Vilém Dubnička
One Million
Summary:
The famous stage actor, director and principal Philippe Martin has a problem. The stage of his theatre got eaten by a woodworm. He needs one million Euro to save the theatre he spent his whole life building. A well-known artist bets everything on one card and decides to approach his benefactor, the elusive billionaire Jean Petitér who never appears in public. However, getting your hands on one million Euro is not so easy. Will Philippe Martin get his million? What if things are not as they seem?
Dramatis personae:
Jean M, 30 – 40, any ethnicity, an ordinary looking man
Philippe M, 50 – 60, any ethnicity, a charismatic individual
Takes place in Jean’s office. It is a modern, minimalist office. Upstage right a reception desk and bar stool, downstage left a conference table and two armchairs. Takes place anywhere in the world. This time in France.
Jean
(On the phone) Hi, mon chéri... Listen, I’ll be a bit late... Just tying up a few loose ends but I’ll be there before you can say ‘courgette rolls filled with salad and anchovy dressing on a bed of grilled tiger prawns’... I have a meeting with Philippe Martin... Yes, that theatre director. He’s late. If he’s not here in five minutes, I’ll get going... Something about money... Listen to this – his stage got eaten by woodworm. Absurd, isn’t it? ‘All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely worms’... I know that’s not how it goes. It was just a joke... One million Euro... Yeah, it is a lot of money but we don’t have to worry about that. ... We’ll see. ... Listen up! He’ll end up begging me to accept the leading role! Wanna bet?... OK... You want me to give him your love? Does he know you?... OK, I know... Bon appétit. I’ll have it sorted before he gets the chance to ask for a coffee. See you in a bit, ok? (He hangs up and starts humming a tune) The woodworm split my wardrobe in two...
There is a knock on the door. Jean goes to open it. Enter a good looking man. A confident artist who has achieved things in his life but this role is not one he is used to playing.
Philippe
Good evening.
Jean
Similarly.
Philippe
Pardon?
Jean
You wished me a good evening. And I wish you an evening which is similarly good.
Philippe
Right.
Jean
Never mind. What can I...
Philippe
How alternative of you.
Jean
Pardon?
Philippe
Nothing. I just don’t like these arty-farty clichés like ‘swaggerific’, ‘bootylicious’. This inventing words... just to sound interesting. People feel the need to demonstrate that. they are eccentric and arty. Then it turns out they are just a PA in a tie. (Philippe meant it generally but they both realise the description fits Jean perfectly). Sorry.
Jean
It’s ok.
Philippe
I didn’t mean...
Jean
You did.
Philippe
OK, I did but...
Jean
Don’t worry about it.
Philippe
Are you sure?
Jean
We got off on the wrong foot.
Philippe
Yes.
Jean
Let’s start again. How can I help?
Philippe
How about a coffee?
Jean
Of course. (Muttering) A PA in a tie.
Jean goes to make the coffee. Philippe sits down and lights a cigarette.
Jean
So what can I do for you, Monsieur Martin?
Philippe
Do I have to repeat myself?
Jean
Why, have we discussed this before?
Philippe
No but... (He gestures to Jean and then upwards)
Jean
Tell me.
Philippe
Fine, but I will have to repeat it to your boss.
Jean
My boss?
Philippe
The boss, the director, the owner, the whatever.
Jean
I didn’t think it was a problem for an actor to repeat things a few times.
Philippe
I’m a director.
Jean
But you are an actor too, I have seen you perform. You never left the stage! All those lines! Wow!
Philippe
Jesus, how tedious. Memory is a muscle! Any amateur can learn lines, but to feel it, to understand the context of the. story, to be in the moment and to grow with the production, to follow an arc of the character’s development and to repeat it night after night, each time exactly the same lines delivered as if it was for the first time, and to do it in a. way the spectator would understand and ideally feel some. emotion... If you come to our theatre just to see that we can. learn the lines, buy yourself a parrot. It will be cheaper.
Jean
I used to do amdram.
Philippe has offended Jean without wanting to. To offer an olive branch, he tells him his story while he drinks his coffee.
Philippe
Xestobium rufovillosum.
Jean
Pardon?
Philippe
Xestobium rufovillosum.
Jean
What’s that? A curse?
Philippe
It’s a Death Watch Beetle.
Jean
I see.
Philippe
It ate my theatre.
Jean
Yes. I heard.
Philippe
Me too.
Jean
Pardon?
Philippe
I heard it eating my theatre.
