"...and it's really about collaboration."
"Isn't it?"
"And community."
"Yes--exactly."
"And she keeps wanting to make it about--"
"Competition."
"It's like she has--"
"Bloodlust."
"Well--"
"--or something."
"She's competitive."
"Right."
"She's just--"
"She's crazy. I mean--"
"Everything has to be so--"
"I know. I know!"
"It's nuts."
"It really is."
"I mean, we're artists. Aren't we? Aren't we all supposed to be artists?"
"We're supposed to be. She's supposed to be, but--"
"I mean, it's in our titles. We're Artistic Directors."
"It's amazing who they'll give that title to now. That used to mean something. Artistic Director. Now every college kid who has enough money to rent a church basement and put on 'Tartuffe' is an Artistic Director.'
"It's crazy."
"It's really crazy. She's crazy."
"So what ends up happening is that it becomes us versus her, you know? Which is so sad."
"I mean, Ohio's not that big."
"It's not. And for us to have to fight like that--"
"What can you do? She thinks it makes him better, maybe, to fight us like this."
"She tries to make it a boy versus girl thing, which is--"
"Damn, you know, I resent that. I really do. I resent that. It's not a question of gender."
"She tries to make it seem like we don't do women's plays, or plays for women, or plays about women--"
"Screw her. I'm sorry, but screw that bitch. I love women."
"--and I keep saying, didn't we do that play last year? That play about the woman who gets raped? Didn't we do that one? And it's like nobody cares. They're so intent on painting us to be these misogynistic assholes that whenever do something that goes against that they just turn a blind eye."
"Did you direct that play?"
"What play?"
"The one about the woman."
"No, I gave that to Kelly."
"Oh."
"Because she's a woman."
"Ohhh, right. That makes sense."
"She did a great job with it."
"Of course she did. She's a woman."
"And there were women in it. It was a woman's show. Why does she keep saying we don't do women's shows?"
"No clue. Not a clue."
"It's just really frustrating."
"What can you do? She's just a miserable hag. All women go nuts when they get to be that age."
"Imagine if we were women. If we were women dealing with her, imagine how that would be."
"There'd be catfights."
"Constant catfights."
"Women get so petty."
"It's unfortuante though, you know, because it should really be about collaboration."
"Community."
"Right. Collaboration and community. Like what we have."
"Well, if she doesn't want that, then it's her loss."
"It really is. It's really her loss."
"And it's a big one."
"A really big one."
"Okay, enough about that wacko. What are you opening next year with, do you know yet?"
"Yeah, it's all locked in. We're doing 'As You Like It.'"
. . . . .
"Uh...wait, what?"
"'As You Like It.'"
"Like...by Shakespeare?'"
"No, by Aristotle. Yeah, by Shakespeare."
"Um, well, okay, this is, uh--"
"What?"
"Well...we're doing it."
"Yeah."
"Like, right now."
"Yeah, I know."
"So..."
"So...?"
"So don't you think it's a little pointless for you to be doing it? I mean, September's only a few months away."
"Well, I wouldn't say it's pointless. People do that show all the time. I mean, it's Shakespeare."
"But we're ten miles away from each other."
"I know."
"We have a lot of the same audience."
"I know."
"We're part of, you know, the--community."
"I know all this. Why are you--"
"So why would you do the same show we're doing within the same year as us? It just seems...unnecessary."
"Well, it's a great play."
"Of course it's a great play, it's Shakespeare. That's why we did it. But there are other great plays."
"I just think we'll bring a different...uh...different..."
"You think you can do it better."
. . . . .
"That's not what I said."
"Why else would you do it if you didn't think you could do it better?'
"I think we can do it differently."
"Uh, okay."
"Different doesn't necessarily mean better."
"Good."
"So you--"
"Because it won't be better."
"I'm sorry?"
"It won't be better than ours. Our production is stellar. With all due respect, knowing your resources and your talent, your production. Will not. Be Better. Than Ours."
. . . . .
"Well, uh--wow."
"I said with all due--"
"With all due respect, go fuck yourself."
"Excuse me?"
"You see how 'with all due respect' didn't really take the edge off that?"
