David Hare Plays 3 Read online

  Esme Yes, well, they go through the motions.

  Frank is beginning to sound quite angry.

  Frank And so what is the purpose? Why on earth do you think people persist with these rituals – these things that you say are just shams?

  She pauses a moment. She is quiet.

  Esme Because they know no alternative. Because they no longer know who they are.

  Frank looks shocked at this answer. Esme stubs out her cigarette and makes to move.

  Frank Well, I’m not sure I quite follow that one …

  Esme Now who wants some supper?

  Amy I’ll do it. No, please let me, Ma.

  Dominic Supper? Why, sure …

  Frank I’d say it’s outrageous in fact.

  Dominic But wouldn’t it be better … I don’t want to press you … but wouldn’t it make better sense to do this thing first?

  Esme Yes, of course.

  She stops at the door, looking round.

  I mean, yes, if you want to.

  Amy Mum’s been avoiding this moment all day.

  Esme Nonsense. What makes you say that?

  Dominic Because you’ll do anything rather than sit down and talk!

  Dominic has burst out, exasperated.

  We came down last night, I keep asking. Every time I look at you …

  Esme Oh really!

  Dominic You flit from the room.

  Esme It’s just not my métier!

  Dominic Well I wish you had said so.

  Esme I did. I said so to Amy. The whole thing was Amy’s idea.

  Amy I just thought you’d enjoy it.

  Esme Well, thank you. It’s like going to the dentist for me.

  She leans down and kisses Amy.

  Dominic Look …

  Esme This ridiculous costume! I need five minutes to change. You must admit, I do look like a tree. It’s simple. Just give me five minutes and then I promise I’m yours.

  She has gone before anyone can protest. Dominic looks ironically at Amy.

  Amy All right …

  Dominic Amy …

  Amy I know. I know. I did warn you.

  Dominic I know you warned me.

  Frank She’s impossible! She’s like this every evening. She’s truly impossible!

  Frank is grinning, proud of her.

  Amy Come here.

  Dominic What?

  Amy Just come over here.

  Amy is at the flowers. Dominic goes over to join her. She kisses him.

  You did very well. No, really. You’re being very patient.

  Dominic Thank you.

  They smile at one another, then Dominic moves away, the bond between them secure.

  Anyway, as long as she doesn’t start on her stories …

  Amy She won’t.

  Dominic Those god-awful theatrical stories of hers …

  Amy I’ve told her.

  Dominic How Perry dropped his props! How the set wobbled in Barnsley. How Deirdre can never remember her lines. If there’s one thing that puts people off theatre, it’s those meaningless stories they tell all the time.

  Amy She knows that.

  Dominic looks at his watch.

  Dominic You know, I could still be in London. That’s what’s so crazy. I could still be in London right now. There’s this big media gathering …

  Frank Oh really?

  Dominic This conference. People coming in from all over the world …

  Frank And I suppose you feel you should really be with them?

  Dominic Believe it or not – I’m not being arrogant – but some people are flying in specifically because they know I’ll be there!

  Frank I see.

  Frank frowns at his drink, as if contemplating the problem.

  Dominic It’s a big thing. This country is changing. I work in independent production. It’s a field where the British can well take a lead. And I have to wait while this – no offence – but this middle-aged actress decides when she’s willing to favour me with ten minutes’ chat.

  Dominic knows he has gone too far.

  Frank Well I think …

  Dominic Look, I’m sorry. That came out pretty ugly. If I’m angry, the truth is, I’m angry at myself. This is familiar behaviour from Esme. Amy, you know what I’m saying.

  Amy just looks at him.

  I think we’ve seen this before.

  Frank looks between them, wanting to help.

  Frank Perhaps … I don’t know … perhaps you could call them.

  Dominic Call who?

  Frank These big media people of yours.

  Dominic Call to say what? That I’m stuck in the country? That I have no idea when I’ll get back?

  Amy controls her anger, low, suppressed.

  Amy Dominic, I never ask you for anything. Just do me this favour, all right?

