Текст книги "Theater Plays"

Автор книги: Valentin Krasnogorov

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DIRECTOR: And more specifically?

WOMAN: You want to know the distance in inches? (sadly) It used to be me… and… and now it’s her… (gives an expressive shrug) Do you understand?

DIRECTOR: I do. And you didn’t try to pry her loose?

WOMAN: (looks around in fright; speaks in a low tone) “Pry her loose” – easy for you to say! Do you think we didn’t give it our best shot? But there are powerful people behind her… And besides, she’s got dirt on all of us.

DIRECTOR: On you too?

WOMAN: Who’s without sin?

DIRECTOR: And what’s your sin?

WOMAN: A lot of nothing… I mean, really – a little beach house…

DIRECTOR: Where’s the beach?

WOMAN: In Costa Rica.

DIRECTOR: And you’re trembling before her all because of a little house? How small is the house? How many square feet?

WOMAN: I don’t remember exactly. Forty-eight or forty-nine rooms. And there’s a teensy-weensy garden around that cottage… Seven acres or so. Maybe ten.

DIRECTOR: I understand. For a banana plantation. You are the Minister of Agriculture, after all.

WOMAN: I bought it even earlier, when I was in Culture.

DIRECTOR: You said that Culture is the most poverty-stricken of all the ministries

WOMAN: That’s true, but it could still stretch to a teensy-weensy garden.

DIRECTOR: Tell me, why do you need a mansion like that – out in the back of beyond, no less? Your life here is pretty good, no?

WOMAN: You don’t understand anything. We all have the feeling that everything’s going to collapse tomorrow, and we’ll have to make ourselves scarce. So you have to dig yourself a snug little den as far away from here as you can.

DIRECTOR: Why don’t you try to fight back with dirt on her?

WOMAN: (looking scared) We’d better rehearse. I’ve already said too much. Shall we call the prime minister?

DIRECTOR: What do you need him for?

WOMAN: We have to rehearse him ravishing me. You said so yourself.

DIRECTOR: The ravishing’s off.

WOMAN: Pity. I was nearly ready for it.

DIRECTOR: If you feel bad about that, I can ravish you after the rehearsal. Just remind me, please. I have a slew of things to do, so I might forget. In the meantime, give me your speech.

WOMAN: The speech again! Aren’t you sick of it?

DIRECTOR: It’s my job.

WOMAN: Well, I’m sick to death of it. We’re trying so hard, torturing ourselves, but why we’re being forced to go through with this travesty, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe the funeral won’t happen at all.

DIRECTOR: (alarmed) What are you saying, “won’t happen”? What makes you think that?

WOMAN: Who’s going to be buried? The deceased hasn’t died yet, you know.

DIRECTOR: What does “hasn’t died” mean?

WOMAN: It means what it means. Didn’t she tell you? (sees how shocked DIRECTOR is, hesitates) Oh dear – seems I’ve spilled the beans again. All because of that damned party…

DIRECTOR: Hold it, hold it. What were you getting at when you said “the deceased hasn’t died”?

WOMAN: Nothing. We’d better rehearse. (pulling out all the stops) Dear friend!

DIRECTOR: To hell with your dear friend! Who’s not dead?

WOMAN: I don’t know anything. (seeing MAN entering) Look, you’d better ask him.

DIRECTOR: (launches himself at MAN) Tell me: is it true that he’s not dead?

MAN: Who?

DIRECTOR: Who, who?.. The deceased!

MAN: (looks at WOMAN with hate in his eyes) You’ve already blabbed, haven’t you? I’ve always said that you shouldn’t be included, but they wanted a woman. Well, they’ve brought it on themselves.

WOMAN: (guilty) I thought he knew.

MAN: You’re forever speaking before you think. It’s about time you stopped being so… spontaneous.

DIRECTOR: Hold on… I’m not understanding anything. He really isn’t dead?

MAN: Well… On the one hand… Although, on the other… In short, it’s difficult to say…

DIRECTOR: Stop blowing smoke! Tell me in words of one syllable – is he dead or not?

