Every Good Boy Deserves Favor & Professional Foul

  MCKENDRICK and CHETWYN do likewise. Over this:)

  CHETWYN: Who? (He sees them and recognizes them.) Oh yes.

  MCKENDRICK: (Sees them.) Who?

  CHETWYN: Crisp and Broadbent. They must be staying here too.

  MCKENDRICK: Crisp? Broadbent? That kid over by the news-stand?

  ANDERSON: That’s Crisp.

  MCKENDRICK: My God, they get younger all the time.

  (The lift doors close. Inside the lift.)

  ANDERSON: Crisp is twenty-two. Broadbent is past his peak but Crisp is the next genius in my opinion.

  MCKENDRICK: Do you know him?

  ANDERSON: Not personally. I’ve been watching him for a couple of years.

  CHETWYN: He’s Newcastle, isn’t he?

  ANDERSON: Yes.

  MCKENDRICK: I’ve never heard of him. What’s his role there?

  ANDERSON: He’s what used to be called left wing. Broadbent’s in the centre. He’s an opportunist more than anything.

  (The lift has stopped at the third floor.)

  (To MCKENDRICK.) This is you—see you later.

  (MCKENDRICK steps out of the lift and looks round.)

  MCKENDRICK: Do you think the rooms are bugged?

  (The lift doors shut him off.

  Inside the lift. ANDERSON and CHETWYN ride up in silence for a few moments.)

  ANDERSON: What was it Aristotle said about the higher you go the further you fall…?

  CHETWYN: He was talking about tragic heroes.

  (The lift stops at the ninth floor. ANDERSON and CHETWYN leave the lift.)

  I’m this way. There’s a restaurant downstairs. The menu is very limited but it’s all right.

  ANDERSON: You’ve been here before?

  CHETWYN: Yes. Perhaps see you later then, sir.

  (CHETWYN goes down a corridor away from ANDERSON’s corridor.)

  ANDERSON: (To himself) Sir?

  (ANDERSON follows the arrow towards his own room number.)

  3. INT. ANDERSON’S HOTEL ROOM

  The room contains a bed, a wardrobe, a chest. A telephone. A bathroom containing a bath leads off through a door.

  ANDERSON is unpacking. He puts some clothes into a drawer and closes it. His suitcase is open on the bed. ANDERSON turns his attention to his briefcase and brings out MCKENDRICK’s magazine. He looks round wondering what to do with it. There is a knock on the door. ANDERSON tosses the girly magazine into his suitcase and closes the case. He goes to open the door. The caller is PAVEL HOLLAR.

  ANDERSON: Yes?

  HOLLAR: I am Pavel Hollar.

  ANDERSON: Yes?

  HOLLAR: Professor Anderson.

  (HOLLAR is Czech and speaks with an accent.)

  ANDERSON: Hollar? Oh, heavens, yes. How extraordinary. Come in.

  HOLLAR: Thank you. I’m sorry to—

  ANDERSON: No, no—what a pleasant surprise. I’ve only just arrived as you can see. Sit where you can. How are you? What are you doing? You live in Prague?

  HOLLAR: Oh yes.

  (ANDERSON closes the door.)

  ANDERSON: Well, well. Well, well, well, well. How are you? Must be ten years.

  HOLLAR: Yes. It is ten. I took my degree in sixty-seven.

  ANDERSON: You got a decent degree, too, didn’t you?

  HOLLAR: Yes, I got a first.

  ANDERSON: Of course you did. Well done, well done. Are you still in philosophy?

  HOLLAR: No, unfortunately.

  ANDERSON: Ah. What are you doing now?

  HOLLAR: I am a what do you say—a cleaner.

  ANDERSON: (With intelligent interest) A cleaner? What is that?

  HOLLAR: (Surprised) Cleaning. Washing. With a brush and a bucket. I am a cleaner at the bus station.

  ANDERSON: You wash buses?

  HOLLAR: No, not buses—the lavatories, the floors where people walk and so on.

  ANDERSON: Oh. I see. You’re a cleaner.

  HOLLAR: Yes.

  (Pause.)

  ANDERSON: Are you married now, or anything?

  HOLLAR: Yes. I married. She was almost my fiancée when I went to England. Irma. She is a country girl. No English. No philosophy. We have a son who is Sacha. That is Alexander.

  ANDERSON: I see.

  HOLLAR: And Mrs Anderson?

  ANDERSON: She died. Did you meet her ever?

  HOLLAR: No.

