DESIGN & PRODUCE A THEATRICAL EVENTPlan the production to the minutest detail possible. Include all description and illustration necessary to convince backers to fund your production.Format: Microsoft Word documentminimum pages: 10script: (The proposal)1) A LEGITIMATE (TRADITIONAL) THEATRICAL PLAYchoose a theatre space (proscenium, thrust, arena, black box), design costumes, set, lighting, sound. Solve logistical problems. How many actors to portray the characters (double-casting?)? How many crew members? How much will it cost? How long from planning to opening? How long can it run? etc. Create a portfolio presentation on pdf, doc, or ppt form in as much detail as you think will convince backers to give you the money necessary to produce your show.I upload the script and examples


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NATALYA STEPANOVNA, his daughter, twenty-five years old
IVAN VASSILEVITCH LOMOV, a neighbour of Chubukov, a large and
hearty, but very suspicious landowner
The scene is laid at CHUBUKOV’s country-house
A drawing-room in CHUBUKOV’S house.
[LOMOV enters, wearing a dress-jacket and white gloves. CHUBUKOV rises to
meet him.]
CHUBUKOV. My dear fellow, whom do I see! Ivan Vassilevitch! I am extremely
glad! [Squeezes his hand] Now this is a surprise, my darling… How are you?
LOMOV. Thank you. And how may you be getting on?
CHUBUKOV. We just get along somehow, my angel, to your prayers, and so on.
Sit down, please do…. Now, you know, you shouldn’t forget all about your
neighbours, my darling. My dear fellow, why are you so formal in your get-up?
Evening dress, gloves, and so on. Can you be going anywhere, my treasure?
LOMOV. No, I’ve come only to see you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch.
CHUBUKOV. Then why are you in evening dress, my precious? As if you’re
paying a New Year’s Eve visit!
LOMOV. Well, you see, it’s like this. [Takes his arm] I’ve come to you, honoured
Stepan Stepanovitch, to trouble you with a request. Not once or twice have I
already had the privilege of applying to you for help, and you have always, so to
speak… I must ask your pardon, I am getting excited. I shall drink some water,
honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. [Drinks.]
CHUBUKOV. [Aside] He’s come to borrow money! Shan’t give him any! [Aloud]
What is it, my beauty?
LOMOV. You see, Honour Stepanitch… I beg pardon, Stepan Honouritch… I
mean, I’m awfully excited, as you will please notice…. In short, you alone can
help me, though I don’t deserve it, of course… and haven’t any right to count on
your assistance….
CHUBUKOV. Oh, don’t go round and round it, darling! Spit it out! Well?
LOMOV. One moment… this very minute. The fact is, I’ve come to ask the hand
of your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriage.
CHUBUKOV. [Joyfully] By Jove! Ivan Vassilevitch! Say it again—I didn’t hear it
LOMOV. I have the honour to ask…
CHUBUKOV. [Interrupting] My dear fellow… I’m so glad, and so on…. Yes,
indeed, and all that sort of thing. [Embraces and kisses LOMOV] I’ve been
hoping for it for a long time. It’s been my continual desire. [Sheds a tear] And I’ve
always loved you, my angel, as if you were my own son. May God give you both
His help and His love and so on, and I did so much hope… What am I behaving
in this idiotic way for? I’m off my balance with joy, absolutely off my balance! Oh,
with all my soul… I’ll go and call Natasha, and all that.
LOMOV. [Greatly moved] Honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I may
count on her consent?
CHUBUKOV. Why, of course, my darling, and… as if she won’t consent! She’s in
love; egad, she’s like a love-sick cat, and so on…. Shan’t be long! [Exit.]
LOMOV. It’s cold… I’m trembling all over, just as if I’d got an examination before
me. The great thing is, I must have my mind made up. If I give myself time to
think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to look for an ideal, or for real love, then I’ll never
get married…. Brr!… It’s cold! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper,
not bad-looking, well-educated…. What more do I want? But I’m getting a noise in
my ears from excitement. [Drinks] And it’s impossible for me not to marry…. In
the first place, I’m already 35—a critical age, so to speak. In the second place, I
ought to lead a quiet and regular life…. I suffer from palpitations, I’m excitable
and always getting awfully upset…. At this very moment my lips are trembling,
and there’s a twitch in my right eyebrow…. But the very worst of all is the way I
sleep. I no sooner get into bed and begin to go off when suddenly something in
my left side—gives a pull, and I can feel it in my shoulder and head…. I jump up
like a lunatic, walk about a bit, and lie down again, but as soon as I begin to get
off to sleep there’s another pull! And this may happen twenty times….
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, there! It’s you, and papa said, “Go; there’s a
merchant come for his goods.” How do you do, Ivan Vassilevitch!
