by David Hare
Elaine For Christ’s sake, man …
Peggy has reappeared in stripes.
Peggy What do you think?
Elaine (shouts) It sucks. (She throws up her hands in the air, apologizing.) No, I’m sorry. It’s just … What are we doing? Where is Angelis?
Peggy I want to do the scene.
Everyone momentarily lost, before Stephen looks up again, mild, oblivious.
Stephen Why are policemen so important in homosexual mythology?
M’Bengue Pardon?
Stephen It’s … I’m reading about E. M. Forster. What everyone admires in him is not … you know … books, I mean that’s what he wrote, but what everyone really admires him for was having a boyfriend who was a policeman.
M’Bengue Well, it is an achievement.
Stephen I suppose. (He smiles to himself.) P. C. Bob Buckingham.
Martinson is frowning, ready to hold forth again.
Martinson But in a sense it’s absolutely symbolic in a way, isn’t it?
Elaine (quietly) Oh, God.
Martinson Surely what he was doing was forcing the authoritarian figure, in a sense, to yield … I’m just talking out loud here.
Elaine looks across at Peggy, close to murder. Then goes and lies down on the bed in the fake room.
In some way the father-figure perhaps …
Elaine Oh, Jesus, where is Angelis?
Martinson He was seducing him and in some way he was forcing him to admit that his authority was an act, that underneath the social role we all play, we are all …
Stephen What?
Martinson Well, you know …
Stephen What?
Martinson pauses.
Martinson Gay.
Stephen frowns, mystified. Martinson hastens to qualify.
I mean, not exclusively. We’re not, exclusively. Obviously, you would know more about this. If you’ve seen those films about fish, it’s clear. It’s been proved biologically. Sometimes it’s one thing, sometimes the other …
Elaine (calling from the bed) And sometimes fuck-all if they’re anything like the rest of us.
Martinson explodes.
Martinson Will somebody please tell this woman …
Stephen It’s all right, honestly. She’s just provoking you.
Stephen smiles, placating. Martinson goes on, the air tense.
Martinson We pay a price for suppressing this truth. That we are all bisexual. We hide this fact at enormous expense to ourselves in order to obey some imaginary social norm. But the result of this suppression is great damage inside. Finally … yes … we implode.
Stephen Yes, well …
Martinson Literally!
Stephen (puzzled) It’s a problem.
Martinson Yes.
At once Angelis sweeps on, followed by Assistants.
Angelis I am sorry, my friends …
Peggy Angelis!
Angelis … I have been delayed. Crew!
All the actors get up as he calls out.
Elaine Thank God. We were all about to implode.
Angelis Please, we move on, we prepare the scene.
Peggy moves on to the set as Elaine and Martinson leave it. Stephen quiet, near Angelis.
Stephen Has there been trouble?
Angelis No. No trouble.
Stephen I thought perhaps …
Angelis What?
The furniture in the room is changed round by the Crew, setting it right.
Stephen We had heard that Mehta was coming.
Angelis Mehta is coming, yes.
He moves away, passing Elaine who has collected her script.
Monica, all well?
Elaine Fine, thank you.
Angelis turns, looking at the set.
Angelis Please, now, everyone, we rehearse. It is what? It is the evening. The scene is evening. Peggy at last begins to have her doubts.
Stephen is waiting, refusing to give up.
Stephen Have you spoken to Mehta?
Angelis Only on the phone.
Stephen And?
Angelis It is true there are things he does not like in our production.
Stephen Such as?
Angelis I don’t know.
Stephen Angelis. Everyone here has heard rumours that the film is in danger.
A Propman has appeared with an inappropriate pink-feathered fan.
Propman Where do I put this?
There is a sudden quiet The Elaine-actress speaks with authority.
Elaine Keep going Mike.
There is a moment before Angelis realizes he must square with the actors. Then:
Angelis It is not him. It is Peggy.
Stephen Peggy?