Jean
Really?
Philippe
At first, I didn’t pay enough attention to it. But then, a couple of years ago, I started noticing it. I heard this sound, like a cat purring. Or clawing at the doors. Very quietly. I thought it was tinnitus. Beethoven had it. He was practically deaf in the last ten years of his life. Apparently, he had this special stick attached to the piano soundboard. When he was playing, he would bite down on the stick to feel the sound vibrations.
Jean
Really? I didn’t know that.
Philippe
I got it measured. They measured 40 dB. There’s never a complete silence. There’s always something, a sound – a bit like when a stage light warming up, or switching on an old television. But you don’t notice.
Jean
I do.
Philippe
Do you?
Jean
At my grandmother’s.
Philippe
I see. My doctor told me to drown it out with another sound. Paper rustling, for instance. It has a similar intensity. So I started rustling. In rehearsals, I kept turning the pages of my notes for the actors. Then I couldn’t find the right notes because I got muddled with all the rustling. I kept giving the wrong notes to the wrong actors from the wrong parts of the show.
Jean
Wow. That must have been a mess.
Philippe
No one noticed. Most actors make the same mistakes.
Jean
I see.
Philippe
Then one day, when we were doing Faust, Mephistopheles fell through the stage and everyone froze.
Jean
That must have been very effective. You always surprise with something unpredictable. Did you use stage smoke? Backlights? Then curtain?
Philippe
It was in the wrong act and the wrong place on the stage – there was no trapdoor there. I knew we were in trouble.
Jean
I understand.
Philippe
It took me twenty years to build that theatre. I defended it from the politicians, the critics, the egocentric actors and the stupid spectators. Only for a worm to eat it after all that. An insect. Arthropod. Bostrichoidea!
Jean
That’s awful.
Philippe
We were supposed to open on Saturday with Feydeau’s A Flea in Her Ear.
Jean
That’s good. If you add Čapek’s The Insect Play, you can run a ‘bug season’.
Philippe
Yes. But first we need a new stage. It’ll take more than re- sanding the floorboards. We need a brand new stage with all the technology. Revolving stage, turntables, the pit, the trapdoor...
Jean
How much?
Philippe
A million Euro.
Jean
Bloody hell!
Philippe
Exactly.
Jean
If you give me a part, you can have it.
Philippe
Are you joking? You can’t be serious. I cast the best actors in my plays. You’d fall into pieces next to them. Besides, this is nonsense. Let Monsieur Petitér know I am here. I don’t have the time to waste talking to some ambitious amateur theatre reject.
Jean
Calm down, Monsieur Martin. Our company invests a lot of money in your theatre every year. You know that we like theatre, especially your theatre.
Philippe
Yes. I know. 40 000 Euro a year for the theatre upkeep. This money is very important to us and we appreciate it. You are one of our biggest partners...
Jean
The biggest.
Philippe
Yes... Yes! The biggest. You are our biggest partner but no one knows who you are. You don’t want your logo on the posters, no names in the programme, no gold plate on the theatre wall... All the things demanded by every small businessman who gives us a few packs of toilet paper and demands that in return their merchandise be exhibited in a glass box in the foyer. Ideally, they’d have us plug their business before the show: “Ladies and Gentlemen, if this performance turns out to be shit, you can wipe your arse with the Petitér toilet paper!”
But not you! Every other sponsor demands a number of comps that far outweigh the value of their sponsorship. They want to be seen at opening nights with all the VIP guests and to show off to their grandma, grandpa, auntie twice removed and her best friend since nursery school. Not you. You ask for two VIP tickets for each opening night in the middle of the first row but you never come so we end up with a gap in the first row. I watch the production from the wings, things are perfect on stage, the audience is spellbound but there’s this gap, it’s like... it’s...
Jean
Mind the gap?
Philippe
Eh?
Jean
Never mind.
Philippe
Where the hell is the famous billionaire? Why does he never come? He has never been seen in public. Not in our theatre, not anywhere! He doesn’t have a picture in the papers, on the internet... He’s not in the top ten of the richest Frenchmen. He’s a myth.
Jean
You may have met him without knowing it was him.
Philippe
Impossible.
Jean
A couple comes up to you during the opening night. One of the many people you meet. They praise your production, you nod and smile, but your mind wonders. You look for someone more important you’d rather hear praises from, someone from whom it would count. You flirt with his wife who can barely contain herself every time you glance at her. Then someone saves you from this unpleasant situation, you give your apologies and disappear without knowing who you just met.
