Текст книги "Theater Plays"

Автор книги: Valentin Krasnogorov

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CONSULTANT: You think that a televised sex act will surprise anybody?

DIRECTOR: To be honest, I’m not sure. I’m putting this idea out only as a working hypothesis. And what do you think would surprise today’s viewers?

CONSULTANT: Well, for example, a show that comes across as logical.

DIRECTOR: That’s old hat. I always have to be ahead of my time, not trailing behind it. That’s why my shows have more hooks, obscenities, violence, and all the rest of it than anyone else’s. Food without pepper and spice is bland and tasteless.

CONSULTANT: The only people who say that don’t know how to cook a tasty meal.

DIRECTOR: I’m used setting the tone, and that’s not something I’m about to give up now. The spectators are supposed to leave my shows in a daze. That’s real art. And that’s why I’m the world’s best director for large-scale public events.

CONSULTANT: Are you sure everyone shares your opinion?

DIRECTOR: I don’t care what others think of me. What’s important is what I think of myself.

CONSULTANT: I don’t want to offend you, but I know a better professional than you in the field.

DIRECTOR: (stung) That can’t be. Who is he?

CONSULTANT: Never mind.

DIRECTOR: No, tell me his name! I know all the professionals in the field.

CONSULTANT: Not now. Time’s too short to be discussing ratings. The funeral’s almost here. We have to work.

DIRECTOR: You’re way out of line. What next? Hustling me along, telling me how to stage my shows? By the way, who are we burying?

A pause. A phone rings.

What the hell – whose phone’s ringing again? I told everyone to turn them off!

CONSULTANT: It’s your phone.

DIRECTOR: Yes? (takes out his phone) So it is.

CONSULTANT: (with a slight grin) By the way, why didn’t you turn yours off?

DIRECTOR: Because most of what I’m doing isn’t being done here, but all over the city. Hundreds of people are on it, as I’ve already told you. And besides, I am me. (into the phone) Hello!.. I’ve told you before: the full-dress rehearsal is at two a.m. Everybody must be on the main square by then. Make arrangements to get them there and take them away again. You have thirty buses for that… Don’t forget the microphones and the flowers… And what about the horses?.. (exits, still talking)

MAN: A swaggering, smug, tom turkey. Rude and impertinent. Imagines the sun rises and sets on him.

WOMAN: But he knows what he’s doing.

MAN: That doesn’t excuse his bad manners and doesn’t exempt him from being civil.

CONSULTANT: He’s on edge. He is responsible for everything, after all.

MAN: I won’t work with him. He has to be replaced.

CONSULTANT: It’s an old story: the actors want a different director, the director wants different actors… This conversation’s over.

MAN: Why? Why do we need this dictator? Are there no other directors?

CONSULTANT: Do you think other directors are better? They’re all dictators… Not that they’re the only ones… Besides, it’s too late to be talking about replacements and changes. The ceremony will be happening in a matter of hours. Better try to follow his instructions. Then you won’t butt heads as much.

DIRECTOR returns, putting his phone away.

DIRECTOR: We’ll continue the rehearsal. (to WOMAN) Do you know your part by now?

WOMAN: (uncertainly) I’ve studied it.

DIRECTOR: Very well. So as not to go around in circles, we’ll move on to the second paragraph.

WOMAN: (holding the paper with her lines) Dear Alexander!.. (to DIRECTOR) Alexander – who’s that?

DIRECTOR: The person you’re burying, obviously.

WOMAN: Was his name Alexander?

DIRECTOR: Probably. You ought to know.

CONSULTANT: (with barely concealed irritation) Yes, his name’s Alexander. Do you really not remember?

WOMAN: How’m I supposed to know? I’d never heard of any Alexander before he blew the whistle on our real estate and oil deals.

CONSULTANT: (gruffly) My dear, when you speak, your words should be better than silence. The director doesn’t need to know the details of your private life.

WOMAN: What did I say that was so wrong? We’re among friends here.

CONSULTANT: (decisively) Come with me. You need a splash of cold water. And a change of clothes, into something more decent.

WOMAN: But what about the rehearsal?

CONSULTANT: The director will work with our esteemed premier in the meantime.

