Collaborators

by John Hodge

  Bulgakov You are my most honest critic.

  Yelena And the only one you sleep with. I hope.

  They pass the cupboard.

  Bulgakov opens it up.

  Bulgakov Goodnight, Sergei!

  Sergei (from within) Goodnight, Comrades Mr and Mrs Bulgakov!

  Bulgakov slides the door shut.

  He and Yelena reach the bed.

  Yelena drops her coat and pulls off Bulgakov’s.

  Slowly, she pulls him to the bed.

  Yelena I’m a dictator. I may force you to do certain things.

  They lie down in embrace.

  Vladimir and Stepan stand up.

  Lights fade up slightly. Dawn.

  Stepan knocks hard against the table. And again.

  Yelena wakes, jumps up and forward, just as Sergei emerges from his cupboard.

  Vladimir and Stepan approach.

  Yelena Good morning –

  Vladimir Good morning to you, Madame. We’re looking for a Mr Mikhail Bulgakov.

  Yelena May I say who’s calling?

  Bulgakov approaches.

  Bulgakov What do you want?

  Vladimir We’re here to arrest you!

  Yelena Oh my God!

  Vladimir Only joking! I love that one. Always gets a reaction. You must be Yelena. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Vladimir, this is Stepan. NKVD.

  He addresses Bulgakov.

  We want to talk to you. In private.

  Bulgakov I have no secrets –

  Vladimir – from my wife. That’s what every man says. But you’d be surprised. Madame, would you excuse us?

  Yelena stays where she is.

  Madame?

  Yelena This is my home. My husband. I’m staying exactly where I am.

  Vladimir Please. Otherwise I’ll have to make my little joke again. Only this time it won’t be funny.

  Sergei Comrade Madame Bulgakov, perhaps you would care to play chess in my room?

  Yelena Why, yes, Sergei, I would be delighted.

  She kisses Bulgakov on the cheek and goes into the cupboard.

  Sergei follows.

  Vladimir That’s your room?

  Sergei It’s my cupboard. Well, actually, it’s Comrade Madame Bulgakov’s cupboard.

  Vladimir That’s enough of that!

  He slides the door firmly shut.

  You approve?

  Bulgakov He’s a sweet kid.

  Vladimir Bohemians. Wouldn’t happen in my house. What a shitty apartment. How many people do you share with?

  Bulgakov We share with three others.

  Vladimir But you write a lot of letters, complaining –don’t you?

  Bulgakov says nothing.

  Yeah. You never give up.

  Bulgakov What do you want?

  Vladimir We saw the play. Very moving. Molière – playwright, satirist, thorn in the flesh of an oppressive regime – he dies on stage! How fitting. How tragic.

  Bulgakov It’s based on truth.

  Vladimir Of course. And is that your dream, Mr Playwright? To emulate your hero. To be a thorn in the flesh of an oppressive regime. To die on stage.

  Bulgakov I have no wish to die anywhere.

  Vladimir Good sense. But you know – you’re a lucky guy. That you’re not in prison is a miracle. Tell me: when you went to Istanbul, did you meet Trotsky?

  Bulgakov I have never been to Istanbul.

  Vladimir Always difficult to prove a negative.

  Bulgakov In fact, as I’m sure you’re aware, I have never left the Soviet Union.

  Vladimir Not for want of thinking about it, eh, Comrade? You write a lot of letters.

  Bulgakov Yes.

  Vladimir You never give up.

  Bulgakov Is that a crime?

  Vladimir Oh, yes! Wonderful! How I love the steamy indignation of a righteous liberal! Go on, tell me, please: it’s like living in a police state.

  Bulgakov Are you here to arrest me?

  Vladimir You’re a clever guy. But treating us like fools is not clever. Do you think we can’t see what the play is about?

  Bulgakov As I say –

  Vladimir – it’s based on truth. How long have you been working on it?

  Bulgakov On and off . . . difficult to say, really.

  Vladimir Of course, I appreciate that. But in rehearsal, I mean, how long?

  Bulgakov Well, the play’s been scheduled and cancelled so many times –

  Vladimir How long?

  Bulgakov I don’t remember.

  Vladimir Three years. Two hundred and ninety-six rehearsals in three years.

