Valentin Krasnogorov - THEATER PLAYS

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.