MAN: Back off! He’s not dead.

DIRECTOR: How come?

MAN: This is how. He’s not dead, and that’s that. He’s more alive than any living soul. He’s speaking on TV right now.

DIRECTOR: But what about my show? It’s being called off? So I set up the scenario, mobilized people, equipment, materials, drew up a list of two hundred and forty journalists – and there’ll be nothing to write about?

MAN: It’ll all work out somehow.

DIRECTOR: (pierced by an even more terrible thought) But what about my fee?

MAN: I don’t know. Let’s rehearse.

DIRECTOR: Why, if the show’s being called off?

MAN: She told us to continue regardless.

DIRECTOR: (decisively) Before continuing, I’d like to know when you’re going to pay me.

MAN: As we agreed. After the funeral.

DIRECTOR: After whose funeral – his or mine? He’s ten years younger than me. Or maybe after yours?

MAN: I said immediately after.

DIRECTOR: There’s no such thing as immediately after. It’s either immediately or it’s after. I want it right now.

MAN: But we agreed on after.

DIRECTOR: We haven’t agreed on anything. You said “after,” and I countered with “before.” I demand to be paid immediately. Right now.

MAN: You don’t trust me?

DIRECTOR: Of course I don’t. Who does? Besides, he’s not even dead yet, and nobody really knows if he’ll die or not.

WOMAN: How can he not die, when the funeral’s scheduled already? He’ll die for sure. You don’t believe it?

DIRECTOR: I do. We’re all going to check out, some day. But I want my money now. In full. I can’t wait, because the day after tomorrow I’m flying to the Republic of the Congo to stage the presidential inauguration there. The folks in Africa, unlike you, have paid me in advance. They respect professionals.

MAN: And I’m telling you – slow your roll and cool your jets. He’s going to die.

DIRECTOR: I know. The question is when.

MAN: On the third evening after the full moon, when Jupiter enters Capricorn. Soon, that is.

DIRECTOR: What gibberish is that?

MAN: It’s what the astrologers are predicting.

DIRECTOR: Very good. Then I’ll start rehearsals when Sagittarius enters Virgo. And I’m using the words “Sagittarius” and “Virgo” metaphorically, out of respect for the lady here.

MAN: I’m begging you not to kick up a fuss.

DIRECTOR: Cash on the barrel.

MAN: The consultant will explain it all to you.

DIRECTOR: She said I should talk to you about the money.

CONSULTANT enters.

CONSULTANT: What are you arguing about?

A pause

MAN: The director’s refusing to continue the rehearsal.

CONSULTANT: He’s only joking. (looking DIRECTOR square in the eyes) Aren’t you?

DIRECTOR: It turns out he’s not dead!

CONSULTANT: (chilly) And how is that your business?

DIRECTOR: (bringing his tone down several notches) It’s actually about the money…

CONSULTANT: Aren’t you ashamed to dicker over such a pittance? The pocket change you’re asking for, I carry in my purse as spending money. (stiffly) Do your job.

DIRECTOR: Yes, but they’re saying…

CONSULTANT: I don’t know what they’re saying, but I’m saying that you have to go on with the rehearsal. We’ve been shooting the breeze for an hour and a half already. (in a rigid, low voice) You apparently have a very poor idea of the person you’re working for. This is no place for arrogance and crackbrained notions. Just rehearse, and the rest is no concern of yours.

DIRECTOR: (realizing that he has no choice) Very well.

CONSULTANT: And don’t forget to stick to the text and meet our other terms.

DIRECTOR: I’ll remember.

CONSULTANT: And I’ll sit here, to listen and watch.

DIRECTOR: (struggling to hide his annoyance, addresses his cast) On with the rehearsal. Whose turn is it?

MAN: I yield to the lady.

DIRECTOR: The lady it is, then. Begin.

WOMAN: (glancing at her piece of paper) Dear friend! What a fearsome word!