  Bulgakov As many as that?

  Vladimir And then – at last – finally – we have the opening night! Must be an incredible experience, after all that time and effort, all that emotional commitment, to finally see it realised upon the stage, and to hear it received with such warmth, such genuine enthusiasm. What an amazing feeling. Like the release of years of tension, the reward for years of hope.

  Bulgakov Something like that.

  Vladimir Well, treasure the memory, sucker, because the first night was also the last.

  He lets it sink in.

  Now come with us.

  Bulgakov I’ll just tell my wife.

  Vladimir No. Come with us.

  They walk away.

  The cupboard door slides open.

  Sergei and Yelena look out.

  Sergei Don’t worry, Comrade Madame Bulgakov – I do not believe they will execute him without the formality of a fair trial.

  He pulls the door shut.

  Vladimir walks and talks with Bulgakov.

  Stepan lurks behind.

  Vladimir Stalin’s date of birth?

  Bulgakov Twenty-first December 1878.

  Vladimir Good citizen! So, in celebration of his forthcoming sixtieth birthday, what you’re going to do – what we respectfully invite you to do – is to write a play about the early life of our great leader, Joseph Visarionovich Dzughashvili, a.k.a. The Vohzhd. It’s going to be a surprise!

  Bulgakov I think you want someone else.

  Vladimir Not at all! We want you. You know, you’re actually one of his favourites. You wrote that one about the family in Kiev.

  Bulgakov The White Guard.

  Vladimir The White Guard! He’s seen it. Fifteen times. That’s how much he likes you. Fifteen! I saw it myself. Counter-revolutionary bullshit, if you ask me. I mean, the heroes are Tsarists – how does that work?

  Bulgakov They convert to Bolshevism.

  Vladimir Oh sure. In the end, they convert. But you can tell their heart isn’t in it. Just like I can tell the playwright’s heart wasn’t in it. But what do I know? The General Secretary likes your style. That’s why you’ve been chosen as his birthday surprise.

  Bulgakov I cannot write a play about Stalin!

  Vladimir Why not?

  Bulgakov I have just been informed that my work is banned!

  Vladimir I know. I was there. I spoke the words.

  Bulgakov Don’t you realise what that means to me?

  Vladimir Yes. A gap in your schedule.

  Bulgakov I’m finished. That is what it means.

  Vladimir You’ll get over it! You are a skilled dramatist. What you are going to give us is . . . The Truth.

  Bulgakov is deadpan.

  Here we are.

  Bulgakov The Lubyanka?

  Vladimir Relax, you’re not going into the prison. I have an office here. You can borrow it.

  Bulgakov Why would I want to do that?

  Vladimir Because you can’t work in that shitty apartment.

  He leads Bulgakov to the table and chairs.

  Stepan follows.

  So what do you think? If there’s anything you need, you can let me know.

  Vladimir is about to leave.

  Bulgakov Stop! Hold on. You think I’m going to do this? Because I can tell you right now that I am not going to do this!

  Vladimir You’re not?

 
; Bulgakov No.

  Vladimir Right. Well, that’s my plan ruined. What an idiot I am! You see, I hadn’t made any provision for you expressing your free will. Don’t suppose you’ll change your mind?

  Bulgakov No.

  Vladimir Please?

  Bulgakov No!

  Vladimir What if I was to offer you something?

  Bulgakov There is nothing you could offer me. Except a ride home.

  Vladimir Oh but there is! Isn’t there? Let’s think about it. You write this play for our leader’s sixtieth birthday and in return, your Molière can be performed again.

  Bulgakov says nothing.

  Yes, that’s it. You write for us: Molière goes back on, your career is salvaged, you get another chance, Bulgakov, indeed you may even have a future, which is no minor consideration in this day and age. But if you say no, I mean if you don’t write for us: it’s all over.

  Bulgakov How would I . . . know I can trust you?

  Vladimir Sir, I think you’ve spent too long in the world of show business. Here in the Secret Police, a man’s word is his bond.

  He extends a hand to shake.

  Bulgakov does not move.

  Your last play took three years. We have four weeks. I suggest you get moving.

  Exit Vladimir and Stepan.

