(a work in progress)
a play by A. S. Maulucci
copyright 2011 by Anthony S. Maulucci

SYNOPSIS:
A full-length play based on the life of Chinese dissident artist, Ai Weiwei, who is currently being detained by authorities in Beijing because of his criticism of the government. The play takes place in the present time on a small island off the coast of China where the artist, called Wen Wei Ling in the play, owns a summer home. He is being allowed to remain there under house arrest until his trial. His wife, son, old friend and young lover join him on the day after his arrival in order to lend their support but more importantly to try to persuade him to give up what they consider his foolhardy campaign against corruption. As they await his decision, a bribed government official arrives on the island for the express purpose of  granting him a chance to agree to the government’s terms for his release. Not only must he recant, but he must destroy the large public sculpture depicting an actual event, children being swallowed up by an earthquake because of the faulty construction of their school buildings. Despite his family’s appeals, Wen refuses to surrender his principles. Wen Wei Ling has become a cause celebre and is receiving international attention in the media. At home in Beijing, small groups of workers and students have joined together to protest the government’s treatment of Wen, and some have chained themselves to his sculpture known as “Falling Children.” An incipient revolution threatens to break out, something Wen Wei Ling never intended, with his son acting as one of the leaders. At the end of the play, he is led off to a detention center with his fate uncertain but his spirit undaunted. The title of the play is ironic, of course. Although Wen Wei Ling has achieved fame, wealth, and recognition, he is willing to relinquish all of that, claiming such a sacrifice will make his actions more believable and give hope to those “who live in darkness.” His true fortune, he says, is the love he has for his family and the love he has received from them in return.

7 principal characters, 3-4 others
Run time: approximately 2 hours

TIME: The present

SETTING: A small island off the coast of China separated from the mainland by a narrow channel. Travel across the channel takes about 45 minutes by private boat, an hour by public ferry.

CHARACTERS:
Wen Wei Ling, a celebrated Chinese artist in his mid-fifties, average height, medium build, a     bit stout, balding, longish steel-gray hair, longish beard without a mustache
Mei Ling, his wife, early fifties, medium height, short graying hair
Hu Ling, their son, lean build, a few inches taller than his father, mid-twenties, clean shaven,     short hair
Lian Ling, Hu’s wife, early twenties, long black hair, slender, lovely
Yan, Wen’s mistress/lover, long black hair, slender, gorgeous and graceful
Meng, an engineer-entrepreneur, Wen’s childhood friend, average height, athletic build,     short hair, goatee beard
Gang, a government official, mid-forties, above average height, lean, clean shaven
A Captain of the guards, medium height, burly, short hair
A dragon
Two guards

ACT ONE: Rising River

WEN WEI LING, the Artist, enters, stage left, escorted by two guards and a captain. He is being led to a barren part of the island where he is to be held under house arrest pending the final decision of his case by the government. The Artist has lost his official status as a highly paid member of the cultural elite; he has fallen from grace to become “an enemy of the state” but has been reborn as a national hero in the eyes of the people for speaking out against political corruption. Ironically, the island where he is to live in exile until his fate has been decided by the bureaucrats, the very people he has offended, is the island where he owns a summer “cottage,” a palatial estate given to him in recognition of his outstanding service to the government and the international fame for the works of genius that brought honor to his country.

[At a signal from the captain, the guards come to an abrupt halt and give the Artist a shove. The Artist stumbles and falls to his knees.

CAPTAIN:  No need to be so rough with him, boys. He hasn’t been convicted yet. And if he refuses to renounce his lies and is found guilty there will be plenty of time to give him a going over.

ARTIST: [barely audible] I will never renounce the truth.

CAPTAIN: Ah-ha, the prisoner speaks at last. What’s that you say?

ARTIST: [more forcefully] I will never renounce the truth.

CAPTAIN: We shall see. Stronger men than you have –

ARTIST: [cutting him off] May I rise? [the captain nods, the Artist gets up on his feet] Will you kindly untie my hands? [the Captain nods again and one of the guards unties the Artist’s hands] Ah, that’s better. [he rubs his wrists] As I was saying, I will never retract my words. I spoke the truth, brother, and you know it as well as I.

