THEATER PLAYS

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.

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…