The Collapsed Council” – RTSH
By
Flamur Buçpapaj
Genre: Political Satirical Comedy
Structure: Two acts, one location (RTSH Assembly Hall)
ACT I – “The Preordained Selection”
Scene 1: RTSH Assembly Hall
A large table. A few wobbly chairs. Under a dim yellow light sit the characters:
Baldy Buda (a former “actor,” a legend in his own mind)
The Bride of the Theatre (always wearing a wedding dress, symbolizing nostalgia for the “golden age”)
State of Siege (afraid to speak, bound with phone wires around his neck)
The Lyric Accountant (loudly reads budget poetry)
Lenci (the only rational one, disillusioned and isolated)
Buda (wearing a brick on his head like a crown):
“I’ve returned to save the theatre they destroyed! Me – who never played a role, but I’m a legend at ‘Bar Lulja’!”
Lyric Accountant:
“In the budget I see verses that do not rhyme… Eni Vasili is the chosen one… by the stars, by the party, by the internationals!”
State of Siege (looking at the ceiling):
“Don’t speak out loud, they’re spying on us from the USA. They’ve hidden cameras in the chandeliers…”
Lenci (sarcastically):
“They served us Eni Vasili like a plate of potatoes, but wanted us to call it seafood.”
Bride of the Theatre (crying):
“I married the stage! They left me in a white dress in a room with brown curtains!”
Collectively:
“All in favor? As the Party says – YES!”
Pause. Silence. Everyone casts their vote. Buda mistakenly puts a piece of toilet paper in the box.
ACT I
Scene 1 – RTSH Assembly Hall
A cold room, long table, old microphones, plastic cups. The lights are dim. Some chairs are empty. At the center stands BALDY BUDA, with a real brick strapped to his forehead. The others enter one by one.
BALDY BUDA
(pounding the table)
“We’re finally gathered! Since the theatre was demolished, I haven’t slept a peaceful night. Not for summer, not for the party, not for my love of a stage I never knew!”
BRIDE OF THE THEATRE
(enters dragging herself in a dirty white wedding dress)
“They married me to the stage, then left me… with torn curtains and actors turned waiters. I am the stage, I am the pain!”
STATE OF SIEGE
(enters tied with telephone wires around his neck, eyes darting around)
“Don’t speak loudly! They’re listening! CIA, FBI, OSCE, WHO! They’ve got cameras in the chandeliers, microphones under the floor!”
LYRIC ACCOUNTANT
(enters with a briefcase full of documents and a poetry book on top)
“I’ve come with the latest financial report and a poem on state aid.
‘In the column of expenses / love for theatre takes its place…’”
LENCI
(enters last, tired and silent)
“Why did you bring us back here? The theatre collapsed, but foolishness built us all inside it.”
Everyone is silent for a moment. BUDA rises, puffed up with self-importance.
BALDY BUDA
“We are the RTSH Governing Council. We hold the fate of culture, of the screen, of the nation! And… we have a vote to cast.”
STATE OF SIEGE
(whispering)
“Don’t say it out loud… the embassy is watching…”
BRIDE OF THE THEATRE
“Who’s the candidate?”
LYRIC ACCOUNTANT
“Eni Vasili. The party decided. There’s no competition, because competition is a luxury.”
(recites)
“In the darkness of democracy / we are guided by a television smile…”
LENCI
“Then why gather us, if it’s already decided? We’re making theatre without a stage – dead theatre.”
BALDY BUDA
“We need legitimacy, Lenci. Your vote is just for show.” (Everyone chuckles lightly. Lenci remains silent.)
STATE OF SIEGE
Don’t forget the security code: “Mask up and act.” That’s what he said… the interim director of the services.
BRIDE OF THE THEATER
I will vote with my heart! And with my stage makeup that I can’t wipe away anymore from the pain…
BALDY BUDA
To avoid further delays: whoever votes for Eni Vasili, place your envelope in the box.
(They begin dropping papers. One drops a banknote, another a bag of peanuts. Lenci holds the envelope in his hand.)
LENCI
(looking at the others)
There are no more elections, no more votes. There’s only puppet theater… with no audience.
(The lights dim slowly. End of Scene 1.)
