JUDGE. Next witness.
(MISS RUTH EMORY, a smiling gray-haired woman in a tweed suit, is sworn in)
BLOOM. Miss Emory I understand you work with the Women’s Interfaith Union in Milton, New Jersey.
EMORY. I am the head of Personal Relations.
BLOOM. When did you meet Ezra Blind?
EMORY. Three years ago. I went to a lecture he was giving on “Agapic and Erotic Theology in Judaism” at the local chapter of the interfaith union and we talked afterwards.
BLOOM. What was your relationship to Ezra Blind?
EMORY. We only spent one evening together but I really enjoyed it. I didn’t know about cunnilingus and other Jewish customs before; I believe we Americans have something to learn from all peoples.
BLOOM. Thank you Miss Emory. (BETTINA HERTZ, a plump, blond, heavily made-up woman in a blue taffeta suit is sworn in) When did you meet Ezra Blind?
HERTZ. We’ve known each other for over ten years.
BLOOM. What is your relationship to Ezra Blind?
HERTZ. We’ve been friends, colleagues. We’ve discussed, collaborating on a book on...
BLOOM. Nothing beyond that?
HERTZ. I would like to help out my friend Sophie. I realize she’s been wanting this divorce for a long time, but actually...well I find this is in very bad taste but since I’ve been subpoenaed and you say I’m under oath...well, if you insist—I can think of one occasion which you might interpret...I am not familiar with legal terminology.
BLOOM. Could you simply tell the court what happened.
HERTZ. Well, I don’t know.
EZRA. May I testify to save Miss Hertz the embarrassment? During Christmas week two years ago when she so kindly put me up in her apartment in Paris, I knocked on her bedroom door some time after midnight. I have the greatest admiration for Miss Hertz’s sensibility. I have always regarded her a most extraordinary and attractive woman. I was dazzled by her sensibility and I wished to know her—biblically, I mean—I knocked on her bedroom door in the hope of carnal pleasure. I found her most alluring in her nightgown; I must confess, however, to my own deficiency. My only explanation for it is that Miss Hertz’s pubic hair was the same shade as my mother’s hair—a reddish blond—and incest fear prevented me from consummating the carnal act. It was the only time I disappointed a woman.
JUDGE. Will the parents testify?
LANDSMANN. I can only speak as a psychoanalyst. From a Freudian point of view I find the procedure of this trial very painful. How can a jury evaluate my daughter’s character without even touching on the crucial factors of her infantile sexual development? The fact is that a woman’s success as a wife depends entirely on how she has resolved her oedipal conflicts. I have no further statement to make.
JUDGE. Thank you Dr. Landsmann. Is her mother present?
EZRA. She came and left. But we have teletyped an interview.
(Video screen shows KAMILLA sunbathing on the lawn)
KAMILLA. I never understood how my daughter could live the life of an ordinary housewife. She gave up a theatrical career—sacrificed herself for a boor like Ezra Blind. A grobbianer, a peasant. It breaks my heart. If she would have had some lovers at least. But she never listened to me. I wanted my daughter to have a different life, to dress in style, go out to concerts, balls, the theater, to travel. I wanted her to be surrounded by rich admirers and have great love affairs. Instead when I think of the kitchen smells, stinking diapers, the children screaming and that brute of a husband of hers...(She weeps) Everywhere I visited her the house reminded me of a gypsy camp. She looked like she’d never been to a coiffeur and the way she dressed...I’ve never seen anything like that except in movies. It’s hard for a mother. She comes from a good house. I saved all my expensive fur coats for her from the Nazis and the Russians. She wouldn’t even...
JUDGE. Enough! Court rules: No injunction to return wife to husband or to release her to rabbis since it has not been proven that she is dead. Her divorce is granted, whether she is alive or dead.
(The coffin is turned upright. SOPHIE is presented with a Bill of Divorce.)
EZRA. I protest the ruling of the court. My wife objects. We had a Catholic marriage. (Addressing SOPHIE, who is about to walk out) Sophie, quick—you must protest. We’re married, tell them we’re married! Look, I gave the confession, risked my public reputation, to get you out of a mess—save you from the rabbis; you’re not going to act like a bitch and take advantage of me? (EZRA tries to snatch the Bill of Divorce away from her) You can’t do this to me. I didn’t marry a bitch. (SOPHIE tosses him a peacock feather and walks out) Stop her! I protest. My wife was drugged. The verdict is illegal. I want to testify. What about her insanity? I demand to be heard.
JUDGE. The court has been adjourned for the summer. No further hearings till after Labor Day.
EZRA. This is unheard of. I won’t accept. I will take this case to—
JUDGE. (Amiably) You can always marry your former wife again. It’s no problem.
EZRA. (Weeping) I could believe anything, but not that my wife is a bitch.
WAKING up with Ezra in a small rive gauche hotel room; shades drawn. Back in Paris? They say you relive your entire life in the instant of death. Unpacked suitcase, his things strewn over the bed on top of her. He paces and rants. “I saved you from the loony bin and what thanks—”
He taunts her with the divorce bill, rolling it up, wags it obscenely like a penis. “So now you’ve got a divorce. So now what have you got. Look at me when I talk to you. Schweinehund. Drecksau. Look at me. Say something, idiot. Why don’t you say something?”
Would
