Download a theatre comedy

A
THEATRE
COMEDY
by
Bengt Ahlfors
Dedicated to Vivica Bandler
English version by Alan Goodson
Copyrigh t © 1999 by Alan Goodson
For production agreements, please contact:
BENGT AHLFORS COMEDIA KB, Eriksgatan 9, FIN-00100 Helsinki,
Phone: +358-9-694 8037, E-mail: [email protected]
CHARACTERS
M ATILDA , Director, and Artistic Director of the Theatre, 35 years old.
O SCAR , Stage Manager, in his 70’s.
P ER , Actor, in his 30’s.
H ARRY , Actor, 35.
L OTTA , Actress, 25.
L INDA , Actress, 70.
B ENG T , Playwright, 29.
M RS . J ANSSON , Housewife, 50.
The play takes place in a theatre in a mid-sized provincial town in Finland.
It is a comedy in four acts with two intermezzi, which are performed in front
of the main curtain between Acts I and II, and between Acts III and IV,
respectively.
The script is divided into French scenes, with each entrance usually
beginning a new scene.
1
ACT I
Scene 1
The scene is a stage. It is the morning following the premiere of “The War
Dance.” The sets are still onstage, but evidence of the opening night party can
also be seen. O SCAR , the stage manager, is cleaning up and preparing for the
first read-through of the next play. M ATILDA enters carrying a newspaper.
M ATILDA . Running a theatre in this town is hell! I quit. I'm going
back to teaching—in Lapland.
O SCAR . Is it Hogberg's review that's upsetting you?
M ATILDA . Review? You call this a review? This puke? “As long as we
have an artistic director who insists on promoting vulgar propaganda
instead of art, there is no hope that our theatre will ever rise above its
present state of degradation.” And do you know why he writes things
like this? First and foremost because I'm a woman!
O SCAR . Well . . .
M ATILDA . Yes! You think I don't know what's going on here? He's
been hounding me since day one.
O SCAR .
Don't worry about Hogberg. “Critics are merely flies,
buzzing around the workhorse plowing the field.” As Chekhov said.
M ATILDA . Chekhov said that? Well said.
O SCAR . Don't let it worry you.
M ATILDA . No, I'm not worried at all. Personally. I could care less
what someone like that writes about me.
O SCAR . Well, then.
M ATILDA . But this is an insult to the theatre! To all the dedicated
people whose work lies behind a play like The War Dance. The
playwright, the actors, the technicians, your own work, Oscar—yes, a
stage manager is a very important cog in the wheel. For two months we
give our all to put on a play with a clear, humanistic message of peace;
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and along comes a fascist woman-hater, plops himself down in our
playhouse for two hours, goes home, pukes all over us, and then gets
paid for it! It figures that this hole-in-the-wall only has one newspaper
of any value! I'm tired of being everyone's whipping boy. I'm going
back to teaching!
(She lights a cigarette.)
O SCAR . No you're not.
M ATILDA . You don't think I could?
O SCAR . Yes, possibly. But you couldn't give up the theatre. Just like
you couldn’t give up smoking. So—“Forget about it and move on.” As
Strindberg said.
M ATILDA . That's easy for you to say.
O SCAR . Strindberg said it.
M ATILDA . No one blames the stage manager if they don't like the
repertoire. It's the director who gets all the flack. You have no idea how
much harm a review like this can do. The actors coming in today to
start rehearsing Mother and Daughter, who should be bubbling over with
enthusiasm, how do you think they'll feel?
O SCAR . The audience seemed pleased last night, that's what's most
important.
M ATILDA . Pleased?
O SCAR . We had four curtain calls, that's not bad.
M ATILDA . That was exactly three too many. Every time they wanted
to stop applauding you pulled up the curtain, so they had to start all
over again.
O SCAR . Sometimes they need a little help. I learned that back when I
was with the Touring Theatre during the war. Directing an audience is
an art—not many stage managers understand that.
M ATILDA . It's degrading to have to beg the audience for approval.
O SCAR . Ah! We're all whores in one way or another. A theatre is a
3
public bordello, and our mission is to satisfy the audience. Tickle them
and give them whatever sensations they're willing to pay for—both at
the box office and through their taxes. Clapping is part of the pleasure.
M ATILDA . You're so damn cynical, Oscar.
O SCAR . Not cynical, but scenical. I know what a scene is meant to do:
tickle.
M ATILDA . The theatre I want to do is sure as hell no pleasant little
tickling. I'd rather kick them in the ass to shake them out of their
complacency.
O SCAR . There are masochists willing to pay for that too. They were
probably the ones applauding last night. (M ATILDA lights another
cigarette.) No smoking onstage.
M ATILDA . Yeah, I know, but I need to calm my nerves.
O SCAR . Last night, during the party, you were all smoking onstage.
Even though the last thing I said before leaving was “Whatever you do,
don't smoke onstage. Get drunk if necessary. Fornicate in the dressing
rooms if you can't resist. But don't smoke onstage!” And what do I find
in here today? Cigarette butts everywhere. Isn't that odd? The morals in
this theatre are beneath reproach.
M ATILDA . So it got a little wild last night. You know what it's like
after an opening—all the tension's gone and people finally start
behaving a little more honestly with each other.
O SCAR . Yes, I know, I've been there. But do you have to put out your
cigarettes on the armchairs because of that? I clean the wine stains off
the tablecloths and the sperm stains off the couches, but how am I
supposed to get the cigarette burns off the chairs, huh?
Scene 2
P ER enters, wearing dark sunglasses, and walks across the stage.
M ATILDA . Good morning. (No answer.) Good morning!
P E R . You really think so? Didn't you read Hogberg?
4
M ATILDA . I skimmed through it . . .
P E R . “A task that unfortunately was beyond his ability.”
M ATILDA . What?
P E R . That's all he wrote about me. “A task that unfortunately was
beyond his ability.” Period.
M ATILDA . Don't worry about Hogberg. The important thing is—
P E R . I didn't ask to play this part. If it's beyond my ability it's the
director's fault—you did the casting.
M ATILDA . Per!
P E R . Why didn't you give it to Harry instead? It probably isn't
beyond his ability. He's so damned talented.
M ATILDA . Harry already has a role.
P E R . Yeah, thanks, I know—and a much better one. He has sole
ownership of all the leading roles in this theatre. That's probably why
he gets paid more, too. But for some strange reason I always happen to
get the smallest and least rewarding parts.
O SCAR . “There are no small parts, only small actors.”
P E R . Huh?
O SCAR . Stanislavski. (Exits.)
P E R . It's easy to joke, but I'm the one who has to walk onto this stage
every night and repeat the fiasco . . .
M ATILDA . It's not a fiasco.
P E R . . . . who has to enter and prove that the part unfortunately is
beyond my ability.
M ATILDA . Per, don't worry about Hogberg. Critics are merely flies,
buzzing around the workhorse plowing the field.
5
P E R . Oh, I see. Well it so happens that this horse is tired of plowing,
at least for his present salary. I'm not planning on renewing my
contract unless I get paid the same as Harry.
M ATILDA . You'll have to take that matter up with the board.
P E R . It's so unfair! He gets all the other jobs, too. He performs at all
the Christmas parties in town; and whenever they do a radio play, he's
always in it. He's even done some TV commercials—do you have any
idea what they pay for that? Practically a small fortune! And what
about me? What other work do I ever get? Teaching an acting class for
housewives at the community center.
M ATILDA . You teach an acting class? That's interesting!
P E R . No, it's nauseating. And not very well-paid either. But I need
the money. We have three kids to support, do you have any idea what
that costs?
M ATILDA . I have two of my own. And I'm the sole provider.
P E R . But we have a mortgage on the house, too! And my wife's a
nurse, do you have any idea what their salaries are like? It's scandalous
how little they're paid!
M ATILDA . That's really not my fault.
P E R . And she still earns more than I do! Now, I'm not a complainer,
but I won't put up with it anymore!
M ATILDA . Per, I don't know if this will mean anything to you, but I
thought you were good last night.
P E R (skeptically). You really mean that?
M ATILDA . I certainly do. You were very good. (P ER sighs, smiles, and
walks towards the dressing rooms.) There's just one thing . . .
P E R . Yes?
M ATILDA . Just a minor little thing really, but while we're on the
subject: it's in that scene with Harry in the second act, your long speech
about the daisies.
6
P E R . Yes?
M ATILDA . You yell a bit too much in that speech.
P E R . Yell?
M ATILDA . Yes, it's a bit over the top.
P E R . That's because Harry refuses to pay any attention to me. He
always plays straight out to the audience during my entire monologue.
I have to be loud so they'll even notice I'm there.
M ATILDA . It's good that you're loud, but you don't have to yell quite
so much.
P E R . I didn't think I was yelling at all. What do you want me to do,
whisper?
M ATILDA . No, of course not, you can keep it as loud as you're doing
it.
P E R . But how can I if I'm whispering?
M ATILDA . You're not supposed to whisper. Just don't yell. My God,
is that so difficult?
P E R . You obviously think the part is beyond my ability, too! Why
don't you just say so?
Scene 3
B ENGT (enters). Good morning. Thanks for last night's performance!
P E R . Oh! (Exits to the dressing rooms.)
M ATILDA . God, these hysterical men! Next time write a play that
only has female roles.
B ENGT . Did I say something inappropriate? You never know with
you theatre people, you're so superstitious.
M ATILDA . Never mind. Did you finish the ending?
7
B ENGT . Yes! I mean, I haven't written it down yet, but it's clear in
my mind. Well, fairly clear . . .
M ATILDA . Bengt! We start the read-through in twenty minutes. You
promised me you'd have the ending finished by today.
B ENGT . I've already written three endings, but they're not good
enough for you.
M ATILDA . Because I know you can do better.
B ENGT . But I just wrote a new beginning for scene five.
M ATILDA . Why?
B ENGT . I think it'll be stronger if the Mother is sitting on top of the
wardrobe when the lights come up.
M ATILDA . On top of the wardrobe?
B ENGT . Yeah. It'll be a more shocking opening. The previous scene
ends with the Daughter coming in and surprising her boyfriend in bed
with her mother.
M ATILDA . Yes?
B ENGT . Blackout. And when the lights come up again, the Mother is
sitting on top of the wardrobe. This way, she witnesses her daughter's
reconciliation with her boyfriend, without them knowing she's even
there. That's why she climbed up there in the first place.
M ATILDA . Naked?
B ENGT . No, of course not. It's the following day.
M ATILDA . And how is that supposed to happen?
B ENGT . What do you mean?
M ATILDA . She's lying in bed, naked. Then it's dark for three seconds.
And during that time she not only has to get dressed, she also has to
climb up on top of the wardrobe. In pitch black. A sixty-something
person. In three seconds! How the hell do you expect that to happen?
8
B ENGT . Yes . . . well, couldn't you do something with the lighting?
M ATILDA . The lighting?
B ENGT . Or with the music or something? I don't know, you're the
director. I've never written a play before.
M ATILDA . No, Bengt darling, leave scene five just the way it is,
there's nothing wrong with it. The problem is with the end of the play.
B ENGT . Yes, yes, I'll try. Is there somewhere around here where I can
write without being disturbed?
M ATILDA . The green room, if no one's on the phone. Or an empty
dressing room. And remember, Bengt: the Mother. She's the main role,
the ending has to focus on her.
B ENGT . And who'll be playing the Mother? Have you found anyone
yet?
M ATILDA . Linda Molin. She arrived on the morning plane, so she'll
be here any minute.
B ENGT . Linda Molin . . . isn't that some old opera star?
M ATILDA . Light opera. But I think she'll be really good.
B ENGT . Really?
M ATILDA . Really. Besides, she was the only one who'd take the role,
and I even had a hell of a time convincing her—she hasn't been onstage
for twenty years—so I had to use every trick in the book. I actually had
to tell her—
Scene 4
O SCAR (enters carrying model sets
Telephone for the director!
for
“Mother and Daughter”).
M ATILDA . Not now, Oscar, I want to stay focused on the play. Tell
them to call back at three!
9
O SCAR . It's Stigzelius.
M ATILDA . Oh, shit! (Exits.)
B ENGT . And who is this Stigzelius?
O SCAR . Chairman of the Theatre Board.
(B ENGT whistles “Wow!”)
O SCAR . Hey! Never whistle in the theatre!
B ENGT . Why not?
O SCAR . It's bad luck! Whistling is the sole privilege of the audience.
But in this case it looks like our bad luck may have preceded your
whistling—the call from Mr. Chairman. He doesn't usually bear good
tidings.
B ENGT . Are these the sets for Mother and Daughter?
O SCAR . Yes. They'll be bigger later on. But never quite as nice as the
models, so take a good look.
B ENGT . Looks good.
O SCAR . So, how's the playwright feeling? First time round, huh?
B ENGT . Yeah.
O SCAR . We had another first-time opening yesterday: The War Dance.
B ENGT . I know, I was here. The critics aren't being particularly
gracious today, are they?
O SCAR . No. You can take that as encouragement. (B ENGT gives him an
incredulous look.) “In waiting for one's own success, the failures of
others are not to be despised.” As Machiavelli said. Is it very serious,
your play?
B ENGT . I guess it's a drama. All about sexual angst, incest, and the
hatred between a mother and her daughter. But I've tried to make it
entertaining.
10
O SCAR . Well, we'll see about that.
B ENGT . Tell me, Oscar, do you know Linda Molin?
