ROOM TO BREATHE
A Rock Opera

Index of songs:
Attitude is everything | Try to close your eyes | I'm just a singin' cowboy | You can't hold up a mountain with a teepee pole | All alone and seventeen | Dream of the descending satellite | It helps to talk | Keep an open mind | The Royal Tour | Foolish boy | Who's calling? | Deus ex rockin' ya | Not exactly here

The show is set sometime between the World Wars at the Fort San tuberculosis hospital in Fort Qu'Appelle, Saskatchewan. Patients were treated with round-the-clock bedrest and exposure to fresh air, which sometimes lasted for years.

As the show opens, the Patient is lying in his bed, staring out the window. In a song that was deleted from the Mendel production, the Nurse appears on the video monitor next to the Patient's bed...

(I can't really remember why "Attitude is everything" was cut from the show. The actress we hired for the part of the Nurse, Tracy Smith, was unwilling to sing - but I think the cut was made even before Tracy joined the cast. I recently rediscovered this song, and was surprised to discover that it's actually pretty good. Certainly no worse than several others that were left in. It nicely expresses one of the central ideas of the show, which is that in the absence of an actual cure for tuberculosis, all the medical establishment could do was try and jolly the patients through their convalescence. But this emphasis on maintaining the "proper attitude" had a vaguely totalitarian undercurrent.

One drawback of removing this song is that it kind of throws off the tone of the first half. As you'll see if you go on reading, the Singin' Cowboy's goofy number becomes the second song in the show. That's a little early to be introducing a Singin' Cowboy in a rock opera.)

Attitude is everything

Nurse:

deleted song:
--Wake up and smell the scent of autumn in the air.
--It's a fine September morning; while you wallow in despair
--There's a world outside a-hummin' -
--There's a change of seasons comin'.
--But I don't see any signs of change in there.

--Now, Patient One-one-dash-six-one-dash-seven-A,
--Can't you smile a little smile for me? You know what they all say:
--That a smile can be infectious.
--So here's hoping that it catches.
--Cos a smile beats penicillin any day.

--Don't you see, there's nothing you can't do.
--If you believe it then it's true.
--Get well, or die today, depending on your mood;
--It's all just attitude.

--The temperature today, in Fahrenheit degrees,
--Is a bracing thirty-five - clear skies - a slight southwestern breeze
--Will ensure good circulation.
--You can buzz the nurses' station
--If it gets too cool - we'd hate for you to freeze.

--So here's your breakfast. Try to drink it lying still.
--You could speed the healing process by a simple act of will:
--If you smile, you'll heal much quicker.
--Why not try? You can't get sicker.
--Cos a smile is something no disease can kill.

--Don't you see, there's nothing you can't do...[etc.]

--So, One-one-dash-six-one-dash-seven-A, goodbye.
--I'll see you again at lunchtime. But until then why not try,
--Just this once, to be less hateful?
--To be full of hope and grateful?
--'Stead of acting like a man about to die.

--Don't you see, there's nothing you can't do...[etc.]

In the Mendel production, the show began with footage from an educational film about tuberculosis prevention made by the Saskatchewan government in the thirties. Then there was a four-count from the drummer and the band kicked in with an electric guitar solo that led into this song:

Try to close your eyes

Narrator:

deleted verses:
--Your lungs are full of liquid and your face is turning blue.
--Your family stands around. They don't know what to do.
--They finally call the doctor and he says it's not the flu.
--He tells you not to fear. And now you're lying here.

--But what do you remember of the past?
--You're living in the now, aren't you?
--The world outside is changing - changing fast. Aren't you?
--Well, keep on watching the skies,
--Cos everything's about to change.

Your feet are shiverin'
But you're too weak to pull 'em in.
You been lyin' in this bed since last July.
Constellations move around the sky,
And you're still lyin' here, waiting 'round to die.

Once you dreamed a lot,
And lately dreams are all you got,
But dreaming takes a kind of effort, too.
It's easier if you just take in the view,
And they said to take it easy, so you do.

And every morning there's
The same old tired routine to start your day.
And every morning there's
The same old game that you refuse to play.
But lately you don't even have the strength
To tell that little voice to go away.

And every night you try to close your eyes,
Wait for the sun to rise, to start all over.
But as the starlight moves across your face
You stare out into space, until morning comes.

The morning passes slow
And as you watch your toenails grow
And count up all your dandruff, flake by flake,
You listen to the breezes off the lake,
Never sure if you're asleep or wide awake.