LOMOV. How do you do, honoured Natalya Stepanovna?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You must excuse my apron and négligé… we’re
shelling peas for drying. Why haven’t you been here for such a long time? Sit
down. [They seat themselves] Won’t you have some lunch?
LOMOV. No, thank you, I’ve had some already.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Then smoke…. Here are the matches…. The weather
is splendid now, but yesterday it was so wet that the workmen didn’t do anything
all day. How much hay have you stacked? Just think, I felt greedy and had a
whole field cut, and now I’m not at all pleased about it because I’m afraid my hay
may rot. I ought to have waited a bit. But what’s this? Why, you’re in evening
dress! Well, I never! Are you going to a ball, or what?—though I must say you
look better. Tell me, why are you got up like that?
LOMOV. [Excited] You see, honoured Natalya Stepanovna… the fact is, I’ve
made up my mind to ask you to hear me out…. Of course you’ll be surprised and
perhaps even angry, but a… [Aside] It’s awfully cold!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What’s the matter? [Pause] Well?
LOMOV. I shall try to be brief. You must know, honoured Natalya Stepanovna,
that I have long, since my childhood, in fact, had the privilege of knowing your
family. My late aunt and her husband, from whom, as you know, I inherited my
land, always had the greatest respect for your father and your late mother. The
Lomovs and the Chubukovs have always had the most friendly, and I might
almost say the most affectionate, regard for each other. And, as you know, my
land is a near neighbour of yours. You will remember that my Oxen Meadows
touch your birchwoods.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Excuse my interrupting you. You say, “my Oxen
Meadows….” But are they yours?
LOMOV. Yes, mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What are you talking about? Oxen Meadows are
ours, not yours!
LOMOV. No, mine, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, I never knew that before. How do you make that
LOMOV. How? I’m speaking of those Oxen Meadows which are wedged in
between your birchwoods and the Burnt Marsh.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes…. They’re ours.
LOMOV. No, you’re mistaken, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, they’re mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Just think, Ivan Vassilevitch! How long have they
been yours?
LOMOV. How long? As long as I can remember.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Really, you won’t get me to believe that!
LOMOV. But you can see from the documents, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.
Oxen Meadows, it’s true, were once the subject of dispute, but now everybody
knows that they are mine. There’s nothing to argue about. You see, my aunt’s
grandmother gave the free use of these Meadows in perpetuity to the peasants
of your father’s grandfather, in return for which they were to make bricks for her.
The peasants belonging to your father’s grandfather had the free use of the
Meadows for forty years, and had got into the habit of regarding them as their
own, when it happened that…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it isn’t at all like that! Both my grandfather and
great-grandfather reckoned that their land extended to Burnt Marsh—which
means that Oxen Meadows were ours. I don’t see what there is to argue about.
It’s simply silly!
LOMOV. I’ll show you the documents, Natalya Stepanovna!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, you’re simply joking, or making fun of me…. What
a surprise! We’ve had the land for nearly three hundred years, and then we’re
suddenly told that it isn’t ours! Ivan Vassilevitch, I can hardly believe my own
ears…. These Meadows aren’t worth much to me. They only come to five
dessiatins [Note: 13.5 acres], and are worth perhaps 300 roubles [Note: £30.],
but I can’t stand unfairness. Say what you will, but I can’t stand unfairness.
LOMOV. Hear me out, I implore you! The peasants of your father’s grandfather,
as I have already had the honour of explaining to you, used to bake bricks for my
aunt’s grandmother. Now my aunt’s grandmother, wishing to make them a
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can’t make head or tail of all this about aunts and
grandfathers and grandmothers! The Meadows are ours, and that’s all.
LOMOV. Mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours! You can go on proving it for two days on end,
you can go and put on fifteen dress-jackets, but I tell you they’re ours, ours, ours!
I don’t want anything of yours and I don’t want to give up anything of mine. So
LOMOV. Natalya Ivanovna, I don’t want the Meadows, but I am acting on
principle. If you like, I’ll make you a present of them.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can make you a present of them myself, because
they’re mine! Your behaviour, Ivan Vassilevitch, is strange, to say the least! Up to
this we have always thought of you as a good neighbour, a friend: last year we
lent you our threshing-machine, although on that account we had to put off our
own threshing till November, but you behave to us as if we were gipsies. Giving
me my own land, indeed! No, really, that’s not at all neighbourly! In my opinion,
it’s even impudent, if you want to know….
LOMOV. Then you make out that I’m a land-grabber? Madam, never in my life
have I grabbed anybody else’s land, and I shan’t allow anybody to accuse me of
having done so…. [Quickly steps to the carafe and drinks more water] Oxen
Meadows are mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s not true, they’re ours!