O SCAR . What a question! Of course I know Linda, we must have
done at least twenty plays together. Why do you ask?
B ENGT . She's playing the lead in Mother and Daughter.
O SCAR . What? Linda's coming here?
B ENGT . I suppose it can't be avoided.
O SCAR . How wonderful! We first met back in 1953 in The Violet of
Montmartre. Yes . . . Linda played the Violet; I, of course, had a minor
role, but it was something . . . at least in those days I was still getting
parts with names—later it just became “a mailman” or “a policeman.”
B ENGT . So what's she really like?
O SCAR . Linda Molin is an actress, from the bottom of her soul to the
tip of her nipples. She loves her roles, especially the ones she acts out
in private. I remember her first—the Charming Virgin—which didn't
last long. She quickly worked her way through the entire male
personnel of the City Theatre—and a good part of the female personnel
while she was at it—before moving on to her greatest role: the Grand
Prima Donna, which she played to perfection. Every tenth year she’d
give a farewell performance, complete with flowers and wreaths and
tearful speeches—you’d think you were at a fancy funeral. The
audience would cry, Linda would cry, even the stagehands would cry;
but sooner or later she’d make another comeback, and then there'd be
even more flowers and more tears. You see, whatever she did, she did
passionately. In fact, I hear her latest passions are natural food and
astrology, and that she's even entertaining the idea of writing a book —
Your Vegetarian Horoscope, or something like that.
Scene 5
P ER enters dressed in exercise clothing.
O SCAR .
with us.
Did you hear that, Per? Linda Molin's coming to perform
11
P E R . I know. I saw her in The Czardas Princess when I was a child. A
magnificent artist.
B ENGT . It's just that Mother and Daughter isn't quite the same thing as
The Czardas Princess. I need to find an empty dressing room, I still have
some fine-tuning to do on the script. (Exits.)
O SCAR . Oh, so he hasn't finished the play yet, even though we start
rehearsals today. That figures. These modern playwrights are so
unreliable. It would be safer to wait until they're dead before doing
their plays—if they're still worth doing.
(O SCAR starts bringing tables and chairs onto the stage.)
P E R (beginning his physical and vocal warm-up).
ma, mo-mo-mo . . . (ad lib.)
Me-me-me, ma-ma-
O SCAR . Do you have to do that stuff onstage?
P E R . Where else should I do it? The boss is on the phone, so I can't
use the green room, and the dressing room is too small. Mu-mu-mu,
meh-meh-meh . . .
O SCAR . We're having a read-through in here in ten minutes, and I
have to have the stage ready by then.
P E R . My-my-my, mu-mu-mu . . .
O SCAR . Does that really make you a better actor? We sure didn't
carry on like that in my day.
P E R . No, and it showed.
O SCAR . Watch it, you spoiled brat! We were personalities—that's
what meant something onstage, not these acrobatics. You learn to act by
acting. The Touring Theatre was my school.
P E R . Jesus! My-my-my, me-me-me, ma-ma-ma . . .
O SCAR (mimicking). Ma-ma-ma . . .
12
Scene 6
H ARRY and L OTTA enter together from the cloakroom.
L OTTA (mumbles). Good morning . . . (Exits.)
P E R (watching her go out). Good morning . . .
H ARRY (sings). “Oh, what a beautiful morning . . .”
O SCAR . Really? Actually, it's intermittent cloudiness with occasional
showers at the theatre today. And what is the cause of your happiness?
The reviews?
H ARRY . Ah! Reviews are transitory. I prefer the enduring values in
life. Lotta makes a wonderful breakfast. Coffee in bed.
O SCAR . I see. So you were in horizontal training last night?
H ARRY . Exactly. It's a hell of a lot better for keeping in shape than
that crap Per does.
P E R . So, you couldn't leave her alone, could you?
H ARRY . Cunts are not meant to be left alone, it's not natural.
P E R . Don't talk like that, it's disgusting.
H ARRY . Sour grapes. You wouldn't mind a bit if you had the chance
to get a little piece of her.
P E R . And then you have the nerve to brag about it. It's repulsive!
You could at least give your wife a moment's thought for once.
H ARRY . Listen, that's none of your goddamn business!
O SCAR . Stop bickering. We're about to read through the new play
and Linda Molin will be here any minute.
H ARRY . Linda who, and why?
P E R . He doesn't even know who Linda Molin is!
H ARRY . Some new, fresh little thing, perhaps?
13
O SCAR . Not new, but still fresh, no doubt. And considering how
early on she began her erotic life, Linda could be your grandmother.
But I doubt she is—she happens to have class.
Scene 7
L OTTA (enters). Oscar! Am I really supposed to be prompting again?
O SCAR . Yes, that's what the call sheet says.
L OTTA . It's always the same! Why didn't anyone tell me? I was not
hired as a prompter. I am an actress.
O SCAR . But you're the only prompter we—
L OTTA . And occasionally I'm supposed to do the prompting. This is
the second time this year, is that occasionally? And how am I supposed
to prompt and play a role at the same time?
O SCAR . Maybe it's not such a big—
L OTTA . Which, of course, is why I have the smallest role. But I was
not hired as a prompter.
O SCAR . You'll have to talk to the boss about that.
L OTTA . Why am I always the one who has to make sacrifices for the
theatre? I was not hired as a prompter!
H ARRY . Take it easy, Lotta. No one can force you to prompt unless it
specifically states in your contract that you have to.
L OTTA .
It says, “in exceptional circumstances.” What kind of
exceptional circumstance is this?
P E R . You really should talk to the boss about it.
L OTTA . Promise you'll back me up. I was not hired as a prompter.
14
Scene 8
M ATILDA (enters). Goddamn it! Stigzelius is trying to stop Mother and
Daughter. He wants us to postpone rehearsals until he's read the script.
O SCAR . I didn't know Mr. Chairman read plays.
M ATILDA . Ordinarily he doesn't even bother seeing them. But now
with Hogberg's review of The War Dance he's starting to get worried.
“We have to restore our public's confidence in the theatre and not
challenge them unnecessarily. Now would be an appropriate time for
some lighter fare.” He even had the nerve to suggest The Vagabond King.
O SCAR . We're all whores. (Sings.) “Love for sale! Love for sale!
Ready for any who'll buy . . .” (Exits.)
L OTTA . So does that mean we're not rehearsing today?
P E R . Wouldn't it be best to postpone the read-through then, if that's
what Mr. Chairman wants? I mean, the play isn't even finished yet.
H ARRY . Oh God, another unwritten play we have to improvise into
existence during rehearsals?
O SCAR (entering with chairs). Should I go get more chairs, or take out
the ones I've already brought in?
M ATILDA . Go get Bengt, we need to hear what he thinks.
(O SCAR puts down the chairs and exits towards the dressing rooms.)
L OTTA . If we're going to start rehearsing today, there is one thing I'd
like to discuss first—
Scene 9
L INDA (from offstage). Hello! Hello! (Linda enters.) So this is it. I had a
hard time finding the place since I've never been anywhere near here
before. Am I late? I came straight from the airport, I just dropped off
my luggage at the hotel first. Good Lord, imagine me onstage again—
after all these years!—even if it is a lot smaller than the stages I used to
perform on. Do you even have enough room to make a proper center
15
stage entrance from back here? Hello everybody!
M ATILDA . Hello. I'm Matilda, we spoke on the phone.
L INDA . Oh, so that's you. Well, artistic directors certainly looked a
bit different in my day. Let me guess—you're a Virgo, the virgin?
M ATILDA . No, I can't say that I am.
L INDA . On what day were you born?
M ATILDA . December twenty-eighth.
L INDA . A Capricorn, unbelievable! Well, we'll probably get along
anyway. I did have a woman director once before—it was a disaster.
But she was a Scorpio, so no wonder. And that was a hundred years
ago.
M ATILDA . And maybe the world has changed since then.
L INDA . But maybe I haven't—so I'm warning you, my little friend.
Well, let me guess . . . (To H ARRY .) this young man here will be playing
my lover?
H ARRY . Harry. Welcome.
L INDA . I feel like I've seen you somewhere before, now where could
that have been?
H ARRY .
winter?
Perhaps as Astrov in Uncle Vanya during our tour last
L INDA .
Good God no, I never go to the theatre. But there's
something familiar about you . . . I've got it! Instant soup! TV
commercials, right?
H ARRY . Yes . . . I've also only seen you on TV. Old movies.
L INDA . Really? I thought all my old movies were for adults only.
And this is my daughter?
L OTTA . Lotta.
M ATILDA . Lotta's also our prompter.
16
L INDA . A task full of responsibility, at least when I'm around. You
must be very strict with me and correct me immediately if I make a
mistake. (P ER makes an attempt to greet L INDA , but she walks right up to the
edge of the stage and looks out into the house.) Oh God, no—do they really
sit this close? And no orchestra pit? They'll be able to see every wrinkle
I own. And no footlights either, so you're forced to walk around all
evening with big bags under your eyes. I can see that one's primary job
in this theatre is to befriend the make-up lady. You do have a make-up
lady?
Scene 10
O SCAR and B E NGT enter. O SCAR is wearing an old top hat and carrying a
bouquet of prop flowers.
O SCAR . Linda Molin!
L INDA (stares at O SCAR for a few seconds, confused, then suddenly realizes
who he is). Oscar, darling! You're still alive?
O SCAR . Alive is a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm still around.
L INDA . And how did you end up in this hole? Forgive me, but it's
not exactly Broadway.
O SCAR . No, this is more like off-off-off-off-Broadway. Actually, I
was born here, so I've returned to the nest.
L INDA . Well, it wasn't yesterday, was it Oscar?
O SCAR .
speaking.
No, more like the day before yesterday, in a manner of
L INDA . Oh, if you could only feel the butterflies in my stomach.
After all, it has been twenty years.
(P ER makes another attempt to greet L INDA .)
M ATILDA . Linda, this is Bengt, who wrote Mother and Daughter.
L INDA . The playwright!
17
B ENGT . How do you do?
L INDA . Aries!
B ENGT . Pardon?
L INDA . My guess is that you're an Aries.
B ENGT . No. I think I'm a Leo . . .
L INDA . Leo, just like me! Isn't that what I guessed?
B ENGT . No, you guessed Aries.
L INDA . That was when I looked in your eyes. But when I read your
play I guessed Leo. There's something very Leo about it. You've really
created quite a mess for that mother. She not only shares a lover with
her daughter—she very nearly goes to bed with her own son, as well.
It's not exactly Little Mary Sunshine, now is it? But she does have a few
very rewarding scenes. Although you must do something about that
ending. It simply cannot end like that.
B ENGT . No . . . of course not . . . and it is my intention to . . .
L INDA . Have you written much? I mean, before this play?
B ENGT . Two poetry collections and a novel. But this is my first play.
L INDA . I see . . . so this is your debut as a dramatic playwright. You
know, I almost feel like a debutant myself. It's been twenty years since I
last set foot on a stage. That's why I said “No” straight away when our
lady director here called to ask me if I'd do it. My God, I thought, there
couldn't possibly be anyone left who still remembers me; and audiences
are so completely different these days. “No, no,” I said to myself, “all
that is past, il est perdu.” But when Miss Director said that you had
written the part especially for me—well, then I just couldn't say no. I
felt my heart pounding faster. “This will be my comeback,” I thought. It
may be my last chance. Who knows?
M ATILDA . We're all very pleased that you decided to join us, Linda.
P E R (pushing himself in front of L INDA ). I'm Per. Aquarius. I play the
Son. Hello! I'm going to go change now. (Exits.)
18
O SCAR . Linda, my dear, may I escort you to your dressing room? It's
probably somewhat smaller than you're used to; but then, you are
somewhat larger than we're used to—your aura, that is.
L INDA . Oh, Oscar, what a gentleman you are.
O SCAR . Madam.
(O SCAR exits with L INDA .)
Scene 11
H ARRY begins to exit, but is stopped by L OTTA .
L OTTA . Harry! Can't you help me talk to the boss? I was not hired as
a prompter.
H ARRY . Talk to her yourself! (Exits.)
B ENGT . What did she mean when she said I wrote the part especially
for her?
M ATILDA . I had to tell her that or she wouldn't have come.
L OTTA .
about.
Excuse me, but there's something I'd like to talk to you
M ATILDA . Just a minute! (To B ENGT .) We have a problem—
B ENGT . Don't worry, I already have a new ending, and I think it'll
work.
M ATILDA . Fine. But that's not—
B ENGT . What do you think if the Mother enters in the middle of the
reconciliation scene between the Daughter and the Lover? That way she
gets the last word, a line straight out to the audience. What do you
think?
M ATILDA . We'll have to give it a try.
19
B ENGT . That way the ending is focused right on her, just like you
wanted.
M ATILDA . That's wonderful, Bengt, but we have a bigger problem
right now. Stigzelius called. We have to cancel today’s read-through—
Scene 12
L INDA (enters). There's something I've been thinking about, Miss
Director. That scene where the Daughter comes in and catches me in
bed with her boyfriend. How do you imagine doing that, really? It says
in the script that we're supposed to be naked. But this lady is not
exactly in the kind of shape to be showing herself as God created her.
M ATILDA . I . . . hadn't really thought about that yet.