DIRECTOR: Stop. Why is “friend” a fearsome word?

WOMAN: Sorry, I skipped a line. (starts over) Dear friend! How many times have we told each other goodbye, but today we have to bid you farewell. “Farewell” – what a fearsome word!

DIRECTOR: Less pathos, more sincerity. You’re really in disbelief: how can it suddenly be “farewell”?

WOMAN: (stirringly) “Farewell”… What a fearsome word! I don’t believe it, and I never will. It’s impossible! In my mind, I’ll never part with you. (with a change of tone) And after this speech, isn’t his wife going to scratch my eyes out? She’ll think I was his mistress, and I’ve never spoken a word to him in my life.

DIRECTOR: Why do you care what the wife thinks? You’re not talking to her but to the millions. All the state TV stations will be put on notice that this is a show they have to broadcast. And the independents too, needless to say.

WOMAN: Awesome! I must make time to see my hair stylist.

DIRECTOR: Don’t do anything on your own account. Our makeup artists will get you ready. Start again.

WOMAN: Dear friend!

DIRECTOR: Wait. You’re not feeling anything, and that’s why you can’t find the right tone.

WOMAN: And what am I supposed to feel?

DIRECTOR: You don’t know? Very well, I’ll try to help you. Both of you need to be clear on the circumstances in which you’ll be delivering your speeches. Then you’ll understand the solemnity of this gala occasion, and your words will find the intonation they need, all on their own. It’s going to be very beautiful, believe me – a feast for the eyes. No one has ever staged a ceremony like this, on such a scale. My competitors’ll just die of envy. (gradually growing more animated) Guests in formal attire, military bands in glittering uniforms, delegations and wreaths from civic organizations, funeral marches, Chopin, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, silken flags at half-staff, fluttering in the wind… Banners angled downward, a coat of arms, the coffin, a thunderous farewell salute… A squadron of fighter planes flying over the square, his medals on velvet pillows…

MAN: I don’t think he has any medals.

DIRECTOR: It doesn’t matter. We’ll make some for him.

MAN: And where will the service be held?

DIRECTOR: There isn’t going to be any service. First, it’s not in the budget – too pricey. Second, I was told that he’s an atheist and, unlike you, never pretended to be religious.

WOMAN: Where are we going to be standing?

DIRECTOR: In the center of the square and the center of attention, right by the coffin. And the coffin, covered in flowers, will be on a gun-carriage drawn by six black horses… (sighs) Can it be that he’s not going to die, and this beautiful sight will forever reside only in my imagination?

MAN: Keep your chin up. It’ll all work out somehow.

DIRECTOR: We can hope. (glancing at CONSULTANT) But let’s go on. So, the two of you are standing beside the coffin, not only as a prime minister and a member of the government, but also as a man and a woman, a symbol of mutual compassion, the embodiment of humanity, of warmth and hope. But remember: no matter how beautiful a visual may be, it is, first and foremost, an act of propaganda. It’s aimed not at glorifying the deceased, but at reinforcing the power that you represent. So you have to look dignified and imposing the whole time. Both of you are grieving, but in different ways. The woman can allow herself to feel more deeply and sincerely. The man needs to be more aware of how serious this moment is and how much responsibility he bears to the country. Now imagine everything that I’ve just described, and your words will come out right.

MAN: (inspired, his eyes sparkling) Yes. It seems like I’m standing on the square already…

DIRECTOR: Then don’t wait. Carry on with your speech.

MAN: (with feeling) Dear friend! Sometimes you criticized us, but we were never enemies. Yes, we had differences of opinion; yes, we often argued… But we always knew that in the depths of our souls we stood together, that we both loved our motherland, our people.

DIRECTOR: Why are you calling him “friend”?

MAN: What’s it supposed to be?

DIRECTOR: Look at what it says in the text you’re holding.

MAN: (guilty) It says “brother.”