Philippe
Come on. I can tell a millionaire a mile off.
Jean
That’s exactly the difference between millionaires and billionaires. A millionaire wants to be seen. They show off their wealth. Expensive cars, stately homes, big yachts... women with expensive taste... They compete amongst themselves about who has more millions and they constantly count their money. Billionaires don’t give a shit.
Philippe
Right.
Jean
Besides, Petitér is not French.
Philippe
How come?
Jean
Petitér is not in the top ten of the richest French people because he is not really French. His tax domicile is in the Cayman Islands. He bought a small island where he permanently resides. So he’s really a Cayman.
Philippe
So I have a meeting with a crocodile today.
Jean
Yes. Although they are more like alligators.
Philippe
Sorry?
Jean
They aren’t crocodiles but alligators. He named the islands after the Carib word for crocodile when he saw all the reptiles there, but in actual fact, they are not crocodiles, they are alligators. Never mind.
Philippe
Who did this? Petitér?
Jean
Francis Drake. A buccaneer. Like a pirate but under government protection. Today we’d call him the Renaissance 007. Allowed to pillage and plunder as long as he shared his loot with the powers that be. Of course they would never admit to it. Christopher Columbus called the islands ‘Las Tortugas’. Francis Drake renamed them the Cayman Islands.
Philippe
So Francis Drake was a crook?
Jean
Initially, yes. Later, he became a high-flying politician. Some things never change.
Philippe
So that’s why the Cayman Islands attract the biggest crooks these days.
Jean is offended.
Jean
You think anyone with a bit of money is automatically a crook?
Philippe
That’s not what I meant.
Jean
May I?
Philippe
Sure.
Jean borrows Philippe’s lighter. He takes out a €500 banknote and lights it. Philippe tries to stop him. He nearly burns his fingers in the process.
Philippe
No! You don’t have to do this. Don’t!
Jean
The problem with people who don’t have money is that they think that money is real.
Philippe
You just burned a metre of my stage.
Jean
That’s just it. A metre of a stage didn’t burn. A piece of paper burned. By the way, it’s not even paper, it’s cotton. A paradox, don’t you think? All the European money is made from a plant that isn’t native to Europe.
Philippe
Yes, very interesting.
Jean
Banknotes themselves have no value. It’s all about the belief. People believe that this piece of paper will get them something tangible.
Philippe
Defacing banknotes is illegal.
Jean
You know, if you came to a shop with €500 twenty years ago, you couldn’t even buy a pint of milk with it.
Philippe
Sure. The shop keeper wouldn’t have change back.
Jean
No. Because the Euro didn’t exist then. And that’s just it. People today believe that the European currency will be here forever and they are willing to burn their fingers for €500.
Philippe
I just singed my hairs a bit.
Jean
Money is no longer backed by gold. There’s so much money in circulation that no amount of gold in the world would be enough to back it.
Philippe
So you print your money?
Jean
Come on, you don’t even have to print money these days. You can mine Bitcoin online, for instance. That is pure faith.
Philippe
How did you come by a €500 banknote?
Jean
In the year 2010, a die-hard fan of Bitcoin paid 10 000 Bitcoin for a pizza. That would be three hundred million dollars today!
Philippe
This particular banknote is losing its value.
Jean
The financial market is the strongest belief in the world. Everyone believes in money: a Christian, a Muslim, a Jew, a Buddhist, a Taoist or a heathen.
Philippe
I heard the five hundreds are mostly used by criminals.
Jean
Damn it, are you even listening to me?
Jean takes out another €500 banknote and holds it above the flame from the lighter. Just high enough so it does not catch fire. Philippe remains calm this time.
Philippe
You wouldn’t have 1998 more of those? We could cut the crap.
Jean
Money is abstract energy. Like love. When you’re in love, you’re not taking love away from anyone else. So if you have more money, it doesn’t necessarily mean your neighbour has less money. On the contrary. Money makes money. When you love, it invites love from another human being.
Philippe
Unless you only love yourself.
Jean
Hm. Or unless you love someone else’s wife. In short, there’s an infinite amount of money in the world. You can have as much as you want without having to steal it.
Philippe
There you go! All I need is one million!
Philippe lights a cigarette. Jean walks across the room.
Jean
It’s all about algorithms.
Philippe
I know.
Jean
Petitér’s billions were from trading using algorithms for financial derivatives. It involves small sums of several cents but there are tens of millions of transactions a day.
