Page 141 of A Night with Damien Spur

The Voice recognised that nasal whine.

Oh no! It’s that poisonous critic Jeremy Floyd who panned the film.

‘In the end, it’s about authenticity,’ Castle said. ‘Actors know their characters, sometimes better than the script, don’t you think so, Damien?’

He had thrown the gauntlet down. There was a challenge in his stare.

Damien’s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek.Don’t rise to it, said the Voice.

‘It depends,’ Damien replied. ‘The problem with filming spontaneous improvisations is that the scene can take a wrong turn if the actor gets carried away. And that becomes difficult as the story can lose focus. No doubt the dialogue is authentic butthen again, my pen is too.’

Good, Damien,said the Voice.Now give him a jab.

He gave Marc a flinty smile.

‘I think that your earlier film,Someone Like Us, didn’t really work for me because you let the actors free to run the dialogue. The scenes meandered. No spaces for the audience to project. Probably why it died at the box office.’

Very impressive,said the Voice.

And then Frances stood up. She looked different from the first time they’d met – more feminine. Her blonde hair fell on to her shoulders with a soft curl. Her curvy body was draped in a pillar-box-red dress that clung to her well-formed breasts. To balance her overtly sexy image, she wore stylish black-rimmed glasses.

Steady on, Damien. Concentrate on the question, the Voice said.

She held the mike in her delicate hand.

‘Firstly, let me say how much I enjoyed the film, especially the love scenes.’ She looked straight at Damien. ‘The female character was so authentic, her love for Samuel expressed with such sensitivity. Was it easy for you to think like a woman? Write such an organically female part?’

‘Personally, I don’t find it a problem,’ Damien replied. ‘The roles men and women play in society today have become more fluid. The actress Ariana Bianchi has her own extraordinary female grace, which she brought to the character of Sandra. She gave my lines the gravitas and passion that transcends gender. Ultimately, gender doesn’t matter. Love is love. Women and men feel the same when the flame is lit.’

***

At the end of the Q&A Frances was waiting in the foyer.

She was standing propped against the wall, glued to herphone. Damien tapped her shoulder.

‘Hello,’ he said.

She looked up at him and blinked.

‘Hi, won’t be a sec. I’m just posting your talk.’

‘There you go again, always on your phone. Don’t you miss real time?’

‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘Making films and social networking is my thing.’

Oh dear!said the Voice.She’s a bit of a bulldozer. You’d have thought she could have at least paused her texting to say hello.

And then Frances switched her mobile off and popped it in her pocket. ‘I thought your talk was terrific,’ she said, and smoochy-kissed him on the cheek.

Okay, forgiven, said the Voice.

A tall man with dark glasses and long grey hair in a ponytail had spotted him.

‘Oh no! Come on, Frances, let’s go,’ said Damien.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’

‘The guy coming towards us is a nutter. I don’t want to get trapped into some boring chit-chat.’

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