LOMOV. Mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s not true! I’ll prove it! I’ll send my mowers out to
the Meadows this very day!
LOMOV. What?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. My mowers will be there this very day!
LOMOV. I’ll give it to them in the neck!
LOMOV. [Clutches at his heart] Oxen Meadows are mine! You understand?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Please don’t shout! You can shout yourself hoarse in
your own house, but here I must ask you to restrain yourself!
LOMOV. If it wasn’t, madam, for this awful, excruciating palpitation, if my whole
inside wasn’t upset, I’d talk to you in a different way! [Yells] Oxen Meadows are
LOMOV. Mine!
LOMOV. Mine!
CHUBUKOV. What’s the matter? What are you shouting at?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, please tell to this gentleman who owns Oxen
Meadows, we or he?
CHUBUKOV. [To LOMOV] Darling, the Meadows are ours!
LOMOV. But, please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they be yours? Do be a
reasonable man! My aunt’s grandmother gave the Meadows for the temporary
and free use of your grandfather’s peasants. The peasants used the land for forty
years and got as accustomed to it as if it was their own, when it happened that…
CHUBUKOV. Excuse me, my precious…. You forget just this, that the peasants
didn’t pay your grandmother and all that, because the Meadows were in dispute,
and so on. And now everybody knows that they’re ours. It means that you
haven’t seen the plan.
LOMOV. I’ll prove to you that they’re mine!
CHUBUKOV. You won’t prove it, my darling.
LOMOV. I shall!
CHUBUKOV. Dear one, why yell like that? You won’t prove anything just by
yelling. I don’t want anything of yours, and don’t intend to give up what I have.
Why should I? And you know, my beloved, that if you propose to go on arguing
about it, I’d much sooner give up the meadows to the peasants than to you.
LOMOV. I don’t understand! How have you the right to give away somebody
else’s property?
CHUBUKOV. You may take it that I know whether I have the right or not.
Because, young man, I’m not used to being spoken to in that tone of voice, and
so on: I, young man, am twice your age, and ask you to speak to me without
agitating yourself, and all that.
LOMOV. No, you just think I’m a fool and want to have me on! You call my land
yours, and then you want me to talk to you calmly and politely! Good neighbours
don’t behave like that, Stepan Stepanitch! You’re not a neighbour, you’re a
CHUBUKOV. What’s that? What did you say?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, send the mowers out to the Meadows at once!
CHUBUKOV. What did you say, sir?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Oxen Meadows are ours, and I shan’t give them up,
shan’t give them up, shan’t give them up!
LOMOV. We’ll see! I’ll have the matter taken to court, and then I’ll show you!
CHUBUKOV. To court? You can take it to court, and all that! You can! I know
you; you’re just on the look-out for a chance to go to court, and all that…. You
pettifogger! All your people were like that! All of them!
LOMOV. Never mind about my people! The Lomovs have all been honourable
people, and not one has ever been tried for embezzlement, like your grandfather!
CHUBUKOV. You Lomovs have had lunacy in your family, all of you!
CHUBUKOV. Your grandfather was a drunkard, and your younger aunt,
Nastasya Mihailovna, ran away with an architect, and so on.
LOMOV. And your mother was hump-backed. [Clutches at his heart] Something
pulling in my side…. My head…. Help! Water!
CHUBUKOV. Your father was a guzzling gambler!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. And there haven’t been many backbiters to equal
your aunt!
LOMOV. My left foot has gone to sleep…. You’re an intriguer…. Oh, my heart!…
And it’s an open secret that before the last elections you bri… I can see stars….
Where’s my hat?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s low! It’s dishonest! It’s mean!
CHUBUKOV. And you’re just a malicious, double-faced intriguer! Yes!
LOMOV. Here’s my hat…. My heart!… Which way? Where’s the door? Oh!… I
think I’m dying…. My foot’s quite numb…. [Goes to the door.]
CHUBUKOV. [Following him] And don’t set foot in my house again!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Take it to court! We’ll see!
[LOMOV staggers out.]
CHUBUKOV. Devil take him! [Walks about in excitement.]
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a rascal! What trust can one have in one’s
neighbours after that!
CHUBUKOV. The villain! The scarecrow!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The monster! First he takes our land and then he has
the impudence to abuse us.
CHUBUKOV. And that blind hen, yes, that turnip-ghost has the confounded
cheek to make a proposal, and so on! What? A proposal!
CHUBUKOV. Why, he came here so as to propose to you.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose? To me? Why didn’t you tell me so
CHUBUKOV. So he dresses up in evening clothes. The stuffed sausage! The
wizen-faced frump!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose to me? Ah! [Falls into an easy-chair and
wails] Bring him back! Back! Ah! Bring him here.
CHUBUKOV. Bring whom here?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Quick, quick! I’m ill! Fetch him! [Hysterics.]