Philippe
I know. I read up about it before I came here.
Jean
Really?
Philippe
I don’t get it though.
Jean
I’m glad you didn’t send your producer.
Philippe
I’m not.
Jean
I doubt we’d have such a nice chat.
Philippe
Why not?
Jean
Most producers don’t understand theatre.
Philippe
That’s the one thing we agree on.
Jean
But that’s exactly how it should be. The more you are involved with the product you sell, the worse a salesman you are.
Philippe
I’ve never thought about it like that.
Jean
The worst thing is when an artist has to sell himself.
Philippe
A good businessman will sell things people want. A good artist will give people things they had no idea they needed.
Jean
Is that Oscar Wilde?
Philippe
No. That’s Philippe Martin.
Jean
It looks like art and business don’t go well together. (Philippe shrugs) Despite that, a lot of people make a living out of art.
Philippe
Because they produce kitsch.
Jean
Kitsch?
Philippe
Artistic populism.
Jean
I’m not following you.
Philippe
They give people what people want.
Jean
What’s wrong with that? That’s the principle of democracy.
Philippe
Democracy in theatre is bullshit.
Jean
You make theatre for the audience, don’t you? There would be no theatre without the audience. They deserve to get what they want for their money.
Philippe
They deserve to get what they haven’t got yet. The worst thing to say in the theatre is “the audience wants this”. It’s like a diabetic goes to a doctor and the doctor says “Oh dear, what have we here? We will have to put you on a strict diet! I’d recommend two or three chocolate croissants for breakfast, one cheesecake with cream for a snack and one pork chop for lunch – just the one! If you stick to this, you can treat yourself to crème brûlée before bed. Diabetes is a myth. Look at the hippos or the elephants. Have they got diabetes? No. Your morbid obesity is absolutely fine. Carry on and come see me again in a year.” What? That’s what the patient wants!
Jean
That’s completely different.
Philippe
Yes. In the case of diabetes, we are dealing with physical health. In the case of theatre it’s mental health.
Jean
Apologies, Dr Martin!
Philippe
You can laugh but I’m right. Theatre isn’t a modern invention for the entertainment of the bored, privileged society. Theatre has been here for hundreds, thousands of years! You won’t believe it but theatre is older than the stock exchange and financial derivatives.
Jean
Alright, OK.
Philippe
Long time ago, when people lived in small groups, one of them would always stick out. Someone who saw things differently from the others. That person would be seen as weird, considered crazy, yet indispensable. If there was ever a problem in the group, he would name the problem. The people who had this special ability were called shamans. They didn’t have to go into battles, hunt for food, make tools and utensils... They didn’t have to work like everyone else. The village would look after them because they were very useful in a different way. Several hundred years later, theatre was born from these shamanic rituals. Many people consider me a snooty director and an arrogant actor. I don’t tell this story to just anyone. I don’t know why I’m telling you, I guess theatre is my vocation and, for me, it is sacrosanct.
Jean
Is that why you are here in person instead of sending one of your minions?
Philippe
We took that risk. I hate talking to people. I hate fundraising. I’ve never asked anyone for anything but this theatre is my whole life.
Jean
Even so, you were late.
Philippe
I wasn’t. I waited behind the door for five minutes.
Jean
You waited behind the door?
Philippe
Yes. I’m never late. I’m often early, actually. I usually wait around the corner for five minutes so I can arrive slightly late. It causes me big problems. I hate it.
Jean
Why aren’t you on time then?
Philippe
No one trusts an artist who is punctual.
Silence ensues. Both men silently process what has just been said. After a while, Jean picks up a book, finds a relevant page and recites.
Jean:
My poem
Came before an egg
But it will never see the chicken
God broke the stick
He was leaning on,
Now he’s falling from heaven
In deafening silence
Only the sound of the old clock disturbs,
Ticking
Sixty-two times a minute
And there on the park bench,
It’s been two days
A dead homeless man with a red hat
Lies
Why do I scream only bright darkness?
Philippe
(Jumps in) No, no, no, no! Don’t do this. You really don’t need to do this. Jesus Christ! Argh! (Jean finishes the poem) Do you like poetry?
Jean
Yes.
Philippe
Then don’t touch it.
Jean
I’m afraid of poetry.
Philippe
Poetry is afraid of you.
Jean
Did you like that poem?
Philippe
No.
Jean
It won a national literary prize.
Philippe
Really?
