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.
WOMAN: (with a wary glance at CONSULTANT) No, why bother her? I can go on just fine like this.
DIRECTOR: You’ve been told to sit down. In the meantime, I’ll work with the other actor. (to MAN) Take it away.
MAN: (goes to the center of the stage, stops, unfolds the paper with his lines; a pause) Should I portray sorrow too?
DIRECTOR: (sarcastically) No, unbridled joy. (fiercely) You’re standing over a coffin, damn it! Does this really need an explanation?
MAN: I get it. (portraying sorrow) Dear friend!
DIRECTOR: Stop! We’ve already had “dear friend.” Couldn’t you start with something different, for a change? At least “unforgettable friend”? Are you both delivering the same speech?
MAN: Sorry, I took her lines by mistake. (goes to the row of chairs, picks up the sheet with his lines, and returns to his place; another pause) Tell me, will I be speaking from a podium tomorrow or just standing?
DIRECTOR: There’s no podium near the coffin. So there’ll be nowhere to hide your cheat sheet.
MAN: Then I’ll have to learn my speech by heart?
DIRECTOR: You haven’t learned it yet?
MAN: I’m more used to reading from a script, you see. People of our standing aren’t allowed to improvise.
DIRECTOR: You’ll have to do it without your cheat sheet this one time.
MAN: I could get confused.
DIRECTOR: So long as you don’t get very confused, that’s no big deal. It’s even better, in fact. You’re sort of agitated, depressed by what’s just happened, the words aren’t coming easy.
MAN: I get it. (searches through the sheets of paper for his place and gets ready to start)
DIRECTOR: Don’t forget to look mournful.
MAN: (assuming a mournful look) Dear friend!
DIRECTOR: (exploding) Again with the “dear friend”? Are you jerking me around?
MAN: Sorry, that was a reflex. I’m a little flustered.
DIRECTOR: Very well. Start again.
MAN adopts a mournful pose and opens his mouth, but just then CONSULTANT’s phone rings.
CONSULTANT: Hello! Yes. Good. Is everything ready? When? In about an hour? Check again, Colonel. To make sure it all goes off without a hitch.
DIRECTOR: (fiercely) I thought I ordered everyone to turn off their phones. Why didn’t you do as I said?
CONSULTANT: I’m not authorized to turn off my phone. Especially on a day like this.
DIRECTOR: And I don’t care what you’re authorized to do. Here, the only important thing is the rehearsal. (pounds his fist on the table and glares at everyone)
