Summary

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Scene One: The Girl and The Cab Driver
Under the glow of flickering streetlights, in the first act of The Blue Room, we encounter The Girl, a fledgling and inexperienced prostitute, loitering in a park. Her attire—a skimpy black leather skirt—hints at her intentions, as she scans the passerby for a potential patron. Twice, a Cab Driver ambles past her, his gaze lingering just enough to spark her courage. With bold resolve, she beckons him to join her at her abode. He, seasoned and shrewd, counters with a lack of funds. Unfazed, she assures him it’s not about the money. Together, they retreat to the river's edge, surrendering to the shadows away from the bustling path.

The lights dim, casting the stage in darkness as "THREE MINUTES" projects onto the screen, denoting the span of their tryst. As illumination returns, the driver, now composed, tidies himself and assists The Girl up from the ground. With no intention of parting with cash, he declines her request for payment. She, steadfast, reminds him, "I’ll be here tomorrow," as he departs.

Scene Two: The Cab Driver and The Au Pair
As an Elvis Presley ballad gently echoes from a distant dance floor, The Cab Driver and The Au Pair slip unnoticed into a shadowy storage closet. The Au Pair, Marie, hailing from a foreign land, serves a family by caring for their children. Newly acquainted with The Cab Driver, who now introduces himself as Fred, she finds herself lured into the storage room under the guise of escaping the dance, though his true intent is seduction.

Marie, hesitant, demands assurance that their encounter "means something" before yielding. Echoing her words, Fred promises significance. The scene fades to darkness with "NINE MINUTES" projected. As dim light gradually returns, revealing them atop squashed boxes, Marie inquires about Fred's feelings. He hesitates, admitting confusion, "Feel’s a big word." Unlike his previous encounter in the park, this experience stirs something within him. Preferring her company over a hasty departure, he suggests fetching beers for them both. He departs, leaving The Au Pair in solitude as the lights fade once more.

Scene Three: The Au Pair and The Student
The following scene unfolds in the sleek, contemporary kitchen of the luxurious household where The Au Pair, Marie, is employed. She sits at the table, penning a letter to The Cab Driver she met at the dance, when The Student descends for a glass of water. After a brief exchange about an anticipated call, he returns upstairs. However, the phone soon rings, summoning Marie once more for another drink. The Student reappears, clearly concocting an excuse to see her again.

No longer bound by restraint, The Student flirts unreservedly, complimenting Marie's attire before moving in for a kiss and unbuttoning her clothing. Mindful of her position, Marie insists on closing the blinds first, a request he obligingly fulfills. As he lifts her onto the table, she cautions him about possible interruptions, but he remains undeterred. The scene plunges into darkness, marked by a "FORTY-FIVE SECONDS" slide. The abrupt peal of the doorbell shatters their moment. The Student, flustered, requests Marie to answer the door while he hastily redresses. Upon her return, his demeanor shifts back to that of the family's son. He declares his departure to the café, leaving Marie with instructions to relay his whereabouts to his friend when he calls.

Scene Four: The Student and The Married Woman
The "friend" eagerly awaited by The Student is revealed to be The Married Woman, Emma, who graces Scene Four with her presence. In his bedroom, The Student, Anton,...

(This entire section contains 2007 words.)

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prepares for her arrival with an array of hors d'oeuvres and a bottle of cognac. Offstage, the doorbell heralds Emma’s arrival, greeted by The Au Pair. Ascending to Anton's room, Emma, wife to a prominent politician, is cloaked in a scarf and dark glasses, striving to keep their clandestine meeting hidden from prying eyes. She frets over the press, who, devoid of scruples, could unravel her life if they uncover her secret rendezvous.

The complicated entanglements deepen as The Married Woman, a close acquaintance of The Student’s parents, finds herself confiding in him. They exchange words over her marital discontent—her life woven into a web of deceit and betrayal spun by her husband. Boldly, The Student confesses his love for her. Inevitably, passion overtakes them, and they slip beneath the sheets. The darkness engulfs them just long enough for a slide proclaiming "0 MINUTES" to flash, before the light returns and The Student sits, perched on the bed's edge, fraught with frustration and impotence. As he fumbles for excuses, she lightens the mood with humor. When levity fails, she directs him to lie still, taking control. The lights dim again, and the slide now reads "THIRTY-TWO MINUTES." Her voice, a satisfied whisper, cuts through the darkness, "Oh my beautiful boy."

Swiftly, reality beckons, and The Married Woman is reminded of the ties that bind her to her husband. In a flurry, they dress, agreeing to meet publicly at a political rally for her husband the following day and privately two days hence. Left in solitude, The Student indulges in hors d'oeuvres, musing to himself with brazen pride, "I'm fucking a married woman."

Scene Five: The Married Woman and The Politician

In the confines of their home, the root of The Married Woman's despair is laid bare. Emma and her husband, Charlie, a figure in politics, share a single room yet are divided by separate beds. Charlie reasons that this arrangement is wise and mature, solidifying their union on the grounds of friendship and mutual respect rather than carnal desire. This supposed wisdom, however, rings hollow to Emma, who yearns for the fiery passion that once ignited in Venice, eight years past.