Jean
You read it at the gala evening.
Philippe
Really?
Jean
Beautifully.
Philippe
Thank you.
Jean
But I didn’t understand it.
Philippe
Neither did I.
Jean
There you go. I have a feeling that what the wannabe experts call ‘real poetry’ is an unwritten contract between a few people who pretend they understand it, instead of admitting that it’s total crap.
Philippe
That’s possible.
Jean
That’s why I’ve always been afraid of poetry. It makes me feel like I’m an idiot and those nodding approvingly are the clever ones. The artists. I asked them to explain it to me. I’m not that stupid. I’ve been a member of Mensa since I was six years old. I might get it... But they just shook their heads and gave me a patronising pat on the shoulder. ... Just explain it to me.
Philippe
(Shakes his head and pats Jean on the shoulder. Realises what he has done.) I’m sorry.
Jean
Read the poem.
Philippe
Have you gone mad?
Jean
Please.
Philippe
No! That’s absurd.
Jean
Why not?
Philippe
That’s enough. Where is Monsieur Petitér?
Jean
It’s just a few lines.
Philippe
No! What’s gotten into you, man? I’m not going to read your stupid poem!
Jean
(Puts a €500 note on the desk) A metre of the stage.
Philippe
No!
Jean
(Puts down a wad of banknotes) Ten metres!
Philippe
(Really does not want to do this. It is absurd. But this whole evening is absurd. Things have gone too far already anyway.) Who the hell are you? (He takes the book of poetry from Jean and starts reading. He is very good. Too good.) My poem
Came before an egg
But it will never see the chicken
God broke the stick
He was leaning on,
Now he’s falling from heaven
In deafening silence
Only the sound of the old clock disturbs,
Ticking
Sixty-two times a minute
And there on the park bench,
It’s been two days
A dead homeless man with a red hat
Lies
Why do I scream only bright darkness?
Philippe finishes reading the poem. Jean starts clapping.
Philippe
Please, stop it.
Jean
Beautiful.
Philippe
Yeah, well.
Jean
But I still don’t get it.
Philippe
And I don’t get your algorithms.
Jean
I don’t publish them. Imagine if I invented an algorithm for buying and selling stocks and shares and published it in a magazine. A few people would understand it, a bit like this poem, perhaps one more person – I would understand it, and then I’d walk around forcing people to read it and nod enthusiastically. Let’s try it – read this algorithm!
Philippe
You can’t be serious!
Jean
Humour me.
Philippe
I don’t believe this...
Jean
Ten metres of the stage (He throws another wad of banknotes on the desk).
Philippe
Give it here. (He takes the algorithm and starts reciting it. Same as before. With feeling. It comes from the heart. He is very good.)
Take a hammer and a nail
Put the nail tip against the wood
Hit the nail on the head
Is the nail in?
YES – continue to point 5
NO – return to point 3
Finish task and put hammer away
Jean is clapping.
Philippe
This piece of crap earned someone billions?
Jean
No, it’s an algorithm for hammering a nail in. Or rather the description of it. If it was in Python...
Philippe
Python?
Jean
It’s a programming language.
Philippe
I see.
Jean
That couldn’t sound like a poem even from you.
Philippe
What a relief.
Pause
Jean
Although...
Philippe
No!
Jean
Why not try it, since we’re here.
Philippe
No!
Jean throws another wad of cash on the desk.
Philippe
(Recites in programming language)
Algorithm for calculating the radius of a circle.
var R,O : real;
begin
readln(R);
if R>0
then
begin
O:=2*pi*R;
writeln('the radius of the circle is : ',O);
end
else
writeln(‘the radius has to be positive’);
end.
Jean
At last poetry I can understand.
Philippe
If you think so.
Jean
Of course this was Pascal...
Philippe
I could tell.
Jean
... but never mind.
Philippe
No, no. Never mind. Let’s not tell him.
A moment of silence.
Jean
By the way, my wife sends her love.
Philippe
Thank you.
Jean
You’re welcome.
Philippe
I don’t think I know your wife.
Jean
You don’t know Petitér either and you want him to give you a million.
Philippe
That’s true.
Jean
Besides, I don’t want to offend you, but how often did you get your way without knowing the woman?
Philippe
Fair enough. Sometimes I even got what I didn’t want.
Jean
But why
Philippe
I don’t know. Because I could?
Jean
Even married women?
Philippe
Mostly married women.
Jean
What about their husbands?