And every lunchtime when
That little voice returns you want to say,
"I'm busy dying here.
So please don't interrupt me, not today."
And every evening when she says goodnight
You wish she didn't have to go away.

And every night you try to close your eyes
Wait for the sun to rise, to start all over.
But as the starlight moves across your face
You stare out into space, until morning comes.

deleted verse:
--Some patients scream at night,
--But you don't - though you've every right
--To scream - but you just lie awake and stare,
--And wonder if the screamers are aware
--Of what they're screaming...how it sounds...
--And do they care?

The Nurse checks in on the Patient via videophone. She tells the Patient that if he wants his health to improve, he's going to have to change his attitude. Speaking of which..."You've got a special visitor today!" The Singin' Cowboy enters, dressed in a full-body contamination suit. 

I'm just a singin' cowboy

Cowboy:
Oh, I'm just a singing cowboy from the range
I hope that you don't find me strange
Cos I'm just here to entertain
I'm here to keep you sane
I hope you don't mind this intrusion
I'm here to liven up your seclusion

Oh, I'm just a singin' cowboy
Oh, I'm just a singin' cowboy from the range

Oh, I'm just a singing cowboy in the San
I sure do hope that you're a fan
Cos I'm just here to entertain
And I'm never gonna stop my playin'
Until you give me a little smile
It looks like I might be here for quite a while

Oh, I'm just a singin' cowboy
Oh, I'm just a singin' cowboy from the range

Oh, I'm gonna sing until the break of day
Then I may or may not go away
Or I might go on singing by your side
My last three patients died
Cos I'm the guy the doctors bring in
When the last slim hope is country singin'

Oh, I'm just a singin' cowboy
Oh, I'm just a singin' cowboy from the range

As the Cowboy's song ends, the Patient gestures for him to come closer. When the Cowboy leans over the bed, the Patient pulls off his mask and breathes in his face.

The Nurse scolds the Patient for scaring off the Cowboy. Still, she blames herself: "Your case requires a more spiritual approach." She connects him, via videophone, to another patient: a full-blooded Plains Indian medicine man, Joe Hump.

Joe Hump:
Great White Mother over the sea
Build this hospital for all her children,
White, red, yellow,
To heal the coughing sickness.

Little White Mother who wake me up every morning
Tell me you got the coughing sickness bad.
Worse than me, even.
She say I help you
With my rattle
And my medicine bag.

I help you for Great White Mother
And for Little White Mother.

You can't hold up a mountain with a teepee pole

Joe Hump:
I hear you're feeling low
You're unlikely to survive
I've come to do my act now
My "noble savage" jive
I smoke-um me peace-pipe
Cos that's what you demand
I talk to you in riddles
Even I don't understand

Once, once I thought
That things were bound to get much better, but they're not
And if I had the nerve
I'd tell you where to stick your damn reserve

But that's beside the point
I'm here to play my role:
You can't hold up a mountain
With just one teepee-pole

Once, once I thought
That things were bound to get much better, but they're not
Alas, I fear the law
Or else I'd tear down every barbed-wire fence I saw

You can't bring down the sun
With a bullet from an old buffalo gun
Cos the medicine is bad
So when the doctors come to get you, boy, just run

My father was a Sioux
My mother was a Cree
I had a couple brothers
But now there's only me
I saw them turning white
I heard the retching sounds
The doctor said they'd gone to
The Happy Hunting Grounds

Once, once I thought
That things were bound to get much better, but they're not
And though it makes me cry
I'll be playing the noble savage till I die
Cos the medicine is bad
So when the doctors come to get you, say goodbye

But the orderlies catch Joe in the Patient's room and drag him away. The Nurse appears: "Well. Mister Hump WAS going to perform a sacred Medicine Dance for the Prince of Wales when he comes to visit later this week. I guess I'll have to find another Indian."

The Nurse decides to try one last time to crack the Patient's depression: she links him with a young female patient, Hallie.

(The single biggest deviation from the script as it was originally written was that, where I'd intended for Hallie to appear only on the videophone, in the Mendel production she was physically onstage when she sang her songs. This was done partly out of technical necessity, partly because Warren, the director, believed it didn't make that big a difference to the story, and he wanted to have another character onstage so the production would be more visually dynamic.)