DIRECTOR: Who put you in charge, to be bossing people around and interfering with my work?

CONSULTANT: I’m not interfering, I’m helping. (to WOMAN, in a commanding tone) Let’s go.

WOMAN makes for the door, but CONSULTANT stops her.

Hold on. Give me your purse for a minute. (takes WOMAN’s purse, removes a bottle of brandy, and puts it on the shelf) Now we can go.

CONSULTANT and WOMAN exit.

DIRECTOR: (to MAN) So. I’ll have to work just with you for now. The principal task of tomorrow’s show is high ratings, is that clear? That’s the spirit in which the show must be framed.

MAN: I completely agree with that as far as my personal approval numbers are concerned. But not that woman’s numbers. She shouldn’t have been allowed to take part in the performance at all.

DIRECTOR: I don’t quite understand who you’re talking about. The consultant?

MAN: No, that… lady minister. I don’t want to say anything bad about her, but you can see for yourself that she’s a complete airhead.

DIRECTOR: An actress needs talent, not brains. You’re not good with her as an actress?

MAN: I’m not good with her as a politician.

DIRECTOR: What’s wrong with her?

MAN: The fact that there’s been too much of her recently. She’s sticking her nose in everywhere, giving interviews to everyone, sounding off on every issue. And d’you know why? You won’t believe it: she has her sights set on my job.

DIRECTOR: She has?!

MAN: Of course. Why are you surprised? Don’t you know that the more mediocre a person is, the more overblown his ambitions are?

DIRECTOR: Why did you bring her into your government?

MAN: You think I’m the one who brought her in? Unfortunately, not everything depends on me… Besides, there are various political considerations…

DIRECTOR: What considerations could there be, other than the wheeling and dealing?

MAN: Decorum and political calculation require a minimum of two or three women in the government. And preferably not old battleaxes, but the kind that can be shown on TV. So I had to bring her in. Besides, the others were even worse.

DIRECTOR: And you don’t take smarts and fitness for the job into account?

MAN: What do smarts have to do with it? You can’t see that on TV. You know the old joke “Is it better to be stupid or bald?” The answer is “Stupid. It’s not so noticeable.” So broads like that shine on screen, while others do their work for them.

DIRECTOR: That’s all well and good, but what do you want from me? My business isn’t with the government, it’s with this rehearsal. I can’t kick her out. She’s written into my contract. The viewers want to see not only a coffin and glum faces, but also a trendy hairstyle, an elegant suit, a slender waist, legs all the way up to there, and the rest of it. It’ll liven up the spectacle. Everybody’ll be talking about it. Plus, there has to be a woman crying bitter tears at a staged funeral. She comes off as more sincere, more emotional than a man. Women are believed to be more driven by feeling than by reason. They tug harder at the viewer’s heartstrings.

MAN: (gloomy) So the long and the short of it is that all eyes will be on her, and only her.

DIRECTOR: Very well. I’ll try to balance that out.

MAN: Isn’t there some way of getting by without her?

DIRECTOR: I’ve already told you no. Anyway, it’s too late.

MAN: But at least show her as little as you can. Or film it so that she seems even more of a birdbrain, if that’s possible. You can do that. Or cut her out of the shot altogether.

DIRECTOR: You’d best mind your own business and leave my work to me.

WOMAN returns. She has sobered up a little and has even had time to change into a dark, well-tailored suit appropriate for a funeral.

MAN: (cheerfully) Our beauty’s back! We could hardly wait.

WOMAN: I know. That’s why I made it snappy.

DIRECTOR: (in a low tone, to MAN) And you turn out not to be such a bad actor after all.

MAN: (cheerfully) Let’s pull together now, the three of us, and get on with the job.

WOMAN: (to MAN) The consultant’s asking you to step out for a moment. She wants to talk to you.

DIRECTOR: She can wait. We have better things to do than chat. Let’s get down to business.

MAN: (hastily) No, no, I’ll go… I won’t be long. (exits)

WOMAN: Did you see that? He ran to her like an obedient little puppy dog. (with contempt) And they call him a prime minister!

DIRECTOR: But really, why do the two of you kowtow to an assistant?

WOMAN: You can’t guess?

DIRECTOR: I haven’t thought too much about it.

