A Song in the Daylight. Paullina Simons

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      Inside the conference room, buoyed with black coffee and a sense of his own importance, Leroy, though having relinquished the coveted position of director, clearly did so resentfully. His first action after they all sat down and got some water was to distribute to each of the eight seated people copies of Godot, and embark on a long sermon punctuated by no periods on why it was the greatest play of this or any century.

      Larissa could tell that there were some people at the table who did not think a set decorator was qualified to be a director, despite Ezra’s excited recital of Larissa’s credentials: theater and English double major at NYU, summer stock theater (the Great Swamp Revue and Jersey Footlight Players) director of the acclaimed theater department at the Hudson School. Larissa could tell neither Leroy nor Fred, Ezra’s assistant, was impressed.

      “Leroy,” Larissa said in her no-nonsense voice, palms down on the table, her manner sober, “I appreciate your recommendation, and we can all agree to the quality of Godot, but we need a different direction. Something more lighthearted. I was thinking of a Shakespearean comedy.”

      Leroy had no intention of giving up. “Godot is a comedy.”

      “Well, yes. A tragicomedy. But Godot is wrong for spring, with all due respect. The air of bleak existentialism as read mostly by a cast of two, with a set of one scraggly tree is not the joyful experience most children and parents associate with a spring production. I’m thinking of something more inclusive and multi-parted. A little funnier, a little less angst-ridden.” She smiled amiably at him. He did not return the smile. Ezra, though, smiled exquisitely at Larissa.

      For the next ninety minutes, Larissa, Ezra, Fred, Leroy, Sheila Meade, Vanessa (Sheila’s assistant), Vincent (Leroy’s), and David, the line reader, pounded out the possibilities. Leroy shot everything down. As You Like It was not funny enough (“certainly not as funny as Godot”), Midsummer had too much confusing dialogue, and Much Ado was too long. (“Godot, on the other hand, is brilliant, funny, deceptively short, and will be simple to stage and direct.”)

      Larissa kept quiet. Ezra had to prod her. “Well, Larissa, you’re the director,” he said. “What do you think?”

      “Choosing a play is a collaboration,” Leroy announced haughtily.

      “Yes, but the director has final say,” Ezra pointed out. “Lar, what say you?”

      “Well all have to agree so we can throw our support behind it,” Leroy announced, with Vincent nodding next to him.

      Larissa suddenly realized it was nearing one! She had to go. Knowing that time was running short tensed her into silence. She had to get into her car right now and drive away.

      Wait. Wasn’t she going to forget about Stop&Shop? Wasn’t that the purpose of all this? Wasn’t she freed from the constraints of the supermarket parking lot? Accept the position of director, straighten out, back on the rails.

      If she left now, she would barely make it there for one.

      She felt fourteen pairs of eyes on her as if they expected her to decide; at the very least to speak. “Okay, here’s what I think,” Larissa said. She was out of time. “As You like It is meant to be performed outside,” she stated. “We can do it inside, but it won’t be as good, and outside is impossible.” She tried not to sound impatient or hurried. “I suggest Comedy of Errors. It takes place in one day, serious subjects such as death by hanging and slavery are pushed aside for the sake of the joke, and all action is physical rather than internal, which makes it easier to rehearse and execute successfully.” She fell silent, waiting for them to agree. From Leroy’s barely suppressed sneers, Larissa guessed he was not a fan of The Comedy of Errors. Sheila said she preferred to do As You Like It. Twenty-six-year-old Vanessa, who was trying on theater for size before she fled into the world of fashion design, agreed with her boss. Vincent agreed with his. Young Vincent painted sets with her, so Larissa was miffed at his backstabbing, while Fred, who worked with Ezra, fancied himself smarter than anyone (including his boss) and therefore had to have an opposite opinion on everything just to prove his intellectual superiority. David, the line reader, thought because he read lines with the kids, he was qualified to make staging decisions. Ezra was, as always, bemused. Noncommittal, but bemused.

      Well, whatever. At one time, back in college, in Hoboken, theater consumed Larissa. Being on the stage herself, what power! But that was over ten years ago. Dionysus was not her god anymore. Oh, sure, if you gave in to him, surrendered yourself to his charms, he would make you good, he would make you great. But it was a Faustian deal you made with him. And while Larissa accepted Ezra’s offer, she accepted it for her own reasons and was not about to dance with Dionysus again. She just didn’t care that much anymore.

      “Why not Tempest?” Leroy suggested sourly.

      “Maybe Taming of the Shrew?” Fred piped up. Oh, so he was unhappily married, Larissa thought, him and his bow ties and French berets. He certainly looked unhappily something.

      “Tempest is too long,” Larissa said.

      “So?”

      “Leroy, but you were just lauding the brevity of Godot. Now you don’t care how long the proposed play is. Plus,” she continued evenly, “Tempest is complicated, it’s hard to memorize and stage.” She turned to Fred. “As for Shrew, we put it on three years ago last fall.”

      “I don’t think that’s true.” Just to be contrary!

      Larissa was quiet. “I painted the sets. I know. Vinnie might recall it.” She glared at him. “He painted the sets with me. Remember, Vinnie?”

      A sheepish Vincent barely nodded, hoping Leroy and Fred wouldn’t see him agreeing with her!

      Larissa exchanged an impatient glance with Ezra, that reluctant-to-intervene people-watcher. “Fred, I don’t understand what the issue is. What’s wrong with Comedy of Errors?”

      “What’s wrong with Much Ado About Nothing?” he countered. “We didn’t stage that three years ago, did we?”

      “I still think Tempest is a good idea,” Leroy weighed in. “It’s not an actual tragedy, you know.”

      “I know,” Larissa drew out. “Do you really want to stage it?”

      “Let’s say yes.”

      “Can I ask you, Leroy, why are you so suddenly adamant about The Tempest? In my hands I’m still holding the play you were adamant about an hour ago.”

      “Well, if I can’t have the one СКАЧАТЬ