  ANDERSON: (Pause) I don’t know what to say.

  HOLLAR: Did she die recently?

  ANDERSON: No, I mean—a cleaner.

  HOLLAR: I had one year graduate research. My doctorate studies were on certain connections with Thomas Paine and Locke. But then, since sixty-nine….

  ANDERSON: Cleaning lavatories.

  HOLLAR: First I was in a bakery. Later on construction, building houses. Many other things. It is the way it is for many people.

  ANDERSON: Is it all right for you to be here talking to me?

  HOLLAR: Of course. Why not? You are my old professor.

  (HOLLAR is carrying a bag or briefcase. He puts this down and opens it.)

  I have something here.

  (From the bag he takes out the sort of envelope which would contain about thirty type-written foolscap pages. He also takes out a child’s ‘magic eraser’ pad, the sort of pad on which one scratches a message and then slides it out to erase it.)

  You understand these things of course?

  ANDERSON: (Nonplussed) Er …

  HOLLAR: (Smiling) Of course.

  (HOLLAR demonstrates the pad briefly, then writes on the pad while Anderson watches.)

  ANDERSON: (Stares at him) To England?

  (HOLLAR abandons the use of the pad, and whispers in ANDERSON’s ear.)

  HOLLAR: Excuse me.

  (HOLLAR goes to the door and opens it for ANDERSON. HOLLAR carries his envelope but leaves his bag in the room. ANDERSON goes out of the door baffled. HOLLAR follows him. They walk a few paces down the corridor.)

  Thank you. It is better to be careful.

  ANDERSON: Why? You don’t seriously suggest that my room is bugged?

  HOLLAR: It is better to assume it.

  ANDERSON: Why?

  (Just then the door of the room next to ANDERSON’s opens and a MAN comes out. He is about forty and wears a dark rather shapeless suit. He glances at ANDERSON and HOLLAR. And then walks off in the opposite direction towards the lifts and passes out of sight. HOLLAR and ANDERSON instinctively pause until the MAN has gone.)

  I hope you’re not getting me into trouble.

  HOLLAR: I hope not. I don’t think so. I have friends in trouble.

  ANDERSON: I know, it’s dreadful—but… well, what is it?

  (HOLLAR indicates his envelope.)

  HOLLAR: My doctoral thesis. It is mainly theoretical. Only ten thousand words, but very formally arranged.

  ANDERSON: My goodness … ten years in the writing.

  HOLLAR: No. I wrote it this month—when I heard of this congress here and you coming. I decided. Everyday in the night.

  ANDERSON: Of course. I’d be very happy to read it.

  HOLLAR: It is in Czech.

  ANDERSON: Oh … well…?

  HOLLAR: I’m afraid so. But Peter Volkansky—he was with me, you remember—we came together in sixty-three—

  ANDERSON: Oh yes—Volkansky—yes, I do remember him. He never came back here.

  HOLLAR: No. He didn’t come back. He was a realist.

  ANDERSON: He’s at Reading or somewhere like that.

  HOLLAR: Lyster.

  ANDERSON: Leicester. Exactly. Are you in touch with him?

  HOLLAR: A little. He will translate it and try to have it published in English. If it’s good. I think it is good.

  ANDERSON: But can’t you publish it in Czech? … (This catches up on him and he shakes his head.) Oh, Hollar … now, you know, really, I’m a guest of the government here.

  HOLLAR: They would not search you.

  ANDERSON: That’s not the point. I’m sorry … I mean it would be bad manners,
wouldn’t it?

  HOLLAR: Bad manners?

  ANDERSON: I know it sounds rather lame. But ethics and manners are interestingly related. The history of human calumny is largely a series of breaches of good manners…. (Pause.) Perhaps if I said correct behaviour it wouldn’t sound so ridiculous. You do see what I mean. I am sorry…. Look, can we go back … I ought to unpack.

  HOLLAR: My thesis is about correct behaviour.

  ANDERSON: Oh yes?

  HOLLAR: Here you know, individual correctness is defined by what is correct for the State.

  ANDERSON: Yes, I know.

  HOLLAR: I ask how collective right can have meaning by itself. I ask where it comes from, the idea of a collective ethic.

  ANDERSON: Yes.

  HOLLAR: I reply, it comes from the individual. One man’s dealings with another man.

  ANDERSON: Yes.

  HOLLAR: The collective ethic can only be the individual ethic writ big.

  ANDERSON: Writ large.