  Esme returns in slacks, carrying a couple of plates of hors d’oeuvres.

  Esme All right, here I am, now I’m ready for your questions.

  Dominic Good.

  Esme Salami? Go ahead …

  Dominic Thank you.

  Esme Ask any questions you like.

  Dominic I was thinking perhaps we might do this in private.

  Esme Oh, do you think so? I was hoping that everyone might want to join in.

  Frank Not me.

  Esme Dominic’s planning this programme. We all sit under spotlights. In a studio. Debating.

  Frank And what is the subject to be?

  Esme looks sweetly at Dominic.

  Esme No, really. It’s your idea. Tell him.

  Dominic We’re discussing the question of whether the theatre is dead.

  There is a slightly sticky moment.

  Amy Dead?

  Frank Oh I see.

  Dominic I told you that, Amy.

  Amy I didn’t realise it was quite as dramatic as that.

  Dominic Well, we might as well face it. It is a real question. To people of my generation at least. In the old days it seemed like theatre was really exciting. In those days, it still had something to say …

  Esme offers the salami to Amy, who takes the chance to put her hand on Esme’s arm.

  Esme Amy?

  Dominic But now … I don’t know, we’re all watching video. I believe human beings have changed. They’ve evolved. They have different priorities.

  Frank My goodness.

  Dominic The image is much more important. The image has taken the place of the word.

  Frank nods and tries to look intelligent.

  Frank Uh-huh.

  Dominic You know, you go to the theatre. A character comes in the door. You think, oh my God! He’s going to cross the room. Jump-cut, for Christ’s sake, just jump-cut! And then next thing – oh Christ, you just know it! The bastard is going to sit down and talk.

  He shakes his head pityingly.

  And it’s so slow. They do it slowly. And the way they act! It’s so old-fashioned. In these big barns and they all have to shout. Why don’t we admit it? It’s been superseded. It had its moment, but its moment has gone.

  Amy looks nervously across at her mother, but Esme is not remotely concerned.

  Dominic Of course I defer to you, Esme …

  Esme Thank you …

  Dominic You understand it all much better than me. But who does theatre reach? Who is it talking to? Obvious. To me, it’s just wank time.

  Esme I see. Well it’s good that at least you’ve not made up your mind …

  Dominic Look …

  Esme No, really, that famed objectivity. He’s open-minded …

  Amy (smiles) Yes …

  Esme Wouldn’t you say? Dominic has no agenda or anything.

  Dominic All right, very funny …

  Esme There’s no question of you boys having to work to a script!

  Esme seems oddly cheered as she moves round with the plates.

  Have you noticed? It’s always the death of the theatre. The death of the novel. The death of poetry. The death of whatev
er they fancy this week. Except there’s one thing it’s never the death of. Somehow it’s never the death of themselves.

  Dominic Esme …

  Esme The death of television! The death of the journalist! Why do we never get those? It’s off to the scaffold with everyone except for the journalists!

  Amy It’s true.

  Esme Now I wonder why can that be?

  Esme moves away laughing as Amy begins to clear the table for supper.

  Amy It’s pointless arguing with Esme. As she says, she doesn’t do argument.

  Esme I don’t.

  Amy She only does instincts. The worst thing, I tell you …

  Esme My instincts are usually right!

  Amy Usually! Usually!

  The two women laugh together, happy.

  Esme Though I must say it’s kind of unfortunate, Dominic happening to ask me right now …

  Amy Why?

  Esme I’ve been thinking about giving up acting.

  Amy Oh really? Yeah? I wonder where I’ve heard that before.

  Esme I’m thinking of leaving the field free for Deirdre. She gave an interview – did you see it?

  Amy No …

  Esme The usual rubbish. The cover of the Radio Times. She claims she’s never been interested in sex. ‘It bores me,’ she says. I thought, in that case, I know for a certainty, you’ve been bored stiff for most of your life!

  But Amy is frowning now.

  Amy But Mum …

  Esme What? Am I serious? Is that what you’re waiting to ask?

  Amy Yes.