Angelis Peggy came. She visited the set, you remember? Earlier today. She saw the action. It reminds her of the original events – the events, the book, the film. Suddenly she panics. She is now – what? – an older woman, and she sees we are to re-enact a night of which she is no longer proud. Suddenly thinking … she realizes she was callous. Her actions seem cruel.
Stephen Right.
Angelis She goes back to Victor Mehta. She tries to stop the film.
Stephen What?
Angelis No, it is fine … (He wanders over to the set.)
Elaine The film is being stopped?
Angelis There is a contractual argument, that is all, as to whether Victor Mehta has the right to approve the screenplay.
Stephen Does he?
Angelis In theory, perhaps. It is in his contract, yes, but the lawyers … you can imagine.
Stephen Angelis –
Angelis His solicitors have notified us of their intention to serve an injunction, and we have notified them of our intention to counterfile. (He stops, firm.) It is a game. (Then smiles, resuming his usual manner.) So meanwhile, until the resolution, we schedule rehearsal. Yes? Say nothing please.
Stephen All right. (He walks away, unhappily.)
Angelis Please, we rehearse. I beg you, let us act.
A Propman has appeared through the ‘door’ of the ‘room’ with an enormous bunch of flowers.
Propman You have flowers?
Peggy (delighted) For me?
Angelis No, no flowers. The flowers are downstairs.
The Mehta-actor has walked on and has sat down at the desk in the bedroom, taking his jacket off and putting it over the back of the chair. Peggy has for some time been stretched out on the top of the bed in her latest dressing-gown. They are silent, ready to go.
Angelis Madeleine in her place. And Shashi, please … to work.
The room is peaceful, ready for action, but the M’Bengue-actor is still standing in the middle.
Angelis Er, John …
M’Bengue turns and looks out.
M’Bengue ‘Slavery’.
Angelis What?
M’Bengue ‘Slavery’ is the word.
There’s a pause. Then he turns and walks silently out of the room.
Angelis OK.
Only Mehta and Peggy remain. The lights change. Peggy, who is staring at the counterpane, now looks up, and SCENE SIX begins.
Peggy How do you write a book?
Mehta (without looking up) Mmm?
Peggy I mean, when you start out, do you know what you think?
Mehta No.
Peggy I don’t mean the plot. I’m sure the plot’s easy …
Mehta No, the plot’s very hard.
Peggy Well, all right, the plot’s hard. But what you think … do you know what you think?
Mehta No. (He turns from writing in his notebook and looks at her.) The act of writing is the act of discovering what you believe. (He turns back to his work, smiling slightly.) How do you act?
Peggy (smiles at once) Oh, lord …
Mehta Well?
Peggy I mean, I don’t. Not really. I’m not an actress. I’m too conscious. I’m too self-aware. I stand aside.
Mehta Does that mean you plan to give it up?
Peggy does not answer. She has
already picked up a booklet which is beside her on the bed.
Peggy Don’t you love this country?
Mehta Why?
Peggy An airline timetable, I was looking …
Mehta Were you thinking of leaving?
Peggy No, listen, what I love about India, the only country in the world where they’d print poetry – here, look, at the bottom of the Kuwait-Delhi airline schedule. A poem. ‘Some come to India to find themselves, some come to lose themselves …’ In an airline schedule? Isn’t that a pretty frightening admission?
He is about to speak seriously but she interrupts him.
Mehta Peggy …
Peggy No, I wasn’t leaving. How could I be leaving? I’m here to make a film.
Mehta But?
A pause. Then she looks away.
Peggy But at lunchtime I did something so stupid that the thought of going down those steps …
Mehta Ah well, yes.
Peggy … into that lobby, along that corridor, past those delegates, into that deserted conference hall, for this appalling contest …
Mehta Yes.
Peggy … when all I want is to spend my time with you.
A pause. Mehta sets aside his notebook.
Mehta American women, they make me laugh. I am at home.
Peggy Well, good.