All alone and seventeen

Hallie:
I don't know how I should begin
This strange position we are in
May seem unnatural, but then
I've never had much luck with men

The sun is shining in your room
Mine's as depressing as a tomb
The previous patient liked the gloom
Or so I'm told - I never knew 'im

I hope you're not pissed off at me
They said you might like company
And all my time is free

They say your outlook's pretty bleak
And that you never ever speak
I tried the same thing, my first week
I thought it gave me some mystique

I spent some time in quarantine
The hardest part for me was bein'
All alone and seventeen

When I first got here, I withdrew
From human contact, just like you
I lay by a window, staring through
Got lost completely in the view

In Echo Lake, I almost drowned
But in a while, I came around
I blinked and made a sound

I guess they thought you'd be inspired
By talking to me - well, I'm tired
Of goddamn bein' admired

I'll catch you later, friend. It's been
A lot of fun. Guess I'll be seein'
You in your dreams. Get used to bein'
All alone and seventeen

After failing to provoke a response from the Patient, Hallie loses her patience and hangs up on him.

Now the Patient has a dream about a spacecraft falling toward the earth. (We accomplished this with a shiny remote-controlled UFO that flew above the Patient's bed in the near-dark.)

The dream of the descending satellite

Michael:
It's the terrible truth you know
The dreams you wish would stay
Will usually fade away
But when you close your eyes
An object from the skies
Falls faster every day

You won't need a telescope
For although the sky is vast
This object's falling fast
And as it faintly shines
The Zodiac aligns
Obscuring earthly signs

But it's not as bad as that
And sometimes I resent you saying it's as bad as that

It's a sad sad fact my friend
The doubts that you suspend
Will come down in the end
Because life's a funny joke
Played by a funny guy
On chumps like you and I

But it's not as bad as that
And sometimes I resent you saying it's as bad as that
It's not as bad as that
You know it's not that bad

So look up while you still can
Cos the light is almost gone
It's too faint to wish upon
But remember it's our fate
However long we wait
Some dreams won't dissipate

Energised by his dream, the Patient climbs out of his bed for the first time.

It helps to talk

Narrator:

deleted verse:
--Your scalp is getting tighter and your cheeks are rather hot.
--You shiver in your bed. You're feeling overwrought.
--You tell yourself you're dying.
--Well, I'm pretty sure you're not.
--But something has occurred. It's dying to be heard.

Why don't you tell us
What you're going through?
If it helps to talk,
Then that's the thing to do.
Seems like there's something troubling you,
And we're asking you to share.

Patient:
I remember back in sixth or seventh grade,
This girl from down the block and me, we played
Together in a fort we made.
And sometimes as we hid in there she'd slip
Her hand up into mine, or brush my hip
So softly with her fingertip.

And sometimes when I'm lyin' here
I'll think of dusty skin,
Of pointy little elbows
And of legs so long and thin...

Narrator:
Why don't you tell us what you're going through...? [etc.]

Patient:
I recall this older cousin I once met
From somewhere in Alberta, I forget.
She's probably married now, I bet.
I'd pushed her in the river, so she peeled
Her clothing off to dry it, and revealed
Her body in some farmer's field.

And sometimes when I'm lyin' here,
I think about her hair
Clinging to her shoulder
While I just tried not to stare.

Narrator:
Why don't you tell us what you're going through...? [etc.]

Patient:
Nowadays it's needles in the chest
Pretty nurses watch me get undressed
'Scuse me if I laugh when you suggest
It might just help to talk
It might just help to talk
It might just help to talk

He calls Hallie on the videophone to discuss the dream.

Keep an open mind

Patient:
I got no-one else to share this with
So I hope you don't object
I been dreaming crazy dreams most every night
Now I'm starting to suspect

That maybe dreams are sent
From the other side
Maybe spoons are bent
And ghosts are truly spied
Especially when you keep an open mind

Let's say I dreamt I was a satellite
That I was doomed to be alone
And I was circling eternally above
Sad and restless and unknown

But what if I should stop
Circling through the sky
Change my course, and drop?
What would that imply?
I'm just trying to keep an open mind

Hallie:
There's certain questions
Maybe we should all avoid
So let's kindly change the subject
If you don't mind, Dr. Freud
We could muddle with your id
But let's not and say we did

Let's say you really were a satellite
And late at night I saw you shine
I'd be grateful if you came on down to earth
But if you didn't, I'd be fine

But if you'll spend some time
With me on the ground
I'll admit that I'm
Glad to have you 'round
I'm just sayin' I'll keep an open mind

Patient:
Oh, it's getting easier I find
To always keep an open mind
Goodnight

The Nurse appears to make a special announcement:

Nurse:
Here on his tour of the colonies,
Just arrived from Mombasa, Bulawayo, and points beyond,
The future King of England,
His Royal Highness,
The Prince of Wales!