DIRECTOR: (making sure that CONSULTANT is listening) The author of the script is like the Lord God Himself. He is the only creator, and all we do is interpret his thoughts to the best of our ability and understanding. But you’ve decided that you can tinker with the text, like a failing student who’s been slacking instead of studying. The author is not only more talented than either of us but also crafts his words carefully, ponders the rhythm of the speech, the structure of the phrase. But every now and then, there’s an actor who thinks he can improvise and knock everybody’s socks off.

MAN: But I only changed one word…

DIRECTOR: Sometimes all it takes is a changed comma to distort the meaning of the whole speech. Do it over.

MAN: (with a glance at the paper to be sure, he repeats his lines, this time punching up the correct word) Dear BROTHER! Sometimes you criticized us, but we were never enemies. Yes, we had differences of opinion; yes, we often argued…

DIRECTOR: That was good! Go on.

MAN: Shortly before your death, you sent me a letter acknowledging that your criticism was wrong, that you realized it had been a mistake. You asked for forgiveness, asked permission to stand alongside us, expressed a desire to work closely with us, to fight together for our country’s bright future. But you didn’t know that we had long ago forgiven you, that I was never angry with you. On the contrary, I have always been grateful to you for your honest and bold criticism. We are proud of our friendship with you, dear BROTHER. You are ours, you are one of us. We can be content: the bright future, so long awaited, is already close at hand, is already here.

DIRECTOR: Splendid! Satisfaction at long last! Now you have to shake hands with her… No, wait… (a thought has dawned on him) Don’t shake hands – hug. Yes, that’ll be a good gimmick! It’s as if you’re not mourning separately but together. Do you understand?

WOMAN: No.

MAN: You never understand anything.

WOMAN: Anyone would think you’re such a genius. You can’t even portray sorrow.

MAN: Can you?

WOMAN: I can do whatever I’m told. I can cry if I want to, laugh if I want to. Whatever’s needed – that I can do.

MAN: I can do whatever I’m told as well.

WOMAN: (to DIRECTOR) So why are we hugging anyway?

DIRECTOR: An embrace is to show everyone that you’re united. And not only politically but spiritually too. Do you understand? You’re friends, like-minded people, you have the same goals, the same interests. The word “unity” is not just a sound to you. No, it’s your credo, your ideal. You’re a family – all for one, one for all. In short, the people is the party and the party is the people. What’s your party’s name? But it’s not important. Embrace.

MAN and WOMAN embrace.

DIRECTOR: (annoyed) Not like that!

MAN: Then how?

DIRECTOR: Not cold, not unfeeling, but in the throes of a shared spiritual impulse!

MAN embraces WOMAN passionately. And he doesn’t stop.

Not like that, damn it!

MAN: What’s wrong now?

DIRECTOR: You pounced on her as if she were someone else’s wife on your first date in a cheap hotel that rents rooms by the hour. I said in the throes of a shared spiritual impulse, not in a rush of lust! Not like that! How many times do I have to say it –slowly and sadly! The way a mother and father embrace over their son’s grave!

WOMAN: Instead of yelling at us, it’d be better for you to show us. A good director doesn’t tell, he shows.

DIRECTOR: A good actor doesn’t need to be shown, and a bad actor won’t be helped by it. But since you don’t understand what I’m saying, I will show you. (embraces CONSULTANT slowly and sadly; this is what he wants from his actors) Now do it again.

MAN and WOMAN embrace again, trying to imitate what they’ve been shown. DIRECTOR frowns.

DIRECTOR: Better already, though far from perfect. Try it one more time.

CONSULTANT’s phone rings. She steps aside to take the call. MAN and WOMAN embrace again.

DIRECTOR: So… Once more… OK, there’s no more time for this now. Practice it between now and tomorrow morning.

CONSULTANT has finished her conversation.

CONSULTANT: Ladies and gentlemen! I regret that I have some sad news for you. A respected member of the opposition has just passed away.

A pause.

WOMAN: How’s that? He just up and passed away?

CONSULTANT: He died in a traffic accident. The police have launched an investigation.