CAPTAIN: Do not take liberties with me or I shall have you restrained again. I am in no way your “brother.”

ARTIST: Are you not a man? And are not all men brothers?

CAPTAIN: Nonsense. Bourgeois propaganda. You’ve spent too much time in the West.

ARTIST: West or East it is all one world. And all men have the same rights.

CAPTAIN: Except for criminals.

ARTIST: Do you consider me a criminal?

CAPTAIN: Me? What does it matter what I think? I think nothing. The state will decide whether or not you are a criminal. For the time being, you are my prisoner. And like it or not, you are under house arrest and will remain here on the island until your fate is determined by the state.

ARTIST: Yes, so I’ve been told. I’ve always been told that I should be grateful, but somehow –

CAPTAIN: [cutting him off] You are damn lucky, don’t you know that? If it had been anyone else they would have put him to death without so much as a “God have mercy.” If it had been up to me . . .

ARTIST: I have been of great use to the state . . . in the past. And my work has won me an international reputation . . . That is the reason.

CAPTAIN: Yes, that is the reason you are here instead of in prison. Here on your holiday island, with your summer palace.

ARTIST: Yes, I suppose I should be grateful for that. But I will not be using the “palace,” as you call it.

CAPTAIN: [surprised] Why not?

ARTIST: I’d rather stay out here, in the open.

CAPTAIN: So that’s why you requested the camping gear. You’re a bigger fool than I thought you were. What will that accomplish? You may as well spend your final days in comfort.

ARTIST: Are you so sure these are my final days?

CAPTAIN: I think nothing. [pause] What about your family?

ARTIST: If my family comes, they can do as they choose.

CAPTAIN: [shrugging] You’re an odd duck.

ARTIST: So they tell me. But so is the country that produced me. My country is stuck in the Middle Ages. It is a time for reason and reform. The Dawn of the Enlightenment is coming. Don’t you think we must change the way we live or perish?

CAPTAIN: I think nothing.

ARTIST: Speaking of my family . . .

CAPTAIN: They will be arriving by boat in the morning. If it were up to me you wouldn’t be allowed any visitors at all.

ARTIST: Fortunately, it is not up to you.

CAPTAIN: I shouldn’t be saying this but for some reason you just get my goat. I am usually able to stay neutral with common criminals. But with people like you –

ARTIST: People like me? Who are the people like me?

CAPTAIN: The artsy-fartsy class. The cultural elite. Intellectuals. The people who make a very comfortable living off the government and then turn around and bite the hand that feeds them. You all give me a big pain in the posterior. You particularly.

ARTIST: Why me so particularly? You resent my privileges? My success? My wealth?

CAPTAIN: Yes, all of that.

ARTIST: And yet you do not understand that I am willing to give it all up for a principle. [pause] So in fact you really feel a good many conflicting emotions. You envy me for my wealth and my privileges. You do not understand my willingness to sacrifice them for a higher truth. And you think I’m a fool to let them go. What it boils down to is that you simply hate what you cannot comprehend.

CAPTAIN: [after a long silent scowl] What it boils down to is that you talk too much for your own good.

ARTIST: [with an inscrutable smile] So they tell me.

CAPTAIN: I’ve had enough of you for one day. Maybe the best way to punish you for now is to leave you alone with no one to talk to. [to the guards] Give him his stuff.

[One of the guards throws down a large bundle containing blankets, pots, all the basic things needed for survival. The Artist is looking up at the sky with a smile on his face.

CAPTAIN: What the devil are you smiling about?

ARTIST: The cranes. Do you not see them?

CAPTIN: [looking up] Cranes? No, I do not see them. You have very good eyesight. Or a good imagination.

ARTIST: I have both. They are very beautiful.

CAPTAIN: I am glad you think so. Let’s go, boys.

[The Captain and the guards exit stage left

ARTIST: As long as I can watch the cranes flying, and the waves of the ocean, and the stars and the moon, I will be happy here. I will not mind it so much.

[Night is falling. The Artist unpacks his bundle and rigs up a makeshift shelter between two trees with some blankets. He makes himself as comfortable as possible and prepares to settle in for the night. Lights down to semi darkness. Night passes after a few moments of semi darkness, and then dawn breaks. With the coming of the dawn, a dragon enters from upstage and looks down upon the Artist.

