Theater Plays

CONSULTANT: Then let’s talk seriously.

DIRECTOR: I have nothing to talk with you about, and no reason to either. I’m busy. I’m in rehearsal.

CONSULTANT: But you promised to give me an hour.

DIRECTOR: Not for talking.

CONSULTANT: You’re huffing and puffing like a disgruntled lion. How about a shot of brandy instead?

DIRECTOR: (cheers up) Do you have any?

CONSULTANT: I most certainly do. I confiscated this bottle, remember? You’ve been working on this awe-inspiring show for three days now. You’re tired… Some stress relief’s in order. And you’ve probably had no time to eat. (puts snacks, the bottle, and two glasses on the table and pours the brandy)

DIRECTOR: It really wouldn’t hurt to unwind for a while.

CONSULTANT: (raises her glass.) Well? To a successful outcome?

DIRECTOR: To success! (drinks and begins to eat hungrily)

CONSULTANT: Do you specialize only in large-scale public spectacles or do you stage performances in theaters too?

DIRECTOR: In theaters too. Rarely, though.

CONSULTANT: Anything modern?

DIRECTOR: No, just the classics.

CONSULTANT: Why? Are you very fond of the classics?

DIRECTOR: No, not very. But there are other reasons. For example, when you stage a classic, the critics won’t be able to come down on you for a poor choice of play. There’s no need to make a contract with the author or pay him anything. He won’t be giving advice and coming around picking nits. I can do what I want with a classic play – cut, add, rewrite – and nobody will ever complain.

CONSULTANT: And have you raped a lot of classics?

DIRECTOR: Not really. I’ve only read four plays in my life. Those are the ones I stage.

CONSULTANT: Aren’t you sick of staging the same plays over and over?

DIRECTOR: Not at all. We directors only need plays to display our creative individuality. The words aren’t important to us. We’re not staging a play or even a playwright, we’re expressing ourselves.

CONSULTANT: But don’t you get sick of yourself?

DIRECTOR: Never.

CONSULTANT: What about the audiences?

DIRECTOR: Audiences don’t interest me.

CONSULTANT: And you’ve never wanted to put on something new?

DIRECTOR: I’m what’s new.

CONSULTANT: Well, I just wanted to talk with you about the importance of the words and the author’s role in our show.

DIRECTOR: There’s nothing to talk about. I’m putting on a spectacle, not a memorized reading – and by the way, my performers can’t even get a handle on that. You saw that yourself.

CONSULTANT: Be patient with them. They’re politicians, and politicians are used to reading prepared texts handed to them by speechwriters. That’s why it’s difficult for them to memorize anything.

DIRECTOR: They can’t memorize, and they don’t have to. Let them say whatever wanders into their heads.

CONSULTANT: In our case, that’s unacceptable.

DIRECTOR: And who precisely are you, to be coaching me?

CONSULTANT: Consider me the representative of the client and the author.

DIRECTOR: The author of the spectacle is me and me alone. I’ve already said that today’s theater doesn’t pussyfoot around the texts. All texts do is fetter the flight of my directorial imagination.

CONSULTANT: But this isn’t exactly theater. We’re rehearsing a real event.

DIRECTOR: A televised ceremony isn’t reality anymore. It’s a show – a prepackaged reality that has been subjected to interpretation and direction. We’ll point the cameras at this but not at that. Here, we’ll let the prepared text be heard, and there, we’ll replace it with music or a voiceover. This we’ll shoot in close up, and that we won’t shoot at all. It’s called a show, and the show has a director. And the director is me. I’d ask you to remember that and stop getting on my last nerve with your complaints and your coaching.

CONSULTANT: I’ll remember that. So carry on doing it freeform. No one’s going to put any constraints on your inspiration. (after a short silence) But then don’t be surprised if you’re not paid.

DIRECTOR: (stung) What d’you mean, “not paid”? There’s a written contract!

CONSULTANT: (dispassionately, in a lawyerly tone) There is. And it contains a clause that obliges you to respect all copyright provisions, as required by law. Including the one involving the integrity of the work.

DIRECTOR: Nobody ever adheres to that clause.

CONSULTANT: (ignoring the objection) And if that provision is violated, not only will your fee not be paid, but you’ll also be sued for the pain and suffering you’ve inflicted on the author.

DIRECTOR: I wonder who that touchy author could be?

CONSULTANT: (frigidly) You just said that the author didn’t interest you. Let’s keep it that way. Still, I can’t impress on you firmly enough – pervert Shakespeare or Chekhov to your heart’s content, but you have to respect this author’s texts.

DIRECTOR: (his self-confidence much deflated) Oh, all right… I’ll try to make sure that not a single word is left out.

CONSULTANT: That’s fine.

DIRECTOR: By the way, when will I be paid?

CONSULTANT: Immediately after the show – if and only if all the terms of the contract have been met. But talk about the payment and the other details with the prime minister. I don’t have the time to poke around in the minor specifics.

DIRECTOR: For me, those specifics aren’t minor. They’re highly consequential.

CONSULTANT: (with a touch of scorn) Are you worried about those piddling millions that have been promised to you? Put together a good show, and we’ll do whatever you want – grant you a medal, a title… We can even assign you a theater of your choosing. Give it your personal touch, wreck it, and good luck to you. Then, when you’ve made a complete mess of it, we’ll give you another theater to tear up – it’s no skin off our noses. We’ll order new performances from you, because we need them. But all of this is on condition that you follow the recommendations being given to you.