by Tony Medawar
DENNIS: Ruby’s always been one to put business on a firm social footing. You know, I was beginning to wonder if I had leprosy or something. I haven’t seen any of the gang for weeks.
JILL: Perhaps we’re all a bit jealous.
DENNIS: And I haven’t seen you for ages.
JILL: I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.
DENNIS: Of course I wanted to see you. What on earth makes you say that?
JILL: Well, whenever I call you’re out, if I ring you’re busy—it gets embarrassing.
DENNIS: Nonsense. It’s just that I’ve been so tied up. There’s a hell of a lot of work involved in an exhibition like this.
JILL: You mean Ruby and The Christmas Card King don’t leave much time for your friends?
DENNIS: That’s unfair: If it wasn’t for Ruby and Harold where would I be now? I owe everything to them. I’ve got to make some sacrifices.
JILL: At whose expense—mine?
DENNIS: That’s ridiculous.
JILL: Dennis, I don’t enjoy being turned on and off like a tap when you happen to need sympathy. You’ve got to make up your mind—you can’t always have the best of both worlds.
SCENE 5: THE GALLERY
(Bob, Bradley and Biddy are still working)
BRADLEY: Where’s the portrait of Tillet? Bob, where’s the portrait?
BOB: At the flat. Or it was when I left.
BRADLEY: Hell’s teeth. Bloody portrait of bloody philanthropist to be unveiled to-bloody-morrow and we don’t know where it is. Isn’t it marvellous? Give him a ring will you?
BOB: He won’t be there.
BRADLEY: Why not?
BOB: He’s going to Ruby’s.
BRADLEY: What?
BOB: Dinner. ‘We dayne at nayne’, or used to in my day.
BRADLEY: I didn’t know Madam was having a dinner party.
BOB: Weren’t you asked, then?
BRADLEY: Good grief. It’s got nothing to do with me. She can invite whoever she likes to her mad tea parties. I don’t care.
(Beatrice Page enters. She is tall, middle-aged, antiseptic. Bradley sees her)
BRADLEY: I’m sorry, we’re not open yet.
BEATRICE: I know. But do you mind if I have a glance? I shan’t get in the way. Hullo, Bob.
BOB: (mumbling) Hi.
BRADLEY: Oh, but you’re Beatrice Page. You’re the wonderful influence I’ve heard so much about.
BEATRICE: How do you do?
BRADLEY: (to Bob) Why couldn’t you say so?
BOB: Influence? I wouldn’t mind sixpence for every time Beatrice’s bawled us out. Dennis never got away with second best when she was around.
BRADLEY: (laying on the charm) Do look, by all means. I’m afraid we’ll be closing soon. In fact all we’re waiting for is Mr Tillet’s portrait.
(During the following exchange Beatrice looks around the pictures with a cool eye)
Bob, do you think you could get it?
BOB: Won’t tomorrow do?
BRADLEY: How about now? We’ll be here for another half hour or so and even if we lock up, the key is behind that brick nonsense by the door. Take a taxi.
BOB: We’re not all rich and famous.
BRADLEY: (handing over a note to Bob) Here you are. Get a receipt.
BEATRICE: Could I come with you, Bob? Do you mind?
BOB: Okay by me.
(Beatrice and Bob start to go)
BRADLEY: (looking round) I dread to think what the portrait’s like.
SCENE 6: THE STUDIO
(The portrait of Harold Tillet is on the easel. Dennis is looking at it. He pours himself yet another glass of wine and looks back at the portrait)
SCENE 7: DRAWING-ROOM
(The dinner guests from Scene 2 are chatting)
RUBY: I’ve seen it. It’s wonderful. Such a sensitive piece of work and so like you, Harold. It’s quite uncanny.
HAROLD: He wouldn’t let me look at it, which seemed damn’ funny. I like to see what I’m paying for. Well, at least it’s a relief to know he hasn’t given me four eyes or two heads.
MRS BURNLEY: They do say two heads are better than one.
HAROLD: Yes, and better two-headed than two-faced. (They laugh)
SCENE 8: THE STUDIO
(Dennis, Beatrice and Bob are looking at the portrait)
DENNIS: Beatrice, it’s a map of his face. That’s the sort of thing he wants and that’s the sort of thing he’s getting. I did what I was paid for.
BEATRICE: And that’s enough?
DENNIS: Alright, alright, so you don’t like it.
BEATRICE: What do you think, Bob?