WOMAN: And I suggest that you don’t think much about it going forward either.

DIRECTOR: I don’t intend to. OK, let’s go over your monologue again.

WOMAN: Very well. Although I must confess, I’m tired of it. Where did we stop?

DIRECTOR: We haven’t started yet, if you ask me.

WOMAN stands before the “camera” and is about to say something, but doesn’t utter a word.

What? Still don’t know your part? (prompting) Dear friend!

WOMAN: Dear friend! (glances around, lowers her voice, and speaks in a different tone) Dear friend, while there’s no one else here, I’d like to speak with you.

DIRECTOR: (puzzled) What about?

WOMAN: First, even though I’m a blonde, I’m not as birdbrained as you think.

DIRECTOR: So you say.

WOMAN: You don’t believe it?

DIRECTOR: I do.

WOMAN: If I hadn’t pretended to be a ding-dong, they wouldn’t have brought me into the government. I’d’ve been passed over if I came off as brainy. They’re afraid of competition.

DIRECTOR: Is that all you wanted to tell me?

WOMAN: No.

DIRECTOR: What else?

WOMAN: So, when you were rehearsing with the prime minister, you said that all the cameras at the ceremony will be directed at him.

DIRECTOR: Well?

WOMAN: Why on him and not on me?

DIRECTOR: And why on you and not on him?

WOMAN: Because I’m a woman.

DIRECTOR: And he’s the prime minister.

WOMAN: I thought your answer would be that he’s a man. So believe me, he’s not a man.

DIRECTOR: We’ll not be filming him as a man, though, but as the prime minister.

WOMAN: And what kind of prime minister is he?

DIRECTOR: Who is he, then?

WOMAN: A doll, a puppet, a head honcho in name only, an empty suit. Put in that position for show, as a figurehead, as good TV. But all his work is done by his three senior staffers.

DIRECTOR: For tomorrow’s production, that doesn’t matter at all. More important are his noble head with its graying locks and his velvety baritone. And I’m not authorized to deny him the right to speak.

WOMAN: But can it be done so that only my speech will be broadcast?

DIRECTOR: And what am I to do with his performance?

WOMAN: Drown it out.

DIRECTOR: Drown it out? How?

WOMAN: Well, for example, have a squadron of heavy bombers fly over the square during his speech.

DIRECTOR: That’s a gutsy idea, but I don’t think it’ll quite come off.

WOMAN: Still, I’m asking you to point all the cameras at me and no one else.

DIRECTOR: Why do you need that?

WOMAN: Because I want to be prime minister.

DIRECTOR: You?!

WOMAN: Why not?

DIRECTOR: Hmm… You’re a woman. You’ll find it harder to deliver the goods.

WOMAN: Even in backward countries – England or India, for example – women have been leading governments for ages. Why can’t I?

DIRECTOR: Do you think you’ll do better work than he does?

WOMAN: Why work? I’ll have the same three senior staffers.

DIRECTOR: But you couldn’t even handle Culture.

WOMAN: Who told you I couldn’t? You bet I could! It was very simple. They taught me to talk up the importance of culture and cut down on the money allocated to it. That’s all. And that poor apology for a prime minister doesn’t even know how to put two words together. Do you know why I agreed to let him ravish me?

DIRECTOR: I can guess.

WOMAN: No you can’t. First, he wouldn’t be able to.

DIRECTOR: How do you know that?

WOMAN: (pointedly) I know. Second, he’d be fired immediately afterward, and my approval rating, vice versa, would immediately take off. And then… Who knows?..

DIRECTOR: They’d make you prime minister?

WOMAN: Well, maybe not right away… First, deputy prime minister… But that would be a step in the right direction. Well, are we agreed?

DIRECTOR: On what?

WOMAN: That you’ll do my PR for me.

DIRECTOR: We haven’t agreed on anything.

WOMAN: You shouldn’t say no. I realize that there are no free lunches these days. So you help me, and I’ll help you.

DIRECTOR: How can you help me? Now, if you were in charge of Culture, maybe you’d have something for me…

WOMAN: Do you think your stupid shows for big corporations have anything to do with culture?

DIRECTOR: They might and they might not. But what does your almighty Agriculture have that I might want?

