Theater Plays. Valentin Krasnogorov

Theater Plays - Valentin Krasnogorov


Скачать книгу
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.

      CONSULTANT: But what does physical violation have to do with a funeral?

      DIRECTOR: Nothing. That’s the trick of it. One time I set up a welcome ceremony for a foreign leader, and do you know what I came up with? Naked girls with an obscene tattoo on their breasts came running out to meet him at the airport. That bit of film got airtime on every station worldwide.

      MAN: And what did the foreign dignitary say?

      DIRECTOR: He was very pleased. The girls were just what the doctor ordered, and he became a household name all over the world. And before that, no one had even heard of him. That’s how a success is made. And when I was directing an orchid festival in Singapore…

      CONSULTANT: Sorry to interfere again, but this isn’t a stroll down memory lane. It’s a rehearsal.

      DIRECTOR: The word “rehearsal” in Latin means “repetition,” my dear girl. With a real director, though, no rehearsal is ever a repetition of the same old thing. It’s a quest for, a promotion of, new ideas.

      CONSULTANT: Setting someone up to be violated doesn’t strike me as a good idea.

      DIRECTOR: First of all, pussycat, nobody asked you. Second, that’s exactly how the funeral should go, in my mind’s eye. As a great director once asked, “Where’s our next surprise coming from?”

      CONSULTANT: You think that a televised sex act will surprise anybody?

      DIRECTOR: To be honest, I’m not sure. I’m putting this idea out only as a working hypothesis. And what do you think would surprise today’s viewers?

      CONSULTANT: Well, for example, a show that comes across as logical.

      DIRECTOR: That’s old hat. I always have to be ahead of my time, not trailing behind it. That’s why my shows have more hooks, obscenities, violence, and all the rest of it than anyone else’s. Food without pepper and spice is bland and tasteless.

      CONSULTANT: The only people who say that don’t know how to cook a tasty meal.

      DIRECTOR: I’m used setting the tone, and that’s not something I’m about to give up now. The spectators are supposed to leave my shows in a daze. That’s real art. And that’s why I’m the world’s best director for large-scale public events.

      CONSULTANT: Are you sure everyone shares your opinion?

      DIRECTOR: I don’t care what others think of me. What’s important is what I think of myself.

      CONSULTANT: I don’t want to offend you, but I know a better professional than you in the field.

      DIRECTOR: (stung) That can’t be. Who is he?

      CONSULTANT: Never mind.

      DIRECTOR: No, tell me his name! I know all the professionals in the field.

      CONSULTANT: Not now. Time’s too short to be discussing ratings. The funeral’s almost here. We have to work.

      DIRECTOR: You’re way out of line. What next? Hustling me along, telling me how to stage my shows? By the way, who are we burying?

      A pause. A phone rings.

      What the hell – whose phone’s ringing again? I told everyone to turn them off!

      CONSULTANT: It’s your phone.

      DIRECTOR: Yes? (takes out his phone) So it is.

      CONSULTANT: (with a slight grin) By the way, why didn’t you turn yours off?

      DIRECTOR: Because most of what I’m doing isn’t being done here, but all over the city. Hundreds of people are on it, as I’ve already told you. And besides, I am me. (into the phone) Hello!.. I’ve told you before: the full-dress rehearsal is at two a.m. Everybody must be on the main square by then. Make arrangements to get them there and take them away again. You have thirty buses for that… Don’t forget the microphones and the flowers… And what about the horses?.. (exits, still talking)

      MAN: A swaggering, smug, tom turkey. Rude and impertinent. Imagines the sun rises and sets on him.

      WOMAN: But he knows what he’s doing.

      MAN: That doesn’t excuse his bad manners and doesn’t exempt him from being civil.

      CONSULTANT: He’s on edge. He is responsible for everything, after all.

      MAN: I won’t work with him. He has to be replaced.

      CONSULTANT: It’s an old story: the actors want a different director, the director wants different actors… This conversation’s over.

      MAN: Why? Why do we need this dictator? Are there no other directors?

      CONSULTANT: Do you think other directors are better? They’re all dictators… Not that they’re the only ones… Besides, it’s too late to be talking about replacements and changes. The ceremony will be happening in a matter of hours. Better try to follow his instructions. Then you won’t butt heads as much.

      DIRECTOR returns, putting his phone away.

      DIRECTOR: We’ll continue the rehearsal. (to WOMAN) Do you know your part by now?

      WOMAN: (uncertainly) I’ve studied it.

      DIRECTOR: Very well. So as not to go around in circles, we’ll move on to the second paragraph.

      WOMAN: (holding the paper with her lines) Dear Alexander!.. (to DIRECTOR) Alexander – who’s that?

      DIRECTOR: The person you’re burying, obviously.

      WOMAN: Was his name Alexander?

      DIRECTOR: Probably. You ought to know.

      CONSULTANT: (with barely concealed irritation) Yes, his name’s Alexander. Do you really not remember?

      WOMAN: How’m I supposed to know? I’d never heard of any Alexander before he blew the whistle on our real estate and oil deals.

      CONSULTANT: (gruffly) My dear, when you speak, your words should be better than silence. The director doesn’t need to know the details of your private life.

      WOMAN: What did I say that was so wrong? We’re among friends here.

      CONSULTANT: (decisively) Come with me. You need a splash of cold water. And a change of clothes, into something more decent.

      WOMAN: But what about the rehearsal?

      CONSULTANT: The director will work with our esteemed premier in the meantime.

      DIRECTOR: Who put you in charge, to be bossing people around and interfering with my work?

      CONSULTANT: I’m not interfering, I’m helping. (to WOMAN, in a commanding tone) Let’s go.

      WOMAN makes for the door, but CONSULTANT stops her.

      Hold on. Give me your purse for a minute. (takes WOMAN’s purse, removes a bottle of brandy, and puts it on the shelf) Now we can go.

      CONSULTANT and


Скачать книгу