BOB: Leave me out of it, please. I have to live here.
BEATRICE: No, tell me, Bob, honestly. What do you think?
BOB: We all have to earn a crust.
DENNIS: (to Beatrice) There you are! That’s what I mean!
BEATRICE: Has he seen it?
DENNIS: No. I wouldn’t let him look.
BEATRICE: Don’t worry, he’ll eat it up. (Bob grunts) And the other work? (Dennis looks at Beatrice questioningly) I’ve been to the gallery.
DENNIS: Oh.
BEATRICE: Some of those things are fine, Dennis. The stuff you painted before—before Ruby Kerr-Bates got her hands on you—is first class. But this new stuff? Is this what all the midnight oil was burned for? All those arguments about honesty and artistic arrogance?
DENNIS: A lot of people are going to see that exhibition, Beatrice—a lot of different people—
BEATRICE: And you’re going to please them all?
DENNIS: If I can. An exhibition has got to have a wide appeal. It must have variety. To concentrate on one style, it’s artistically self—self-indulgent.
BEATRICE: Who said that? Ruby Kerr-Bates?
DENNIS: It doesn’t matter who said it.
BOB: Excuse me. I hate to break up a row but can I take it? Bradley’s waiting to close up.
DENNIS: Why not? It doesn’t seem to have found much favour here. (Bob picks up the portrait and goes) Beatrice, I’m a painter. I have to sell pictures to live. I have a certain talent. Some of that stuff is pop. Okay, but it’s well done, it couldn’t have been done by anybody else. What’s wrong with that?
BEATRICE: I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Your talent is not yours, Dennis. It’s other people’s, too. All the people who’ve worked with you, who’ve encouraged you, who’ve given you their time and their experience. People like me, Dennis. And when you prostitute your talent with that sort of muck you not only betray yourself, you betray me. That’s what I mean.
SCENE 9: THE GALLERY
(Bradley is placing the portrait on an easel in a prominent position and arranging a cover which will fall away when a slip knot is pulled)
BIDDY: I’ve checked the catalogue. Everything seems to be right—
BRADLEY: Don’t worry about tidying up. We can do that tomorrow. As long as the main junk is in the stack-room. The important thing at the moment is—will it work? (He pulls the string, the cover drops away) It does.
BOB: (clapping slowly) And what do you do for an encore?
BRADLEY: Very funny (He re-ties the string) Well, that’s it.
(Jill enters)
JILL: Hullo, who’s hungry?
BOB: Me for a start.
BRADLEY: Come on, let’s get out of here.
(We hold on Jill who looks round at the pictures with growing anxiety)
SCENE 10: DINING-ROOM
(At Lady Kerr-Bates’ house, Harold, Ruby, the Burnleys, Alleyn and Dennis are now at table in the dining-room. Soup is being served)
RUBY: We’d given you up for lost.
DENNIS: I’m terribly sorry. I was held up.
RUBY: Well, this time we’ll forgive you. After all, you’re the guest of honour.
HAROLD: You’re lucky you’re not in business, young man. You wouldn’t last long if this is how you keep appointments.
RUBY: Now, now, he said he was sorry.
DR BURNLEY: You’re sure you won’t
have some wine, Ruby? It’s very good.
RUBY: No thank you. It’s an awful social sin, I know, but I just don’t like wine. One of my little quirks I suppose. I’m perfectly happy with my ‘Bloody Mary’.
HAROLD: How does the gallery look? Everything in the right place?
DENNIS: Yes, I think so.
HAROLD: Think so? What do you mean, ‘think so’?
DENNIS: Well—
RUBY: I’m sure it’s perfect. Now don’t worry the poor boy.
HAROLD: And what about this poor boy? It’s my gallery, after all.
RUBY: Well, if you’re so worried let’s go down after dinner and have a look.
DENNIS: I’d rather you didn’t.
RUBY: Why not? A sneak preview?
DENNIS: No, please. Anyway, they’ll have locked up by now.
RUBY: That doesn’t matter. We can always get in. The key’ll be behind that brick wall thing. It always is.
SCENE 11: THE FOYER
(Outside the gallery door a hand comes into view and finds the key behind a nook in the brick wall. It unlocks the door and an unrecognisable figure goes in)
SCENE 12: DINING-ROOM
(Same as in Scene 10)
HAROLD: You know this is going to be quite an eye-opener for Auckland. A new gallery and not one piece of four-eyed rubbish.
