered knees

                        To plead their case to the toiling masses,

                         (J'adore le peuple. Moi, je le comprends!)

                        They will send for me, ‑‑ yes, from there,

 

                                    (beaming radiantly)

                        The good news shall flash like a comet

                        Through the obscure minds of our land.

                        Crushed with grief, racked with noble pain,

                        I shall make my move, at long last,

                        Overleaping, with revolutionary zeal,

                        The walls of prejudice and human rot. 

                        (Quelle cause! Quelle grande idée!)

 

                                    (in a spirit of self‑justification)