“In the darkness of democracy / we are led by a televised smile…”
LENCI
Then why did you bring us here, if it’s already decided? We’re putting on a play without a stage—a dead theater.
BALDY BUDA
We need legitimacy, Lenci. Your vote is just for show.
(Everyone chuckles lightly. Lenci remains silent.)
STATE OF SIEGE
Don’t forget the security code: “Mask up and act.” That’s what he said… the interim director of the services.
BRIDE OF THE THEATER
I will vote with my heart! And with my stage makeup that I can’t wipe away anymore from the pain…
BALDY BUDA
To avoid further delays: whoever votes for Eni Vasili, place your envelope in the box.
(They begin dropping papers. One drops a banknote, another a bag of peanuts. Lenci holds the envelope in his hand.)
LENCI
(looking at the others)
There are no more elections, no more votes. There’s only puppet theater… with no audience.
(The lights dim slowly. End of Scene 1.)
ACT I
Scene 1 – RTSH Meeting Room
(A cold room, a long table, old microphones, plastic cups. The lights are dim. Some empty chairs. In the center stands BALDY BUDA, with an actual brick strapped to his forehead. The others enter one by one.)
BALDY BUDA
(banging the table)
We’re finally gathered! Ever since the theater was demolished, I haven’t slept a peaceful night. Not for the summer, not for the party, not for my love for the stage I never even knew!
BRIDE OF THE THEATER
(enters dragging herself in a dirty white wedding dress)
I was married to the stage, then they left me… with torn curtains and actors turned into waiters. I am the stage, I am the pain!
STATE OF SIEGE
(enters with telephone wires wrapped around his neck, his eyes scanning every corner)
Don’t speak loudly! We’re being spied on! The CIA, FBI, OSCE, WHO! They’ve planted cameras in the chandeliers, microphones under the parquet!
They’ve planted cameras in the chandelier, microphones under the parquet!
THE LYRICAL FINANCIER (entering with a suitcase full of files and a poetry book on top):
I’ve come with the latest financial report and a poem about state aid.
“In the expense column / love for the theatre finds its place…”
LENC (entering last, tired and silent):
Why did you bring us back here? The theatre collapsed, but stupidity built us all inside.
(Everyone remains silent for a moment. BUDA rises, inflated with self-importance.)
BALD BUDA:
We are the Governing Council of RTSH. We hold the fate of culture, the screen, the nation in our hands! And… we have a vote to cast.
STATE OF SIEGE (whispering):
Don’t say it out loud… the embassy is watching us…
THE BRIDE OF THE THEATRE:
Who is the candidate?
THE LYRICAL FINANCIER:
Eni Vasili. The party has decided. No contest—it’s a luxury we can’t afford.
(recites)
“In the darkness of democracy / we are led by a television smile…”
LENC:
Then why did you gather us, if the decision’s already made? We’re performing theatre without a stage—a dead theatre.
BALD BUDA:
We need legitimacy, Lenc. Your vote is just for show.
(Everyone chuckles softly. Lenc remains silent.)
STATE OF SIEGE:
Don’t forget the defense code: “Put on the mask and act.” That’s what he said… the acting director of services.
THE BRIDE OF THE THEATRE:
I’ll vote with my heart! And with my stage makeup I can no longer remove from pain…
BALD BUDA:
Let’s not delay any longer: whoever votes for Eni Vasili, place the envelope in the box.
(They start throwing in papers. One throws in a banknote, another a bag of peanuts. Lenc holds the envelope in his hand.)
LENC (watching the others):
There are no more elections, no more votes. There’s only puppet theatre… without an audience.
(The lights dim slowly. End of Scene 1.)
ACT II
(Same RTSH meeting room, the next day. The atmosphere is more tense. The windows are covered with curtains. Everyone is seated, but they seem uneasy. In the background, a TV can be heard talking about “historic elections in public institutions.”)
BUDA (looking around with paranoia):
Did you see it? Eni appeared on the news herself! She said the “election was transparent.” You know what that means? We know who’s listening to us!
STATE OF SIEGE (adjusting the flap of his coat):
They’ve been recording us since Act I. There’s no escape. I saw two men entering the control booth. One of them carried a folder with the seal of the American embassy.
