WOMAN: On television?

DIRECTOR: No, first we’ll take your clothes off. And then we’ll tape you without them.

WOMAN: I don’t understand. You want me to perform in the nude?

DIRECTOR: Do you call this dressed?

WOMAN: (frightened) But I can’t appear in public without a stitch on.

DIRECTOR: Why not? First, you’ll look more decent that way than you do half-naked. Secondly, it’s just not a show these days unless somebody’s in the buff.

WOMAN: (frightened) You seriously want to undress me?

DIRECTOR: I can undress you frivolously, if you want.

WOMAN: But so many people will see me!

DIRECTOR: At worst they’ll get a kick out of our show.

MAN: And what’s the motivation going to be?

DIRECTOR: (surprised that MAN has butted in) Actually, that’s my concern, not yours. Still, the motivation’s obvious: a woman’s gone out of her mind with suffering, and she’s thinking not about decency but only about her grief. She collapses onto the coffin in despair. Only her long, flowing hair covers her nudity, like Lady Godiva…

WOMAN: My hair’s not long enough to cover my… you know… my nudity.

DIRECTOR: We’ll get you a wig. But OK. I’ll give that option more thought later. Consider it a joke. Meanwhile, let’s start over. Well? Don’t dilly-dally! Off you go!

WOMAN: Dear friend!..

DIRECTOR: Not like that, not like that! Grief, more grief! Drop a tear or two if you can.

WOMAN: (tries to squeeze out a tear, fails, feels guilty). I just can’t weep. I always can, but not this time.

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.