L INDA . No, of course not, you must have a thousand things to think
about. We'll talk about it later. I just seem to worry unnecessarily. You
know, this morning I was already wide awake at four o'clock, even
though the flight wasn't until nine. Because of all the butterflies in my
stomach. There's something so special about the first rehearsal. It's like
that first glimpse out the window on a fall morning. Or the first time
your eyes meet with someone you know you could fall in love with,
even though you haven't yet exchanged a single word. Everything is
still possible, and nothing is too late. Oh, my Lord, here I am just
babbling away and it's already eleven twenty. Shall we begin?
B ENGT . So what did Stigzelius say?
(L INDA 's enthusiasm has given M ATILDA the determination to go on.)
M ATILDA . Never mind! Let's get started!
(H AR RY , P E R , L OTT A , and O SCAR enter from the dressing rooms. They ALL
sit down at the table while the music swells and the curtain falls .)
20
INTERMEZZO
Three weeks later. M ATILDA is standing in front of the main curtain,
listening to music over the loudspeakers.
M ATILDA . One more time from the top. (The music is heard rewinding,
and then begins at the beginning.) A little lower! Lower!
(The music gets softer.)
O SCAR (enters).
candles onstage.
I spoke with the fire captain. Impossible. No live
M ATILDA . What?
O SCAR . Under no circumstances.
M ATILDA . Why is it that even the fire department in this dump has
to be a hundred years behind the times?
O SCAR . We'll have to use flashlights instead.
M ATILDA .
flashlights?
A nice, romantic, midnight dinner table set with
O SCAR . Ouch, that hurts. Nevertheless, we'll have to rely on some
kind of electricity.
M ATILDA . Get rid of that music, it's all wrong, we'll have to find
something else. Let me hear the gunshot. (To O SC AR .) Did you find
Bengt?
O SCAR . No. Writers are as difficult to keep track of as actors. First I
tried him at home, but he hasn't lived there for over six months, and his
wife didn't sound like she expected him back anytime this century.
(Gunshot.) She gave me two possible numbers: one for a Danish
sculptress, the other for a commune just outside of town. At the
sculptress', I woke up a man who'd never heard of Bengt and didn't
want to hear of him.
M ATILDA . Do you have any more gunshots? Could I please hear all
of them?
O SCAR .
At the commune, the phone was answered by a retarded
21
three-year-old who just said “Hello! Hello!” no matter what I asked.
Then a woman grabbed the receiver and said Bengt gets his mail there,
but that no one had seen him for several weeks.
(Gunshot.)
M ATILDA . I hope he hasn't started drinking again! We've been
rehearsing for three weeks and we still don't have a decent ending.
O SCAR . The woman at the commune suggested I call the restaurant
at the train station. Or his mother. I tried both. He hasn't been to the
restaurant for several days, the maitre d' sounded pretty worried
himself. But he did call his mother last Sunday, which we'll accept as a
mitigating circumstance. He told her he was living with a teacher in
Ekenäs. (Gunshot.) Well, the teacher turned out to be female and had
already thrown him out. She said she couldn't understand why anyone
would ever want to get hold of Bengt at all, but if it was absolutely
necessary I should try at the theatre. And when I told her I was calling
from the theatre, she advised me to check the rest room. (Gunshot.) But
he wasn't there either.
M ATILDA . Damn it! We'll have to do the rest of the sound cues
during the break, I'm all out of time now. Oscar, call the set designer
and tell him we have to have the sofa today, it's a complete waste of
time rehearsing without it. Are they finished with the costume fittings
yet?
O SCAR .
The seamstress is still backstage. The PR department
reminded us they need the article for the program, it goes to print next
week. And they were wondering if the opening date still stands.
M ATILDA . Unless something unexpected happens.
O SCAR . Nothing but the unexpected happens here.
M ATILDA . What time is it?
O SCAR . Ten to.
M ATILDA . Then I still have time to call home. I have a six-year-old at
home alone with the mumps.
O SCAR . There's one more thing.
22
M ATILDA . Yes?
O SCAR . Stigzelius.
M ATILDA . Well?
O SCAR . You're to contact him as soon as possible.
M ATILDA . Damn. I only have time for one call before rehearsal. It'll
have to be Stigzelius—he's a bigger problem than the mumps.
(M AT ILDA exits, followed by O SC AR . The curtain rises.)
23
ACT II
Scene 1
A moment after the intermezzo. A set from “The War Dance” is still onstage,
but O SCAR is carrying in rehearsal flats indicating the sets for “Mother and
Daughter.” P ER is doing his physical and vocal warm-up onstage. H ARRY and
L INDA walk in, arm in arm, from the cloakroom. H ARRY appears to be a little
annoyed and frees himself from L INDA , who smiles and kisses him on the nose.
L INDA (sings to herself). “Oh, what a beautiful morning . . .”
(L INDA exits. P E R watches her go, and then turns to H ARRY .)
P E R . So, what kind of breakfast does Linda make?
H ARRY . Nothing special, really. Oat bran. Wheatgrass juice.
O SCAR . But the flesh is willing, even with vegetarians.
P E R . So, you couldn't leave her alone, could you? “Good morning,
Grandma. Thanks for last night, Grandma.” You're really not well!
H ARRY . Listen, I can take care of my health without your help.
O SCAR . In fact, he's already taken up health food. (Exits.)
P E R . Even if you don't care about your wife's feelings, you could at
least think about Lotta.
H ARRY . Why? Isn't that what you're always doing for me? But, you
know, you're wasting your time—you'll probably turn out to be a
faggot sooner or later. (Exits.)
Scene 2
M RS . J ANSSON enters.
P E R (shouting off to H ARRY ). You . . . fart!
24
M RS . J ANSSON . How do you do . . . ?
P E R . How do you do . . . ?
M RS . J ANSSON . Please don't let me disturb you, I'm just looking for
the artistic director.
P E R . She's on the phone. I'll let her know.
M RS . J ANSSON . No, no, please don't, I can wait. Oh, yes, my name, by
the way, is Mrs. Jansson.
P E R . I see.
M RS . J ANSSON . I know who you are. “Everyone knows the monkey,
but the monkey knows no one.” We've never met this close up, but I've
often admired you from below.
P E R (suddenly interested). Really?
M RS . J ANSSON . I've seen every show, some of them more than once.
Oh, I just love the theatre. I always try to get my husband to come
along with me too, but he usually stays home. He just sits there and
watches TV all evening. I really don't understand what in God's name
he gets out of it. As for me, I think live theatre offers so much more.
But everyone's different, I suppose. Last night I said to Putte—that's his
name, you know—“Why don't you come along and see The War Dance
with me? Who knows,” I said, “it might be as pleasant as The Dance of
Death,” which we saw on TV. But he still wouldn't come. Well, I didn't
like it anyway.
P E R . No?
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, I thought you acted well, it wasn't that, the play
was just so somber. I told Putte when I got home that he didn’t miss
much. Well, are you rehearsing a new play right now?
P E R . Yes. Mother and Daughter. I'm the S on.
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, and when will it be opening?
P E R . In about a month.
M RS . J ANSSON .
That's very interesting. Please don't let me disturb
25
you, if you have something important to—
P E R . I'll go tell the director. Please have a seat!
M RS . J ANSSON . Thank you. But there's really no hurry at all. I always
carry my knitting with me.
(M RS . J ANSSON sits down and begins knitting a scarf.)
P E R . I'll tell her.
Scene 3
L OTTA (enters). Per! Are they here yet? Linda and Harry?
P E R . Uh . . . yes, they are . . . but look, Lotta . . .
L OTTA . That fucking horn-dog! (Exits.)
P E R . I'll tell her. (Exits.)
Scene 4
O SCAR enters from backstage with a rehearsal flat. Without noticing M RS .
J ANSSON , he puts the flat in front of her so that she remains visible to the
audience, but is cut off from the rest of the stage. M RS . J ANSSON is puzzled,
but says nothing. O SCAR exits to the dressing rooms.
Scene 5
B ENG T enters from the cloakroom, obviously suffering from a terrible
hangover. He sees M R S . J ANSSON and stops, bewildered.
M RS . J ANSSON . Please don't let me disturb you, I'm just waiting here.
B ENGT . Is Matilda here yet?
M RS . J ANSSON .
said.
The artistic director is talking on the phone, they
26
B ENGT . Did she ask for me?
M RS . J ANSSON . Not that I know of . . .
B ENGT . I'm going across the street for some coffee. Tell Matilda I'll
be back later. (Exits.)
M RS . J ANSSON . All right. But, pardon me, who . . .
Scene 6
H ARRY enters, dragging L OTTA in with him.
H ARRY . Will you calm down!
L OTTA . Let go of me!
H ARRY . Not until you calm down.
L OTTA . I'm not planning on calming down—ever. Let go of me!
H ARRY . You can't just stand there in the middle of the hallway
screaming like that.
L OTTA . Yes I can!
H ARRY . Everyone can hear you.
L OTTA . Let them hear—that way they'll know what a pervert you
are. You pig!
H ARRY . Stop being so childish!
L OTTA . I'll be as childish as I want. Let go of me!
H ARRY (letting go of her). Well, can we discuss this calmly now? What
exactly is it you're accusing me of?
L OTTA . Stop acting so innocent—don't you think you've lied enough
already?
H ARRY . When did I lie to you?
27
L OTTA . Ha, ha, ha!
(L OTTA notices M RS . J ANSSON peeking out from behind the flat.)
M RS . J ANSSON . Please don't let me disturb you. Are you rehearsing
the next play?
H ARRY . Exactly.
(L OTTA throws some make-up powder—or something of that nature—in
H ARRY 's face and runs out shouting.)
H ARRY (apologetically). Method actress. (He runs out after L OTTA .)
Scene 7
O SCAR enters with another rehearsal flat, puts it down, and starts to exit.
M RS . J ANSSON . Please don't let me disturb you.
O SCAR . Don't worry, I won't.
M RS . J ANSSON . I'm just waiting for the artistic director—but I'm in no
hurry whatsoever.
O SCAR . That's good, in this case.
M RS . J ANSSON . Someone else was here too, but he went for some
coffee. He asked me to tell you that. He'll be back later. I have no idea
who he was.
Scene 8
M ATILDA (enters from the green room). It's a political conspiracy, that's
what it is! Why is it that after the City Council has finished making all
of its appointments to the School Board, the Board of Health, the
Electricity Committee, and so on, there's always a small group of fools
left over who are good for nothing—and that group becomes the
Theatre Board? And the biggest fool of them all is inevitably elected
chairman!
28
O SCAR . I see. So Stigzelius read Mother and Daughter.
M ATILDA . It was the most perverse thing he ever read, “A blatant
mockery of family values and an assault against the morals of all
normal, law-abiding citizens.” What hypocrisy! Inside those normal,
law-abiding citizens' homes you can find family hells at least as cruel as
in Mother and Daughter. But that's perfectly all right, because that takes
place in private, behind locked doors. But take one of those families
and put them onstage—that is “an assault against the morals of all
normal, law-abiding citizens.” Such fucking hypocrisy!
O SCAR . Maybe they don't want to see sexual angst and incest
onstage because they have enough of it at home? You know, it's odd,
but with the Touring Theatre we performed in the most primitive
places, we had to put our make-up on in tiny, dark dressing rooms with
no running water. But onstage it was The Royal Loge or The Ball at the
Savoy—now those were lovely plays! These days you have showers and
green rooms and couches, but what do you put onstage? Misery,
nothing but misery. No frivolity, no glitter.
M ATILDA . Careful, Oscar, keep saying things like that and you'll end
up on the Theatre Board. There you can sit on your butt all day and
glitter.
O SCAR . So what's happening with Mother and Daughter?
M ATILDA .
Stigzelius is bringing it before the board fo r
reconsideration, recommending that it be canceled once and for all and
not allowed to open.
O SCAR . So we've been working three weeks for nothing?
M ATILDA . Not at all! For the time being we'll go right on as if
nothing’s happened. We'll rehearse, we'll build sets, we'll sew
costumes—with all sights set on opening.
O SCAR .
rooms.)
Then I'll bring more flats in. (Exits towards the dressing
M RS . J ANSSON (putting her knitting away). Please don't let me disturb
you. I can see you're having some kind of a problem. “There are many
bumps along every road.” That's what I always tell Putte—my husband,
you know—and that even though it looks simple, it takes an awful lot
29
of work before it's done, in the theatre, that is. Oh, yes, my name, by
the way, is Mrs. Jansson. I'm the secretary of a drama study group.
M ATILDA . Yes, and?
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, yes, but I'm not here about that, no, I happen to
be part of a community theatre here in town, a youth theatre group,
although not all of us are all that young anymore. Anyway, we're about
to do The Flower of Hawaii, and they said to me, listen, they said, since
you're the secretary and have connections with the theatre and all,
maybe you could—
Scene 9
L INDA (enters). Really, Miss Director, I simply cannot wear this
dress! I look like a retired deaconess in it. But that seamstress of yours
is so stubborn, she's quite impossible. You'll have to come and have a
little talk with her!
M ATILDA . I'll be right there.
L INDA . Look at me! Is this a hot-blooded woman who seduces her
daughter's lover and then almost seduces her own son? You couldn't
seduce Satan himself in this dress. I need something a little saucier. I
mean, after all, this is the theatre!
M ATILDA . I'm coming. (To M RS . J ANSSON .) Excuse me a moment.
(M AT ILDA exits with L INDA .)
M RS . J ANSSON . That's quite all right, please don't let me disturb you,
I can wait. Linda Molin . . .
Scene 10
B ENG T enters.
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, there you are again.
B ENGT . The café wasn't open yet. I wonder if there's a coffee
machine somewhere in here.
