Hampton Les Liaisons Dangereuses

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ISBN: 978-0-571-31821-6
Verlag: Faber & Faber
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 112 Seiten

The scandalous reputation of Laclos's novel, first published in 1782, is based on its chilling portrayal of the mannered decadence and sexual cynicism of the French aristocracy in the last years of the ancien regime. Christopher Hampton has made a masterful adaptation for the stage of the conspiracy to corrupt a young girl barely out of her convent. Les liaisons dangereuses was premiered by Royal Shakespeare Company at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, on 24 September 1985, and won Christopher Hampton the Evening Standard Award for Best Play and the Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Play in 1986.

Christopher Hampton was born in the Azores in 1946. He wrote his first play, When Did You Last See My Mother?, at the age of eighteen. Since then, his plays have included The Philanthropist, Savages, Tales from Hollywood, Les Liaisons Dangereuses, White Chameleon, The Talking Cure, Appomattox and A German Life. Appomattox was turned into an opera by Philip Glass in 2014. He has translated plays by Ibsen, Molière, von Horváth, Chekhov and Yasmina Reza (including Art and Life x 3). He has translated seven plays by Florian Zeller, including The Father and The Son, both of which he subsequently co-wrote for the screen with Florian Zeller, winning an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for The Father in 2021. Musicals include Rebecca, Stephen Ward, Sunset Boulevard and The Third Man. His television work includes adaptations of The History Man, Hôtel du Lac and The Singapore Grip. His screenplays include The Honorary Consul, The Good Father, Dangerous Liaisons, Mary Reilly, Total Eclipse, The Quiet American, Atonement, Cheri, A Dangerous Method, Ali & Nino, Carrington, The Secret Agent and Imagining Argentina, the last three of which he also directed.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Hampton, Christopher

Leseproben

Scene ONE

MARQUISE, , MME DE VOLANGES, MME DE VOLANGES, CÉCILE, MERTEUIL CÉCILE

MERTEUIL: Well, my dear.

(CÉCILE, )
So you’ve left the convent for good?

CÉCILE: Yes, Madame.

MERTEUIL: And how are you adapting to the outside world?

CÉCILE: Very well, I think. I’m so excited to have my own bedroom and dressing room.

VOLANGES: I’ve advised her to watch and learn and be quiet except when spoken to. She’s very naturally still prone to confusion. Yesterday she was under the impression my shoemaker had come for dinner.

CÉCILE: It wasn’t that, Maman, it was when he fell to his knees and caught hold of my foot. It startled me.

MERTEUIL: No doubt you thought he was attempting to propose marriage.

CÉCILE: I …

()

MERTEUIL: Never mind, my dear, you’ll soon get used to it.

We must see what we can devise for your amusement.
( MAJORDOMO MERTEUIL MERTEUIL )
Oh, very well, show him up.
( MAJORDOMO MERTEUIL )
Valmont is here.

VOLANGES: You receive him, do you?

MERTEUIL: Yes. So do you.

VOLANGES: I thought perhaps that under the circumstances …

MERTEUIL: Under what circumstances? I don’t believe I have any grounds for self-reproach …

VOLANGES: On the contrary. As far as I know, you’re virtually unique in that respect.

MERTEUIL: … and, of course, if I had, he would no longer be calling on me.

(CÉCILE MME DE VOLANGES )

VOLANGES: Monsieur le Vicomte de Valmont, my child, whom you very probably don’t remember, except that he is conspicuously charming, never opens his mouth without first calculating what damage he can do.

CÉCILE: Then why do you receive him, Maman?

VOLANGES: Everyone receives him. He has a distinguished name, a large fortune and a very pleasant manner. You’ll soon find that society is riddled with such inconsistencies: we’re all aware of them, we all deplore them and in the end we all accommodate to them. Besides which, people are quite rightly afraid to provoke his malice. No one has the slightest respect for him; but everyone is very nice to him.

( MAJORDOMO LE VICOMTE DE VALMONT, . VALMONT MERTEUIL .)

VALMONT: Madame.

MERTEUIL: Vicomte.

VOLANGES: What a pleasant surprise.

VALMONT: How delightful to see you, Madame.

VOLANGES: You remember my daughter, Cécile.

VALMONT: Well, indeed, but who could have foretold she would flower so gracefully?

(CÉCILE VALMONT MERTEUIL.)
I wanted to call on you before leaving the city.

MERTEUIL: Oh, I’m not sure we can allow that. Why should you want to leave?

VALMONT: Paris in August, you know: and it’s time I paid a visit on my old aunt, I’ve neglected her disgracefully.

MERTEUIL: I approve of your aunt. She takes such an intelligent interest in the young, she’s been able to maintain a kind of youthfulness of her own. All the same …

VOLANGES: Will you please give Madame de Rosemonde our warmest regards? She’s been good enough to invite us to stay at the château, and I hope perhaps later in the season …

VALMONT: I shall make a point of it, Madame. Please don’t let me interrupt your game.

VOLANGES: I think I may have lost enough for this evening.

( CÉCILE )

VALMONT: Your daughter evidently finds our conversation intriguing.

( MERTEUIL CÉCILE .)

CÉCILE: Oh, I’m sorry, I …

VOLANGES: I think it’s time we took you home.

CÉCILE: I’m used to being asleep by nine at the convent.

VALMONT: So I should hope.

( MERTEUIL FOOTMAN, MME DE VOLANGES CÉCILE VALMONT MERTEUIL MERTEUIL )

MERTEUIL: Your aunt?

VALMONT: That’s right.

MERTEUIL: Whatever for? I thought she’d already made arrangements to leave you all her money.

VALMONT: She has. But there are other considerations, family obligations, that kind of thing.

MERTEUIL: Do you know why I summoned you here this evening?

VALMONT: I’d hoped it might be for the pleasure of my company.

MERTEUIL: I need you; to carry out a heroic enterprise. Something for your memoirs.

VALMONT: I don’t know when I shall ever find the time to write my memoirs.

MERTEUIL: Then I’ll write them.

( VALMONT )
You remember when Gercourt left me?

VALMONT: Yes.

MERTEUIL: And went off with that fat mistress of yours, whose name escapes me?

VALMONT: Yes, yes.

MERTEUIL: No one has ever done that to me before. Or to you, I imagine.

VALMONT: I was quite relieved to be rid of her, frankly.

MERTEUIL: No, you weren’t.

(.)
One of Gercourt’s more crass and boring topics of conversation was what exactly he would look for in a wife, what qualities, when the moment came for him, as he put it, to settle down.

VALMONT: Yes.

MERTEUIL: He had a ludicrous theory that blondes were inherently more modest and respectable than any other species of girl and he was also unshakeably prejudiced in favour of convent education. And now he’s found the ideal...