"Okay, we're getting--"
"I think no matter how many productions of a show there are, there are good points and bad points to every production, and usually those points are very different depending on a multitude of factors. I can't believe that a grown adult who works in the arts, in the theater, would use a term like 'better' when describing their production compared to another production, especially a production done by a partner and friend."
"...You're right."
"I just--I mean, really, you know? I mean, come on."
"I'm sorry. You're right."
. . . . .
"That being said, I think what you said about our resources and talent was unfair and untrue--"
"I said I was sorry, but--"
"--more untrue, than unfair. I think we have considerable resources, and the fact that we do have those resources, to me, says that we could probably do a production that would make your production look like a joke."
"...Uh...what?"
"I'm pretty sure that even the small amount of audiences that overlap between your theater and my theater would welcome the opportunity to see my theater do a production of 'As You Like It' after witnessing your theater do what I felt was a subpar production."
"You didn't even see it."
"I saw pictures."
"You can't judge a production by its pictures."
"On the contrary, in thirty years the only thing left to indicate how good a production was are the pictures. Why do you think I throw money at sets and costumes instead of importing actors from other cities who might actually be able to speak the text without sounding like they're learning to talk as they go? Because it doesn't matter. Because every show I do photographs like a bowl of fresh fruit. And you're telling me it's pointless for me to do a show you're doing? You must be as crazy as that bitch and her blackbox troupe--"
"You know you might want to--"
"Do you have any idea how limited people's attention span is? You could do the best production of the best play by the best playwright of all time and in three months they'll have forgotten about you. Instead they'll be talking about the touring production of Phantom that went through that fast food theater known as the arts pavillion. Who cares what you're doing now? You want my theater to pick another play so that you can hold onto a little bit of success a week or two longer? That's a fucking pipe dream. By summer, nobody will remember what you did in January. And if you're still holding onto January's successes in September, then you should find another job, because this--all of this--it melts. Okay? It fucking melts. And how fast it melts depends on me, and how close I get to you. Because me, my friend? I'm a fucking hair dryer, okay? I'm a hair dryer and you're a bowl of ice cream. Bland, tasteless, vanilla ice cream. And I'm pointing right at you. You want me to turn away? Then you better stop talking like we're equals, okay? Like I need to worry about you. Like my eight-hundred seats needs to worry about your two hundred seats. Like I need to worry about offending you. Stepping on your toes. Just so you know, on my list of worries, getting eaten by a pack of motherfucking wolves is higher up on the list than offending you. Okay? What you do is quaint. It's cute. It's adorable. But you're trying to say it's equal to what I do? Please, all right? Please."
. . . . .
"...Well..."
"So...what's your second show?"
"Um, I'm wondering something."
"Yeah?"
"Why are you so confident right now that I'm not going to stand up and punch you in the fucking face?"
"Because you're an adult. And an artist. You can take criticism. You're tough--I assume."
"Yeah, but I'm not a doormat."
"You could be. If I told you that I could do every show you're going to do next season, but a month before you do."
"Are you kidding me?"
"I'll admit that in that particular situation, I doubt our small crowd of overlapping audiences--a crowd my theater can get by without and your theater can't bear to lose--I doubt they'd be interested in seeing an entire season twice. And who do you think they'd choose? Because, I'll let you in on a little secret, even though we'd like to think that art can still be riveting with a folding chair and curtains for costumes, most people prefer not to have to use their imagination when they go to the theater. If you say there's a chandelier hanging above the audience, there better fucking be a chandelier, and it better look expensive, or they're going to subscribe to a theater that can give them that chandelier. Now, do you happen to have a chandelier hanging around anywhere in that little storage room of yours that doubles as your office?"
"............"
"I didn't think so. So why don't you just cool down, and when people ask you how you feel about the fact that we're both doing 'As You Like It,' you go ahead and tell them that it'll be a different interpretation and you're looking forward to seeing it. Sound good?"
. . . . .
"Sure."
"Great."
"I...sure."
"Fantastic. See? It's a good thing we're collaborators. Part of a community. It's a good thing we're both men. Otherwise, that might have gotten ugly."
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