  Bulgakov remains at the table.

  Enter Yelena, Anna and Grigory.

  Grigory You’re not going to do it, are you?

  Bulgakov Of course not.

  Grigory You told them that?

  Bulgakov I made it clear.

  Anna It’s a punishment, that’s what it is. For daring to think.

  Yelena But it’s not easy, is it?

  Grigory You think he should do it?

  Yelena No . . . I’m not saying that. But his play, what happens to that?

  Bulgakov As Sergei would say, we all have to make sacrifices.

  Yelena And all the other people who’ve worked on it?

  Anna Even if he does what they ask, who’s to say it would ever see the light of day again?

  Yelena He gave his word.

  Grigory A secret policeman, please!

  Bulgakov Grigory’s right . . . I have to take a stand. I have to . . . it is my obligation . . .

  He gets up. Turns away in thought.

  Grigory follows him. Interrupts. A talk in private.

  Grigory Mikhail – I need your advice.

  Bulgakov What?

  Grigory My novel.

  Bulgakov What? Rejected?

  Grigory No. Banned. I’m not allowed to publish it anywhere. Nor show it to anyone. I’ve been ordered to destroy it.

  Bulgakov Don’t do that. No, not that, whatever you do.

  Grigory They’ve suggested I ‘restructure’ myself. They say my next novel should be about the defence of the motherland, or the reform of some counter-revolutionary who sees the light through the purifying effects of digging a canal. Apparently there’s quite a market for novels about counter-revolutionaries who see the light through the purifying effects of digging a canal. It’s a genre in itself, I never even knew –

  Bulgakov Meet them eye to eye. Do not blink, do not step back. Change not one single word.

  Grigory That’s what I wanted to hear.

  Bulgakov Good luck.

  Grigory And you.

  They shake hands. Grigory exits with Anna.

  Yelena watches Bulgakov, who stands in silence.

  Yelena What are you going to do?

  He turns to her. They look at one another. She knows.

  She comforts him with a hug.

  They part. As Yelena exits, Bulgakov turns to the table and sits down.

  He feeds paper into the typewriter.

  But he does not type.

  Enter Vladimir and Stepan.

  Vladimir shouts across.

  Vladimir Bulgakov? Are you writing?

  Bulgakov I’m thinking.

  Vladimir I can’t hear anything!

  Bulgakov It’s a silent process.

  Vladimir I want to hear the sound of creation.

  Bulgakov When you stop pestering me, you’ll hear this!

  He brusquely types a couple of words.

  Vladimir That’s better. What have you written?

  Bulgakov ‘Death to Stalin!’

  Vladimir and Stepan stride across.

  Vladimir spools out the page. Reads it and tears it up.

  Vladimir Bulgakov – is there something wrong?

  Bulgakov No.

  Vladimir Are you sure? With your health or something? I wouldn’t want to think I’ve hired a man who isn’t up to the job. I don’t like to be personal, but there’s a kind of tinge in your skin – have you noticed that? Maybe all writers have got it.

  Bulgakov It’s the colour of persecution.

  Vladimir So the problem is just a creative one, right?

  Bulgakov There is no problem. It’s all coming together in my mind.

  Vladimir Good. Then when can I see something on the page?

  Bulgakov A day or two. At the most.

  Vladimir OK. A day or two. At the most, Bulgakov. At the most.

  Exit Vladimir and Stepan.

  Bulgakov sits.

  Enter Yelena. She stands behind Bulgakov.

  Enter the Doctor carrying a large bundle of files.

  Doctor Next! Sit down. Seventy-five patients to see! What is the nature of your problem?

  Bulgakov We’re here for the results. Of the tests.

  Doctor Name.

  Bulgakov Bulgakov. Mikhail.

  Doctor Smackhead groin doc turned smut-scribe?

  Bulgakov That’s me.

  Doctor How could I forget?

  He reaches for a file.

  Well?

  Bulgakov What?

  Doctor Any joy?

  Bulgakov I’m sorry?

  Doctor The actress. The babe. The honey. The hot chick. Mia amorata. Have you found her yet?

  Bulgakov I’m working on it.

  Doctor You’ll let me know. I’ll never forget her . . . smile.