DRAGON: Awake and arise, Mortal. I would speak with you.

[Startled awake, the Artist raises himself up on one elbow. He faces the audience.

ARTIST: Is someone there? Is someone calling me? [He glances around and gradually becomes aware of the Dragon. He gets up on his feet and bows respectfully.] Greetings, Dragon, and welcome to my island of no name.

DRAGON: Do you know me?

ARTIST: I  know you are a great dragon.

DRAGON: I am the spirit of the North Wind. I fly over Mountains and Clouds, over Earth and Ocean. I am one with the Sky.

[The Artist bows again.

DRAGON: I would have you know that I have been sent by the Great Dragon of the Sky, and that I come in sympathy.

ARTIST: I am deeply honored to receive you. [pause] And I respectfully await your message.

DRAGON: Mortal, are you not afraid?

ARTIST: Should I be? I have never had any fear of dragons. Have you come to do me some harm?

DRAGON: On the contrary. I am here to help you. I would have you know that the Great Dragon of the Sky is aware of your condemnation. And he has granted me the power to convey you away from here.

ARTIST: Once again, I am honored. But may I inquire with all due respect what you mean by “convey”?

DRAGON: If you wish it, I will transport you through the air and over the great sea to a place of peace and rest.

ARTIST: [a bit skeptical] I see. And why would you do that for me?

DRAGON: Because of the greatness of your heart and mind, because of your creative powers, and because of the moral strength of your conscience.

ARTIST: I thank you.

DRAGON: And are you quite prepared?

ARTIST: [after a moment’s reflection] I thank you, but I do not wish it. Not at the present. [pause] Let me ask you . . . Are you authorized to free me for this moment only? Or may I hold your offer in reserve for use at a future time?

DRAGON: My offer has a limit. I will give you until sunset.

ARTIST: I see. Only until sunset. [pause] Please do not think me ungrateful, but in a matter of this complexity do you consider one day sufficient? Could you give me a week to think it over?

DRAGON: You are a difficult man, Mortal.

ARTIST: So they tell me.

DRAGON: However, in light of the seriousness of your situation, I have decided to allow you three days to make your decision. Three days, and no more.

ARTIST: Does that include today?

DRAGON: [with rising anger] Do not test my patience, Mortal!

ARTIST: [bowing] You have my profound gratitude.

[The Dragon departs, repeating as he goes, “Three days, and no more.”

ARTIST: I will carefully consider this offer of his, although the “place of peace and rest” could very well be the House of Death. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been tricked by them.

[WEN, the Artist,  yawns, stretches, reclines again and falls asleep. Dawn passes and the day breaks. WEN stretches, rises, and within moments is fully awake. Begins doing Tai Chi exercises.

WEN: [soliloquizing] Was the dragon real, or was it a dream? I am reminded of the proverb about the man who dreamt he was a butterfly . . . But I did not dream I was a dragon, and there’s the difference. When a Dragon comes to see a man then the man should tremble. [holds out his hand] Why am I not trembling? He offered me freedom. So why am I not trembling?

[He begins dismantling his temporary shelter. HU, his son, enters softly and quietly. HU is a young man in his twenties, cat-like, as befits his name, which means “tiger.”

HU: Is that you, Father?

WEN: [turning round] My son!

[They embrace.

WEN: So you have come . . .

HU: Thank God you are well. They have not mistreated you?

WEN: On the contrary. They have extended me every courtesy.

HU: I never know when you’re being ironic.

WEN: Yes, you’ll never know.

HU: [looking around] So you have made camp out here. Why are you not staying in the house where you would be more comfortable?

WEN: Because comfort is the enemy of truth. [pause] Do not frown upon my wisdom. It
may be what saves me in the end.

HU: Was I frowning? Forgive me. It meant nothing.

WEN: I hope you are not questioning my actions. I had hoped you would understand.

HU: You have my full support, Father.

WEN: Spoken with filial devotion. But not from the heart, I’m afraid.

HU: You must give me time. You must give us all time to come to an understanding.

WEN: I’m not sure how you mean that.

[Silence.

WEN: Well, let’s not press the issue. You must do as your heart tells you.

