DIRECTOR: Dammit, why not? Don’t you have any imagination? So imagine, for example, that your lover has dumped you. If you don’t remember the script, improvise for the time being.

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) If anyone else’s phone rings, I… (to MAN) Continue.

MAN: (instead of starting his speech, starts rummaging through his pockets) Sorry…

DIRECTOR: (through clenched teeth) What now?

MAN: I can’t find my glasses.

DIRECTOR: To hell with your glasses! Tomorrow you’ll have no glasses and no script either. Speak, say something! Imagine yourself on a platform in the middle of a spacious square. An open coffin stands before you, the orchestra has fallen silent, the guard is motionless, dozens of television cameras are pointed at you, the whole country is watching you, waiting to hear what you’re going to say. Will you be rummaging around in your pockets then?

MAN: But I haven’t learned the speech yet.

DIRECTOR: I know you haven’t learned it. But for now don’t think about what to say, just how to say it.

CONSULTANT: (from her corner) The “what” is important too.

DIRECTOR: (threateningly) Nobody asked you.

MAN: And how must it be said?

DIRECTOR: Sincerely, with feeling. Your words should come from your very heart… Remember in Faust? “Let apes and children praise your art, if their admiration’s to your taste, But you’ll never speak from heart to heart, unless it rises up from your heart’s space.” Got it? Well! Off you go!

MAN: (reading from the paper in his hand) Dear brother!..

DIRECTOR: Don’t look at the paper but at the camera, right at the camera!

MAN: But there’s no camera.

DIRECTOR: Here, in rehearsal, I’ll play the role of the camera. And tomorrow, during the show, think of it the other way, that the camera’s your director. It’s me, your best friend. Looking into the camera’s eye – directly into the lens, that is – address it as if it were a living person. Keep this in mind: that way you’ll be looking into the eyes of millions of people, and they’ll be looking at you. Clear? Off you go!

MAN: (staring intently at DIRECTOR) Dear brother!..

DIRECTOR: Stop! You’re looking at the camera, and that’s good, but you’ve forgotten to portray grief.

MAN: It’s difficult to remember everything at once – my face, and the camera, and the words, and the grief. I’m afraid of losing the thread.

DIRECTOR: To hell with the words, then! Words are the least of your worries. If you can’t remember, don’t. Words aren’t important in the modern theater. The main thing is to express emotion.

CONSULTANT: (from her corner) All the same, it seems to me that the words are important too.

DIRECTOR: (to CONSULTANT) Should I kick you out now or wait for you to pipe up again? (to MAN) Continue. Your face should be sad but at the same time serene, inspiring energy and optimism. Yes, your best friend has left you too soon, but he will always stay with you, in your heart. He will not be forgotten. His work will never die. And you will be the one to carry it on. So, start over! Sobs constrict your throat…

MAN: (in a strangled voice, while unsuccessfully trying to create a mixture of sadness, energy, and optimism on his face) Dear brother!

DIRECTOR: What are you muttering there?

MAN: This sobbing’s making my throat tight.

DIRECTOR: So it’s tight, but you still have to speak clearly.

MAN: (in his own voice) All this is very difficult. How can anybody portray sorrow and optimism at once? This isn’t going anywhere.

DIRECTOR: (furious) It isn’t going anywhere because you don’t know how to put in the work, and you don’t even want to. I’m afraid I’m only wasting my precious time with you.

MAN: (unexpectedly gruff and arrogant) You forget yourself, my dear sir. Please watch your tone. Yes, we have no acting talent. What of it? We don’t have to. We’re busy with more important things. Politicians should never be actors.

DIRECTOR: You’re wrong. It’s actors who should never be politicians. A good politician ought to be an actor, though. But so be it. If I ever find the time, I’ll give you some private lessons. Provided you make it worth my while, needless to say. In the meantime, go run your lines in front of a mirror and learn the words.