  Bulgakov Do you have my results?

  Doctor All right!

  He snatches a file and reads.

  Let’s see . . . Fifteen letters, eighth letter ‘c’, anagram of ‘censorship loser’.

  Yelena What!

  Doctor Progressive failure of the kidneys, hypertension, declining filtration rate –

  Bulgakov Nephrosclerosis.

  Doctor You were a doctor!

  Yelena Is it bad? Mikhail?

  Doctor Will you tell her or will I?

  Bulgakov Things get worse.

  Doctor That’s one way of describing it.

  Bulgakov The loss of appetite, and weight, continue. And the sickness. Then one starts to retain fluid, and the poisons build up. Ends in a coma.

  Yelena How long does this take?

  Bulgakov A year. Maybe more.

  Doctor Ha! . . . Sorry. And before you ask –

  Bulgakov There’s nothing can be done.

  Doctor Nothing at all. Just to make it clear. I wouldn’t want to engender false hope. False hope is not the business of a physician. Or a playwright, don’t you think?

  He stands.

  Good day – Mrs Bulgakov. I am sorry.

  Exit the Doctor.

  Enter Anna, Grigory, Vasilly and Praskovya. They are emotional, upset. A flurry of comments and proposals.

  Grigory Mikhail, we know.

  Anna Yelena told us. It’s terrible!

  Grigory We think you should give up work. It’s not important now.

  Praskovya Exactly. If you don’t want to work – don’t let them force you. Not now.

  Bulgakov tries in vain to calm them down.

  Yelena I’m sorry, Misha, I had to talk to someone.

  Bulgakov It’s all right.

  Anna And all of us – we think you should leave, with Yelena. If you want to. You should leave the Soviet Union. You’ve always wanted to travel. So go now.
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br />   The cupboard door slides open.

  Sergei He can’t leave without permission!

  Vasilly Sergei – back in the cupboard!

  He slides it shut.

  Anna I have a cousin who lives just outside Leningrad. I will give you a letter. You can trust him. He will lead you across the ice, overnight, to Finland. From Helsinki, you can go anywhere.

  Grigory Breathe free air, Mikhail.

  Vasilly I have one or two trinkets you can sell, salvaged from the ruins.

  Praskovya I know where you can get papers. And foreign currency.

  Vasilly slides open the cupboard door.

  Vasilly Sergei – you hear nothing of this!

  He slides it shut again.

  Yelena You see, Misha, we can go.

  Bulgakov You’re too kind, all of you. And you’re right, all my life I have wanted to travel: to Paris, to Rome. But now – I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to be with my friends and my colleagues, with the people I love. I want to stay here. I want to . . . I don’t know – throw a party! Why not? To celebrate my good health! And if my illness were to turn up, uninvited, that’s all right – we’ll bring him in, we’ll sit him down by the fire, put a drink in his hand then borrow a revolver and shoot the bastard!

  Bulgakov takes Yelena’s hand.

  He addresses the others.

  Now please. If you don’t mind?

  Vasilly Of course.

  Exit Vasilly, Praskovya, Grigory and Anna.

  Bulgakov Don’t look at me like that, I’m not actually dead yet.

  Yelena Please, Misha, don’t talk like that. I don’t –

  Bulgakov – want to lose me! Less drama, more living, please. Honestly. It’s not that bad. A change in status: that’s all.

  Yelena goes to sit on the bed, distressed.

  Bulgakov watches for a moment.

  Then he crosses to the gramophone.

  Yelena Please, Misha, not just now.

  Bulgakov Oh yes, now. Now more than ever.

  He lifts a record and puts it on. He winds up the turntable and drops the stylus in place.

  The music could be a waltz or something contemporary, a piece of jazz, or something frivolous, like the cha-cha. But whatever, it is their tune.

  After a few bars, Bulgakov extends an arm.

  It has the air of a familiar ritual.

  Madame.

  He waits, arm outstretched.

  Eventually, Yelena smiles.

  She gets to her feet and crosses to him.

  She curtsies. He bows.

  They dance.

  During the dance, enter Vladimir and Stepan.

  They wait at the table.

  The dance finishes before the music.

  Bulgakov and Yelena kiss.