As night falls, their conversation turns to Charlie's past, a subject they've broached before. He confesses to a youthful folly of numerous affairs, one dalliance even involving a married woman. Yet, he insists that now Emma is his sole desire, the one he truly loves. The room darkens, a slide announces "FIFTEEN MINUTES," and as they conclude their interaction, Emma expresses her longing for the Venice of old. Ever the diplomat, Charlie reassures her that marriage holds the promise of returning to such times one day.

Scene Six: The Politician and The Model

Romantic dreams of Venice give way to new escapades as The Politician lounges in a hotel room, cigar in hand. He watches a seventeen-year-old girl, whom he met on the street, dance to a rock video while indulging in chocolate ice cream. Kelly, the young model, is far from naive. She bristles at his assumption of her having entertained fifty suitors but admits to past liaisons. Throughout, she snorts cocaine and swallows pills, lamenting a former lover who bore a striking resemblance to The Politician.

In a rare departure from his character, The Politician joins her in ingesting pills. Their tryst begins, and the lights fade, with a slide indicating "TWO HOURS TWENTY-EIGHT MINUTES." In the blur following their drug-fueled encounter, they discuss infidelity's repercussions. The Model cheekily suggests that if he cheats, his wife might too, provoking his hypocritical ire. Ironically blind to his own faults, he offers to arrange an apartment for her, envisioning it as a sanctuary for their clandestine meetings. "Isn't that what women want?" he arrogantly inquires.

Scene Seven: The Model and The Playwright

Much like The Politician, The Playwright encounters The Model, perhaps in the vibrant chaos of the streets or a dimly lit club, and swiftly brings her home with promises of a song. Though she initially insists on staying only for the tune, The Playwright's performance of "The Blue Room" charms her into remaining. She becomes enchanted enough to succumb to his seduction. The Playwright revels in her ignorance of his celebrity status, weaving a tapestry of words to bewilder and beguile her into his bed. He paints a picture of a journey to India, to the Rajasthan, promising sights and fiery passion. As with those before, the scene fades, and a slide declares "FORTY-NINE MINUTES."

Afterward, maintaining his air of the romantic, The Playwright offers her tickets to a sold-out performance of his latest creation—an offer meaningless to her—and vows they shall meet again. Together, they vanish into the night for a late supper, leaving behind the tale of words and shadows.

Scene Eight: The Playwright and The Actress
Amidst the rustic charm of a countryside retreat, far from the clamor of urban life and theatrical stages, The Playwright encounters an unexpected challenger. The Actress, poised and slightly senior in age, skillfully maneuvers him with the grace of a maestro conducting a symphony. She playfully critiques his cherished lexicon, remarking with a mischievous smile, “You do talk more bollocks per square meter than any man I’ve ever met.” Her candor extends to his plays, leaving him momentarily nonplussed. Yet, just as he anticipates the evening bending to his will, she coolly informs him of a separate room reservation, bidding him goodnight. Despite her resolute words, destiny intervenes; they find themselves entwined beneath the sheets. The stage dims, and a slide flashes "TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES," inviting laughter as the lights reveal the duo in affectionate embrace, before fading into "TWELVE MINUTES."

In the serene aftermath, The Actress admits, "You write brilliant plays," a revelation that pierces the post-banter haze. Although others in their theatrical circle regard him with disdain for his perceived vanity, she staunchly defends him, asserting his talents merit such pride. Oblivious to the veiled jab, The Playwright basks in her words. As they linger in bed, an engaging debate about the nocturnal chorus outside ensues (is the melody crafted by crickets or frogs?), while The Actress continues her playful provocation, oscillating between jest and declarations of love. The Playwright remains uncertain whether she is sincere or merely performing her craft.

Scene Nine: The Actress and The Aristocrat

In a clever twist, Hare’s narrative folds back on itself. The Actress graces an imaginary stage, bowing to the audience after starring in a Schnitzler play, the original muse for The Blue Room. She embodies the very performance the audience witnesses, seamlessly blending her fictional existence with reality.

Retreating to her dressing room post-performance, The Actress is graced by The Aristocrat, her affluent suitor, catching her act for the first time. Their interaction commences with a duel of words, as The Actress jabs at his fidelity, suggesting infidelity. The Aristocrat counters with protestations of honor, proposing they delay gratification until a more suitable setting can enhance the mood.

Such concerns swiftly dissipate as they succumb to passion on the dressing room’s chaise. The stage darkens, a slide revealing "ONE HOUR ONE MINUTE." Clothed once more, The Aristocrat, nibbling on leftover Chinese fare, ponders a central theme: "Do you think any of us is ever just one person?" he muses. "Don’t you think we all change, all the time? With one person we’re one person, and with another we’re another." Despite acknowledging their affair’s doomed fate, The Aristocrat vows to return to the theatre the following day.

Scene Ten: The Aristocrat and The Girl

A year has woven its tapestry since the curtain rose on the play’s opening scene. In the heart of the city’s red light district, within a tattered room above a sex shop, The Aristocrat awakens from a drunken haze, confronting the reality of his night with The Girl from scene one. Seated across from the now slumbering prostitute, he clings to a fantasy that he passed out before intimacy unfolded. Rising, he leaves payment, tenderly kisses her eyelids, romanticizing the gesture as their sole contact. His illusion crumbles when The Girl shatters the reverie, revealing they indeed coupled, and extends an invitation to return, “Just ask for Irene.”

As dawn breaks through the curtained window, music plays a gentle farewell to their fleeting rendezvous. "Goodnight," he offers. "Good morning," she corrects, grounding him in the present.

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