Philippe
I didn’t sleep with them.
Jean
You hurt them.
Philippe
They didn’t know about it.
Jean
Most of the time.
Philippe
You know, I’m not saying it was their wives who hurt them and not me, I’m not saying the husbands deserved it. I don’t think that at all but that’s not the point.
Jean
So what is the point?
Philippe
Women want to be loved. Admired. They want to feel beautiful and unique. How can they have when they’re stuck for an eternity in mundane marriage?
Jean
So they shouldn’t get married?
Philippe
Not at all. Marriage is very important to make women feel special. It is vital. Without it, it would be impossible to free them from it from time to time. Love is abstract energy. Like money. There is an abundance of love in the world. When you make love to someone else’s wife, you don’t take her away from him. Her husband doesn’t have any less of her. On the contrary. A lot of open marriages are happier than those strictly monogamous.
Jean
And men?
Philippe
Men are swine. But it works exactly the same for men.
Jean
And on the stage?
Philippe
What about it?
Jean
Do you love your female partners on stage?
Philippe
Yes, when I’m in character. The character I am portraying loves another, portrayed by my colleague. It doesn’t matter who it is. In that moment, I love her, even if she’s an ugly goat. Besides, they are often self-centred arseholes in real life which is almost worse than being an ugly goat but, in that moment, it doesn’t matter.
Jean
You actors are simply used to lying and pretending.
Philippe
Listen, Monsieur... What is your name?
Jean
Jean.
Philippe
Jesus Christ! That’s like something out of an English master and servant comedy!
Jean
Thank you.
Philippe
Did Monsieur Petitér pick a servant by name or is it a nickname?
Jean
He didn’t choose it.
Philippe
He didn’t?
Jean
Jean is a fairly common name and not every Jean is a servant.
Philippe
Really? Like who?
Jean
Jean Petitér.
Philippe
(Pause) Look, Jean, theatre people are fed up with the many false myths out there about the work they do. One of those myths is especially dangerous. It’s the one about actors lying to people. Human life is a terribly unpleasant condition. Seven billion grains of sand looking for the meaning of being in their sand pit. People became aware of their condition and their mortality by coincidence. In order not to go completely mad, they need a reason why they are right here right now. Why they even exist. There really is no rhyme or reason, or at least we don’t know what the reason is. What helps our sense of survival is our ability to believe. We can believe in God – there are a few for us to choose from. We can trust in the Universe, we can believe in love... We can believe in money... But the single most important belief is that we are somehow unique. That we are important. That we are not just grains of sand. It doesn’t necessarily have to be true. That’s why it’s a belief. People want to be lied to. They need it. The person who is lying to them is no one but themselves. The people on the stage in theatre are ordinary. One Joe Bloggs next to another. They have names, families, they came to work just like anyone else. It’s in our heads we create kings and killers, brave heroes or low scoundrels. So, if we want to talk about a lie, it is not the actors who lie to us, it is ourselves.
Jean
It’s like the theatre is a kind of an Institute for the Resolution of Public Issues!
Philippe
Right. I’m pleased you found such an apt name for it. Now, could you please let me see Monsieur Petitér before the Institute turns to a pile of dust?
Jean
Monsieur Petitér is presently engaged on important business that has a direct impact on whether or not he will help you finance the new stage or not.
Philippe
Is that right? Why did he invite me here then? He could have simply sent the cash and be done with it.
Jean
Theatre is made by the people, not the boards, as you explained so well a while ago. He wanted to get to know you a little better.
Philippe
I am completely lost here. What do you suggest I do?
Jean
Persuade me.
Philippe
Pardon?
Jean
Persuade me that the million will be in good hands.
Philippe
Why would I have to persuade you?
Jean
Persuade me and you will persuade Petitér.
Philippe
(He does not care anymore. He has nothing to lose.) Fine. What shall we start with?
Jean
(He throws another wad of banknotes on the desk) Romeo!
Philippe
Romeo?
Jean
Romeo!
Philippe starts acting the part of Romeo. It feels like a twentieth show on tour of regional theatres. It is not bad but it has no energy.
Philippe
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
(Juliet appears above at a window)
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Philippe notices Jean is looking at him with suspicion.
Philippe
Are you alright?
Jean
Is this how you’re going to do it?
Philippe
Like what?
Jean
Like you’ve done it twenty nights in a row on tour of regional theatres? It’s not bad but it has no energy.
Philippe is livid but Jean is right. Philippe gathers himself and starts again.