  Esme I do have a problem.

  Frank Oh really!

  Esme How can I say I’m an actress when the point is I no longer act?

  Frank That isn’t true.

  Frank has given her a second drink.

  Esme In my head I’m an actress. But what have I actually done? A radio broadcast from Birmingham. A voice-over. For a green disinfectant, in fact. I played a germ. And meanwhile it’s … what? Three years? No, four since I actually appeared in a play.

  Frank Well …

  Esme So you might say it’s hardly the moment for me to hold forth on your programme.

  But Dominic is beginning to get excited.

  Dominic No. On the contrary, it seems to me perfect. ‘There are no parts for women,’ I’ve heard you say that …

  Esme Oh …

  Dominic Well now here’s your chance to say it in public.

  Esme Yes, maybe that’s what’s putting me off.

  Dominic Why?

  Esme A natural diffidence. ‘There are no parts for women.’ Another way of putting it: ‘I’m out of work!’

  She shares the absurdity of it with Frank, but Dominic persists, vehement.

  Frank No, you’re right.

  Dominic Exactly! No women – that’s part of what’s wrong with the theatre. It’s one of the reasons why I never go.

  Amy Dominic, you are so full of shit. You never go anywhere where you’re meant to switch off your telephone …

  Dominic Now, Amy, that is just stupid …

  Amy And also where you have to shut up and sit still.

  Amy has suddenly come to life.

  Dominic Look …

  Amy I never see my friends. I know no one in publishing any more. I said, ‘At least can we go to the opera? Just once?’ On comes this dying diva. All round the deathbed. La Traviata. Act Three. She opens her mouth. Beep beep from Dominic’s pocket!

  Dominic All right, but at least it rang a High C.

  Amy Oh sure. A call from America! From someone to say they’d call back later on. ‘I’m calling to let you know I’ll be calling you later …’

  Dominic Amy hates them.

  Amy It’s the only way the children know he exists.

  Esme Really?

  Amy Chloe did a drawing of her father. She had him with a phone to each ear!

  Dominic Chloe exaggerates. Chloe is a child who exaggerates.

  Amy No she’s not. The tragedy is, she draws what she sees …

  Esme has sat down quietly watching this argument develop between them.

  Every evening the phone rings at seven. Then again at eight. Then at nine. It’s always Dominic. ‘Oh I’m held up at work.’

  Dominic Well, I am!

  Amy Then it’s midnight. I’m sleeping. Always in a bed of wet nappies, of course. ‘Oh Amy, can’t speak.’ If you can’t speak why call me? Why call me? ‘I’m with this producer.’

  Dominic is suddenly quiet, lethal.

  Dominic Well, what do you want? Do you want I don’t call you?

  Amy No.

  Dominic Do you want I never call you at all?

  There is a moment. They have fallen into a real, disastrous row. Amy turns away.

  Amy Oh please, let’s leave it. Just leave it.

  Esme watches from the side, quite still.

  I want to ask Mum how she’d manage to live.

  Esme Me?

  Amy Yes.

  Esme I suppose, on my income. Remember, I always have Frank.

  Frank I control her portfolio.

  Esme Frank is my saviour. He allows me to ignore all that nonsense. I never read any of that stuff myself.

  Frank She doesn’t!

  Esme I don’t even take in the figures …

  Frank It’s true. They just pass before her eyes!

  Esme I don’t care. As long as there’s food in the larder … I know! I’m just lucky that Frank came along.

  She throws a warm glance to Frank, who basks in her approval. Amy watches, trying to understand what is going on.

  Frank And I must say, you know, since my wife died, I admit, my evenings had been fairly bleak. With no Sarah. So to come round and talk about Esme’s investments …

  Esme Drink whisky.

  Frank That too. For me, it’s been very healing. It has. I owe Esme everything. Yes, in her quiet way, she’s nursed me back to good mental health.

  Frank seems almost overwhelmed. Amy is tentative, a little confused.

  Amy And you think she could manage … she could get by financially?

