Theater Plays
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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.