The Royal Tour

The Prince of Wales:
Far from Westminster's fine salons,
We stride through drab Saskatchewan's
Numberless fields of pig's manure;
We are on a Royal Tour.

Westward we travel by CPR
From Montreal; our private car
Floats through a world of snow and sky,
As the cows watch us go by.

Though we be the Prince of Wales,
Though we shall be king,
Still we know our duty
Is to do this thing.

deleted verses:
--Sturdy of build with yeomanly brow,
--These simple folk, born to the plow,
--Never complaining, dutifully toil,
--Respectful, brave, and loyal.

--Though we be the Prince of Wales,
--And someday shall reign,
--Still we can admire
--These children of the grain.

So, loyal subject, how do you fare?
With faith in God, you will forbear.
Soon you'll resume your place in the field.
Do your duty and be healed.

Though we be the Prince of Wales,
Though the strain be immense,
Still our duty always
Must take precedence.

Though we be the Prince of Wales,
We, too, must endure
Hardship, strain, and strife;
We are on a Royal Tour.

Patient:
You've given me a lot of good advice, sir.
And duty's nice - but other things are nicer.
You would shirk your duties,
You would shrug 'em off,
You'd shrug 'em off for love.
You'd shrug 'em off,
You'd shrug 'em off for love.

Now the Patient has a nightmare in which the spacecraft of his recurring dreams crash-lands in the hills outside the San. A Spaceman emerges from the wreckage and creeps into the hospital, where he kills Hallie and prepares the Patient for an operation. But when he cuts into the Patient's chest, no blood comes out - only smoke.

(I think this was the coolest part of the show. We had some great video footage, which the cast captured on an overnight trip to Fort San, of the producer, Troy, dressed up in a spaceman costume, creeping menacingly among the discarded medical equipment behind the hospital. The footage wasn't delivered to us until the afternoon of our first show, so Andrew and I had to hurriedly rearrange the musical accompaniment to fit the action on screen - but it worked out pretty well.)

Alarmed by his nightmare, the Patient calls Hallie. She comforts him and dismisses his fears.

("Foolish boy" was originally called "Pretty girl", and had nothing to do with the rock opera. But I needed to come up with another song for Hallie to sing, so the original lyrics were chucked and I came up with the following. Subsequently I realised that the new lyrics were pretty half-assed, so I removed the song from the rock opera and gave it a complete rewrite, turning it into Curl up and die.)

Foolish boy

Hallie:
Oh, you foolish boy.
Always taking shelter in your head
While I'm out here instead.
The weather's fine -
I'm asking you to join me
But you still decline.

Oh, you foolish boy.
Why're you so suspicious of the real
When fantasy's appeal
Is lost on you?
The world you've made is grimmer
Than the world you knew.

Foolish man,
I'll help you if I can.
Do I need to spell it out?
A B C D E F G H I
Think that I can love you if I try.

Oh, you foolish boy.
Just blink once to show I'm getting through
With this roadmap I drew
From you to me.
Tell me what you think
Of my cartography.

Foolish guy,
I'll help, but god knows why.
Do I need to spell it out?
A B C D E F G H I
Think that I can love you if I try.

It might sound cruel,
But how else can you speak to a fool,
Except to say:
A B C D E F G H I

Oh, you foolish boy.
We've been cooped up in here for so long
That maybe something's wrong
With you and me -
Especially with you.
We'll have to wait and see.

But you're no dope -
You'll wise up soon, I hope.
Do I need to spell it out?
A B C D E F G H I
Think that I can love you if I try.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
All I'm asking you to do is wait...

Sleeping soundly after his conversation with Hallie, the Patient is awakened by Joe Hump, who is escaping from the hospital to return to his family on the reserve: "Who knows if they're even helping us? All they do is wheel us out into the sun and tell us to keep smiling. Heck, my mom could do that."

Joe suggests that the Patient might want to consider leaving, too. "I can't," says the Patient. "I've got a girl here."

"Let's go get her," says Joe. "What room is she in?"..."Room 404."

But Joe tells him that the hospital only has three stories - there is no Room 404. The Patient wants to know what he's talking about, but the only answer Joe will give is to relate an old Cree legend. (This is the tale which Pauline Johnson popularised in her poem "The Legend of Qu'Appelle Valley", which was the inspiration, in part, for the rock opera.)