CHUBUKOV. What’s that? What’s the matter with you? [Clutches at his head]
Oh, unhappy man that I am! I’ll shoot myself! I’ll hang myself! We’ve done for her!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I’m dying! Fetch him!
CHUBUKOV. Tfoo! At once. Don’t yell!
[Runs out. A pause. NATALYA STEPANOVNA wails.]
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What have they done to me! Fetch him back! Fetch
him! [A pause.]
[CHUBUKOV runs in.]
CHUBUKOV. He’s coming, and so on, devil take him! Ouf! Talk to him yourself; I
don’t want to….
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] Fetch him!
CHUBUKOV. [Yells] He’s coming, I tell you. Oh, what a burden, Lord, to be the
father of a grown-up daughter! I’ll cut my throat! I will, indeed! We cursed him,
abused him, drove him out, and it’s all you… you!
CHUBUKOV. I tell you it’s not my fault. [LOMOV appears at the door] Now you
talk to him yourself [Exit.]
[LOMOV enters, exhausted.]
LOMOV. My heart’s palpitating awfully…. My foot’s gone to sleep…. There’s
something keeps pulling in my side.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Forgive us, Ivan Vassilevitch, we were all a little
heated…. I remember now: Oxen Meadows really are yours.
LOMOV. My heart’s beating awfully…. My Meadows…. My eyebrows are both
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The Meadows are yours, yes, yours…. Do sit down….
[They sit] We were wrong….
LOMOV. I did it on principle…. My land is worth little to me, but the principle…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, the principle, just so…. Now let’s talk of
something else.
LOMOV. The more so as I have evidence. My aunt’s grandmother gave the land
to your father’s grandfather’s peasants…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes, let that pass…. [Aside] I wish I knew how to
get him started…. [Aloud] Are you going to start shooting soon?
LOMOV. I’m thinking of having a go at the blackcock, honoured Natalya
Stepanovna, after the harvest. Oh, have you heard? Just think, what a misfortune
I’ve had! My dog Guess, whom you know, has gone lame.
LOMOV. I don’t know…. Must have got twisted, or bitten by some other dog….
[Sighs] My very best dog, to say nothing of the expense. I gave Mironov 125
roubles for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It was too much, Ivan Vassilevitch.
LOMOV. I think it was very cheap. He’s a first-rate dog.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa gave 85 roubles for his Squeezer, and
Squeezer is heaps better than Guess!
LOMOV. Squeezer better than. Guess? What an idea! [Laughs] Squeezer better
than Guess!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Of course he’s better! Of course, Squeezer is young,
he may develop a bit, but on points and pedigree he’s better than anything that
even Volchanetsky has got.
LOMOV. Excuse me, Natalya Stepanovna, but you forget that he is overshot,
and an overshot always means the dog is a bad hunter!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Overshot, is he? The first time I hear it!
LOMOV. I assure you that his lower jaw is shorter than the upper.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Have you measured?
LOMOV. Yes. He’s all right at following, of course, but if you want him to get hold
of anything…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. In the first place, our Squeezer is a thoroughbred
animal, the son of Harness and Chisels, while there’s no getting at the pedigree
of your dog at all…. He’s old and as ugly as a worn-out cab-horse.
LOMOV. He is old, but I wouldn’t take five Squeezers for him…. Why, how can
you?… Guess is a dog; as for Squeezer, well, it’s too funny to argue…. Anybody
you like has a dog as good as Squeezer… you may find them under every bush
almost. Twenty-five roubles would be a handsome price to pay for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There’s some demon of contradiction in you to-day,
Ivan Vassilevitch. First you pretend that the Meadows are yours; now, that Guess
is better than Squeezer. I don’t like people who don’t say what they mean,
because you know perfectly well that Squeezer is a hundred times better than
your silly Guess. Why do you want to say it isn’t?
LOMOV. I see, Natalya Stepanovna, that you consider me either blind or a fool.
You must realize that Squeezer is overshot!
LOMOV. He is!
LOMOV. Why shout, madam?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Why talk rot? It’s awful! It’s time your Guess was
shot, and you compare him with Squeezer!
LOMOV. Excuse me; I cannot continue this discussion: my heart is palpitating.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I’ve noticed that those hunters argue most who know
LOMOV. Madam, please be silent…. My heart is going to pieces…. [Shouts] Shut
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan’t shut up until you acknowledge that Squeezer
is a hundred times better than your Guess!
LOMOV. A hundred times worse! Be hanged to your Squeezer! His head…
eyes… shoulder…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There’s no need to hang your silly Guess; he’s halfdead already!
LOMOV. [Weeps] Shut up! My heart’s bursting!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan’t shut up.
[Enter CHUBUKOV.] …
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