Page 1 of Forbidden
1
LORENZO
I lean back in one of the director’s chairs on the movie set in NYC and force myself to be patient. The movie I’ve financed, and am executive producing, is a thriller with a female lead who is a cat burglar.
She travels the world stealing famous paintings, and naturally the guy after her, works for Interpol. Them almost meeting each other is a huge part of the film.
The two stars of the movie are some of the world’s most expensive, and it has 007 Bond undertones.
I have a lot on the line. In fact, too much.
I check my Breitling watch and sigh. We should be shooting, but the young, gifted director is worrying me.
When you hire hot directors you cannot micromanage them. They need room to move, like any creative. If they spit the dummy and walk, replacing them is hell. In saying that, you cannot let them loose.
I look at my seasoned producer, who rubs a temple. She looks like how I feel. As I stretch, the director talks to the cast, the assistant director, and the stunt team, trying to explainthe complex sequence and chase. The set is massive, a lavish restaurant in Paris.
The director appears overly fragile, and he worries me. He may be gifted as hell, but he is not as fast on set as I’d like.
Finally, the director loses his cool, and arms raised, walks off set with a roar. “No, not now! I’m not feeling it! Something is off.”
I rise and walk after him in my suit. I’m cool, and I’m calm, but every hour is costing me close to two hundred thousand dollars.
“May I help?” I ask.
The young director keeps walking.
“Hey!” I yell.
The director stops at the sound stage door, he is on his way back to his trailer. Again!
“Do you remember who I am?”
The director nods, and he looks exhausted.
“That’s good because I financed this movie, and I selected you from a dozen other directors I considered. I might not be on set every day like you, but this movie is as much mine as yours. Don’t forget we developed the screenplay before you came onboard, and I bankrolled it.”
We share an intense look, and he paces.
“I understand you don’t feel it, but we are behind schedule today, again. You have a large stunt team on set, plus the full crew, and it cost a hundred thousand alone to light the set. Every hour you burn, costs me.”
There is silence as the producer walks over, and her radio chirps on her hip.
“Can we not simply set up the second, and third camera, rehearse twice, and shoot the scene?”
No answer.
Suddenly, the temperamental director walks off. The seasoned producer, who I do many movies with, shrugs. “So?”
“It’s his first movie in the US,” I say. “He’s not bad. He’s just not used to fast, well-oiled top crews like the ones here in NYC, and LA. Let’s give him thirty.”
I walk on set, wink at the cinematographer, who I know well, and I tap my watch. He will understand the signal.
As I sit back in one of the director’s chairs, I look at the three movie scripts I need to finish today.
I should have left an hour ago, and it will take time to get home in the bad weather. I send a message and request the chopper. Enough chaos.
I reread a printed deal memo from an entertainment bank, and I tune out the on-set distractions. The bank are offering capital, so I can produce even more movies. The thing is the deal is unacceptable. The rates average.