WOMAN: And what might Culture have for you? It’s the most poverty-stricken of all the ministries.

DIRECTOR: Well, for example, a theater of some kind.

WOMAN: You’re a director of huge public spectacles. What would you need a theater for? Why don’t I just send you a herd of horses?

DIRECTOR: Where would I put them?

WOMAN: You shouldn’t say no. Good racehorses are a goldmine. But if you don’t want them, I’ll give you a whole village. With all its farm workers thrown in.

DIRECTOR: What would I do with them?

WOMAN: Be their landlord. That’s what clever people do. It’s every bit as good as investing money in industry.

DIRECTOR: Talking with you is vastly expanding my understanding of morality.

WOMAN: If you think that you can get as far as I have in politics while holding on to your moral virginity, you don’t know anything about life. There isn’t such a big difference between being a political mover and shaker and shaking your booty.

DIRECTOR: You’re insulting the booty shakers.

WOMAN: Maybe you think I won’t be able to handle my role tomorrow. (pointedly) So I agree to let you rehearse me privately.

DIRECTOR: We don’t have time for that anymore.

WOMAN: Why not? (up close and personal) We have the whole night ahead of us.

DIRECTOR: You don’t say.

WOMAN: A long, long night. And the village and the horses, that’s something else altogether.

DIRECTOR: Of course, I’d be flattered to do some night work with a future prime minister, but to be honest, I do have qualms about it. That’s a peak I’ve yet to scale. And besides, I have rehearsals for the ceremony on the square all night.

WOMAN: You don’t like me?

DIRECTOR: A man can’t say no when a woman asks a question like that.

WOMAN: Then what’s the matter? I’m your actress, after all.

DIRECTOR: So what?

WOMAN: I’ve heard that directors always sleep with all their actresses.

DIRECTOR: Don’t believe the gossip of jealous women.

WOMAN: But everyone believes that’s how it is.

DIRECTOR: It’s a run-of-the-mill slander against the theater, a low-rent, lowbrow view of the sacred world of art. First, not “always,” and second, not “with all.” In fact, we often sleep not only with actresses, but also with, well, run-of-the-mill women from the audience.

CONSULTANT enters.

WOMAN: (whispers) We’ll come to an agreement later.

CONSULTANT: (to WOMAN) Darling, don’t you want to spend some time in the company of our esteemed prime minister?

WOMAN: (obediently) Of course. (exits)

DIRECTOR: Who said you could interrupt the rehearsal and boss everybody around? If it happens again, I’ll boot you out. Why did you send her away?

CONSULTANT: Don’t be angry. I’m not being bossy at all. I just wanted to be alone with you for a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind?

DIRECTOR: (gives her a look of typical male appraisal) That depends on how you conduct yourself going forward.

CONSULTANT: I’m ready to consider any options.

DIRECTOR: Do you have any specific suggestions?

CONSULTANT: The suggestions should come from the man.

DIRECTOR: Say the day after tomorrow? In the evening?

CONSULTANT: When a woman says she’s ready, that shouldn’t be followed by a lot of foot-dragging. She may change her mind.

DIRECTOR: Then I’ll tell them to take five right now, and we’ll have half an hour.

CONSULTANT: Half an hour isn’t worth it. When it comes to things like this, I don’t like to rush.

DIRECTOR: Oh, all right – an hour. Although, truth be told, the clock’s ticking. The performance’ll be starting before we know it, and I’m up to my neck in things to do. But I can give you an hour.

CONSULTANT: I already said that’s not worth it. Besides, I have changed my mind.

DIRECTOR: (trying to embrace her) Are you kidding me with this?

CONSULTANT: Mind your manners and get your hands off me.

DIRECTOR: But you said you were ready…

CONSULTANT: I was just joking with you. Or, actually, testing you. I wanted to see how easy it would be to distract you from the project – a very important project, too.

DIRECTOR: I don’t appreciate jokes like that.

CONSULTANT: Then let’s talk seriously.

DIRECTOR: I have nothing to talk with you about, and no reason to either. I’m busy. I’m in rehearsal.

CONSULTANT: But you promised to give me an hour.

DIRECTOR: Not for talking.