  HOLLAR: Writ large, precisely. The ethics of the State must be judged against the fundamental ethic of the individual. The human being, not the citizen. I conclude there is an obligation, a human responsibility, to fight against the State correctness. Unfortunately that is not a safe conclusion.

  ANDERSON: Quite. The difficulty arises when one asks oneself how the individual ethic can have any meaning by itself. Where does that come from? In what sense is it intelligible, for example, to say that a man has certain inherent, individual rights? It is much easier to understand how a community of individuals can decide to give each other certain rights. These rights may or may not include, for example, the right to publish something. In that situation, the individual ethic would flow from the collective ethic, just as the State says it does.

  (Pause.)

  I only mean it is a question you would have to deal with.

  HOLLAR: I mean, it is not safe for me.

  ANDERSON: (Still misunderstanding) Well yes, but for example, you could say that such an arrangement between a man and the State is a sort of contract, and it is the essence of a contract that both parties enter into it freely. And you have not entered into it freely. I mean, that would be one line of attack.

  HOLLAR: It is not the main line. You see, to me the idea of an inherent right is intelligible. I believe that we have such rights, and they are paramount.

  ANDERSON: Yes, I see you do, but how do you justify the assertion?

  HOLLAR: I observe. I observe my son for example.

  ANDERSON: Your son?

  HOLLAR: For example.

  (Pause.)

  ANDERSON: Look, there’s no need to stand out here. There’s … no point. I was going to have a bath and change … meeting some of my colleagues later….

  (ANDERSON moves to go but HOLLAR stops him with a touch on the arm.)

  HOLLAR: I am not a famous dissident. A writer, a scientist….

  ANDERSON: No.

  HOLLAR: If I am picked up—on the way home, let us say—there is no fuss. A cleaner. I will be one of hundreds. It’s all right. In the end it must change. But I have something to say—that is all. If I leave my statement behind, then it’s O.K. You understand?

  ANDERSON: Perhaps the correct thing for me to have done is not to have accepted their invitation to speak here. But I did accept it. It is a contract, as it were, freely entered into. And having accepted their hospitality I cannot in all conscience start smuggling…. It’s just not ethical.

  HOLLAR: But if you didn’t know you were smuggling it—

  ANDERSON: Smuggling entails knowledge.

  HOLLAR: If I hid my thesis in your luggage, for instance.

  ANDERSON: That’s childish. Also, you could be getting me into trouble, and your quarrel is not with me. Your action would be unethical on your own terms—one man’s dealings with another man. I am sorry.

  (ANDERSON goes back towards his door, which HOLLAR had left ajar. HOLLAR follows him.)

  HOLLAR: No, it is I who must apologize.

  The man next door, is he one of your group?

  ANDERSON: No. I don’t know him.

  (ANDERSON opens his bedroom door. He turns as if to say good-bye.)

  HOLLAR: My bag.

  ANDERSON: Oh yes.

  (HOLLAR follows ANDERSON into the room.)

  HOLLAR: You will have a bath …?

  ANDERSON: I thought I would.

  (HOLLAR turns into the bathroom. ANDERSON stays in the bedroom, surprised.

  He hears the bath water being turned on. The bath water makes a rush of sound. ANDERSON enters the bathroom and sees HOLLAR sitting on the edge of the bath. Interior bathroom.)

  HOLLAR: (Quietly) I have not yet made a copy.

  ANDERSON: (Loudly) What?

  (HOLLAR goes up to ANDERSON and speaks close to ANDERSON’s ear. The bath taps make a loud background noise.)

  HOLLAR: I have not yet made a copy. I have a bad feeling about carrying this home. (He indicates his envelope.) I did not expect to take it away. I ask a favour. (Smiles.) Ethical.

  ANDERSON: (Quietly now) What is it?

  HOLLAR: Let me leave this here and you can bring it to my apartment tomorrow—I have a safe place for it there.

  (HOLLAR takes a piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket and starts writing his address in capital letters.)

  ANDERSON: But you know my time here is very crowded—

  (Then he gives in.) Do you live nearby?

  HOLLAR: It is not far. I have written my address.

  (HOLLAR gives ANDERSON the paper.)

  ANDERSON: (Forgetting to be quiet) Do you seriously—

  (HOLLAR quietens ANDERSON.)

  Do you seriously expect to be searched on the way home?

  HOLLAR: I don’t know, but it is better to be careful. I wrote a letter to Mr Husak. Also some other things. So sometimes they follow me.

  ANDERSON: But you weren’t worried about bringing the thesis with you.