  Frank Why yes. Not to live like John Paul Getty, of course. But surviving. Managing to live with some sort of dignity.

  Esme And God knows dignity’s not nothing these days.

  Amy But what would you do?

  Esme Oh there’s far too much talk about ‘doing’. If I gave up, then I’d just have to get on and ‘be’.

  She is half satirical. But Amy is dismayed.

  Amy Well, I’m just stunned.

  Esme Why?

  Amy It seems so extraordinary. Dominic.

  Dominic Hmm?

  Amy What do you think?

  Dominic Oh. I’ve always thought the theatre was boring. So I quite see why you want to get out.

  Esme is amused by this, but Amy is not.

  Amy That’s not quite what she was saying.

  Dominic No. She said something like it.

  Esme Oh Dominic! Making mischief again!

  Dominic Is that what I do?

  Esme A professional passer of judgements!

  She makes a little mock-swipe with her hand at Frank.

  Frank, you’re not really saying you’ve missed this little programme of his.

  Frank Well …

  Esme Dominic’s our cultural arbiter. He exists to tells us what’s good.

  Dominic Not at all.

  Esme He informs the public what they should be seeing.

  Dominic On the contrary! ‘Should’ isn’t in it. It’s to get rid of ‘should’ that the programme exists.

  Frank ‘Should’?

  Dominic We all know that art is encrusted in snobbery. People feel frightened. The arts establishment tries to make them feel cowed.

  Frank I see.

  Dominic So we say to them: ‘Don’t be bullied. Just follow your own instincts. Don’t let anyone dictate to you. Make up your own minds.’

  Esme is eager to join in.

  Esme At
the end …

  Dominic Yes …

  Esme They have a small item.

  Dominic Very brief.

  Esme What’s it called?

  Amy It’s called Not Up to Snuff.

  Esme That’s right. Where they kindly bring the public up to date on art which they feel has been over-praised.

  Dominic is beginning to feel goaded.

  Dominic Why not? I don’t apologise.

  Esme There’s a little animated figure …

  Dominic This drawing …

  Esme This little cartoon bloke in a cap, and he takes the work they discuss. Then he throws it …

  Frank Oh yes, now I remember. I’ve seen it!

  Esme He throws it into a bathroom.

  Dominic Splash!

  Esme And you then hear the sound of a loo being flushed. It’s wit.

  She smiles.

  Dominic All right, but why do we do it? Because there’s so much hype, there’s so much palaver, there’s so many people claiming to be artists these days.

  Esme Is that right?

  Dominic So why not invent some sort of decent corrective, in which you say: ‘Hold on, let’s just be serious. Is this thing as good as everyone makes out?’

  Esme watches from the side, glass in hand, pleased with the bonfire she’s lit.

  Frank Interesting.

  Dominic Like a book … you buy a book. What is it? Twelve pounds? Thirteen? We’re there to say: now let’s just be careful. Is this really all it’s cracked up to be?

  Esme Ah, you’re performing a public duty, you mean?

  Esme moves round the room with her drink.

  Ah yes. Like a hangman. Reluctant, but responsible. ‘It’s a dirty job but it’s got to be done.’ Is that it? You’re – what? – public-spirited? But that doesn’t quite explain the relish you show.

  Dominic What relish?

  Esme When something is awful.

  Dominic I say so.

  Esme Yes.

  Dominic What’s wrong with that?

  Esme Oh nothing. Just that glint round the eyes. That smile. ‘Oh God be praised, I’ve got a real stinker. What happiness! Now I can really rip into this …’

  Dominic is beginning to get angry.

  Dominic Look … What … so what are you saying? Do you think I’ve some kind of personal axe to grind?

  Esme Oh, seriously now, Dominic, come on!

  Dominic What?

  She has turned away, laughing.

  Esme It’s not for me to say, but years ago, remember, when I first met you – with Amy – you wanted to make your own films.

  Dominic Well, I do!

  Esme I mean real films! Not people wittering about other people’s work. I mean, actual new-minted stories. Showing people. In the grip of real passions.