DR BURNLEY: Come now, that’s hardly fair. There’s a lot of fine work being exhibited in Auckland.
HAROLD: Don’t try to sell me that. When Ruby first got this bee in her bonnet about a gallery, I did a tour. Squiggles and lines and splurges. You call that art?!
RUBY: Oh, Harold, it’s only a phase. Dennis went through it too. He was painting all sorts of horrible pictures. But now he’s doing lovely work. And I might say I had a wee bit of influence in that—didn’t I, dear?
DENNIS: (bitterly) But an exhibition can’t be all Christmas cards.
HAROLD: And what’s that supposed to mean? You’re not putting rubbish up in my gallery, boy. You’ll get short shrift if you do.
RUBY: Now, Harold—
HAROLD: I’m holding you responsible Ruby, you know that.
RUBY: Harold—
HAROLD: My gallery is going to offer a real service—strike a blow for public taste. What do you say, Alleyn?
ALLEYN: I’m afraid only the usual things. A painter must be allowed a certain freedom. He has the right, even the responsibility, to express himself in his own way. Unless he does, how can art develop those sorts of things?
DR BURNLEY: I agree. An artist must—
HAROLD: So you’d give every beatnik with a brush the right to paint whatever cockeyed idea enters his head?
ALLEYN: Finally—yes.
HAROLD: Oh, for God’s sake!
ALLEYN: Anything else, to coin a phrase, is artistic prostitution. (To Dennis) What do you think?
(During this exchange we have been watching the growing tension in Dennis. At this point he breaks. He stands up, scraping his chair back. He grabs the table for a moment, sways, then turns and staggers from the room)
HAROLD: Good God.
ALLEYN: I’m sorry. I seem to have upset him.
RUBY: Not at all. It’s the exhibition tomorrow. He’s a very nervous boy. Very sensitive.
HAROLD: He’s been drinking too much!
RUBY: I’d better see what’s the matter. Will you excuse me? (She leaves the room)
HAROLD: God preserve me from sensitive artists.
SCENE 13: DRAWING-ROOM
(After dinner at Ruby’s house. Dennis is standing, tight and tense. He flops on to a sofa. Ruby enters)
RUBY: I understand, dear boy, I know what you’re going through.
DENNIS: Do you?
RUBY: Of course I do. I know how deeply you feel things. I do too.
DENNIS: Why can’t I be left alone? Everybody thinks they own me. God, I wish I was back six months ago.
RUBY: (a little hurt) That’s not very flattering to me, darling. (No reply) Is it? (Still no reply) You’re upset. Heavens, tomorrow you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about. (She sits beside him) Now don’t worry, I’ll be there to look after you. (She takes his head in her lap) To protect you from all those awful people who don’t understand. (She kisses him, then starts gently rocking him) We’re a team, remember. Just the two of us—a team. Darling … darling.
(As she rocks him, Harold comes in)
HAROLD: Is everything alright? (He sees them)
RUBY: Shsh.
(Harold looks at them as Ruby rocks on)
SCENE 14: THE GALLERY
(The opening is under way. Groups of people, much chatter. Wine is being served by waiters in jackets. We see Violet Cross peering through her opera glasses, Beatrice talking to Bob, Bradley Crewes on tenterhooks, Jill looking for Dennis who is trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible)
BRADLEY: What are you doing here? (with urgency) Come on. The new man from the Herald wants to talk to you. (Bradley notices Violet Cross. He turns to his secretary) Who’s that?
BIDDY: Violet Cross. She was very upset that we didn’t send her an invitation. She goes to all the exhibitions, she says.
BRADLEY: Really? Come on, Dennis.
(Shot of Beatrice and Bob together)
BEATRICE: Tell me, Bob, if someone offered you money and all this, would you paint a thing like that?
BOB: That’s the $64,000 dollar question—and for $64,000—(he shrugs) Everybody’s got a price, I suppose.
(Bradley spots Ruby and Harold and bounds forward to meet them in the foyer)
RUBY: Oh, it’s all so exciting. Is everybody here?
BRADLEY: Yes, dear lady, now you’ve arrived.
RUBY: (laughing) Any reactions?
BRADLEY: I don’t know about the pictures, but the champagne’s having its calculated effect.
HAROLD: (seeing one of the wooden sculptures in the foyer) And what’s that?
BRADLEY: Just a decorative piece.
HAROLD: Chi-chi nonsense.