DIRECTOR: But is he dead for sure?

CONSULTANT: Absolutely.

DIRECTOR: So there is going to be a funeral tomorrow?

CONSULTANT: Has anyone canceled it?

DIRECTOR: And will I receive the promised fee tomorrow evening?

MAN: (cheerfully) Of course! I said that he’d die, but you didn’t believe me. I’m a decent person and never mislead my friends.

WOMAN: You don’t mislead your friends because you don’t have any.

MAN: There’s a time and a place for jokes, and this isn’t it.

DIRECTOR: What do we do now?

CONSULTANT: Continue the rehearsal. And be quick about it. The ceremony is to begin tomorrow at three o’clock sharp, right on schedule.

DIRECTOR: Yes, ma’am.

CONSULTANT: But first I have to borrow the prime minister for a moment. In connection with this late-breaking news, we have several arrangements to make. Meanwhile, rehearse with his partner.

CONSULTANT and MAN exit.

DIRECTOR: Well, shall we go on with the rehearsal?

WOMAN: To hell with it! (in a low voice) Now do you understand why I want to lie low in Costa Rica?

DIRECTOR: No, I don’t.

WOMAN: What’s not to understand? I’m scared! Aren’t you?

DIRECTOR: Don’t be silly. What do we have to be afraid of?

WOMAN: (softly, with a frightened look around) Hush!

DIRECTOR: (also looks around; he can’t help himself) There’s no one here.

WOMAN: Did you just fall off a cabbage truck? What about the twelve cameras? And the bugs?

DIRECTOR: How do you know?

WOMAN: This isn’t the first time I’ve been in this studio.

DIRECTOR: (peers about uncertainly) You think…

WOMAN: (interrupting) Yes, I think – go figure. I’m a ditz in your mind, but you’re acting even more stupid. You’re glad that you’ll get your fee, but you don’t understand that the astrologer’s Jupiter and Capricorn prediction might concern you too.

DIRECTOR: Why on earth would it? Who am I bothering?

WOMAN: Have you forgotten the old chestnut about the man who knew too much?

DIRECTOR: (worried) I’m assuming I’ll get my fee tomorrow, and then I’ll bug out to the Congo or your beloved Costa Rica.

WOMAN: Do you want to hop a plane together? Right now?

DIRECTOR: And abandon everything? Before my show?

WOMAN: Let it all go to blue blazes.

DIRECTOR: No, I can’t. To have such a superb spectacle all at the ready and then not see it?

WOMAN: It’s your call. Just don’t regret it afterward.

DIRECTOR: You think it’s as serious as all that?

WOMAN: Quiet! (lowers her voice to a whisper) If anybody calls later and questions you on what we‘re talking about now – Costa Rica and all the rest of it – tell them that we were rehearsing.

DIRECTOR: (clearly scared) Maybe we really should make a run for it?

WOMAN: You seemed all set to fly off to somewhere in Africa. Do you have your passport with you?

DIRECTOR: Yes. What about it?

WOMAN: So let’s slip away right now, while she’s not here. Sneak out and head straight for the airport.

DIRECTOR: You like living dangerously.

WOMAN: You’re just seeing my female intuition in action. Are we making a getaway or not?

DIRECTOR: (hesitates; then, with determination) We are!

Grabbing up their belongings (bag, jacket, etc.), DIRECTOR AND WOMAN dash toward the door. CONSULTANT and MAN enter.

CONSULTANT: Where are you going?

WOMAN: (embarrassed) To the powder room.

CONSULTANT: Together?

WOMAN: Why not?

CONSULTANT: Stay and finish the rehearsal. We’re running out of time.

DIRECTOR: I’m actually not feeling very well. Anyway… They’re expecting me on the square, It’s time to start the full rehearsal there. These two can finish up on their own.

CONSULTANT: So go.

DIRECTOR tries to open the door, but it doesn’t budge. He comes back.

Why didn’t you leave? Changed your mind?

DIRECTOR: The door won’t open.

