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.
WOMAN: And what am I supposed to feel?
DIRECTOR: You don’t know? Very well, I’ll try to help you. Both of you need to be clear on the circumstances in which you’ll be delivering your speeches. Then you’ll understand the solemnity of this gala occasion, and your words will find the intonation they need, all on their own. It’s going to be very beautiful, believe me – a feast for the eyes. No one has ever staged a ceremony like this, on such a scale. My competitors’ll just die of envy. (gradually growing more animated) Guests in formal attire, military bands in glittering uniforms, delegations and wreaths from civic organizations, funeral marches, Chopin, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, silken flags at half-staff, fluttering in the wind… Banners angled downward, a coat of arms, the coffin, a thunderous farewell salute… A squadron of fighter planes flying over the square, his medals on velvet pillows…
