THEATER PLAYS
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
Let's have sex!
Давай займемся сексом!
A strange tragicomedy in two acts
Translated from Russian by Eugene Reznikov and James Walker.
Synopsis
Every personage of this strange, absurd play talks and thinks only about sex. But the frivolous title of this comedy is delusive: the drama is complicated, tragic, and at the same time, amusing. It is difficult to define the genre of this play. It may be called both a psychological drama, and a theater of the absurd, a play that deals with paradox, a philosophical play…. It may be defined as a comedy, but it will not be a mistake to call it also a tragedy. The characters come from nowhere and leave to nowhere. They are familiar to each other and at the same time seem to see each other for the first time. There are 5 characters in the play: the Husband, the Wife, the Sister, the Girl, and the Professor. They are quite real and authentic. At the same time, it is difficult to understand, whether the Wife really is someone’s wife, the Professor – a real professor, etc. There is no plot in the traditional meaning of the word. The play is constructed on the principle of a rondo: movement goes in a circle, or, more precisely, along a spiral. The characters’ actions are motivated by loneliness, by their yearning for love and emotion, their desire to escape from their problems. Or maybe all these conversations are simply the product of a deranged mind? The play has been staged in Moscow by the most famous theater director of Russia, Roman Viktyuk, and is an enormous success. The play is also performed by theaters of Australia, Bolgaria, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Great Britain, India, Montenegro, Mongolia, Poland, Rumania,Turkey, and Ukraina. 2 men and 3 women. Interior .
CHARACTERS
HUSBAND
WIFE
PROFESSOR
GIRL
SISTER
Part 1
The stage can represent an empty space. The room may be furnished with nothing more than a table, some chairs and an armchair.
The HUSBAND is reading a book. The WIFE enters. The HUSBAND continues to read. The WIFE goes out, enters again. The HUSBAND continues to read.
WIFE. Let's have sex.
HUSBAND. OK. (Continues to read.)
WIFE. Let's have sex!
HUSBAND. (Continues to read.) OK!
WIFE. I said – let's have sex!
HUSBAND. What?
WIFE. Sex!!
HUSBAND. Right now?
WIFE. Why not?
HUSBAND. Just let me finish reading this page.
WIFE. What if I want it right now?
HUSBAND. What has come over you?
WIFE. Nothing. Do you have any objections?
HUSBAND. Me? No. (Continues to read.)
WIFE. Well?
HUSBAND. Well, what?
WIFE. You said that you have no objection.
HUSBAND. To what?
WIFE. To doing it.
HUSBAND. Doing what?
WIFE. Put down the book, or I’ll throw it out the window.
HUSBAND. The book doesn’t have anything to do with it.
WIFE. I know that it doesn’t. But you don’t want me throw you out the window, do you?
HUSBAND. What do you want from me?
WIFE. I have said, let's have sex.
HUSBAND. You interrupted me in a particularly interesting place – he is sneaking up to her bed with a gun.
WIFE. Nobody sneaks up to my bed.
HUSBAND. That’s good.
WIFE. I am not so sure.
HUSBAND. (Furtively glancing at the book.) I think he’s going to kill her now.
WIFE. (Grabs out the book away from him and throws it into the corner.) I will kill you now.
HUSBAND. What do you want from me?
WIFE. Nothing. A woman is not supposed to want it. You are the one who is supposed to want it.
HUSBAND. You seem very irritable today.
WIFE. There is nothing wrong with me.
HUSBAND. Did something happen at work?
WIFE. Do people have sex only when something happens at work?
HUSBAND. No. Not necessarily.
WIFE. Thank God. Otherwise else I would think that nothing ever happens to you at work.
HUSBAND. I think that now it is not the right time, and this is not the right place.
WIFE. For you, never is the right time and nowhere is the right place for sex.
HUSBAND. Somebody could come in …
WIFE. But we’re alone now, so let’s hurry!
HUSBAND. You know, it would be inappropriate here.
WIFE. So tell me when and where it would be appropriate for you? Why does it always have to be in the matrimonial bed, always at the same time, on the weekend, ten minutes after the light is turned off? Why not in the morning, why not in the afternoon? Why always lying in bed? Why not standing up or sitting down? Why not on the floor or on a table? Why not on the washing machine? Why not on a swing in the garden? Why not on a roll of barbed wire? Why not by candlelight? Why don’t you take me by surprise, without warning, when I’m not expecting it, where it’s inconvenient? Why does it always have to be at home, in a warm and comfortable room, when we’re yawning before going to sleep, in the same everlasting bed?