30
M RS . J ANSSON . You don't belong to the theatre either?
B ENGT . No, not exactly.
M RS . J ANSSON . That's what I thought—if you were an actor I'd have
recognized you immediately. Have you also come to borrow some
costumes?
B ENGT . Costumes? No, I'm not borrowing any costumes. But I
wouldn't mind borrowing a cup of coffee. Is Matilda still on the phone?
M RS . J ANSSON . No, now she's talking to the seamstress. About Linda
Molin's dress. There was some disagreement about it.
B ENGT . Does Matilda know I'm here?
M RS . J ANSSON . No. I'm sorry, I couldn't give her your message since
I didn't know who you were.
B ENGT . No, no . . .
M RS . J ANSSON . Who are you, by the way? Oh, I'm so sorry, please
forgive me, I don't mean to be nosy.
B ENGT . I'm the playwright. Of this play they're rehearsing—Mother
and Daughter.
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, you're the one who wrote it? I just saw a scene
from it. Or heard one, I mean. I was sitting behind this flat here while
they were rehearsing it.
B ENGT . They already started?
M RS . J ANSSON . Yes. But then they stopped. It sounded interesting. I
didn't understand all of it, but it was very energetic.
Scene 11
O SCAR enters with some S TAGEHANDS carrying a rehearsal sofa.
O SCAR . Well, I see the playwright has deigned to honor us with his
31
presence. If you had any idea what I've been going through trying to
find you. They really seem to feel they need you around here, though I
can't understand why.
B ENGT . I've been . . . mobile lately.
O SCAR . You mean immobile. Well, and how are you feeling now?
B ENGT . Great. Eight hours of sleep every night. Twenty laps in the
pool every morning, and not a single damn pilsner.
O SCAR .
regimen?
So it's that bad, is it? How long have you been on this
B ENGT . Today's the first day. Which is always the most tiring. Is
there any coffee around here?
O SCAR . There's a machine in the green room. If you can get there
without getting lost.
(B ENGT exits.)
M RS . J ANSSON . It must be wonderful to be able to write poetry!
O SCAR . What?
M RS . J ANSSON . To be able to create people with your imagination
and then see them come alive onstage. It must make you feel so . . .
joyous!
O SCAR . Did he look very joyous to you?
M RS . J ANSSON . Well, of course it must be difficult at times too, I do
understand that. But it must be such a glorious feeling when you
succeed.
O SCAR . Hmm—we'll see how he looks on opening night.
Scene 12
P E R (enters). Oscar, could you come here for a moment?
32
O SCAR . What is it?
P E R . Lotta.
O SCAR . What about Lotta?
P E R . She's locked herself in the rest room. The men's room. She
refuses to come out. What should we do?
O SCAR . I suppose we'll have to use the ladies' room.
P E R . Oscar, this is serious. I tried talking to her, Matilda tried
talking to her, but it's no use. She says she won't rehearse today, she
says she'll never rehearse with either Harry or Linda ever again. She's
also threatening to kill herself.
O SCAR . In the toilet? Is she planning on drowning herself?
P E R . Oscar! We're talking about a human being in distress!
O SCAR . That's usually the case when someone’s on the toilet.
P E R . This is not a joking matter!
O SCAR . I beg to differ. I believe a little humor might come in handy
in this case, to help Lotta see how ridiculous her behavior is.
PE R.
Lotta’s behavior is not ridiculous at all! I completely
understand how she feels. Harry has acted like a pig towards her, so I
completely understand her behavior. He's as inconsiderate to her as he
is to his wife, he only thinks of his own pleasure and doesn't even think
of Lotta as a human being.
O SCAR . No, of course not. “The bumble bee is more interested in
honey than botany.” As Linnaeus said.
P E R . He's the one who should be locked up!
O SCAR . Who, Linnaeus?
P E R . Harry! He's the one who should be locked up!
O SCAR . In the ladies' room, perhaps? Then at least they could knock
to each other.
33
P E R . You never take anything seriously!
O SCAR . That's not true! We're starting rehearsal in ten minutes, and
if Lotta isn't onstage by then we'll be one actress short; and, more
importantly, one prompter short. Now that is a problem to be taken
seriously.
Scene 13
M ATILDA (enters). Why is theatre such a primitive art form that you
can't do it without actors? Do something, Oscar! I've tried everything.
O SCAR . The question is, do we need a psychiatrist or a locksmith?
M ATILDA . At the very least, we need a prompter—and fast. I was
actually beginning to get Lotta to see reason when Linda came over
and, of course, just had to get involved. She tried to prove to Lotta it
was the position of the stars that forced Harry and her together, and
that there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Now they're shouting at
each other through the door.
O SCAR . Let me see if I can appease the stars.
(O SCAR and P ER exit.)
M ATILDA . Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. . . .
M RS . J ANSSON (putting her knitting away). Jansson. That's quite all
right, I'm in no hurry at all; and besides, it's so interesting just
spending some time in a real theatre.
M ATILDA . Yes . . .
M RS . J ANSSON . Well, as I was saying, we'll be doing The Flower of
Hawaii with our youth group, I'm not in it myself, oh no, nothing on
God's green earth could ever make me get up onstage, but I do a little
of this and a little of that. After all, there are a lot of things that have to
be done before a show can open, even in amateur theatre, I'm sure you
understand what I mean. Well, so one day they said to me—
34
Scene 14
B ENG T enters carrying a coffee mug.
M ATILDA . Bengt! Where have you been?
B ENGT . In the green room.
M ATILDA . When did you get here? We've been looking all over for
you.
M RS . J ANSSON . He came in earlier and asked me to tell you, but I
couldn't since I didn't know who he was. Now, of course, I know.
M ATILDA . Excuse us a moment! (Taking B ENGT aside.) How are you?
(M RS . J ANSSON takes out her knitting.)
B ENGT . You mean, how’s the end of the play? Not too good. I can't
do it, Matilda.
M ATILDA . Of course you can!
B ENGT . I've really tried. I buried myself in a cabin in Sjundea—no
mail, no telephone, no newspapers. I got up every morning at seven,
put a fresh piece of paper in the typewriter, and sat there and stared at
it. There wasn't anything to distract me—no people, no sounds,
nothing. It was an ideal writing environment; and it was hell. When
you've been sitting and staring at a blank piece of white paper for three
days, you go nuts. You start longing for scrubbing the floor or
shoveling snow or anything that might give you some motivation to go
on living. On the fourth day, I got on a bicycle and rode six miles to the
nearest village and the nearest bar. I finally rolled out of there on day
five. Since then I haven't written a single word. Look, here's my
notebook, I carry it with me wherever I go—I haven't touched it for two
weeks.
(M AT ILDA , somewhat distressed, gingerly sits B E NGT down on a chair and
begins massaging his neck and shoulders.)
M ATILDA . The most important thing is not to let yourself get
stressed-out, I think that's what's blocking you. Just relax and watch
rehearsals for a couple of days and you'll find the ending will come to
you on its own.
35
B ENGT (with delightful self-pity). No, I can't do it, Matilda. I give up.
I'm totally empty inside. I don't think I'll ever write anything again.
M ATILDA . Relax, Bengt darling, just take it easy . . .
M RS . J ANSSON . Does he have a headache? I have some very good
pills I was given once by a doctor in Paris when we were on vacation.
You can't get them here, they're French. They're just fantastic, I swear
to God I couldn't get through the day without them, I get migraines
quite often and this is the only thing that helps —
B ENGT . Could I have another cup of coffee?
M ATILDA (hands M RS . J ANSSON B ENGT 's coffee mug). Over there, in the
green room!
(M RS . J ANSSON takes the mug and exits.)
B ENGT . It's over. I'm a complete failure as a writer, you might as
well just accept it. Next month I'll be thirty. That's how old Shelley was
when he drowned. Marlowe was knifed to death at twenty-nine. And
Büchner had already been in his grave for seven years—typhoid. Still,
they had their life's work behind them . . . and me? What have I
accomplished? Two poetry collections that sold a total of 620 copies—
229 of them on sale; a novel labeled “promising”; and a play I can't
even finish. It's almost comical, isn't it?
Scene 15
O SCAR and P ER enter.
O SCAR . “Theatre is one of the heavy industries.” As Noel Coward
said.
M ATILDA . Well?
O SCAR . Lotta will come out. On two conditions. First, Harry has to
swear he loves her.
P E R . What does she see in him? Can anyone explain that to me?
O SCAR .
That demand can probably be met. After all, Harry does
36
have some rudimentary acting training. The second condition, however,
is that she won't have to do the prompting.
P E R . You know, Lotta really wasn't hired as a prompter.
M ATILDA . We need a prompter.
O SCAR . She won't budge on that point. She'll come out, she'll
rehearse her part, but she won't prompt.
M ATILDA . God, these hysterical women! Next time write a play that
only has male roles.
Scene 16
M RS . J ANSSON (enters with a coffee mug on a tray). I didn't know if you
wanted it with sugar or cream, or sugar and cream, or neither sugar nor
cream . . .
M ATILDA . We need a prompter and we need one now, because Linda
has finally agreed to rehearse off-script.
O SCAR . In that case she won't be able to get through a single line
without help.
M RS . J ANSSON (to B ENGT ). I've prompted before, once or twice. I must
admit, it's pretty complicated, especially with amateurs, because we
only rehearse twice a week, you know, since people don't want to give
up any more time than that, so when do they have the time to learn
their lines? Oh no, they have to be watched very carefully—
M ATILDA . So you've prompted before?
M RS . J ANSSON . Have I prompted? The first time was about ten years
ago when we did The Pirates of Penzance, oh that was such a lovely play!
It was outdoors, at the open-air theatre, and you can imagine it's not
very easy prompting there—you know, when it's raining and the wind
is blowing so hard you—
M ATILDA . Would you be willing to help us out for a few days
between eleven and three until we can find someone else?
37
M RS . J ANSSON . Gosh, I'd have to talk to Putte first. The kids are big
by now, so they'll be fine, but what about supper? After all, they're
used to me taking care of everything at home. But if it's really just a
few days, then—
M ATILDA . We'll start in five minutes, Oscar.
(O SCAR exits.)
P E R . I'll go tell Lotta! (Exits.)
M ATILDA . Come with me, I'll get you a script! (Exits.)
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, but I really should call Putte at the bank first! (To
B ENG T .) I just came here to borrow some costumes for The Flower of
Hawaii . . . (Exits.)
Scene 17
B ENG T is sipping his coffee, absorbed in his own problems, when L OTTA
enters, mopping her eyes with a long strand of toilet paper.
L OTTA . I know you're all laughing at me!
B ENGT . What?
L OTTA . You all think I'm acting like a fool, don't think I don't know
that. Ridiculous little Lotta who locks herself up in the john and sits
there blubbering. Go ahead and despise me!
B ENGT . No, I would never . . . I don't despise you.
L OTTA . You think you know it all, but you kno w nothing! What do
you know about how it feels to have them walk around acting like
they're doing you a favor giving you bit parts in exchange for being a
grateful little prompter? Year in and year out! You could never
understand what that feels like.
B ENGT . Well, yes, Lotta, I think I can understand what that would
feel like.
L OTTA . Could anyone help it if one day you've just had enough, and
38
you explode? If you're so tired of all the humiliation that you don't care
if you humiliate yourself?
B ENGT . I understand how you feel about the prompting. But why did
you make Harry swear he loves you?
L OTTA . You think I don't know he was lying? Of course I'm aware of
that. In fact, he lied very badly. He could never have gotten into acting
school with that audition. I just wanted to hear him straining himself.
He's so conceited he actually thought I fell for it. It humiliated him
much more than it humiliated me.
B ENGT . Yes.
L OTTA . Of course, he doesn't understand that himself.
B ENGT . No.
L OTTA . But you understand because you're a writer. That's why it's
so easy to talk to you.
B ENGT . Am I a writer? I'm having some serious doubts about that at
the moment.
L OTTA . You are? You have doubts about yourself?
B ENGT . Do I ever!
L OTTA . You've even published a novel and everything. At least you
know you're an artist.
B ENGT . How do you ever know that?
L OTTA . I know you're an artist, Bengt. I like Mother and Daughter, it's
a good play. I know there's been some talk about it in the dressing
rooms, and some people think we shouldn't do it, but I think it's good.
B ENGT . You do?
L OTTA . Sure I do. But the role of the Daughter is pretty weak, not
much substance there, you have to admit that.
B ENGT . Maybe.
39
L OTTA . The play is called Mother and Daughter, but practically the
whole thing is only about the Mother.
B ENGT . It may be that the Daughter has been a tad overlooked.
L OTTA . Wouldn't it be possible to have just one scene where the
Daughter gets the upper hand? To keep it in balance ? It would be more
interesting, I think.
B ENGT . Maybe . . .
L OTTA . Write a scene like that, Bengt! I'm not thinking about myself,
but the play would benefit tremendously.
B ENGT . Maybe . . .
O SCAR (over the loudspeaker). Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
The Mother and Daughter rehearsal will begin in two minutes, two
minutes. Act one, scene four, places please!
L OTTA . I have to go get my script. Promise you'll write a scene like
that for me, Bengt!
B ENGT . I'll try . . .
L OTTA . Promise! I know you can do it.
B ENGT . Okay, I promise.
(L OTTA exits.)
B ENGT (takes out his notebook and writes). I know you're all laughing
at me . . .
Scene 18
M ATILDA (enters). Go sit in the house, Bengt, and watch rehearsal.