THE BRIDE (putting on makeup in a small mirror):
They’re spying on us through makeup! They want to see if we still have a face. I lost mine the day they cast me as an extra with a red scarf.
THE LYRICAL FINANCIER (talking on the phone):
No, no, it’s not a drama. Just a selection. Like a contract without a tender. Don’t talk to me about art—my language is the budget.
LENC (entering with an empty ballot box):
And now it’s done. You expressed your will. You voted for the party’s candidate.
But you didn’t vote for yourselves.
Because here, in this board, no one is alive anymore.
You’re all figurines of fear.
BUDA (rises, agitated):
We protected the institution! We led it as we were asked. In silence, with loyalty.
(As the lights go out completely and the stage empties, a soft, ironic voice is heard from the loudspeaker, like an invisible narrator):
Voice:
Dear viewers, what you just witnessed is not a political comedy.
It is not an institutional drama either.
It is an imaginary documentary… about a very real reality.
The theatre has not been demolished.
It has been transformed.
From an artistic stage to an office for appointments.
From a place of freedom to a vault of supervised votes.
If you have any complaints, please write to the portal:
www.justiceandmicrophone.al
And don’t forget:
Those who choose for themselves, lose ahead of time.
Those who vote on command, win a place in “the silent caste.”
Thank you… for not laughing too much.
Someone is listening.
(Sound of a metal file closing. A red light briefly illuminates the audience’s faces. Then total darkness.)
ACT II – Scene 2
(On stage enters a sound technician, wearing beige trousers and an earpiece. His name is “Kufiçi”. He looks around and gestures for silence.)
Kufiçi:
Pssst… Speak quietly. We’re doing a “sound test” for the new directorate. Now every mic is integrated with the ethical compliance system.
(Exits as quickly as he entered)
The Lyrical Financier (laughs nervously)
They cast us into a reality show without auditions! We’re not even actors anymore. We’re extras of fear. Budget approved, control guaranteed!
Bride of the Theatre (holding her head in both hands)
I remember the time I was chosen for roles out of passion. Now I’m selected for my silence. And by the list from above.
State of Siege (in a conspiratorial tone)
I heard the opposition’s candidate was seen at a café… reading a book by Flamur Bucpapaj.
(Everyone covers their mouths in terror)
Buda:
This isn’t funny! These are signs of decadence. We must preserve the party line— I mean, the line of art!
Lenci (ironically)
What art? You’re not defenders of the theatre. You’re its shadows wandering the corridors, checking who’ll guard the keys to an empty hall.
(In the background, a soft alarm sounds — indicating “Approaching Vote”)
A voice from the loudspeaker:
Voice:
“Honorable members of the council, prepare to express your will in a democratic, independent, and… mandatory way.”
(They all rise.
Each picks up a yellow ballot sheet, but pre-printed on it is only one name: “Candidate of the Democratic Front – previously approved by the Party and the Public.”)
Buda (smiling with a shadow of pride):
There you have it… The truth of theatre. We play the roles we are given. And the script is written elsewhere.
State of Siege:
But how do we know she’ll win?
Lyrical Financier:
Because… they printed the posters two days ago.
Lenci (turning toward the audience):
This is no longer comedy. It’s a tragedy with a predetermined ending. With actors who stay silent. And spectators who no longer applaud.
(Lights dim. The loudspeaker voice returns.)
Voice:
“Thank you for your cooperation. The theatre will be renovated… with silicone.”
EPILOGUE
(As the lights fade completely and the stage empties, a soft, ironic voice is heard through the loudspeaker—like an invisible narrator):
(As the lights go out completely and the stage empties, a soft, ironic voice is heard from the loudspeaker, like an invisible narrator):
Voice:
Dear viewers, what you just witnessed is not a political comedy.
It is not an institutional drama either.
It is an imaginary documentary… about a very real reality.
The theatre has not been demolished.
It has been transformed.
From an artistic stage to an office for appointments.
From a place of freedom to a vault of supervised votes.
If you have any complaints, please write to the portal:
www.justiceandmicrophone.al
And don’t forget:
Those who choose for themselves, lose ahead of time.
Those who vote on command, win a place in “the silent caste.”
Thank you… for not laughing too much.
Someone is listening.
(Sound of a metal file closing. A red light briefly illuminates the audience’s faces. Then total darkness.)
