Valentin Krasnogorov - THEATER PLAYS

MAN: (unexpectedly gruff and arrogant) You forget yourself, my dear sir. Please watch your tone. Yes, we have no acting talent. What of it? We don’t have to. We’re busy with more important things. Politicians should never be actors.

DIRECTOR: You’re wrong. It’s actors who should never be politicians. A good politician ought to be an actor, though. But so be it. If I ever find the time, I’ll give you some private lessons. Provided you make it worth my while, needless to say. In the meantime, go run your lines in front of a mirror and learn the words.

MAN: (tightly wound now) You’re being way too familiar, and it’s unacceptable – do you hear me? We’re not floozies in vaudeville or wherever you normally do your thing, but upstanding, respected people. Conduct yourself accordingly.

DIRECTOR: Theater 101: the director is all, and the rest, whoever they may be, are nobody and nothing, empty suits, clothes hangers, dolls, and puppets. Is that clear?

MAN: And I say again: we will not tolerate being taunted just because we’re having trouble with one thing or another!

DIRECTOR: (mocking) “With one thing or another”… Such modesty! “One thing or another”! (ferociously.) You’re having trouble with everything ! Do you hear? Everything! (thinks for a moment) This is what I’m going to do. Tomorrow I’m going to put a sniper in the window of the building closest to the square. And if you haven’t learned your lines, as soon as you make the first mistake, the rifle will make bang-bang. I’ll have the second coffin all ready. And your partner will double up on her speech over the twin graves. (to WOMAN) Won’t you?

WOMAN: With pleasure.

DIRECTOR: That will, I assure you, be one awe-inspiring show. It’s a pity that you won’t be there to enjoy it.

MAN: Your little jokes are stupid and out of place.

DIRECTOR: But I’m not joking at all. There’s less than twenty-four hours left before we thoroughly disgrace ourselves, so stop talking and buckle down at last. Every show demands hard work and preparation, and ours especially. It involves countless hordes of people, and we’re down to the wire.

CONSULTANT: You seem nervous. Afraid you aren’t going to make it?

DIRECTOR: I’m never afraid of anything. It’ll all be ready in time. I’ve staged spectacles on streets, and on squares, and in stadiums, and in swimming pools… And everything always went like clockwork. This is my profession. I work like a horse, but I demand the same attitude to the work from everyone else.

MAN: I’m not against work, but I do require respect. I’m not some whippersnapper – I’m a big deal. A very big deal.

DIRECTOR: And I require respect too. In your free time, away from rehearsals, by all means run the government or the country, I couldn’t care less. But here I’m directing this production, and you’re only actors in it and have to do what you’re told.

MAN: So stick to your business, but don’t forget who you are and who I am.

DIRECTOR: I’m not forgetting that you’re our prime minister, our fearless leader. Although the male lead in the seediest provincial theater would play that part in tomorrow’s performance far better than you. And you, in turn, don’t forget that I’m the one who forged your image when you were being groomed for the prime minister spot. I’m the one who taught you how to walk, talk, dress, carry yourself, so that you’d look every bit like a serious, intelligent, upstanding person. But now we’re in rehearsal, not at some government meeting. And in rehearsal, everyone obeys just one person. Namely, the director. And that director is me.

MAN: Permit me to…

DIRECTOR: (cutting MAN off) And I make so bold as to observe that when a minister is removed from his post, he becomes nobody, the “former,” the “ex” whatever. But no one will take my calling from me. I was, am, and will remain a top-flight professional.

MAN: But that doesn’t give you the right…

DIRECTOR: (cutting him off again) Wait, I haven’t finished yet. If you make a mess of tomorrow’s nationwide broadcast, it’ll be your mess, of course. Unfortunately, though, it will be mine too. You’ll probably be fired, but I’ll survive it. No one’ll fire me. Still, I value my reputation as the country’s best director, and I don’t want to lose it because of you. And I won’t let either of you go until you deliver your speeches the way you should. This is, first of all, in your own interests. How come you aren’t understanding that?

MAN: (less confident) I just wanted to say that I don’t like the way you rehearse.

DIRECTOR: Directing’s part of my job description, so leave that to me. If you let all the professionals do what they do the way they want to, as they know best, our country would have changed to the good long ago. But you interfere with everything and spoil everything. (pointing to WOMAN) Take your fellow member of the government as your example. She’s sitting quietly and not trying to stretch the rehearsal out with pointless bickering. (to WOMAN) Because you’re a minister, an elected representative, or something like that too, aren’t you?

WOMAN: What of it?

DIRECTOR: Nothing. So what are you running there?

WOMAN: What ministry would they give to a woman? Only what is considered the most unimportant, third-rate – health care, education, culture…

DIRECTOR: And which of those ministries do you head up?

WOMAN: Me…? (racking her brains) It’s… You know… Education, I think… Or no – Culture. I always get them mixed up. (to MAN) Do you remember? At present I’m Minister of what – Education or Culture?

MAN: (sullenly) Agriculture.

WOMAN: Right! For some reason I was thinking Culture.

MAN: You were head of Culture last time around.

WOMAN: Why didn’t you remind me before? At yesterday’s meeting, I kept saying that our main aim is to develop culture.

MAN: No big deal. They probably thought you were pushing them to improve crop cultivation or something.

CONSULTANT: Sorry to interfere, but the rehearsal’s fallen off the radar. Isn’t it time we got back to it?

DIRECTOR: My dear girl, it’s obvious that you don’t understand a thing about the theater. All rehearsals mainly consist of unnecessary chit-chat and people at each other’s throats. Without conflict, no show is ever born. But I wasn’t just wool-gathering. I’m feeling that tomorrow’s performance is missing something. Something that pops… It’s all boring, mundane. There’s nothing spectacular about it… It’s how anyone would do it… I need to come up with something – a discovery, a hook, a gimmick, a ploy… (thinks for a moment) Maybe our esteemed prime minister will ravish this fine figure of a woman on live TV.

WOMAN: Me?!

DIRECTOR: Who else?

MAN: You’re out of your mind!

WOMAN: What’s the big whoop? I don’t mind.

MAN: Neither do I, but why do it when the cameras are rolling?

DIRECTOR: For the scandal.

MAN: Why?

DIRECTOR: What d’you mean “why”? There can be no success without a scandal. Who’s interested in watching a funeral? It’s all pretty dreary, so been-there, done-that. I did instruct the designer to zhuzh it up as much as possible, and make it more festive and cheerful – but a funeral’s a funeral. Always the same thing – glum faces, phony eulogies… The viewers will click over, to a football game or their favorite soap. But if there’s a scandal, they’ll talk about it, interest will skyrocket, people will insist on reruns. My stagings always involve a scandal. The rest doesn’t interest me, or the viewers.