CONSULTANT: You’re huffing and puffing like a disgruntled lion. How about a shot of brandy instead?

DIRECTOR: (cheers up) Do you have any?

CONSULTANT: I most certainly do. I confiscated this bottle, remember? You’ve been working on this awe-inspiring show for three days now. You’re tired… Some stress relief’s in order. And you’ve probably had no time to eat. (puts snacks, the bottle, and two glasses on the table and pours the brandy)

DIRECTOR: It really wouldn’t hurt to unwind for a while.

CONSULTANT: (raises her glass.) Well? To a successful outcome?

DIRECTOR: To success! (drinks and begins to eat hungrily)

CONSULTANT: Do you specialize only in large-scale public spectacles or do you stage performances in theaters too?

DIRECTOR: In theaters too. Rarely, though.

CONSULTANT: Anything modern?

DIRECTOR: No, just the classics.

CONSULTANT: Why? Are you very fond of the classics?

DIRECTOR: No, not very. But there are other reasons. For example, when you stage a classic, the critics won’t be able to come down on you for a poor choice of play. There’s no need to make a contract with the author or pay him anything. He won’t be giving advice and coming around picking nits. I can do what I want with a classic play – cut, add, rewrite – and nobody will ever complain.

CONSULTANT: And have you raped a lot of classics?

DIRECTOR: Not really. I’ve only read four plays in my life. Those are the ones I stage.

CONSULTANT: Aren’t you sick of staging the same plays over and over?

DIRECTOR: Not at all. We directors only need plays to display our creative individuality. The words aren’t important to us. We’re not staging a play or even a playwright, we’re expressing ourselves.

CONSULTANT: But don’t you get sick of yourself?

DIRECTOR: Never.

CONSULTANT: What about the audiences?

DIRECTOR: Audiences don’t interest me.

CONSULTANT: And you’ve never wanted to put on something new?

DIRECTOR: I’m what’s new.

CONSULTANT: Well, I just wanted to talk with you about the importance of the words and the author’s role in our show.

DIRECTOR: There’s nothing to talk about. I’m putting on a spectacle, not a memorized reading – and by the way, my performers can’t even get a handle on that. You saw that yourself.

CONSULTANT: Be patient with them. They’re politicians, and politicians are used to reading prepared texts handed to them by speechwriters. That’s why it’s difficult for them to memorize anything.

DIRECTOR: They can’t memorize, and they don’t have to. Let them say whatever wanders into their heads.

CONSULTANT: In our case, that’s unacceptable.

DIRECTOR: And who precisely are you, to be coaching me?

CONSULTANT: Consider me the representative of the client and the author.

DIRECTOR: The author of the spectacle is me and me alone. I’ve already said that today’s theater doesn’t pussyfoot around the texts. All texts do is fetter the flight of my directorial imagination.

CONSULTANT: But this isn’t exactly theater. We’re rehearsing a real event.

DIRECTOR: A televised ceremony isn’t reality anymore. It’s a show – a prepackaged reality that has been subjected to interpretation and direction. We’ll point the cameras at this but not at that. Here, we’ll let the prepared text be heard, and there, we’ll replace it with music or a voiceover. This we’ll shoot in close up, and that we won’t shoot at all. It’s called a show, and the show has a director. And the director is me. I’d ask you to remember that and stop getting on my last nerve with your complaints and your coaching.

CONSULTANT: I’ll remember that. So carry on doing it freeform. No one’s going to put any constraints on your inspiration. (after a short silence) But then don’t be surprised if you’re not paid.

DIRECTOR: (stung) What d’you mean, “not paid”? There’s a written contract!

CONSULTANT: (dispassionately, in a lawyerly tone) There is. And it contains a clause that obliges you to respect all copyright provisions, as required by law. Including the one involving the integrity of the work.

DIRECTOR: Nobody ever adheres to that clause.

CONSULTANT: (ignoring the objection) And if that provision is violated, not only will your fee not be paid, but you’ll also be sued for the pain and suffering you’ve inflicted on the author.

DIRECTOR: I wonder who that touchy author could be?

