My Dinner with Andre Page #2

...would be to ask Andr

a few questions.

Asking questions always relaxes me.

In fact, I sometimes think

that my secret profession...

...is that I'm a private investigator,

a detective.

I always enjoy finding out about people.

Even if they're in absolute agony,

I always find it very... interesting.

- By the way, is he still thin?

- What?

Grotowski. Is he still thin?

Oh. Absolutely.

Oh, waiter?

Uh, I think we can do without this.

- Yes, sir.

- Thank you.

What about this one?

Seven swimming shrimp.

- Ready for your order?

- Ah, yes.

Uh, the Galuska...

How... How do you prepare that?

Andr seemed

to know an awful lot about the menu.

- Dumpling with raisins, blanched almonds.

- I didn't understand a word of it.

- Very good, I think.

- Hmm.

No, I... I think I'll have

the Cailles aux Raisin, the quail.

- Very good.

- Oh, quails! I'll have that as well.

- Two. -

Great. - Great!

And then I think, to begin with,

the Terrine de Poissons.

- Yes.

- What is that?

Uh, it's a sort of pte...

light, made of fish.

- Does it have bones in it?

- No bones.

Perfectly safe.

Well, um...What is

the, um, Bramborov Polvka?

It's a potato soup.

It's quite delicious.

Oh, well, that's great.

I'll have that.

- Thank you very kindly.

- Thank you very much.

Well.

When was the last time

that we saw each other?

So we talked for a while

about my writing and my acting...

...and about my girlfriend, Debby.

And we talked about his wife, Chiquita,

and his two children, Nicolas and Marina.

And I'd stayed back in New York.

Finally, I got around to asking him

what he'd been up to in the last few years.

Oh, God. I'm just dying to hear it.

- Really?

- Really.

At first, he seemed

a little reluctant to go into it...

...so I just kept asking,

and finally he started to answer.

...conference

on paratheatrical work then.

And, uh, this must have been

about five years ago...

...and, uh, Grotowski and I were walking

along Fifth Avenue and we were talking.

You see, he'd invited me to come

to teach that summer in Poland.

You know, to teach a workshop

to actors and directors and whatever.

And I had told him that I didn't want to come,

because, really, I had nothing left to teach.

I had nothing left to say.

I didn't know anything.

I couldn't teach anything.

Exercises meant nothing to me anymore.

Working on scenes from plays

seemed ridiculous.

I - I didn't know what to do.

I mean, I just couldn't do it.

So he said, " Why don't you tell me anything

you'd like to have if you did a workshop for me.

No matter how outrageous.

And maybe I can give it to you. "

So I said,

"Well, if you could give me...

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