"Ивлин Во. Экскурсия в жизнь (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора At half-past three Miss Grits joined him and said: 'Well, it's been an
easy day so far. You mustn't think we're always as slack as this. There's a canteen across the yard. Come and have something to eat.' An enormous buffet was full of people in a variety of costume and make-up. Disappointed actresses in languorous attitudes served cups of tea and hard-boiled eggs. Simon and Miss Grits ordered sandwiches and were about to eat them when a loudspeaker above their heads suddenly announced with alarming distinctness, 'Sir James Macrae calling Mr Lent and Miss Grits in the Conference Room.' 'Come on, quick,' said Miss Grits. She bustled him through the swing doors, across the yard, into the office buildings and up a flight of stairs to a solid oak door marked Conference. Keep out. Too late. 'Sir James has been called away,' said the secretary. 'Will you meet him at the West End office at five-thirty.' Back to London, this time by tube. At five-thirty they were at the Piccadilly office ready for the next clue in their treasure hunt. This took them to Hampstead. Finally at eight they were back at the studio. Miss Grits showed no sign of exhaustion. 'Decent of the old boy to give us a day off,' she remarked. 'He's easy to work with in that way - after Hollywood. Let's get some supper.' But as they opened the canteen doors and felt the warm breath of light refreshments, the loud-speaker again announced: 'Sir James Macrae calling Mr Lent and Miss Grits in the Conference Room.' This time they were not too late. Sir James was there at the head of an greatcoat with his head hung forward, elbows on the table and his hands clasped behind his neck. The staff sat in respectful sympathy. Presently he looked up, shook himself and smiled pleasantly. 'Nice of you to come,' he said. 'Sorry I couldn't see you before. Lots of small things to see to on a job like this. Had dinner?' 'Not yet.' 'Pity. Have to eat, you know. Can't work at full pressure unless you eat plenty.' Then Simon and Miss Grits sat down and Sir James explained his plan. 'I want, ladies and gentlemen, to introduce Mr Lent to you. I'm sure you all know his name already and I daresay some of you know his work. Well, I've called him in to help us and I hope that when he's heard the plan he'll consent to join us. I want to produce a film of Hamlet. I daresay you don't think that's a very original idea-but it's Angle that counts in the film world. I'm going to do it from an entirely new angle. That's why I've called in Mr Lent. I want him to write dialogue for us.' 'But surely,' said Simon, 'there's quite a lot of dialogue there already?' 'Ah, you don't see my angle. There have been plenty of productions of Shakespeare in modern dress. We are going to produce him in modern speech. How can you expect the public to enjoy Shakespeare when they can't make head or tail of the dialogue. D'you know I began reading a copy the other day and blessed if I could understand it. At once I said, "What the public wants is Shakespeare with all his beauty of thought and character translated into the |
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