(In the Mendel production, this song was removed from its context and sung at the end of the show, during the curtain call. In its place, Joe Hump simply narrated the native legend described in the song.)

Who's calling?

Joe Hump:
So I was paddlin' my canoe
Across the lake one starry night.
Oh, the autumn moon shone bright.
Once, twice, three times I
Heard someone call, I swear!
But there was nobody there.

I was paddlin' across the lake
For to see my baby fair.
When I heard my name, I swear.
I cried, "Who or what
Could be calling out my name?"
But no answer to me came.

Though this valley may be old,
Some things are older still.
There are mysteries, buddy;
I, for one, have had my fill.

So I paddled through the night,
And I reached the camp anon,
With the first bleached rays of dawn.
I cried, "Where, oh, where
Is my baby, tell me please!"
As I fell upon my knees.

Though this valley may be old,
Some things are older yet.
I would give up half my
Lifetime merely to forget.

Oh, well.
That's just Qu'Appelle.

She was laid out on her bed,
Withered as an autumn leaf.
I had to know despite my grief;
So I bade her mother tell
At what hour my baby died.
And the mother thus replied:
"Once, twice, three times she
Called for you, then passed on,
While the autumn moon still shone."

Though this valley may be old,
Some things will never change.
When the white men first arrived
They all said it was strange;
Names drift out upon the wind
Like spider threads in fall.
I was not the first, I'm not
The last to hear that call.

Oh, well.
That's just Qu'Appelle.

After Joe leaves, the Patient tries to dial up Hallie on the videophone - but he doesn't get a response, just an error message: "Error 404 - file not found." He calls the Nurse to ask for an explanation, but the Nurse is frazzled, trying to deal with what seems to be some kind of riot erupting in the hospital. Suddenly the videophone goes blank and there is a great noise outside, as the riot reaches its peak. (The best we could manage for a "riot" was one orderly chasing Joe Hump around the room. It was a little silly.)

The hospital suddenly goes quiet, just as Hallie appears on the videophone. The Patient asks what "Error 404" means, but Hallie tells him not to worry about it. When he says he's thinking of following Joe's lead and escaping, she responds, "But you can't go. I love you... I love you... I love you... I love you..."

She's a computer program, and she's malfunctioning. As the Patient realises that his love affair was only an illusion, he cries out to the heavens: "Won't someone please just tell me what's going on?" The Narrator appears, but he's no deus ex machina - he's unwilling or unable to set things right.

Deus ex rockin' ya

Narrator:
We could sing this song forever
An impractical endeavour
We'll just sing this song for now
We're getting off the topic anyhow

Patient:
I could use an explanation
Is it my imagination?

Narrator:
Oh, we're not here to explain
The workings of your fevered little brain
We don't know, we don't know

Patient:
How's the story gonna end?

Narrator:
We don't know, we don't know

Patient:
What may lie around the bend?

Narrator:
We don't know, we don't know

Patient:
Please give me just one clue
I don't know what to do

Narrator:
We've been watching from the get-go
It may be time for you to let go
It's your decision either way
So make your choice; it's not our place to say
We don't know, we don't know

Patient:
Will the story take a turn?

Narrator:
We don't know, we don't know
Oh, that's not our main concern
We don't know, we don't know

Patient:
But does the plot cohere
Or stay soft and unclear?

Left alone with Hallie's face frozen on the videoscreen, the Patient can't bring himself to escape the hospital. He sings her one final song, instead:

(In the Mendel production, this number was performed as a duet between Hallie and the Patient. This significantly alters the meaning of the song, which was originally intended as a solo by the Patient.)

Not exactly here

I must be dreaming here
It's not exactly clear
But I'm not worried cos
I'm not exactly here

deleted verse:
--It's like I'm waiting for
--A happy ending or
--An ending of some kind
--But meanwhile I don't mind

No, I don't mind cos I'm with you
That's the story I'll be sticking to

I've watched the nighttime sky
I've watched the seasons die
I've seen the blinking lights
Of falling satellites

But I don't mind cos I'm with you
That's the story I'll be sticking to

I've been patient
I've been waiting
I'm still waiting for...
Waiting for...
What am I waiting for?

Perhaps I'll stick around
My ending won't be found
Perhaps the end is near
It's not exactly clear
But I'm not worried cos
I'm not exactly here

But I don't mind cos I'm with you
That's the story I'll be sticking to

In 2003 Room To Breathe was rewritten and revived under the title 404. Read the revised script here.