THEATER PLAYS - Krasnogorov Valentin 3 стр.


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?

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