(A waiter brings tray of champagne glasses)
WAITER: (to Ruby) Champagne?
HAROLD: ‘Bloody Mary’.
WAITER: I beg your pardon, sir?
BRADLEY: Lady Kerr-Bates doesn’t drink wine. Allow me.
RUBY: Thank you. (Bradley moves off) I can hardly believe it’s really happening at last!
HAROLD: Ruby, before we go in, will you tell me something. What took your fancy first, the gallery—or the artist?
RUBY: (as if about to say ‘what?’ and somewhat incredulous) —
HAROLD: (stares at her for a second) Think about it. (He strides off. Ruby follows)
(We thread through the crowd seeing all the main characters, picking up Bradley who is explaining a bottle of vodka and a jug of tomato juice to barman. He pours a glass and points out Ruby to second waiter who takes the glass and we follow him past Beatrice, Bob, Violet Cross, Alleyn, Dennis and Jill to Ruby who takes the glass automatically, her mind on the pictures, surprised by the abstracts and worried what Harold will say. Harold appears—furious)
HAROLD: Is this your idea of a joke?
RUBY: Harold, please! People are—
HAROLD: Look at it! Just look at it!
RUBY: Harold, I honestly didn’t realise.
HAROLD: A new artist you said! New artist—huh! I blame you for this Ruby.
RUBY: Be fair, Harold. I honestly didn’t know about these pictures.
HAROLD: Nobody makes a fool of me and gets away with it. (Bob comes up to them)
BOB: (stirring it) Enjoying the show?
RUBY: Oh, hullo Bob. Harold this is a young artist friend of Dennis’s—Bob Hemmings.
HAROLD: Do you do this sort of muck too? (Bob looks at the picture Harold is indicating, then back at him)
BOB: Yes, but I only wish I could do it as well.
HAROLD: Hah! (He moves off)
BOB: What’s biting him then?
RUBY: Bob, will you do me a favour? Will you keep an eye on Harold. I’m
scared he might do something foolish.
BOB: Like what? String up Dennis among the artwork?
RUBY: Bob, I’m serious, Please, for my sake.
BOB: Ruby my love, I stopped being your errand boy a long time ago: Ask Dennis. He’s the obliging one—remember? (Bob goes off. Ruby moves towards Harold, who we see is at the bar. She brushes past Beatrice) Excuse me.
BEATRICE: Certainly: (We hold on Beatrice watching Ruby. Dennis is with Jill as Ruby comes up to them)
RUBY: Dennis, how could you do this to me? (Dennis gives an inimical look at her) Don’t I matter any more? You promised not to include those horrible old—you promised, and now look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined everything! (She moves on to the bar and rejoins Harold, also there. Her glass is empty. Bradley is hovering during the exchange between them. Ruby’s glass is taken by barman and refilled.)
RUBY: Harold?
HAROLD: What?
RUBY: There are some people I’d like you to meet.
HAROLD: So that they can laugh in my face instead of behind my back?
RUBY: (brightly, trying to wave off his bad mood) Harold, please.
HAROLD: Have you thought about the fun the newspapers will have—‘Christmas Card King Patronises Modern Bilge’.
RUBY! But darling, think of all the publicity.
(Bradley comes upon them, interrupting)
BRADLEY: It’s time for speeches. Stand by. (He moves off again)
VIOLET: (coming up and addressing herself to Harold) What a fine job you’re doing, Mr Tillet—and you too, Lady Kerr-Bates. It’s a lovely gallery, isn’t it?
HAROLD: Is it?
BRADLEY: (ringing a small bell) Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention, please. (We see him by the portrait with the doctor) As Director of the Tillet Gallery I have the honour to introduce Dr Burnley, the President of the Auckland Society of Arts.
(Applause. Dr Burnley clears his throat)
BURNLEY: Ladies and Gentlemen, what a great pleasure and privilege it is to be chosen to open this new and exciting gallery.
(Among the crowd are Alleyn, Jill, Dennis and Beatrice, who is looking at Dennis)
The art world here in Auckland never ceases to amaze me. The variety of fine work is really astonishing. These last 10 or 15 years have seen the rise of a new generation of artists who have richly contributed to the culture of this community. And equally important we have seen the development of a genuine interest from the public—the people who make it possible for artists to pay the rent. (Light laughter from crowd) This building will be a magnificent addition to the Auckland art world and the man behind it deserves nothing but praise for his foresight, understanding and generosity.