Mehta It is like they pick you up in their lovemaking from wherever they last left off. At once, bang! and they’re away. No matter with whom it was last time, if it was someone else, no matter, nevertheless, it is go at once. The passion again. Making love to an American woman, it is like climbing aboard an already moving train.
Peggy smiles and gets off the bed to go to the bathroom.
Peggy We have needs.
Mehta I am sure.
Peggy (calling as she goes out) We have no guilt. Americans are unashamed of their needs.
Mehta (smiles) Yes.
Peggy (off) When an Englishman has an emotion, his first instinct is to repress it. When an American has an emotion, his first instinct …
Mehta Ah well, yes …
Peggy (off) They express it!
Mehta Usually at length.
Peggy (off) Why not?
Mehta sits smiling, contented, happy with Peggy and able to show it clearly now she is out of the room.
Mehta Always examining their own reactions …
Peggy (off) Yes.
Mehta Always analysing, always telling you what they feel – I think, I feel. Hey – let me tell you what I feel …
Peggy Sure.
Mehta The endless drama of it all.
Peggy reappears at the bathroom door. She has taken off her dressing-gown and has changed into another loose cotton suit.
Peggy And which is better, tell me, Victor, next to the English? Which is healthier, eh?
He looks at her with great affection.
Mehta You make love like a wounded panther. You are like a paintshop on fire.
She looks at him. Then raises her eyebrows.
Peggy Well, goodness.
Mehta Yes.
Peggy Writer, eh?
He smiles. There is a knock at the door. Peggy goes to answer it.
Mehta It comes in handy.
Peggy Is that what you say to all the girls? ‘Thank you, that was wounded-panther-like.’
She opens the door. A Waiter is standing outside.
Yes?
Waiter Mr Andrews. He is waiting downstairs.
Peggy looks at the Waiter a moment, then nods.
Peggy Thank you.
She closes the door, stands a moment, her face turned away from Mehta. Then she turns, walks across to the dressing-table and picks up her hairbrush. Then, casually:
What about you?
Mehta What?
Peggy Are you thinking of leaving?
Mehta No, of course not. I shall stay for this contest tonight.
There is a slight pause, then both of them speak at once.
Peggy …
Peggy I don’t know. I can’t say which of the two of you makes more sense to me. I’ve never had to choose, you see. Like so many people. I’ve never made a choice. (She turns and smiles at him.) Sitting at nights with my professors, eating Angel bars, sure, it was great. Philosophy, that was my major … eight arguments as to whether God exists.
Mehta Does he?
Peggy We never decided.
Mehta There you are.
Peggy But the game was fun. No question. It felt good, it still feels good, that moment of understanding something. When you understand an idea for the first time. But applying it? Well, that’s different, the world not offering so many opportunities for that sort of thing. Arts and humanities! Philosophy! What’s the point in America, where the only philosophy you’ll ever encounter is the philosophy of making money? In my case taking off T-shirts. In fact, not even taking them off – I’m too up-scale for that. I have only to hint there are situations in which I would show my breasts to certain people, certain rich people, that they do indeed exist under there, but for now it’s enough to suggest their shape, hint at their shape in a T-shirt. Often it will have to be wet. By soaking my T-shirts in water I make my living. It’s true. Little to do with the life of ideas. (She smiles.) Spoiled. Spoiled doesn’t say it, though that’s what people say about Americans, and spoiled, I suppose, is what I was till lunchtime, till I made this ridiculous offer. A young idiot’s suicidal offer with which she is now going to have to learn to live. Yes? (She turns and looks at Mehta.) Well, good luck to you. Debate well, Victor, for on your performance depends …
Mehta (smiles) Don’t tell me.
Peggy … my future. Tonight.
They stand at opposite sides of the room looking at each other.
Mehta It’s your fault.
Peggy Oh, yes.
Mehta You with your ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter who wins.’ It does matter. What we believe matters more than anything. This you must learn.
The Waiter knocks on the door. Peggy does not move, just calls out, looking at Victor all the time.
