Theater Plays
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WOMAN goes to stage center and again stands silent.
You have a rare gift, dearie. I love silent women, but silence isn’t always golden. Begin, before we’re too old to care!
WOMAN: One minute… (quickly trots back to her purse, opens it, takes out some sheets of paper, unfolds them, and again returns, slowly and sadly, to stage center.)
DIRECTOR: What’s that?
WOMAN: (guilty) My lines.
DIRECTOR: (exploding) What? You haven’t learned your lines yet? You undisciplined, disorganized… I refuse to work with you! Are you going to speak from a script tomorrow?
WOMAN: What if I do? We all speak from scripts.
DIRECTOR: That’s what you do. With me, you’ll speak without one, or we’re done. Your words should be born of feeling, not from a cheat sheet.
The seated MAN hurriedly takes some pages out of his pocket and starts learning his lines.
WOMAN: I’ll have it down by tomorrow.
DIRECTOR: And you think I believe you? Are you even capable of learning anything, never mind (mimicking her) “by tomorrow”?
WOMAN: I give you my word.
DIRECTOR: Oh, all right. Use the cheat sheet for now. (mocking) You can read, can’t you?
WOMAN opts not to react. She finds the right page and reads.
WOMAN: (cheerfully) Dear friend!
DIRECTOR: Stop!
WOMAN: What?
DIRECTOR: That’s how you tell someone happy birthday. You have to make your face and whole body mournful. Slow movements, shoulders lowered, arms dangling, disobedient lips pronouncing the words with difficulty. Get that?
WOMAN: Yes. (tries to speak sadly) Dear friend! (hitches up the bra strap that has just slid off her shoulder)
DIRECTOR: No, you’re not getting the mournful look. And how can you when your front’s open almost down to your waist, and your legs are on view up to… Well, I’d best not say up to where. How did you wind up here dressed like this?
WOMAN: The thing is, when I got the call to come here, I was… How can I put it?.. At a small party.
DIRECTOR: And you, of course, got a little bombed there.
WOMAN: A little.
DIRECTOR: And you were apparently so rushed, you left some of your clothes behind.
WOMAN: That’s not funny.
DIRECTOR: It’s very sad. But then you tried to assure me that you were late because you were very busy.
WOMAN: I’m entitled to have fun now and then. How did I know I was going to get an urgent call?
DIRECTOR: (gives WOMAN another critical once-over) There’ll be no extracting the correct intonation from you like this.
WOMAN: I’ve got the costume downstairs, in the car. Maybe I should go and do a quick change?
DIRECTOR: Wait, let me think… (eyes WOMAN closely) You still look… pretty good… And without clothes probably even better than fully dressed… Yes, perhaps we’ll shoot you without clothes.
WOMAN: On television?
DIRECTOR: No, first we’ll take your clothes off. And then we’ll tape you without them.
WOMAN: I don’t understand. You want me to perform in the nude?
DIRECTOR: Do you call this dressed?
WOMAN: (frightened) But I can’t appear in public without a stitch on.
DIRECTOR: Why not? First, you’ll look more decent that way than you do half-naked. Secondly, it’s just not a show these days unless somebody’s in the buff.
WOMAN: (frightened) You seriously want to undress me?
DIRECTOR: I can undress you frivolously, if you want.
WOMAN: But so many people will see me!
DIRECTOR: At worst they’ll get a kick out of our show.
MAN: And what’s the motivation going to be?
DIRECTOR: (surprised that MAN has butted in) Actually, that’s my concern, not yours. Still, the motivation’s obvious: a woman’s gone out of her mind with suffering, and she’s thinking not about decency but only about her grief. She collapses onto the coffin in despair. Only her long, flowing hair covers her nudity, like Lady Godiva…
WOMAN: My hair’s not long enough to cover my… you know… my nudity.
DIRECTOR: We’ll get you a wig. But OK. I’ll give that option more thought later. Consider it a joke. Meanwhile, let’s start over. Well? Don’t dilly-dally! Off you go!
WOMAN: Dear friend!..
DIRECTOR: Not like that, not like that! Grief, more grief! Drop a tear or two if you can.
WOMAN: (tries to squeeze out a tear, fails, feels guilty). I just can’t weep. I always can, but not this time.
DIRECTOR: Dammit, why not? Don’t you have any imagination? So imagine, for example, that your lover has dumped you. If you don’t remember the script, improvise for the time being.
WOMAN: (thinks for a second, then the expression on her face changes dramatically) Bastard! Son of a bitch! I always knew you’d dump me! But don’t worry, I’m not going to cry. And I won’t be alone for long, either… You’ll regret this…
DIRECTOR: Stop! Who are you talking to?
WOMAN: (embarrassed) To… to my lover.
DIRECTOR: Who’s lying dead in the coffin?
WOMAN: But he dumped me. I’m not about to call him “dear friend.”
DIRECTOR: (wearily) He didn’t dump you, he left you. Left you for a higher life, an eternal life, where you’ll be reunited with him one day. That’s how you categorize the image you’re constructing. And you mustn’t yell “I’m not going to cry.” On the contrary, you’re crying bitter tears… I’m sensing that your thoughts are still at your party. Sit down, learn your lines properly, and think about your role. And have some coffee, to sober you up a bit. (nodding to CONSULTANT sitting demurely in the corner) That girl will pour you a cup.