HU: My heart is in pain, Father. It doesn’t know whether to join you in he fight or stay out of it altogether.

WEN: Whatever you do, act with courage. I will not judge you. I would never expect you to take up the battle knowing it is lost already.

HU: Do you truly believe the battle is lost?

WEN: Of course. I can never win against the state, my son. They will crush me like an insect. I can only do as my heart commands and gather my soul in stillness. And in stillness I will wait for the end to come when it will come.

HU: [deeply moved] It will help me to know why you did what you did after so many years of your good life as an artist.

WEN: Why I spoke out against the corruption? It was not something I decided to do overnight. It grew inside me like a ripening fruit during all those years of my success until I could hold it back no longer. I am glad I had the strength to wait until you were grown into a man. Yes, that is one of the main reasons. I did not want you and your mother to be hurt by my actions, so I waited until you were no longer vulnerable and defenseless.

HU: [still deeply moved] And why couldn’t you have waited a little longer!

WEN: Ah, but that is the trick the mind plays on itself! It tells you to wait a little longer and a little longer until have put it off for so long that you don’t care any more.

HU: But after waiting all those years . . . ?

WEN: Yes, I might have waited longer. I might have put it off forever. But something happened that spurred me to act.

HU: What was that?

WEN: The death of those children, the thousands of children who died in the earthquake three years ago. I call it the Slaughter of the Innocents. They who died because of the government’s corruption, the shoddy construction of the village schools. All those innocent beings whose lives were wasted . . . I was haunted by the images of the children being swallowed up by the earth . . .

[Silence. Both men are deeply moved.

WEN: How did you get here?

HU: In Meng’s boat.

WEN: [addressing an absent individual] Ah, I thank you, Meng, my loyal friend. Did he come with you?

HU: No, he said he would come later. But mother and the others are up at the house, resting and having some breakfast.

WEN: Did they all come? The entire family?

HU: Yes, mother, my wife, and . . . Yan. Your parents changed their minds at the last minute and decided to stay home.

WEN: Yes, at their age the journey would be too tiring. So, Yan came too? Your mother and Yan together. This must be serious. How are they getting on?

HU: Not very well. They are ignoring each other.

WEN: Well, perhaps it is better that way.

HU: I have some good news. You will become a grandfather. Lian is with child.

WEN: How wonderful, my son! Congratulations!

[They embrace.

WEN: Why don’t you go join the others now. . . .

HU: I will . . .

WEN: And come back later. We have much to talk about.

HU: Yes, I will do that. [as he leaves] We will not be leaving any time soon.

WEN: I am glad to hear it.

[HU exits and passes his mother, MEI, as she enters. They glance at one another.

WEN: [as she approaches] Mei . . . thank you for coming. I know this is hard for you.

MEI: No, you don’t know.

WEN: You haven’t lost your strong mindedness . . .

MEI: Why should I?

WEN: Nor your great beauty.

MEI: That left long ago.

WEN: Not for me.

MEI: You see me with the eyes of an artist.

WEN: They are the only eyes I have.

MEI: You still see with young eyes.

WEN: I do, yes.

MEI: Which is your weakness, Wen.

WEN: No, I believe it is my strength.

MEI: Is that truly what you believe? Even now? Now that your idealistic dreams have brought you down?

WEN: Have they brought me down? I’m not sure I would call it that.

MEI: Call it what you will, you are no longer a free man.

WEN: I disagree. I am more free than ever.

MEI: How is that possible?

WEN: Because I do not care what happens to me. Not anymore.

MEI: And that is truly a shame.

WEN: You and I have always wanted different lives. You changed after Hu was born. You were a free spirit when I married you. Ready for anything. So enthused about every event that together we made every day an adventure. We had so much fire then.

MEI: [with a small shrug] Yes, it was a wonderful way to live for a time. But fire burns out. It has its season, like everything else. And babies make women see the world in a new way.

WEN: You needed to turn our lives into a comfortable nest.

MEI: I wanted some security for our child.

WEN: And I gave it to you.

MEI: Yes, I grant you that. You sacrificed your freedom. I will always give you credit for that.

WEN: But you will never know the cost! Security for me is a kind of death . . . a death worse than death. A living death.

MEI: How horrible that you had to see it that way.