Noget-aldrig-før skulle til at ske

Jeg kan godt lide, at min far i 1962 har købt en paperbackudgave af manuskriptet til West Side Story. A Musical, "Based on a conception of Jerome Robbins/ Book by ARTHUR LAURENTS/ Music by LEONARD BERNSTEIN/ Lyrics by STEPHEN SONDHEIM/ Entire production directed and choreographed by JEROME ROBBINS" (jeg spillede Officer Schrank (non-singing part!) på Aarhus Katedralskole (og en enkelt aften i Musikhuset - husker bedst, at jeg sad på gulvet i omklædningsrummet og læste Væbnet med vinger) i vistnok 1985:

side 33-35:

(Promenade music starts and the circles start revolving. Glad Hand whistle to his mouth, is in the centre with Krupke. He blows the whistle and the music stops, leaving Jet Boys opposite Shark girls, and vice versa. There is a moment of tenseness, then Bernado reaches across the Jet girl opposite for Anita's hand, and she comes to him. Riff reaches for Velma; and the kids of both gangs follow suit. The 'gettogether' has failed, and each gang is on its own side of the hall as a mambo starts. This turns into a challenge dance between Bernardo and Anita - cheered on by the Sharks - and Riff and Velma - cheered on by the Jets. During it, Tony enters and is momentarily embraced by Riff, who is delighted his best friend did turn up. The dance builds wilder and wilder, until, at the peak, everybody is dancing and shouting, 'Go, Mambo!'. It is at this moment that Tony and Maria - at opposite sides of the hall - see each other. They have been cheering on their respective friends, clapping rhythm. Now, as they see each other, their voices die, their smiles fade, their hands slowly go their sides. The lights fade on the others, who disappear into the haze of the background as a delicate cha-cha begins and Tony and Maria slowly walk forward to meet each other. Slowly, as though in a dream, the drift into the steps of the dance, always looking a each other, completely lost in each other; unaware of anyone, any place, anything but one another.)

TONY
You're not thinking I'm someone else?

MARIA
I know you are not.

TONY
Or that we have met before?

MARIA
I know we have not.

TONY
I felt, I knew something-never-before was going to happen, had to happen, but this is -

MARIA (interrupting)
My hands are cold (He takes them in his). Yours too. (He moves her hands to his face) So warm.

(She moves his hands to her face.)

TONY
Yours, too.

MARIA
But of course. They are the same.

TONY
It's so much too believe - you're not joking me?

MARIA
I have not yet learned how to joke that way. I think now I never will.

(Impulsively, he stops to kiss her hands; then tenderly, innocently, her lips. The music bursts out, the lights flare up, and Bernardo is upon them in an icy rage.)

BERNARDO
Go home, 'American'.

TONY
Slow down, Bernardo.

BERNARDO
Stay away from my sister!

TONY
... Sister?

BERNARDO (To Maria)
Couldn't you see he's one of them?

MARIA
No; I saw only him.
 

Strungeerindring eller mangel på samme

Jeg så eller mødte aldrig Michael Strunge i virkeligheden, jeg debuterede året efter han døde, og bortset fra at jeg måske var seer til Bazar-udsendelsen, MÅSKE, er min tidligste Strungeerindring at sidde i på gulvet i et omklædningsrum i Musikhuset 1985 og læse Drømmens faner - jeg har altid læst hvor og hvornår som helst - med stor skepsis, inden jeg og andre elever fra Aarhus Katedralskole skal ind på den store scene og opføre vores gymnasie-version af West Side Story; jeg spiller Officer Krupke, fordi det er en ikke-synge-rolle, og jeg er noget perpleks over, at jeg skal ryge på scenen, for hvordan skal jeg få det til at naturligt ud, og Michael Strunge siger mig virkelig ikke noget, lige meget hvor hårdt jeg prøver at komme i øjenhøjde, dér på det kolde stengulv i 1985, husker jeg tydeligt. 

Borges - The Musical

He asks me if I will go with him to a film, a musical, West Side Story. He has sat through it several times and never seems to tire of it. On the way, he hums 'Maria' and remarks om how true the fact that the name of the beloved changes fron a simple name to divine utterance: Beatrice, Juliet, Lesbia, Laura. 'Afterwards, everything is contaminated by that name,' he says. 'Of course, perhaps it wouldn't be the same effect if the name of the girl were Gumersinda, eh? Or Bustefrida. Or Bertha-aux-grands-pieds, eh? he chuckles. We sit in the cinema as the lights go down. It is easier sitting with Borges watching a film he has already seen, because there is less to describe. From time to time, he pretends he can see what is happening on the screen, probably because someone has described it to him on a previous sitting. He comments on the epic quality of the rivalry between the gangs, on the role of the women, on the use of the colour red. Afterwards, as I walk him home, he talks of cities which are themselves literary characters; Troy, Carthage, London, Berlin. He could have added Buenos Aires, to which he has lent that kind of bookish immortality. He loves walking down the streets of Buenos Aires; at first, those of the southern district; later, through the crowded downtown where, like Kant in Königsberg, he has become almost a feature of the landscape.
 
(fra Alberto Manguels erindringsbog With Borges)