CONSULTANT: (frigidly) You just said that the author didn’t interest you. Let’s keep it that way. Still, I can’t impress on you firmly enough – pervert Shakespeare or Chekhov to your heart’s content, but you have to respect this author’s texts.

DIRECTOR: (his self-confidence much deflated) Oh, all right… I’ll try to make sure that not a single word is left out.

CONSULTANT: That’s fine.

DIRECTOR: By the way, when will I be paid?

CONSULTANT: Immediately after the show – if and only if all the terms of the contract have been met. But talk about the payment and the other details with the prime minister. I don’t have the time to poke around in the minor specifics.

DIRECTOR: For me, those specifics aren’t minor. They’re highly consequential.

CONSULTANT: (with a touch of scorn) Are you worried about those piddling millions that have been promised to you? Put together a good show, and we’ll do whatever you want – grant you a medal, a title… We can even assign you a theater of your choosing. Give it your personal touch, wreck it, and good luck to you. Then, when you’ve made a complete mess of it, we’ll give you another theater to tear up – it’s no skin off our noses. We’ll order new performances from you, because we need them. But all of this is on condition that you follow the recommendations being given to you.

DIRECTOR: Yes, but creative freedom…

CONSULTANT: We’re not infringing on that. And didn’t you lecture the actors today on the need for, and benefits of, discipline?

DIRECTOR: Yes, but that was for the actors…

CONSULTANT: And who are we, you and I? Didn’t your Shakespeare write that “all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players”? And if that’s the case, then every one of us is working under a director that we’re compelled to obey. As Spinoza said, “Freedom lies in the recognition of necessity.” (patronizing) And the sooner you recognize that necessity, my dear man, the better for you, and for us.

DIRECTOR: This feels a bit like I’m being assaulted

CONSULTANT: Assault is easy to avoid.

DIRECTOR: Do you know how?

CONSULTANT: Every woman knows. You just have to give it up before your time runs out. So, do we have an agreement or not?

DIRECTOR: (reluctantly) We do.

CONSULTANT: That’s fine. Another glass?

DIRECTOR: Sure.

CONSULTANT: Now that we’ve understood each other, it’ll be easier to agree on the rest of it. I’ve noticed that, like many directors, you’re more interested in the form of the performance than in its meaning. You’re fixated on the how, but you’re not interested in the what and the why.

DIRECTOR: “The why” – what does that mean? So long as the show is beautiful and has tons of flair, the rest doesn’t matter. The main thing is the viewership and its reactions. In short, the ratings.

CONSULTANT: Ratings are important to us too – not the ratings for the broadcast, but the rating the client gives us. The success of the spectacle and therefore the size of the fee will be pegged to that indicator. And if the government’s ratings, God forbid, sink after tomorrow’s show....

DIRECTOR: That will bring the fee down too?

CONSULTANT: That will result in no payment at all.

DIRECTOR: I’m starting to regret getting mixed up in this bizarre deal of yours.

CONSULTANT What’s bizarre about it?

DIRECTOR: Not least the fact that I was tasked with preparing a public funeral on a huge scale and at the same time required to keep the preparations secret.

CONSULTANT: We couldn’t tell you everything before, for various reasons. But now it’s crunch time. There are some particulars you should know if you’re going to keep a tight grip on the spectacle.

DIRECTOR: Then tell me why there had to be so much secrecy.

CONSULTANT: We needed to buy time.

DIRECTOR: What for?

CONSULTANT: So that we would have time to prepare, and they wouldn’t.

DIRECTOR: Who are “they”?

CONSULTANT: “They” aren’t us.

DIRECTOR: No kidding. And who’s to stop those “not us” from preparing too?

CONSULTANT: That’s the whole point of the game.

DIRECTOR: I don’t get any of this. Who are we burying anyway?

CONSULTANT: Let’s just say a certain person who put us in an awkward spot. (whispers a name in DIRECTOR’s ear)

DIRECTOR: (surprised) He died? I thought he was still quite young.

CONSULTANT: (deliberately vague) Man proposes, God disposes.

DIRECTOR: There’s one thing I don’t understand. I know he was always needling you and your colleagues, threatening to leak information… Especially on the prime minister…

CONSULTANT: Him and others. So?

DIRECTOR: Then why have you ordered up this lavish funeral for him? Let his friends bury him.