Philippe
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
Juliet appears above. This time played by Jean. He jumps up at the desk, acting like an amateur. Philippe looks like he might die for a minute but then he accepts his new partner and gives the scene everything he has. The two perform a beautiful romantic dialogue.
Jean
Ugly goat!
Philippe
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
(We do not notice where Shakespeare ends and where Philippe starts talking to Jean but here it is.)
Philippe
How’s that? Better, you fucking arsehole?
Jean
I’d give a million for my wife to look at me the way she looked at you.
Philippe
You’ll get your chance. Let’s go.
Jean
Yes. But this time I’ll be Romeo.
Philippe
Jesus, Jean, stop it!
Jean
(Shakespeare) I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
It is not completely awful. Although Philippe would like to end this. He is very uncomfortable. But it is not over yet. He picks up Juliet’s line with ease of the theatre professional.
Philippe
Ay me!
Jean
She speaks:
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
At last Jean is finished and Philippe has the chance to appraise him.
Philippe
OK... You could possibly... In some community centre perhaps... Somewhere far enough away from real theatre... You could possibly... If worst came to worst... You could be the prompt.
Jean
Your line!
Philippe
Don’t be offended, my friend. You can’t expect me to sing you praises at the start. I’m not out of line...
Jean
That was your cue “And sails upon the bosom of the air!”
Philippe gets it. He remembers the lines from the play. It is awful! It is Juliet!
Philippe
Jesus Christ!
Jean
Ugly goat!
Philippe
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Jean
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Philippe
Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
Jean
I take thee at thy word.
Jean grabs Philippe and drags him to the desk.
Philippe
Don’t overdo it.
Jean
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized.
Philippe
Jean, I have my limits. We have gone beyond those already but... let go off me, you fucking dickhead!
Jean
Calm down! It’s just a bit of fun.
Philippe
I hate fun! I forbid fun! I laugh at fun! (Yes, he sounds ridiculous)
Jean
I’ve noticed you don’t have a good relationship with humour. Your shows are often almost sad.
Philippe
You’re suddenly very clever!
Jean
I believe humour is a vessel of ideas. Like the film coating on pills. It makes them colourful, they slip down your throat easily and it hides the nasty taste of the medicine. In theatre, you can laugh for an hour but you will think about the questions the show made you ask.
Philippe
Would you like to take over from me?
Jean
You know, I would!
Philippe
How?
Jean
Performance art.
Philippe
Performance art?
Jean
You do that as well, don’t you?
Philippe
Yes, I do but...
Jean
I don’t just want to work with you, I want to be you.
Philippe
But...
Jean
You will voice me.
Jean prepares a small table with a microphone, a light and the text. There is another wad of cash on the desk. Philippe sits down, this is his routine, he switches on the light and puts on the headphones prepared by Jean. These are useless in this case and they both know it. They look at each other knowingly and shrug. Jean wants the stage to be set perfectly and he is well prepared.
Jean
I got a few things ready.
Philippe looks at the text and reads the first few lines.
Philippe
But this is Hamlet!
Jean
(Determined, focused) Yeah!
Philippe starts reading, voicing over Jean’s action. He reads Hamlet naturally, with inner strength. He tries to act so that his words are comprehensible. He is almost explaining it all. In contrast, Jean is exaggerated. Not in a way amateur actors can be. His performance is actually good but his behaviour is too ostentatious, absurd, incomprehensible. Jean puts his head into a bucket full of money. He is tearing the money, chewing it, swallowing it. He is running on the spot to exhaustion with a wild look in his face... If this was in one of Philippe’s shows, there would be a standing ovation and the critics would sing praises. But here it looks naff.
Philippe
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
(Philippe cannot bear it any longer) What on earth are you doing?
Jean
I told you I prepared a few things.
Philippe
That’s fine but Hamlet is an intelligent human being, practically an introvert. When he is saying those lines, he is being watched by Claudius and Polonius but he doesn’t know this so there’s no reason for him to act up. He is really talking to himself, naming things and thinking about their meaning.
Jean
I’m just doing what you do in your theatre. Not just Hamlet, everything! You show off your originality, your innovation, your imagination. Your power. Whilst often concealing the true meaning of what you are saying. What you ought to be saying. Your art is nothing but intellectual equillibristics, inanimate figurines programmed to astonish the audience who want to feel just as clever as the show they are watching. It is just the latest fad without true content. You make fools out of people and they applaud you instead of admitting they didn’t get it. Because you’re the ones with talent, not us. One dares not disagree for fear of being banished for being a cultural philistine. So everyone keeps their mouth shut, afraid of uttering a word about what they really think. (Philippe is looking at Jean aghast) Let’s go.