(B ENGT goes and sits in the house. P ER , H ARR Y , L INDA , and finally, L OTTA
enter. Tense silence. O SCAR enters. They all look at M AT IL DA , who is
engrossed in the script.)
M RS . J ANSSON (enters from the green room). Well, I've spoken with
Putte now and he says it's all right for me to do this as long as we're
40
finished by three so I have time to stop at the market on my way home.
Oh, and one more thing I was wondering about—is this a comedy or a
drama?
O SCAR . We usually figure that out the day after opening.
(O SCAR shows M RS . J ANSSON to her chair.)
M ATILDA . The difficult thing about this scene is that it's supposed to
express a kind of tense anticipation of the tragic events at the end of the
play. Four people together in a room, all aware of the various conflicts
between them, but no one ready to talk about any of it yet. And
remember, this is the last scene before the intermission. The tension has
to carry over into the next act, which is where the conclusion itself
really starts to unfold. Let's begin!
(The actors take their places, and the curtain falls.)
41
ACT III
Scene 1
Three weeks later. The half-finished sets for “Mother and Daughter” are set
up onstage, in front of which P ER and L OTT A are standing. M RS . J ANSSO N is
sitting in a chair, knitting—the scarf is now three weeks longer. M AT ILDA is
seated in the house.
P E R . “I can't understand why you let him use you like that.”
L OTTA . “I love him. I know he treats me like dirt, I know he cheats
on me, but I love him—I can't help it.”
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.” (Pause. Louder.) “This is an
unbearable situation.”
(Pause.)
M ATILDA . Where's Linda?
O SCAR (offstage). Linda, your entrance!
L INDA (offstage). Jesus Christ, you're there already? (Enters.) Sorry, I
didn't think we'd get there so fast, it usually takes much longer.
M ATILDA . We're trying to do a run-through without stopping.
L INDA (to P ER ). Cue me again! (Exits.)
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
(Pause.)
42
L INDA (offstage). Is that all you say?
P E R . Of course.
L INDA (enters).
“circumstance.”
Don't you say “circumstance”? I was waiting for
P E R . “Situation.” “This is an unbearable situation.”
M ATILDA . It's been changed
M RS . J ANSSON . It used to be “an unbearable circumstance,” but it
was changed to “an unbearable situation.”
L INDA . Sorry! Cue me again! (Exits.)
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
L INDA (enters). “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
P E R . Is that where you're supposed to enter from?
L INDA . Yes, of course.
P E R . Aren't you supposed to enter from the bedroom?
L INDA . Isn't that the bedroom?
P E R . That's the door to the kitchen.
L INDA . It is? (To M ATIL DA .) Where am I supposed to enter from?
M ATILDA . From the left.
L INDA . Yes, that's what I did.
M ATILDA . From stage left. Enter again!
L INDA . Aha. Cue me again! (Exits.)
43
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
L INDA (enters). “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
M ATILDA . But you can't be wearing your glasses when you say that!
L INDA . These are my own.
M ATILDA . Take them off!
L INDA . But then I won't be able to read the lines.
M ATILDA . You shouldn't need to. You're supposed to know the lines.
Jansson will prompt you if necessary. Put the script away!
(L INDA reluctantly puts her script away.)
M ATILDA . And where's the newspaper?
L INDA . What newspaper?
M ATILDA . You're supposed to have a newspaper in your hand when
you enter. That's the reason she comes in and asks for her glasses . She's
seen the headline about the accident, she suspects it might have
something to do with her lover, and in order to read the article she
needs her glasses. Where's the newspaper?
L INDA . I didn't see one backstage. Oscar! I need a newspaper in this
scene. (She picks up her script.) Can I mark it with this?
M ATILDA . There must be a newspaper somewhere in this theatre!
L INDA . Oscar's looking for one. I just thought I could mark it with
this in the meantime.
M ATILDA . All right. We have to move on.
(O SCAR hands a newspaper onstage. L INDA reluctantly takes it and puts
down her script.)
44
L INDA . Cue me again! (Exits.)
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
L INDA (enters). “Does anyone know where my glasses are?”
M ATILDA . No!
M RS . J ANSSON . “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
L INDA . Yes, isn't that what I said?
M RS . J ANSSON . You said, “Does anyone know where my glasses
are?”; but it should be, “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
L INDA . That's exactly the same thing.
M RS . J ANSSON . But that's not what it says here.
L INDA . Yes, yes, all right. So how did you say it?
M RS . J ANSSON . “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
L INDA . “Has anyone seen . . . ,” “Has anyone seen . . .” (Exits.)
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L INDA (pokes her head in from offstage). Cue me again!
P E R . That's what I was just doing.
L INDA . Sorry! (Exits.)
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
L INDA (enters). “Has anyone seen the newspaper?”
45
M ATILDA . Christ almighty!
M RS . J ANSSON . “My glasses”!
L INDA . I'll never learn this! Why is everything always so difficult for
me? (To M RS . J ANSSON .) Do you have a pen? (To M ATILDA .) Is this
newspaper good? Can I use it for the performance?
M ATILDA . The newspaper is fine.
L INDA . Good, then I'll write it down right here. How did you say it
again?
M RS . J ANSSON . “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
L INDA (writing on the newspaper).
Last time! Cue me again! (Exits.)
“Has anyone seen my glasses?”
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
L INDA (enters). “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
(Pause.)
P E R . Should we go on?
M ATILDA . Well, of course!
L INDA . I'll cue you again! “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
(Pause.)
M RS . J ANSSON . “Mommy, how can you—”
P E R . I know, there's a pause here.
M RS . J ANSSON . Sorry!
P E R . Doesn't it say “pause” in your script?
46
M RS . J ANSSON . Yes.
P E R . Then don't be so impatient, it's irritating.
M RS . J ANSSON . No, no.
L INDA .
(Exits.)
I'll give you my entrance one more time. Cue me again!
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable circumstance.”
L INDA (enters). You mean “situation.”
P E R . What?
L INDA . You said “circumstance.” Instead of “situation.”
P E R . No, I didn't! I said, “This is an unbearable situation.” That's the
way it's supposed to be. It's been changed.
L INDA . No, sweetie, you said “circumstance.” It doesn't really
matter, but you did actually say “circumstance.”
M RS . J ANSSON . Yes, I heard it too. You said “circumstance.”
P E R . Then why didn't you correct me? Isn't that what you're sitting
there for?
M RS . J ANSSON . Well, yes, I just thought . . .
P E R . You're supposed to correct us if we make a mistake!
M RS . J ANSSON (almost in tears). Yes! I’m so sorry!
M ATILDA . One more time!
L INDA . Cue me again! (Exits.)
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
47
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
L INDA (enters). “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
(Long pause.)
P E R . No! This won't work. There's no reason for a pause here.
M ATILDA . Of course there is! But something has to be happening
during the pause—you can't just stand there and stare at each other.
How do you react when your mother enters?
P E R . Well, I've just found out what's going on and I'm feeling
extremely aggressive towards her. And jealous. I'm completely
devastated.
M ATILDA . But what are you doing?
P E R . I'm just standing there, paralyzed. That's how I feel.
M ATILDA . It's not you who needs to feel, it's the audience. If you just
stand there doing nothing they'll feel nothing. You have to find an
action.
P E R . How about if I sit down?
M ATILDA . You're jealous and aggressive, and you sit down?
P E R . What do you want me to do? Just tell me!
M ATILDA . You're the one playing the part, I can't do it for you.
P E R . You're the director, you should know!
M ATILDA . Per!
P E R . I don't know what to do. I guess I'm just not very talented!
L OTTA . No, Per, darling! Let's try it one more time!
M ATILDA . Start a little further back, it'll be easier for you.
48
(L INDA gives P ER a sign of encouragement and exits.)
P E R . “I can't understand why you let him use you like that.”
L OTTA . “I love him. I know he treats me like dirt, I know he cheats
on me, but I love him—I can't help it.”
P E R . “And what about her? Does she love him too?”
L OTTA . “She says she does.”
P E R . “This is an unbearable situation.”
Scene 2
O SCAR (enters). Sorry, Linda had to go try on her new dress.
M ATILDA . What the hell?
O SCAR . The seamstress has been waiting since ten-thirty, and it's
one-thirty now. She said if Linda didn't come right away she wouldn't
have a dress for opening.
M ATILDA .
opening.
If we can't rehearse undisturbed there won't be an
O SCAR . Opening without a dress, or a dress without an opening?
Should I send the seamstress home?
M ATILDA . For God's sake, just let her try it on! We'll work on the
reconciliation scene while we're waiting—act two, scene four.
O SCAR . All right. (Exits.)
L OTTA . Do I have time to call Bengt first? (Exits.)
M RS . J ANSSON . Perhaps I could use the little girls' room then? (Exits.)
M ATILDA (coming up onstage).
possibly be ready in time.
At this rate, I can't see how we can
49
Scene 3
P E R . Look . . .
O SCAR (enters). Harry's not here.
M ATILDA . Not here?
O SCAR . When you're as huge a star as he is, you come and go as you
please. The morals in this theatre are beneath reproach. Now, back in
the Touring Theatre—
M ATILDA . Did you call him at home?
O SCAR . There's no point in calling Harry—you never know where
he'll wake up next, if he wakes up at all. Actors are as difficult to keep
track of as writers.
M ATILDA . You can't complain about Bengt, he's been sober for three
weeks now.
O SCAR . As long as Lotta watches over him like a worried little
mother, calling home every couple of hours. But as soon as she gets
tired of all that, he'll fall off the wagon again.
M ATILDA .
home.
But we were talking about Harry. At least try him at
O SCAR . Yes, of course. Over the years I've had plenty of little talks
like this with his wife. They're not very pleasant, but one becomes
hardened to them after a while. (Exits.)
Scene 4
M ATILDA . At this rate, I really can't see how we can possibly be
ready in time.
P E R . Look . . . there was a board meeting this morning, wasn’t there?
M ATILDA . You're damn right there was.
P E R . Well, how did it go?
50
M ATILDA .
It was stormy. Stigzelius was literally rabid. But I
managed to prove they've already spent so much money on Mother and
Daughter that it would be economic insanity to stop the production
now. That hit home. They don't understand art, but they do
occasionally understand money. We'll o pen according to plan.
P E R . I see . . . but, actually, what I was asking about was —what
happened with my letter?
M ATILDA . Your letter?
P E R . My letter to the board. Was it even brought up?
M ATILDA .
action.
Ah. Yes, it was brought up, but it didn't result in any
P E R . It didn't? Despite an obvious injustice?
M ATILDA . Per, there was nothing I could do.
P E R . Did you support my petition?
M ATILDA . My opinion doesn't carry much weight in these cases.
P E R . It carries a lot of weight with me. I would like to know—did
you or did you not support my petition?
M ATILDA . I did not.
P E R . Really! Well, now I know how much you appreciate me!
M ATILDA . Per, I think you've become fixated on this salary issue.
P E R . You mean I'm making it up? I'm just imagining that I get paid
less than Harry?
M ATILDA . What does your salary have to do with Harry's?
P E R . Why should he get more than me? Is he a better actor?
M ATILDA . Per, that is an unproductive question. You're both so . .
. different . . .
51
P E R . Is he really thirty percent better than I am?
M ATILDA . It's not as simple as that when it comes to salaries. You,
for example, get paid more than Lotta.
P E R . But she's a prompter. And a woman. You can't compare me to
Lotta. But everyone in this town seems to know that Harry gets paid
more than I do; and then, of course, they start thinking he's a better
actor too.
M ATILDA . Per, please try to be sensible!
P E R . I'm sticking to my demands! If I don't get paid as much as he
does, I'll quit! I'll go to some other town, or I'll give up acting
altogether and go back to being a telephone technician. My self-esteem
can't take it anymore. Harry gets everything—all the leads, all the
awards, all the extra jobs, all the women, everything! At least give me
the same pay!
Scene 5
Blackout. O SCAR enters carrying two electric candles.
O SCAR (singing). “Silent night, Holy night, All is calm . . .”
P E R . Do you really have to go out of your way just to make fun of
me? (Exits.)
O SCAR . Just trying to cheer everyone up. I guess that wasn't the best
choice of a song. You can turn the lights back on now!
(The lights go on.)
O SCAR . Look at these—pretty good, huh? (He turns the candles on and
off.) They're actually more convincing than real ones. Which can't be
said about all the actors.
Scene 6
H ARRY enters.
52
O SCAR . So, you've finally decided it's convenient for you to stop by?
Maybe once in a great while you should consider the fact that it's this
theatre that pays your monthly salary, in exchange for you showing up
for work every day at eleven a.m.—not at twelve forty-seven p.m.
(Exits.)
H ARRY . I'm sorry, Matilda, I'm having some personal problems –
M ATILDA . . . . which you should take care of in your personal time.
H ARRY . You can't always time your life according to the clock.
M ATILDA . The theatre doesn't interfere in your private life, Harry—
you can screw that up however you like—just don't let your private life
screw up your work.
H ARRY . You know, there are other things in life than work!
M ATILDA . Really?
H ARRY . I slept in a hotel last night—alone. Lisbet changed the locks,
I couldn't get into my own house. Today we've been sitting in the
attorney's office since ten o'clock.
M ATILDA . Attorneys' offices open at nine, as far as I know. I don't
see why you couldn't be here at eleven.
H ARRY . Damn it, Matilda, don't you have any feelings? My life is
crumbling down around me.