HUSBAND. Because… Because in the bed is more convenient.
WIFE. More convenient? Then why are the times on the back seat of a cramped car, or in a forest on an ant hill, or on a dark backstairs the ones we remember forever, while matrimonial caresses at home, in the soft, wide, convenient bed so suitable for sexual pleasure are forgotten in ten minutes?
HUSBAND. Because… I don’t know why.
WIFE. Why don’t you come up to me when I’m washing the dishes and take me from behind? Why don’t you look for a chance, why don’t you pursue me? Why I am always sure that you won’t do anything unexpected? Why not at a symphony concert? Why not in someone else’s apartment, where somebody might come in at any moment?
HUSBAND. Somebody could come in here at any moment.
WIFE. Well, let them. Let something happen at last. I don’t want to be stuck inevitably doing the same thing over and over. I want unpredictability. I want to not know what awaits me tonight. Maybe a meeting with a girlfriend in a cafe, or maybe a party at somebody’s home… Or a quiet walk alone through the park, or taking a rest in an armchair with a book in my hands, or an unexpected rendezvous on a dark beach under the stars… Under the bright stars in a mysterious black sky… White sand, pounding waves, the passionate embrace of unfamiliar arms, hands greedily exploring a new and unfamiliar body – my body – that longs impatiently for those arms… But none of this will ever be, and I know precisely what will happen today, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. It seems as if my life has already ended, because I already know everything; I’ve already gone through everything. There is nothing new left to happen. I’m not living, I only continue to exist. I read the same page of the same book, and it is so boring to me, boring, boring… It’s so boring to me! Let's have sex!
HUSBAND. My God, again?
WIFE. “Again”? Did we already do it?
HUSBAND. In general or today?
WIFE. What happened in general, I don’t remember anymore. There never was anything, and there never will be. All that there is, is “now.” Why do we live only in the past or in the future? Why not to try to live now, and so that "now" can make us happy? Let's have…
HUSBAND.… Sex.
WIFE. Yes. For a change.
HUSBAND. I don’t know what has come over you. You sound so cynical. Such a matter-of-fact and naked way of putting it: “Let's have sex.”
WIFE. And what do you want me to say? “Let's make love”? Love? Doesn’t that seem ridiculous to you? Aren’t you embarrassed? Doesn’t it sound cynical? And you don’t seem to approve of the word “naked.” Better to be clothed. In a long coat, for example. All buttoned up.
HUSBAND. In a decent society they don’t talk about sex.
WIFE. You might think that in a decent society they don’t have sex.
HUSBAND. They do, but they just don’t talk about it.
WIFE. But each of us is not first and foremost an executive, a teacher, an engineer, a doctor or a member of parliament. First of all we are men and women. Why shouldn’t we think about it and talk about it? Why should I be ashamed of what is natural? Of what gives me pleasure?
HUSBAND. You shouldn’t be ashamed, but you shouldn’t talk about it either.
WIFE. And what do they talk about in a decent society?
HUSBAND. I don’t know. About money.
WIFE. You want me to talk to you about money? About what you call your salary? Well then, let's talk about money.
HUSBAND. No, better not.
WIFE. And what is so cynical in the word "sex"? It is matter-of-fact – I agree. But sex is a fact of life. A part of our lovely, comfortable, boring, miserable everyday life. You say, “Let's have supper.” So why can’t I say, “Let's have sex”? Let's watch TV. Let's go shopping. Let's go to the movies. Let's have sex. Let's take out the trash. Let’s do the laundry. Let's have sex. Let's call up some friends. Let's…
HUSBAND. Enough!
WIFE.… Let's move the furniture. Let's buy a teapot. Let's have sex. Let's go to bed… Does “Let's go to bed” sound cynical too?
HUSBAND. It depends on with whom.
WIFE. With my husband.
HUSBAND. With your husband it does not sound cynical.
WIFE. It doesn’t sound anything at all.
HUSBAND. So tell me, are you having a hard time at work?
WIFE. I’m having a hard time at home. At home, not only do I not have sex, but I’m also forbidden to talk of it.
HUSBAND. Why should we talk about it?
WIFE. Precisely because we don’t do it. And what else should I talk about? About the children that I don’t have?