Philippe does not really want to carry on. Jean walks over to him and starts talking. This time he is playing his part without the hysterics. With inner strength. He is just as good as Philippe because he finds the meaning within the text.
Jean
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
Philippe joins him. They stand opposite each other, saying the same lines. In the same way. To each other. They might look for the same rhythm for a while but then they become one.
Both
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
They turn to the audience and act the rest of the monologue to them. Still as one.
Both
who would fardels bear,
o grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
Philippe and Jean stop the monologue there and stay still with each other for a while. Deep in their thoughts and the thoughts of the other. As if they shared the biggest secret of their life and now they are processing it. Philippe starts to get a bit scared. He clearly underestimated his partner.
Jean
It was me who planted the woodworm.
Philippe cannot believe what he is hearing. Nothing can surprise him anymore. He slowly comes to realise what is going on.
Philippe
Why?
Jean
You became deaf to your own talent.
Philippe
Why me, of all people?
Jean
Because you think about things. I knew you were the right one. You are a shaman. Talk to us through your theatre. What is it saying? What world are you showing us? How does it help us live our lives? How does it fulfil the ancient pursuit of theatre to show the society what it is and to help it heal? Through laughter or tears. It’s not art to talk to the knowing, it is art to talk to the oblivious.
Philippe
Jean, who are you?
Jean
I’m just a person who likes theatre.
Philippe
I hate theatre. It’s a pseudo Universe. A utopian laboratory that holds you in false suspense that the world can be alright. It has its own laws, different time, different space... lofty notions. And when the time comes when you have to encounter the real world, you don’t know how to survive. You perish like a goldfish released into the sea.
Jean
But we pay you for your lofty ideas. You don’t have to work, remember? You have an important role. To keep the society in check. You are the bearer of culture. It’s not an indulgence occasionally enjoyed by those who can reach it. It’s a collection of rules and principles in which a human being can exist and work. A system that has to be accepted by the members of a certain society. A language, an education, law, ethics, customs, religion... art.
Philippe
You know what, Jean? Fuck off!
Jean
Pardon?
Philippe
(Throws all the banknotes he collected at Jean) Take your money, whoever you are, and fuck off. I don’t want your million.
Jean
Too late. One million Euro was transferred into your theatre’s account during our meeting.
Philippe
What?
Jean
It’s true. Monsieur Petitér decided to support you. Build your stage and break a leg!
Philippe
And this whole time I’ve been making a fool of myself?
Jean
Do you want to know the things you could have been spared? That’s not important. Accept it as a whole – as a show.
Philippe is destroyed. Jean starts tidying the office, indicating he wants to leave.
Philippe
Right. Is that it?
Jean
Yes. Just one more thing. (He hands his phone over to Philippe) Please, call the last dialled number.
Philippe
(Dials the number) What do you want me to say?
Jean
Say it’s over.
Philippe
(Thinks he is calling Monsieur Petitér but really he is resigned to it all now. He speaks as soon as the other person answers to relay the message) Hello? This is Philippe Martin. It’s over. (Unexpectedly, a woman answers) It’s some woman!
Jean
Yes. It’s my wife. (Philippe starts to understand) I may have deserved it anyway, it’s over. She is remarkable. To me. She’s one of many to you.
Philippe
(Philippe understands what is going on and who he is speaking to. He continues into the phone) Jean loves you. I was just... I just... I’m a swine.
Jean
Impressive, but you didn’t have to do that. (Philippe hands the phone over to Jean) Oh, and, could you tell her... tell her I’m a better actor than you.
Jean is pleading with his look that says “It wouldn’t kill you”. Philippe has to gather all strength for what he has to say but in a way he is telling the truth.
Philippe
Your husband is a better actor than me.
Philippe puts the phone down on the desk and starts to leave.
Jean
Oh and would you keep our seats in the first row. When you build your new stage, naturally. Me and my wife won’t leave them empty next time. Actors aren’t supposed to sit in the first row but I’m really just an amateur.
Philippe leaves. Quiet music gets gradually louder. Jean tidies the office up with pragmatic efficiency, as if nothing special happened there today. It is getting dark.
THE END
Translated by Eva Daníčková