M ATILDA . Is that the theatre's fault?
H ARRY . No . . .
M ATILDA . We open in two weeks, every minute is valuable. This is a
theatre, not an office. If you're not onstage at the precise moment when
you're supposed to be, everything stops—stops and waits just for you.
It's irresponsible of you to let your personal problems paralyze the
entire workplace.
H ARRY . Don't you have any feelings?
M ATILDA . Yes, but I have to save them for the play.
53
H ARRY (sighs, takes out his script). Where are we?
M ATILDA . Act two, scene four. The reconciliation.
(H AR RY sits down. M ATILDA crosses downstage to go back into the house, but
stops herself, goes back up to H ARRY , and puts her hand on his shoulder.)
H ARRY . I'm sorry, Matilda. When something like this happens, so
suddenly . . .
M ATILDA . Did it really come as such a surprise to you that Lisbet
wants a divorce?
H ARRY . Perhaps not. But it seemed so easy for her. We've been
married for nine years —we have a child together, for God's sake—and
now she's treating me like a troublesome boarder.
M ATILDA . Believe me, it's not that easy for her, Harry. She just wants
it to look that way. I've thrown two husbands out of my life, both of
whom left a child behind. I can assure you that neither of those
“rebirths” were without labor pains—for anyone.
H ARRY .
If that's the case, then she sure gave a damn good
performance.
M ATILDA . Like Oscar says: “Theatre is the only honest thing in the
world, everything else is just an act.”
Scene 7
L OTTA (enters). Sorry, I had to call Bengt.
M ATILDA . Everything all right?
L OTTA . Oh, sure, sure! He's been up all night writing.
M ATILDA . Let's get started then.
M RS . J ANSSON (enters). Oh, my gosh! Are you waiting for me?
M ATILDA . The reconciliation scene. Harry is sitting in the chair with
his back to the door. Lotta enters. Let's do it!
54
(M AT ILDA goes and sits in the house. H ARRY sits in a chair onstage. L OTTA
exits and enters again.)
L OTTA . “Do you think we could turn back the clock, start all over
again?”
M ATILDA . But you can't say it like that, as if you're talking about a
cake that wouldn’t rise. We're talking about a deep crisis here. You
haven't been on speaking terms for three days now and this is your first
attempt at making contact. I think you need to touch him before you
can say anything to him.
L OTTA (goes up to H ARRY and forces herself to brush his shoulder with her
hand) “Do you think we could turn back the clock, start all over again?”
M ATILDA . No, no. That looks terrible.
L OTTA . So what should I do?
M ATILDA . You should touch him. This is the first time you've
touched him in three days, and you love him, you long to touch him.
Try it again!
L OTTA (goes up to H ARRY and puts her hand on his shoulder ). “Do you
think we could turn back the clock, start all over again?”
(H AR RY puts his hand on hers. L OTTA impulsively pulls her hand back .)
M ATILDA . Why did you pull your hand away?
L OTTA . Is he supposed to touch me?
H ARRY . It was a normal reaction.
M ATILDA . It looked good. But then Lotta can't pull her hand away.
L OTTA . All right, as long as I know.
M ATILDA . Again!
L OTTA (goes up to H ARRY and puts her hand on his shoulder). “Do you
think we could turn back the clock, start all over again?”
H ARRY (puts his hand on hers). “You can never start all over again,
55
but I think we can try to move on—if we try together.”
L OTTA . “You really want to?”
H ARRY (tries to pull her into his arms, but she resists ). Is she supposed
to resist? The script says I'm supposed to pull her into my arms, but is
she supposed to resist?
M ATILDA . Of course not.
L OTTA . Does he have to pull me into his arms?
M ATILDA . Why shouldn’t he?
L OTTA . I was just thinking it might not be the best choice. I could
probably get Bengt to change it.
M ATILDA . There's nothing wrong with it, the only problem is that
you seem to be having a hard time dealing with it.
L OTTA . Could we mark through it technically?
M ATILDA . If it's necessary . . .
L OTTA (marking through her actions). So I come in, walk up to him,
touch him, and say, “Do you think we could turn back the clock, start
all over again?”
H ARRY (marking through his actions, but clearly showing that he finds the
exercise completely meaningless). I place my hand on hers, and say, “You
can never start all over again, but I think we can try to move on—if we
try together.”
L OTTA (marking). “You really want to?”
H ARRY . Then I pull her into my arms and . . . (He pulls her into his
arms. L OTTA sits herself down as far away from him as possible.) Could you
please ask her if she's going to sit down like that?
M ATILDA . Are you going to sit down like that, Lotta?
L OTTA . I thought we were just marking.
H ARRY . Ask her to start acting.
56
L OTTA . So what's wrong with me now?
H ARRY . She feels like a frozen turkey, that's all.
L OTTA .
remarks.
I think he should say his lines instead of his irrelevant
(H AR RY suddenly pulls her playfully towards him. L OTTA jumps violently
away.)
L OTTA . If he's going to get violent then I cannot rehearse this scene!
H ARRY . You have no sense of humor.
L OTTA . No sense of humor? And that coming from you! Ha, ha, ha!
M ATILDA . Can we go on now?
H ARRY . Fine with me.
L OTTA . I want nothing more than to get to work.
M ATILDA . From the top, then!
L OTTA . To say that I have no sense of humor—now that's a laugh.
M ATILDA . And please stop mixing your personal feelings into this.
Pull yourselves together and play the scene!
(L OTTA is preparing to begin.)
H ARRY . It's hopeless working with this material. The text is so shitty
that it's entirely on our shoulders to make it work.
M ATILDA . There's nothing wrong with the text as long as you work
through it.
H ARRY (to L OTTA ). Well then, why don't you give it a try?
L OTTA . That's exactly what I'm doing, b ut you keep interrupting.
H ARRY . Interrupting? Me?
57
L OTTA . I'm standing here concentrating, getting ready to start, when
you suddenly have to start picking on the text.
M ATILDA . Are you ready now?
L OTTA . I've been ready all along.
(H AR RY sighs, and nods resignedly.)
L OTTA (now with exaggerated, over-acted feeling and affection). “Do you
think we could turn back the clock, start all over again?”
H ARRY (trying unsuccessfully to hide his irritation). “You can never
start all over again, but I think we can try to move on—if we try
together.”
L OTTA . “You really want to?”
(Before H ARRY has a chance to pull her into his arms, she sits down on his lap
so close to him that his head disappears.)
H ARRY (freeing himself). This will never work!
L OTTA . What's wrong now? You wanted me to get closer to him.
H ARRY . I can't say my line if she's smothering me with her breasts.
M ATILDA . I was thinking of cutting that line.
H ARRY . Well in that case, smother on!
M ATILDA . How does the line go?
M RS . J ANSSON . “You know I want to.”
M ATILDA . Isn't there some way you can express that without words?
Maybe you could just look at her tenderly and caress her cheek? What
do you think? (H ARRY doesn't answer.) So, let's try it again, this time for
real.
H ARRY . How’s that going to help anything? As long as the young
lady here chooses to sabotage rather than act, we won't be moving
forward an inch.
58
L OTTA . Oh, so I'm the one who's sabotaging! While you just sit there
like a lump of dough, sulking, not even deigning to try.
H ARRY . Oh, I've been trying all right! I've just had a rather difficult
morning—and Matilda is aware of that—but I don't let my personal
feelings affect my work, unlike some others I know.
L OTTA . And you, of all people, have the nerve to say that! Here I
come to the theatre full of excitement and enthusiasm, and then it's all
shot to hell because you’ve screwed up your life.
H ARRY . You shut up!
L OTTA . Oh, now this really takes the cake! You have the nerve to
accuse me of letting my personal feelings affect my work, and now look
at you!
H ARRY . That's it, Matilda—if you can't get this stubborn, sideways slitted cunt to shut up, I won't be responsible for my actions.
L OTTA (bawling). Did you hear what he called me? I'm not going to
stand here and take these insults. He has no right to behave like that.
And I'm warning you—if he gets violent, I'm calling the police!
H ARRY . Stupid sow!
(L OTTA slaps H ARRY .)
L OTTA . Don't touch me!
(They stare hatefully at each other for a moment, and then part. The longest
pause in theatre history. M RS . J ANSSON takes out her knitting. M ATILDA
ponders the situation, sighs.)
M ATILDA . Perhaps we should work on a different scene . . .
M RS . J ANSSON . Should I put on some coffee?
(H AR RY walks up to L OTTA , and slowly touches her. They get into position,
concentrate a moment, and then go through the scene as warmly and
genuinely as they can.)
L OTTA . “Do you think we could turn back the clock, start all over
again?”
59
H ARRY . “You can never start all over again, but I think we can try to
move on—if we try together.”
L OTTA . “You really want to?”
(H AR RY pulls her gently into his arms, and she comes willingly. He looks at
her affectionately, caresses her cheek. She leans towards him and they embrace
in a long kiss.)
M ATILDA . Good!
H ARRY . Something like that, perhaps.
M RS . J ANSSON . That was so beautiful! I got all misty-eyed.
H ARRY . It’s not a bad scene, but as far as the lines are concerned,
you might as well use the phone book, it's equally poetic. That goes for
the entire play, I might add. It's totally up to us to make this play work.
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, but it was so tender and so moving! However
much I look through the phone book, it never feels like when the two of
you kissed just now.
Scene 8
O SCAR (enters). Since you're taking a break, could you take a look at
this? It's the proof of the program.
M ATILDA (coming up onstage). Okay.
M RS . J ANSSON . Tell me, were you able to find another prompter?
Putte's starting to have second thoughts about all this. After all, it was
only supposed to be a few days, and here it's been three weeks now —
M ATILDA . It would be good if you could stay till we open.
O SCAR (to M ATILDA ). Everything's in a rush, as usual. The courier
from the printer's will be here in ten minutes.
H ARRY . Do we have time for a smoke while you look at that?
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M RS . J ANSSON . I really do want to help, but Putte's been grumbling
about it. Supper was late a few times already and, you know, he's so
conventional . . .
L OTTA . Are we going to do this scene again or go on to something
else?
M ATILDA . We'll go on in a moment, I just have to take a look at this.
O SCAR . And Arthur's coming in today with the poster design, so
you'll have to go down to the PR department at three. They also want to
know what kind of snacks we should serve at the PR presentation.
M ATILDA .
Whatever—as long as it's not coffee and Danish.
Something more imaginative.
P E R (enters from the dressing rooms wearing a full beard). They sent this
from the wig place, what do you think?
(The lines begin overlapping each other.)
L OTTA . Will we be doing this scene again?
M ATILDA (looking at P ER 's beard). Well, hard to say . . . they didn't
send any others?
H ARRY . Do we have time for a smoke?
P E R . No, this is the only one they sent.
L OTTA . Because Bengt will be here any minute now with the new
version of the confrontation scene. He's been working on it all night.
P E R . Do I really need a beard?
H ARRY . Oh God, we're getting new lines again?
M ATILDA (to P ER ). I do think you need to look older. (To O SCAR .) It's
so banal to always just serve coffee and Danish. (She returns to studying
the proof.)
M RS . J ANSSON . If I may take this opportunity to ask what was
decided about the line, “You know I want to”?
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P E R . What if I dyed my hair instead? What do you think about that?
M RS . J ANSSON . Did you decide to cut it, or not?
M ATILDA (to P ER ). Yes, maybe . . .
L INDA (enters wearing an evening gown). What do you think of this,
my little chief?
M ATILDA (looking at L INDA 's dress). This one looks good . . .
M RS . J ANSSON . You said, the last time we ran through it, that you
wanted to cut that line, so what should I do?
H ARRY . Are we really getting new lines again?
L INDA . And I'll get a zipper over here so it'll be easy to take off.
Because, you know, I'll be in such an awful hurry during that change.
(She begins practicing the positions and movements of the change . M ATILDA
returns to studying the proof.)
O SCAR (to M RS . J ANSSON ). Last year, some genius decided we should
serve mushroom quiche and mineral water, which was not popular at
all.
P E R . So what should I do about this beard?
H ARRY (to M ATILDA ). Did you know we were getting new lines?
M ATILDA (to H ARRY ). What?
M RS . J ANSSON . So, “You know I want to,” Harry's line, is it cut or
not?
M ATILDA (to M RS . J ANSSON ).
lines?
I don't know. (To H ARRY .) What new
M RS . J ANSSON . I guess we'll just see how it goes.
H ARRY . I asked if you're aware that the author is on his way here at
this very moment with new lines?
O SCAR . We had to eat mushroom quiche for three days.
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M ATILDA (to H ARRY ). I haven't heard a thing about any new lines.
(To O SCAR .) The center layout looks terrible, it'll have to be redone.
(H AR RY exits.)
M RS . J ANSSON . I won't cut anything yet.
O SCAR . I'm not sure there's time. The kid from the printer's will be
here any minute.
P E R . So, can I take the beard off now?
M ATILDA . This center layout has to be redone, we can't leave it like
this! (She gives the proofs back to O SCAR . L OTTA grabs a page.) Take it off,
Per. We'll have to find some other way of aging you. (She takes out a
large notepad.)
O SCAR . I'll talk to PR, they'll have to call the printer's.
L OTTA . What a horrendous picture of me in the program!
P E R . So, you think I should dye my hair then?
M ATILDA (to P ER ). You could try a little gray. (To O SCAR .) Did you
remember about the photo shoot?
O SCAR . Of course. The photographer will be here next Thursday.