CONSULTANT: Now they’re criticizing us too. But if we give their hero a grand send-off and praise him to the skies, they’ll have nothing to gripe at us for. That’s why the words have to be delivered at the ceremony exactly as they’re written. Politics is a theater where you mustn’t put a foot wrong. Otherwise, the role won’t be yours much longer.

DIRECTOR: So that’s it…

CONSULTANT: Do you understand now? They loved their leader, but we, it turns out, love him even more. The upshot is that they’ll seem to be in cahoots with us, and there won’t be a thing they can say about it. And if they do arrange their own separate ceremony, everyone’ll be watching your beautiful show, not their pathetic little rally.

DIRECTOR: Gotcha.

CONSULTANT: By the way, we don’t much want too many people we don’t know at the funeral. It could get out of hand. Do you have any advice on how to make it so they won’t pose a threat?

DIRECTOR: Very simple. Announce that due to the huge influx of people, the city center is off-limits for traffic. Put up barriers, post police details, and bring in the special forces. Keep everybody, not just vehicles, away from the funeral venue, unless they have a pass.

CONSULTANT: Not a bad idea.

DIRECTOR: Nothing to it. It’s standard operating procedure for our mass spectacles.

CONSULTANT: But on the other hand, we also need to create the impression that people are flocking there to say farewell, and that they support us.

DIRECTOR: So, then, don’t let anyone in, but there have to be crowds. I get it. This isn’t my first time. I can set that up. Give me a division of soldiers in civilian clothes, and I’ll film them filing past the coffin fourteen times.

CONSULTANT: (takes her phone out) I need to issue some orders right now.

DIRECTOR: I thought you’d done that a long time ago.

CONSULTANT: I see your great reputation isn’t just talk.

DIRECTOR: That’s why they pay me the big money.

CONSULTANT: Now there’s a hint I’ve heard before. I’ll say it again: hash out all the details with the prime minister. Anything else is a waste of time. We’ve each of us got a job to do. Let’s do it. (exits)

Left alone, DIRECTOR dials his cell phone.

DIRECTOR: (into the phone) How’s it going? As you know, the script calls for seventy delegations, so you’ll need seventy wreaths with ribbons, all by the book. Incidentally, have the delegations been paid already? Tell them we’ll pay immediately after the funeral. Also, don’t forget to let that riffraff know to be decently dressed, not in jeans and any old rags. And try to get a thousand balloons. We’ll release them into the air to symbolize the soul ascending to heaven… No, not black ones, white ones. Black’s the color of mourning, but the soul should be packaged in white… We’re in a time crunch. There’s still a night and a half-day ahead of us. We won’t sleep until after that.

WOMAN enters. DIRECTOR hangs up his phone.

WOMAN: I was told I have to go on with the rehearsal.

DIRECTOR: Not a moment too soon. Where’s the other one?

WOMAN: He’s getting his instructions from her. He’ll be here in a minute.

DIRECTOR: Have you learned the words?

WOMAN: Sort of. Want to hear?

DIRECTOR: In a minute. (looks around and lowers his voice) Tell me, this assistant of mine… or whatever she is… What’s her position?

WOMAN: You think she’s your assistant?

DIRECTOR: I don’t know. That’s what she said. At least she knows a bit about the theater.

WOMAN: That’s entirely possible. I’m thinking she’s been cast in supporting roles at one time or another. Here, though, she’s a headliner.

DIRECTOR: How do you explain that astronomical ascent? She probably has something special going for her?

WOMAN: Sure. The something special that men value above all else.

DIRECTOR: And which man valued it?

WOMAN: First one, then another… and so on. Higher and higher and higher.

DIRECTOR: In any event, she’s no fool.

WOMAN: That, unfortunately, can’t be taken away from her.

DIRECTOR: And she dresses very elegantly.

WOMAN: And undresses even more elegantly.

DIRECTOR: You’re just jealous of her.

WOMAN: I won’t argue that.

DIRECTOR: What’s her official position, anyway?

WOMAN: Who knows?.. Speechwriter, consultant, staffer, aide, adviser… In other words, someone who’s very close to a very important person. You’re with me, right? Very close. And very important.