  HOLLAR: No. If anybody watches me they want to know what books you give me.

  ANDERSON: I see. Yes, all right, Hollar. I’ll bring it tomorrow.

  HOLLAR: Please don’t leave it in your room when you go to eat.

  Take your briefcase.

  (They go back into the bedroom. ANDERSON puts HOLLAR’s envelope into his briefcase.)

  (Normal voice) So perhaps you will come and meet my wife.

  ANDERSON: Yes. Should I telephone?

  HOLLAR: Unfortunately my telephone is removed. I am home all day. Saturday.

  ANDERSON: Oh yes.

  HOLLAR: Good-bye.

  ANDERSON: Good-bye.

  (HOLLAR goes to the door carrying his bag.)

  HOLLAR: I forgot—welcome to Prague.

  (HOLLAR leaves closing the door.

  ANDERSON stands still for a few moments. Then he hears footsteps approaching down the corridor. The footsteps appear to stop outside his room. But then the door to the next room is opened and the unseen man enters the room next door and loudly closes the door behind him.)

  4. INT. ANDERSON’S ROOM. MORNING.

  Close-up of the colloquium brochure. It is lying on ANDERSON’s table. Then ANDERSON picks it up. His dress and appearance, and the light outside the window, tell us that it is morning. Dressed to go out. ANDERSON picks up his briefcase and leaves the room.

  In the corridor he walks towards the lifts.

  At the lifts he finds CRISP waiting. ANDERSON stands next to CRISP silently for a few moments.

  ANDERSON: Good morning. (Pause.) Mr Crisp … my name is Anderson. I’m a very great admirer of yours.

  CRISP: (Chewing gum) Oh … ta.

  ANDERSON: Good luck this afternoon.

  CRISP: Thanks. Bloody useless, the lifts in this place.

  ANDERSON: Are you all staying in this hotel?

  (CRISP doesn’t seem to hear this. CRISP sees BROADBENT emerging from a room. BROADBENT carries a zipped bag, CRISP has a similar bag.)

  CRISP: (Shouts) Here you are, Roy—it’s
waiting for you. (BROADBENT arrives.)

  ANDERSON: Good morning. Good luck this afternoon.

  BROADBENT: Right. Thanks. Are you over for the match?

  ANDERSON: Yes. Well, partly. I’ve got my ticket.

  (ANDERSON takes out of his pocket the envelope he received from the hotel CLERK and shows it.)

  CRISP: (Quietly) You didn’t pull her, then?

  BROADBENT: No chance.

  CRISP: They don’t trust you, do they?

  BROADBENT: Well, they’re right, aren’t they? Remember Milan.

  CRISP: (Laughing) Yeah—

  (The bell sounds to indicate that the lift is arriving.)

  About bloody time.

  ANDERSON: I see from yesterday’s paper that they’ve brought in Jirasek for Vladislav.

  BROADBENT: Yes, that’s right. Six foot eight, they say.

  ANDERSON: He’s not very good in the air unless he’s got lots of space.

  (BROADBENT looks at him curiously. The lift doors open and the three of them get in. There is no one else in the lift except the female OPERATOR.

  Interior lift.)

  BROADBENT: You’ve seen him, have you?

  ANDERSON: I’ve seen him twice. In the UFA Cup a few seasons ago…. I happened to be in Berlin for the Hegel Colloquium, er, bunfight. And then last season I was in Bratislava to receive an honorary degree.

  CRISP: Tap his ankles for him. Teach him to be six foot eight.

  BROADBENT: Leave off— (He nods at the lift OPERATOR.) You never know, do you?

  CRISP: Yeah, maybe the lift’s bugged.

  ANDERSON: He scored both times from the same move, and came close twice more—

  BROADBENT: Oh yes?

  (Pause.)

  ANDERSON: (In a rush) I realize it’s none of my business—I mean you may think I’m an absolute ass, but— (Pause.)

  Look, if Halas takes a corner he’s going to make it short— almost certainly—push it back to Deml or Kautsky, who pulls the defence out. Jirasek hangs about for the chip to the far post. They’ll do the same thing from a set piece. Three or four times in the same match. Really. Short corners and free kicks.

  (The lift stops at the third floor. BROADBENT and CRISP are staring at ANDERSON.)

  (Lamely.) Anyway, that’s why they’ve brought Jirasek back, in my opinion.

  (The lift doors open and MCKENDRICK gets in. MCKENDRICK’s manner is breezy and bright.)

  MCKENDRICK: Good morning! You’ve got together then?