Peggy Yes!
Waiter Madam, Mr Andrews is asking why you are not downstairs.
Peggy Tell him … tell him we are coming. Just one minute. Mr Mehta is preparing his case.
Mehta smiles.
Mehta Kiss me.
Peggy No kisses. I am no longer yours. I belong now to the winner of an argument.
There is another knock at the door.
Peggy Yes!
Elaine opens the door.
Oh, I’m sorry, Elaine, I thought it was the waiter.
Elaine Are you coming down?
A pause.
Mehta Excuse me. (He goes out.)
Elaine Do I detect a difference of opinion?
Peggy No, you detect a very harsh man. (She goes to the bathroom with a glass of water.)
Elaine Well, you don’t have to …
Peggy Don’t have to what?
Elaine Go through with it. Have a more urgent appointment. Tell them you’re busy. Tell them you’re working.
Peggy I’m not.
Elaine But just lie.
Peggy Lie?
Elaine Yes, lie. Don’t you do that?
Peggy thinks a moment.
Peggy Well, no. (She goes into the bathroom for her hairbrush.)
Elaine My God, how do you manage? Lying’s the thing which makes life possible. You should work for the networks for a while. I can’t imagine a life without lying.
Peggy Why do you pretend to be so hard-boiled?
Elaine I don’t pretend. Are you serious? Trying to get my bosses interested in anything which happens abroad, do you think I don’t have to threaten and blackmail and lie? Ask any journalist. Who cares at all. I do it so’s to get something on television about how four-fifths of the planet lives.
Peggy But doesn’t it drive you crazy? How can you bear it?
Elaine By 1990 one American in six will at some time in their life have worked for MacDonalds. Put it
like that, I’m doing pretty well.
They look at each other.
Tell them you’re working.
Peggy No. It’s too late.
A pause.
Elaine Are you ready?
Peggy Yes.
Elaine crosses and kisses her.
Elaine Let’s go down. (She turns.) All right?
Angelis (off) Yes. But smile at the end.
Angelis walks thoughtfully on to the set, the lights change and we are into SCENE SEVEN.
Angelis All right. Let’s go on. Madeleine?
Peggy Yes?
He turns and sees that the Peggy-actress has turned away as if to cry.
Angelis Are you all right?
Peggy Oh, I’m sorry, I …
Angelis holds up a tactful hand at an approaching Crew Member.
Angelis Hold it.
Peggy No.
The Mehta-actor has returned and now goes over to comfort her.
Elaine OK, sweetheart?
Peggy Yes … no … I’m sorry, it’s silly. I just … I was doing the scene. I’d never really thought about it. She didn’t know what she was doing, Peggy didn’t know, she did it unthinkingly … I mean she was innocent. (She looks at them. Then anticlimactically starts to apologize again.) I don’t know, I guess I’d never really thought.
Angelis (relieved) OK, right, take the flat out.
Crewman OK, guv.
The wall goes, the bed goes, the furniture is taken out. A Make-up Girl waits with Peggy’s shoes. At the very back Stephen is seen going through his lines with the Script Girl.
Stephen Once more.
Script Girl Same line.
Make-up Girl Miss King?
The Peggy-actress goes over to put her shoes on. The Mehta-actor wanders down near her.
Mehta One doesn’t think, I know. I’m just as bad. It’s ridiculous. One tries so hard when one’s acting to make everything real. And yet here we are surrounded by all this apparatus. It’s a paradox. You want it to be real. And yet what chance have you? Don’t you think?
Peggy Mmm.
Mehta nods, as if the problem is solved, and walks away. He passes the Elaine-actress taking up her seat for the next scene, now with a cup of tea.
Elaine Why doesn’t she get on with it?
Mehta I don’t know.
Elaine You don’t get paid extra for feeling it.
Angelis has gingerly re-approached Peggy, who is standing, seemingly still upset, by herself at the side.
Angelis You are all right?
Peggy You want me to go on?
Angelis If you don’t mind.