M ATILDA . Then we'll start with the lights Wednesday morning. That
means the sets have to be completely finished by then, at the very
latest. (She goes over her notes with O SCAR , mumbling.) The bed? The
projector? The Mozart? The fan? The speakers? . . . (and so on, ad lib.)
L OTTA . This picture of me in the program's just horrendous. Tell
them to change it, Oscar!
M RS . J ANSSON . Oscar, I was wondering when we could go and
actually take a look at the Flower of Hawaii costumes? Not that there's
any hurry, I'm sure it can wait until after opening. By the way, where
am I supposed to be during the performance? (She starts looking for a
prompter's box.)
L INDA .
You do know, little chief, that the opening date has to be
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changed. Venus is aligned with the Moon exactly on that day, which
spells pure disaster for a Leo!
P E R . So . . . then I guess I'll go take the beard off now.
L INDA . I know you don't believe in these things, but I really can't
open on a day like that, it's entirely out of the question.
M ATILDA . My dear Linda, it's too late to change it now. . . . (To
O SCAR .) There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, what
was it . . . ?
P E R (to L OTTA ). This was the only beard they sent!
L OTTA (to P ER ). There's a horrendous picture of me in the program!
M RS . J ANSSON . Do you have a prompter's box, or do you want me to
just stand in the wings?
M ATILDA . It was something about the order of the . . . (She looks at
her notes.)
P E R (to L INDA ). This was the only beard they sent!
L INDA . I won't be responsible for what might happen!
L OTTA . Oscar, they have to change that picture!
H ARRY (enters). How long is he going to go on writing this play?
Will he ever be finished?
(They are suddenly interrupted by a sound effect: the wailing of a siren—
which is so loud that they are A LL immediately silenced.)
V OICE (over the loudspeaker). Could you hear that?
O SCAR . They're testing the speakers. Yes, thank you, we heard it.
Scene 9
B ENGT (enters from the cloakroom). Hi! How's it going?
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L OTTA (embracing him). Darling! Have you been eating properly?
B ENGT . Yes, of course. How are things going?
O SCAR . Everything's perfectly normal—complete chaos. (Exits.)
L OTTA . Did you finish it? The new scene?
M ATILDA . What new scene?
B ENGT . I've rewritten the confrontation scene. I wanted to put a little
more emphasis on the Daughter. After all, the play is called Mother and
Daughter, but you have to admit, the Daughter has been a tad
overlooked. So I rewrote the scene. Perhaps you'd like to give it a try?
M ATILDA . Let me see it!
H ARRY . Hasn't it been just fine the way it is?
L OTTA . We really should give the new scene a try, now that Bengt
has gone to all the trouble of rewriting it.
B ENGT . There aren't any major changes, really, I rewrote it in fifteen
minutes . . . (He passes out copies to the actors.)
P E R . The whole thing's already been printed out? So you've already
decided to change it?
M ATILDA . Nothing's been decided.
B ENGT . I just had some proper copies made up so it would be easier
to read.
L INDA . When are we supposed to find the time to learn this?
B ENGT . It's really not that much.
M RS . J ANSSON . Do you have a copy for me?
B ENGT . I'm afraid not.
M RS . J ANSSON . Well, I'll get one later, that's fine.
L OTTA . Should we read through it right away?
65
B ENGT . Yes, if you don't have anything else to do . . .
H ARRY . We have plenty to do . . .
M ATILDA (suddenly remembering).
(Exiting.) Oscar!
The candlesticks! Just a moment!
L INDA .
Is this how it's done nowadays, everything's written
afterwards?
P E R . Often, yes.
H ARRY . I question the wisdom of bringing in new lines at this point,
two weeks before opening.
P E R . Yeah, wouldn't it be better to focus on what we already have?
There are several scenes that still aren't working.
L INDA . I've never heard of not having the play finished by the time
rehearsals begin.
H ARRY . Obviously, this one will never be finished.
B ENGT . Well, if you think it's too much to ask . . .
L OTTA . But it's only a couple of pages!
L INDA (to L OTTA ). It might be easy for you, dear, but I have a rather
large part and I'm having trouble learning it the way it is. Besides, you
have to give these things a bit of time to sink in, too.
B ENGT . Actually, it'll be much easier for you, Linda, because I've cut
the whole beginning of the scene.
L INDA . The whole thing?
B ENGT . Yes. All the way up to Lotta's entrance.
L INDA . But it would be such a shame to lose all that. My whole
blow-up—that was so satisfying to play.
P E R . How many times is it going to be changed?
66
H ARRY . Yes, one has to wonder!
P E R . It's getting confusing.
L OTTA . I think you're all being incredibly selfish. Bengt has been up
all night writing just so we can have even better material to work with.
We should be grateful.
M ATILDA (enters). Let's read through this new version instead of
talking about it, we're just wasting time. (She goes down into the house.)
P E R . You can't just waltz in here and throw new lines in our faces at
the last minute.
H ARRY . No, you can't!
P E R . We're not a flock of sheep that can be herded this way or that
according to your every whim! We have the right to demand respect for
our work!
H ARRY . That's right!
L OTTA . What is it you're afraid of? We have to be open to change!
H ARRY . That's a load of crap! You think we don't know why you're
kissing up like that?
L OTTA . That's ridiculous! I'm only thinking of the larger picture—if
it improves the play, that's all I care about.
H ARRY . Bullshit!
M ATILDA . Please calm down so we can get started.
L OTTA . You're all just lazy, that's why you're so afraid of change.
P E R . We're not lazy! We're sick and tired of being treated like guinea
pigs just because the writer and director don't know what they want to
do with the play. It's unfair to make us go through all this and I won't
take it any longer . . . (He grabs a chair and hurls it to the ground with such
intensity that it shatters into pieces.)
M ATILDA . Good! That was a strong action, Per! An aggressive action.
That's exactly how you should express your despair in scene four, that
67
was perfect!
P E R . But, Matilda, can't you see that was real?
M ATILDA . Of course I see that!
P E R . So I'm supposed to smash a chair on the floor in scene four?
M ATILDA . Yes. But I'm not sure it'll work. It looked good now, when
it was real, but that doesn't mean it'll look good in th e scene. We'll have
to give it a try.
P E R . You're impossible! Whatever we do, you just keep directing!
B ENGT . So, what are we going to do about . . . this?
M ATILDA . We're going to read it. Right now! Go to your places at the
beginning of the scene.
(The actors reluctantly—with the exception of L OTTA , who is enthusiastic—
take their places.)
L INDA . I was up here. But if it's been changed, then I don't know
where I am anymore.
B ENGT . You don't have to change anything—except for cutting your
lines.
L INDA . Fine with me if it's better for the play.
L OTTA . Where do you think I should enter from?
B ENGT . I don't know, it's up to Matilda.
L OTTA . Well, how about if I enter from up here, center stage?
M ATILDA . Do it! And then the rest of you turn towards her.
L INDA . So that our backs are to the audience? Is that really what you
want?
M ATILDA . We'll see.
L INDA . She seems to have an awful lot to say. You really want us to
68
stand like this the whole time?
M ATILDA . I said we'll see! Just read it.
L INDA (trying to position herself so that she's facing L OTTA , but without
having her back to the audience ). I'm afraid I only have one front end.
M ATILDA . Start! Now!
(L OTTA exits.)
L OTTA (from offstage). Okay, here I come. (Enters.) “I know you're all
laughing at me! You all think I'm acting like a fool, don't think I don't
know that. (She stops and looks at B ENGT , who avoids her glance.) Go ahead
and despise me!”
P E R . With gentle despair: “We don't despise you.”
L OTTA . “You think you know it all, but you know nothing. What do
you know about how it feels to have them walk around acting like
they're doing you a favor, year in and year out! You could never
understand what that feels like. Could anyone help it if one day you've
just had enough, and you explode? If you're so tired of all the
humiliation that you . . .” No! No, no, no, no, no!
L INDA . What's she saying now? My script says something different.
M ATILDA . Why are you pausing here?
L OTTA . We're stopping this, right now!
P E R . No, please, Lotta, let's read it. I'm sorry if I got a little upset
about it earlier on, but of course we'll read it through. Won't we?
M ATILDA . What's going on?
L OTTA . I can't read these words!
L INDA . Take mine, it's very legible. I don't have any lines anyway.
L OTTA . You don't understand! I can't say this!
M RS . J ANSSON . Does it contain something indecent?
69
B ENGT (takes L OTTA 's script). Okay, if it's not good enough for you!
L OTTA . You can't make me say that!
B ENGT (angrily and methodically tearing up her script). I tried my best,
but never mind!
L INDA . I don't understand anything.
M ATILDA . What the hell is wrong with you?
L OTTA . I won't say those lines. You can't make me!
(The lines begin overlapping each other again.)
B ENGT (collecting all the scripts and tearing them into pieces). I stayed
up all night writing this, but who cares!
P E R . Don't tear them up!
L INDA . I don't understand anything.
L OTTA . I absolutely refuse! (She grabs M RS . J ANSSON 's script.) I'll do
the prompting, but I won't say those lines, not for anything in the
world!
M ATILDA . Will you calm down and explain what this is all about?
M RS . J ANSSON . Should I put some coffee on?
H ARRY . What kind of a twisted joke is this?
L OTTA . You don't understand anything about it!
H ARRY . No, I sure don't. First you nag us for half an hour to read
this damn text, and then all of a sudden—!
P E R . Can't you leave her alone? Can't you see she's having a rough
time?
H ARRY . A rough time? Who the hell isn't having a rough time? But if
this hysterical bitch is allowed to terrorize us no matter what we—
P E R . Watch your mouth!
70
H ARRY . Shut up!
M ATILDA . Will you all calm down for a moment?
M RS . J ANSSON . Should I put some coffee on?
P E R . You have no right to yell at me!
B ENGT . Forget I ever wrote this!
H ARRY . Forget the whole play altogether, that would be the only
sane thing to do!
L OTTA . I'll start prompting now—any scene, just tell me where!
M ATILDA . Have you all gone stark raving mad?
L INDA . I don't understand anything.
M RS . J ANSSON . I think I will go make some coffee!
Scene 10
O SCAR enters from the green room carrying a prop revolver. He tries to quiet
everyone down, but without success. Eventually, he fire s the revolver in the
air, which does the trick.
O SCAR . Stigzelius is on his way here! He wants to watch a rehearsal.
M ATILDA . Good God!
71
INTERMEZZO
One week later. M ATILDA is standing in front of the main curtain.
M ATILDA . I'd like to wish you all a very warm welcome, and while
you're enjoying your coffee and Danish, which I hope you'll find to
your satisfaction, I'd like to say a few words about our premiere next
Wednesday . . . Yes, Wednesday . . . Well, we had to postpone it due to
certain . . . technical difficulties, but yes, it will, in any case, be on
Wednesday. (Noise from behind the curtain.) Our theme this season has
been mankind's challenges in dealing with the social problems inherent
in modern society, and Mother and Daughter continues in this vein. . . .
Excuse me? . . . Yes, the playwright was supposed to be here but,
unfortunately, he's been delayed. Perhaps I could tell you about the
play instead? It touches on . . . Pardon? . . . Yes, it's true that it has
occasioned some debate among the members of the board, but . . . No,
on the contrary, I think it's always a very positive thing if differing
viewpoints are discussed openly. (Increased noise from behind the
curtain.) But returning to the play, it primarily addresses the . . . Excuse
me? . . . How long? . . . The performance runs two hours and fifty
minutes with intermission. . . . Yes, that means it gets out at ten fifty. . .
Too long? . . . Well, that depends on how you look at it . . . No, you
won't be home in time to catch the ten o'clock news, that's true . . . but
if I could say a few more words about the play . . .
(B ENGT forces his way in front of the curtain, and glares mockingly at the
audience. He is highly intoxicated.)
B ENGT . How do you do? How do you do? How do you do? . . .
M ATILDA .
surprise . . .
Well, here's the playwright after all, what a pleasant
B ENGT . How do you do? How do you do? . . .
M ATILDA .
I have to say that we've had a very rewarding
collaboration. It's been extremely stimulating having the author
participate in the rehearsal process —
B ENGT . Shit!
M ATILDA . If I may clarify what I think Bengt is trying to say: I
believe what he means is that this collaboration, quite naturally, has
also, by its very nature, engendered a certain amount of conflict; but
72
everyone involved has had the opportunity
positively and, I might add, enthusiastically.
to
contribute very
B ENGT . Shit!
M ATILDA .
speak—
We were striving for a kind of ensemble spirit, so to
B ENGT . Shit!
M ATILDA . Perhaps it would be best if we—
B ENGT . There won't be an opening! The play is shit, the actors are
shit, the entire theatre is shit, the audience is shit, the critics are double
shits, I'm a shit too and everything is shit and now we can all go home
and shit! (Exits.)
M ATILDA . May I offer you some more coffee?
73
ACT IV
Scene 1
Opening night. The final moments from the closing scene of “Mother and
Daughter”: Darkness. A gunshot. Dramatic music. The stage lights go on.
The Lover (H ARR Y ) lies dead on the sofa, shot in the chest. The Mother
(L INDA ), the Daughter (L OTT A ), and the Son (P ER ) are staring accusingly at
each other. L INDA and L OTT A hold lit candelabra in their hands, L OTTA blows
hers out; L INDA attempts to blow hers out, but without success. The li ghts
dim and the music swells. Darkness and silence. Enthusiastic applause. Lights
go up. Curtain calls. Thank you's. O SCAR passes out flowers. L OTTA pulls a
resistant B E NGT onstage, and so on. Finally, the applause dies down, and the
curtain falls for the last time. The actors stand onstage with gifts and flowers.
