Page 19 of The Location Shoot
“You too, Ella,” he said, turning to leave.
She put her key in the door and pushed it open. Before stepping inside, she glanced over at Finn puttering down the hallway. He felt her gaze and turned around. They made eye contact, exchanged a smile, and she disappeared into her room.
CHAPTER 6
Finn bounded into the dining room the next morning to see a familiar sight: Albie tucked in the corner and Ella sitting at what had become their usual table. “I beat you,” she said, smiling brightly. She was wearing a long, flowing lavender sundress, her hair falling freely around her shoulders.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he took the seat opposite her.
She glanced down, blushing.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No, not in the least.” She looked into his eyes and said, “It’s not every day a handsome movie star pays me a compliment.”
He smiled bashfully. “So, you think I’m handsome?”
“Incredibly.”
He reached his hand across the table, but before he could make contact, the waiter came barreling over with a pot of coffee. Finn pulled his hand back and said, “Thank you,” as the waiter poured his dark roast.
“Would you like something to eat, Miss Sinclair? The usual?” the waiter asked.
“My usual, please,” Ella replied.
“Likewise, and thank you,” Finn said. The waiter darted off, and Finn directed his attention back to Ella. “So, you were saying that you think I’m irresistible.”
She giggled.
“I’m just kidding,” he said with a laugh.
“You are certainly a movie star. Tell me, what inspired you to become an actor?”
“It’s the only thing I ever wanted to do. Truthfully, I never considered doing anything else. It never felt like much of a choice, more like a dream or a calling.”
“And you went for it. That’s brave.”
He smiled. “I was lucky to grow up in LA. My mother only worked part-time, so she was able to drive me all over the place. I started auditioning when I was a kid. Did my first play when I was ten. As they say, I was bitten. A couple of commercials followed, and then when I was a teenager, movies featuring high school and college kids became the fad. It was lucky timing. One director cast me in a few things, and sure enough, I had a string of successful movies under my belt before the age of twenty. Having that kind of success early on opened a lot of doors; of course, I didn’t fully understand at the time that things don’t often go that way. I’m extremely fortunate.”
“It was obviously meant to be. I’ve seen many of your films. You’re enormously talented. There’s always such depth and sensitivity to your work, no matter the role. You’re a gifted performer.”
“Thank you,” he said, blushing. “I’m flattered.”
“What’s your process like? How do you approach your characters? I know Charlotte is trained as a method actor, although with Jean’s insistence on nighttime socializing, I’m sure she’s had to adjust her process.”
“That’s a great question. I’ve never been one for method acting. It works for some people, like Charlotte, but there’sa price to pay for identifying so closely with a role. I’ve never wanted my work to take over my life, so I try to develop my characters in a way that still allows me to step in and out of the role. For me, that’s part of the skill of acting. Usually, I begin by creating a backstory beyond the script, trying to get to know him—his motivations, emotional center, mannerisms. Naturally, you discover more things as you go and see what works when you’re trying it out with other actors, the director, the cinematographer. That’s part of the fun of it all. The collaboration. The group storytelling. In the end, though, I take responsibility for my performance.”
“Is it easier when you like the character? You must have your choice of projects. How do you decide between scripts?”
“Once in a blue moon, something like this comes along with a filmmaker or director I’ve always wanted to work with, but typically, it’s about the story. I’m less concerned with my own character. For better or worse, I’ve taken on unflattering roles because they were integral to the bigger picture. The best characters aren’t wholly good or bad, but when I’ve portrayed someone truly reprehensible, yes, it’s challenging. When there’s nothing I can identify with, I have to approach it differently. I’m not frightened by that, though. When I receive a script, I ask myself: What’s the story? What’s the message? I try to be a part of telling stories that ought to be told, if that makes sense.”
“Perfect sense,” she replied with a grin. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time with actors, and I’ve learned there are two types.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, there are those who focus on their role. You know, if it’s a big part, a juicy part, something that could score them some industry gold, make them a standout. Then there arethe others, the true artists and storytellers who understand they are part of something larger. They understand that it’s not really about them. You’re in that group.”
He smiled. “That’s kind of you.”