CONSULTANT: Maybe there’s something wrong with the lock.

DIRECTOR: Can’t it be fixed?

CONSULTANT: I don’t know. I’m no expert on locks.

DIRECTOR: But I have to go.

CONSULTANT: Do you know what happens to a passenger who decides to jump off a speeding train?

DIRECTOR: (depressed) Very well. Let’s continue with the rehearsal. Where did we stop?

WOMAN: He and I were hugging.

DIRECTOR: Yes, right… I’ll read the set-up again. The woman says “I’m sorry, I can’t hold back my tears,” and hides her face in the prime minister’s shoulder. He consoles her. Then he eases her away and swears to work for the good of the people and yadda-yadda-yadda. All yours.

WOMAN: I’m sorry. I can’t hold back my tears. (hides her face in MAN’s shoulder)

MAN: Our grief is infinite, but we swear to you…

DIRECTOR: Stop. You’re talking about infinite grief, but you’re glowing like a well-polished boot.

MAN: Excuse me. I didn’t mean to.

DIRECTOR: I understand how you feel.

MAN: Tomorrow I’ll mourn like nobody’s business, you’ll see.

WOMAN: Besides, we’re tired. We’ve had no sleep. Why don’t we learn our lines for tomorrow, practice a little, and at the ceremony we’ll be such good mourners that we’ll have everyone in tears. But right now we’re just worn out.

A phone rings. CONSULTANT looks at her screen. Her face immediately becomes very serious.

CONSULTANT: (standing up, speaking into the phone) Yes… Yes… This is she…

МAN and WOMAN freeze at attention.

DIRECTOR: What happened?

WOMAN: (whispers) Quiet!

DIRECTOR: Who’s calling?

WOMAN: (whispers) “Who, who…” Don’t you understand? The director in chief!

DIRECTOR: What director in chief? I’m the director in chief here!

WOMAN: Don’t make me laugh. Did you really imagine that you’re the director here? You’re a pawn, a performer, and nothing more. Are you really still not getting it?

CONSULTANT: Everybody shut up! (into the phone) Yes, sir!.. Yes, sir!.. Yes, sir!..

DIRECTOR: (flustered) So it’s… (stands at attention)

CONSULTANT: (into the phone) Very good… Yes, sir!.. Consider it done.

CONSULTANT hangs up. A respectful silence.

DIRECTOR: What did he say?

CONSULTANT: He said that, on the whole, he likes the script and the preparations for the show. He sends you his thanks.

DIRECTOR: Thank you. If you need an expert to stage a coronation, don’t forget me. I’ll put on a marvelous production.

CONSULTANT: We’ll bear that in mind. As for these two performers, though, they don’t quite suit him.

MAN: (alarmed) What did he mean? We don’t suit him at all?

CONSULTANT: No, at this point all he’s thinking about is the interpretation and how you’re going to perform your roles tomorrow.

DIRECTOR: How does he know what my interpretation is? He hasn’t seen the rehearsal.

CONSULTANT answers him with a silent look that speaks volumes.

Excuse me.

WOMAN: What are we going to do?

CONSULTANT: You may want to stop chattering and finish the rehearsal as quickly as possible. (to DIRECTOR) Oh, and the budget has to be drastically cut. You’ve overdone it. After all, it’s not a president or a prime minister who’s being buried, just a private party.

DIRECTOR: But then my entire beautiful game plan falls apart…

CONSULTANT: Do you have any objections?

DIRECTOR: None at all.

CONSULTANT: Then why are you standing around? Finish your work.

DIRECTOR: Yes, ma’am. (to the actors) Take your places… (to MAN) Where did you stop? Read the last line of dialogue.

MAN: Give me a minute. (searches for the place in his script) Here it is: We can be content: the bright future, so long awaited, is already here. (lets the hand holding his script page drop)

DIRECTOR: And what comes next?

MAN: Nothing. The End.

DIRECTOR: (wearily) Oh, all right: the end is the end.

THE END