H ARRY and L INDA hug each other. L OT TA and P ER hug each other. L INDA
and P ER hug each other. L INDA and L OTT A hug each other. P ER and H ARRY
hug each other. L OTTA and H ARRY hug each other.
L INDA . Thank you, one and all!
P E R . Such applause!
L OTTA . Did you hear someone shout, “Bravo!”?
H ARRY . When was the last time we heard that in this town?
L OTTA . That's what I said!
Scene 2
M RS . J ANSSON (enters). Jesus help me, I almost peed in my pants
when Linda's dress got caught in the doorway. That was dreadful!
P E R . What? When did that happen?
L INDA . You didn't notice? In scene four. That's why I dropped the
newspaper with my line written on it.
M RS . J ANSSON . As God is my witness, I tried to prompt you, but I
was on the other side of the stage and you couldn't hear me, even
74
though I was practically screaming—I think you were the only one in
the whole theatre who didn't hear me—and I just couldn't help
thinking, oh my, this is going right to hell in a handbasket—
P E R . That's why your line sounded so strange.
L INDA . What did I say?
P E R . You said, “Has anyone seen with my glasses?” I was so stunned
the whole pause was messed up.
M RS . J ANSSON . Well, never you mind, you handled it very well. The
audience didn't notice a thing. I asked Putte at intermission and he, at
least, didn't notice anything. Not that he's one to notice anything
anyway . . .
H ARRY . So that was the only mishap?
L INDA . Aside from the candles not going out no matter how much I
blew on them.
P E R . They have a button. Didn't Oscar show you?
L INDA . Yes, he probably did!
Scene 3
B ENGT (enters). Thank you so much! You were all just fantastic! I was
so touched by the time it was over I had tears in my eyes.
L OTTA . Darling! Congratulations, Bengt! I kept saying all along that
this play would be a hit.
P E R . Did anyone see Hogberg leave?
B ENGT . I thought he looked bored.
H ARRY . That doesn't mean a thing. When we did Dario Fo last year,
he laughed like an idiot all night long. Then he went home and wrote
the most acerbic review. If he looked bored he'll probably shower us
with praise.
75
B ENGT . My God, was I nervous when the lights went down and the
curtain went up. I felt like everybody was looking at me out of the
corners of their eyes, so I didn't dare react to anything. But the worst
part was having to get up onstage afterwards. What an awful ritual to
have to be dragged up here like that!
L INDA . There are a lot of people who would pay to be dragged up
here like that.
L OTTA . Did you hear that applause?
P E R . Now that's a nice ritual.
M RS . J ANSSON . Putte liked the show too, and he doesn't understand a
thing about theatre! Oh, I mean, he liked it anyway.
B ENGT (having opened a box with the long scarf M RS . J ANSSON has been
knitting). No, really . . . is this for me?
M RS . J ANSSON . I'll never forget how cold you looked that first day I
was here. I thought right away, that young man could use something
warm around his neck.
B ENGT . Thank you so much, my dear!
Scene 4
O SCAR (enters, rolling in a cart with champagne and glasses).
beep!
Beep,
L OTTA . Oscar, what are you doing?
H ARRY . I thought you'd broken up with the bottle.
O SCAR . I'm completely innocent, this is Linda's treat.
P E R . Linda!
L INDA . A première without champagne is like champagne without
bubbles! Please, help yourself! (Handing out some glasses.) The
playwright; Harry; our very helpful Jansson; Oscar.
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O SCAR . Just a drop, in your honor. It's against my principles, but
you are a force majeure. Now, back in the Touring Theatre the director
would pass out sandwiches and milk after each performance. How
times change.
L INDA . I want to thank all of you beloved people for this wonderful
time together. For being so gracious as to allow me to come here to
your beautiful theatre filled with the warmth of your incredible spirit
and camaraderie; for writing this brilliant part for me; for our fantastic
rehearsal period; and for being given the opportunity to once again
breathe the . . . oh Lord, I'm starting to cry. Skoal, everyone!
A LL . Skoal!
L INDA . May you all . . . but where's our little chief?
B ENGT . Where's Matilda?
H ARRY (shouts). Matilda!
M RS . J ANSSON . Oh, good heavens, she hasn't gone home, has she?
P E R (whispers). She's in the house!
L INDA . Come up here and toast with us, little chief!
H ARRY . We have a success on our hands.
Scene 5
M ATILDA comes up onstage.
O SCAR . Six curtain calls! And this time I didn't even have to help
them out, they applauded completely voluntarily.
L OTTA . We can keep this one in rep for an entire year.
H ARRY . They were eating out of our hands, did you notice that?
L INDA (gives M AT ILDA a glass). Skoal!
A LL (except M AT ILDA ). Skoal!
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(Everyone drinks, except M AT ILDA .)
M ATILDA . Has the play suddenly gotten better because a few people
clapped their hands? (An awkward, painful silence.) For eight weeks you
fought me tooth and nail. You didn't believe in the play, and you didn't
believe in me. Then all of a sudden, people are sitting in the theatre—
and applauding, and—poof!—your mistrust is forgotten and all is peace
and harmony. Can’t you see how fake that is? (She empties her glass.)
H ARRY . Fake? I think it’s pretty damn good.
M ATILDA . What the hell's so good about it? Why do you trust them
more than you trust me? (In a dramatic gesture, she hurls her glass to the
floor—but it’s plastic, and doesn’t break.)
O SCAR (apologizing). Plastic . . .
M ATILDA . Everything’s fake around here!
M RS . J ANSSON . Excuse me for butting into things I don't understand,
but would you like it more if the audience booed and whistled?
M ATILDA . If we give them an honest performance and they boo and
whistle then it’s fair play, a good fight.
M RS . J ANSSON . A good fight? Is that what theatre’s all about?
H ARRY . What theatre’s all about is lots of applause and lots of butts
in the seats.
O SCAR . We're all whores. Give the audience what they want!
L INDA . No. On the contrary! See to it that the audience wants what
we give them. I've always felt that when I'm acting I should be
seducing the audience. And when you're seducing someone, it's not
always enough to simply tell the truth—sometimes you have to throw
in a few old tricks, as well. Then later on, when I've got them in bed
with me, so to speak, I can whisper whatever I want in their ear, and
they'll believe me. (To M ATILDA .) But the way you talk about the theatre
it sounds more like a boxing match than lovemaking, and they're two
completely different things. Or, I don't know, I don't really understand
boxing. Maybe it's also a kind of lovemaking? Anyway, let's drink up.
The champagne will lose its bubbles before we resolve all the mysteries
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of the theatre. And champagne without bubbles is like . . . well, it just
plain tastes bad. Skoal!
A LL . Skoal!
(They A LL empty their glasses.)
L INDA . So, let's go take off these masks of ours, and put our private
masks back on.
L OTTA . Are you coming to the restaurant with us for once, Oscar?
O SCAR . Yes, I think I will—just to make sure you don't come back
here for some hanky-panky and trash the place again like you did last
time.
(L INDA , L OTTA , H ARRY , and P ER exit to the dressing rooms.)
Scene 6
M RS . J ANSSON . Isn't it funny? I walked in here a month ago just to
see if I could borrow some costumes—and I'm still here. I knitted a
scarf, but I haven't seen any other clothing.
M ATILDA . I'm sorry, Jansson, but unfortunately I won't be able to
help you with the costumes. As it turns out, the board decided we'll be
doing The Flower of Hawaii next, so we'll need all the grass skirts
ourselves.
M RS . J ANSSON . Well, that’s all right, we weren't able to find enough
singers to do The Flower of Hawaii anyway. So we decided to do Long
Day's Journey into Night instead. It doesn't have as many costumes, so
we'll be all right on our own. Oh my gosh, here I am just chit-chatting
away, completely forgetting that Putte’s out there in front of the theatre
waiting for me. I'll have to tell him to go home on his own, because I'm
going partying tonight! You know, you really do have a wonderful life!
(Exits.)
Scene 7
B ENGT . I see—The Flower of Hawaii?
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M ATILDA . If you tell the truth one day, you have to lie the next.
That's what's meant by a varied repertoire.
B ENGT . Look, I'm sorry about what happened last week at the PR
presentation.
M ATILDA . Don't worry about it. You said some of the most honest
words ever spoken from this stage. At this point it's just a local
anecdote, and in a hundred years it'll all be fo rgotten. Or have become
cultural history.
Scene 8
L INDA and H ARRY enter from the dressing rooms.
L INDA . Come on, little chief, let's go celebrate a triumphant boxing
match!
H ARRY . Knock-out in the third act!
L INDA . Well now, wasn't it a good thing that we postponed the
opening? At least for Bengt and me.
B ENGT . Why's that?
L INDA . Leos! It would have been a guaranteed disaster for me with
that configuration. And for you too. Yes, go ahead and laugh, but I
know what I know.
M ATILDA . We didn't postpone the opening because of the position of
the stars.
L INDA . Oh, I know that—but luckily the stars don't.
(L INDA and H ARRY exit. L OTTA enters from the dressing rooms, she has a
book and B E NGT 's overcoat with her.)
L OTTA (to B ENGT ).
you wrote in it.
Thank you for the book, darling. And for what
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(P ER enters from the dressing rooms.)
B ENGT . So, shall we go?
M ATILDA . You go ahead, I'll wait for Oscar.
L OTTA . Now remember to be careful tonight, Bengt!
B ENGT . Yes, yes, of course!
L OTTA . Because tonight you don't have any failures that need to be
drowned. (Helping him on with his overcoat.) And remember what you
promised yourself! It's important, and it matters a lot to me!
B ENGT . Yes, I know, just stop nagging!
(B ENGT and L OT TA exit.)
P E R . Well, then . . . good night, Matilda.
M ATILDA . You're not coming with us to the restaurant?
P E R . My wife's on night shift at the hospital this week, and the baby sitter leaves at twelve.
M ATILDA . You had a good night, Per. I mean it.
P E R . But that throwing the chair doesn't work. They laughed at it.
M ATILDA . Let them laugh. It doesn't mean they're making fun of
your despair, they're just trying to protect themselves from their own.
P E R . It didn't feel right. Couldn't we try to find some other way to
express that? Will you help me with it?
M ATILDA . Of course. If you'll trust me.
P E R . Good night, then.
M ATILDA . Good night.
(P ER exits.)
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Scene 9
M ATILDA takes out a cigarette and searches her pockets for matches. O SCAR
enters from the green room, pulls out a lighter, and lights her cigarette.
M ATILDA . No smoking onstage. (O SCAR nods.) I'm quitting the
theatre, Oscar.
O SCAR . To become a teacher in Lapland.
M ATILDA . It's such an empty feeling. For two months I've been going
like a locomotive, huffing and puffing to pull all the cars along after
me. And then, when I finally get them all moving, the show opens and I
get disconnected. The train keeps going without me.
O SCAR . But this time it's a success. Not even Hogberg will be able to
write anything bad about this show.
M ATILDA . You underestimate him, Oscar. But even if it is a success —
so what? When I think of how we tore at each other, how we wore each
other down these past few weeks, it makes me wonder —for what? For a
play! Was it really worth it? To give the audience in this town a couple
hours of diversion? Do we love them so much that we'll tear ourselves
apart for their benefit? Why do we do it? You have to be crazy to work
in the theatre.
O SCAR . Not necessarily. But it does help.
M ATILDA . And then there are people like Jansson who think we have
a wonderful life!
O SCAR . I shut off all the lights. Come on, boss, let's close up this
circus. Tomorrow's a new day.
M ATILDA . The first read-through of The Flower of Hawaii.
O SCAR . “No matter what plays we put on, you can be sure of one
thing—there will always be more drama offstage than onstage.” As
Brecht said.
M ATILDA . Brecht?
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O SCAR . At least he should have said it. No, it wasn't Brecht. It was
Oscar.
(They exit. Darkness.)
THE END
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About the author and the play
Bengt Ahlfors
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Director, playwright, composer
Born in Helsinki 1937
MA Univ. of Helsinki 1967
Started his career as a theater critic in Nya Pressen (newspaper, Helsinki)
1959-63
Writes in Swedish and has published one novel, satirical short stories, poems,
songs etc.
About 30 plays, mostly comedies and cabarets.
Wrote and directed his first play in 1963 at Lilla Teatern (The Little Theater) of
Helsinki, where most of his plays has been first produced. Lilla Teatern is one
of the best known theaters in Scandinavia.
Artistic leader of the Swedish Theater of Helsinki 1975-78. Since 1978 free
lance director and writer.
Has directed some 60 plays; Shakespeare, Molière, Brecht, O´Neill, Chehov…
Since 20 years only his own plays
Poet-in-Residence at the Djerassi Foundation in California 1988.
A Theatre Comedy was written and first produced in 1983. It has been
translated to many languages and has been particularly popular in Central
Europe, with several productions in Hungary, Slovakia and the Czech
Republic. In the Slovakian National Theatre in Bratislava it run for ten years.
Alan Goodson,
lives in Los Angeles, California, and has translated five plays by the same author:
Around The World In 80 Days, A Theatre Comedy, Ashes and Aquavit, The Last Cigar,
and the musical comedy Stolen Happiness, with book, lyrics and music by Bengt
Ahlfors.