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DIRECTOR: They’d make you prime minister?
WOMAN: Well, maybe not right away… First, deputy prime minister… But that would be a step in the right direction. Well, are we agreed?
DIRECTOR: On what?
WOMAN: That you’ll do my PR for me.
DIRECTOR: We haven’t agreed on anything.
WOMAN: You shouldn’t say no. I realize that there are no free lunches these days. So you help me, and I’ll help you.
DIRECTOR: How can you help me? Now, if you were in charge of Culture, maybe you’d have something for me…
WOMAN: Do you think your stupid shows for big corporations have anything to do with culture?
DIRECTOR: They might and they might not. But what does your almighty Agriculture have that I might want?
WOMAN: And what might Culture have for you? It’s the most poverty-stricken of all the ministries.
DIRECTOR: Well, for example, a theater of some kind.
WOMAN: You’re a director of huge public spectacles. What would you need a theater for? Why don’t I just send you a herd of horses?
DIRECTOR: Where would I put them?
WOMAN: You shouldn’t say no. Good racehorses are a goldmine. But if you don’t want them, I’ll give you a whole village. With all its farm workers thrown in.
DIRECTOR: What would I do with them?
WOMAN: Be their landlord. That’s what clever people do. It’s every bit as good as investing money in industry.
DIRECTOR: Talking with you is vastly expanding my understanding of morality.
WOMAN: If you think that you can get as far as I have in politics while holding on to your moral virginity, you don’t know anything about life. There isn’t such a big difference between being a political mover and shaker and shaking your booty.
DIRECTOR: You’re insulting the booty shakers.
WOMAN: Maybe you think I won’t be able to handle my role tomorrow. (pointedly) So I agree to let you rehearse me privately.
DIRECTOR: We don’t have time for that anymore.
WOMAN: Why not? (up close and personal) We have the whole night ahead of us.
DIRECTOR: You don’t say.
WOMAN: A long, long night. And the village and the horses, that’s something else altogether.
DIRECTOR: Of course, I’d be flattered to do some night work with a future prime minister, but to be honest, I do have qualms about it. That’s a peak I’ve yet to scale. And besides, I have rehearsals for the ceremony on the square all night.
WOMAN: You don’t like me?
DIRECTOR: A man can’t say no when a woman asks a question like that.
WOMAN: Then what’s the matter? I’m your actress, after all.
DIRECTOR: So what?
WOMAN: I’ve heard that directors always sleep with all their actresses.
DIRECTOR: Don’t believe the gossip of jealous women.
WOMAN: But everyone believes that’s how it is.
DIRECTOR: It’s a run-of-the-mill slander against the theater, a low-rent, lowbrow view of the sacred world of art. First, not “always,” and second, not “with all.” In fact, we often sleep not only with actresses, but also with, well, run-of-the-mill women from the audience.
CONSULTANT enters.
WOMAN: (whispers) We’ll come to an agreement later.
CONSULTANT: (to WOMAN) Darling, don’t you want to spend some time in the company of our esteemed prime minister?
WOMAN: (obediently) Of course. (exits)
DIRECTOR: Who said you could interrupt the rehearsal and boss everybody around? If it happens again, I’ll boot you out. Why did you send her away?
CONSULTANT: Don’t be angry. I’m not being bossy at all. I just wanted to be alone with you for a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind?
DIRECTOR: (gives her a look of typical male appraisal) That depends on how you conduct yourself going forward.
CONSULTANT: I’m ready to consider any options.
DIRECTOR: Do you have any specific suggestions?
CONSULTANT: The suggestions should come from the man.
DIRECTOR: Say the day after tomorrow? In the evening?
CONSULTANT: When a woman says she’s ready, that shouldn’t be followed by a lot of foot-dragging. She may change her mind.
DIRECTOR: Then I’ll tell them to take five right now, and we’ll have half an hour.
CONSULTANT: Half an hour isn’t worth it. When it comes to things like this, I don’t like to rush.
DIRECTOR: Oh, all right – an hour. Although, truth be told, the clock’s ticking. The performance’ll be starting before we know it, and I’m up to my neck in things to do. But I can give you an hour.
CONSULTANT: I already said that’s not worth it. Besides, I have changed my mind.
DIRECTOR: (trying to embrace her) Are you kidding me with this?
CONSULTANT: Mind your manners and get your hands off me.
DIRECTOR: But you said you were ready…
CONSULTANT: I was just joking with you. Or, actually, testing you. I wanted to see how easy it would be to distract you from the project – a very important project, too.
DIRECTOR: I don’t appreciate jokes like that.
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?
