Page 19 of Cinematic Destinies
She turned toward him.
“Thank you for lunch. A real pleasure to meet you.”
“See you later,” she replied.
The men watched as she exited and then looked at each other as if they were both afraid to be the first to exhale.
“Cut!” Jean hollered.
The crew began milling around as the actors all huddled together for notes.
“I’m at a loss. I’ve never had a first shot like that,” Jean said, shaking his head.
“That bad?” Michael asked with raised eyebrows.
“It was completely natural. None of that damn acting I detest. The way you two looked at each other,” he said to Roo and Georgia, “it was perfect.”
The actors all beamed, surprised by the praise.
“Let’s do it again. Try not to fuck it up,” Jean said. “Places, everyone . . . Rolling . . . Action!”
AFTER A LONG DAY ON SET, JEAN INSTRUCTEDthe actors to change into their street clothes and meet in the dining room for dinner, which was to be their nightly routine. Michael elected himself bartender and fixed himself a vodka tonic and bourbon neat for the others. “You seemed uncharacteristically pleased today,” Michael said to Jean as he passed out the cocktails.
“Actors so often disappoint. They fail miserably when they try to act. They must live it, breathe it, surrender to it. You can’t find truth when you’re busy pretending.” He paused, glanced at Georgia and Roo, and said, “Some things cannot be forced. They must be genuine. Then there is the chance for something beautiful.” Jean raised his glass. “A toast. To the least abysmal first day on set I recall.” The actors raised their glasses and began to smile when he added, “But don’t let it go to your heads. We shall see what happens tomorrow.”
Michael laughed. They all clinked glasses and took a sip.
“That’s smooth,” Roo said.
“I like the vanilla undertones,” Georgia remarked.
Ástríður and Gunnar came in and presented dinner family style: roasted local fish, braised lamb stew, potatoes, and vegetables. Michael assisted Jean and the others helped themselves. As they began eating, Michael said, “So, Jean, since this is your last film, any plans for your retirement?”
Jean huffed. “I think only about what I am doing now. The film is all-consuming. She is everything.”
“You gonna tell us what it’s really about? There’s always so much meaning embedded in your projects that’s hard to see until it all comes together,” Michael said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jean replied.
Michael chuckled. “Here I thought maybe age had relaxed you. I can see you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Damn right,” Jean agreed.
“Well, I for one am enjoying the process,” Roo said.
“Me too. I never like to overthink things,” Georgia said.
Jean smirked. “Good, then you shall be open to the moments.” He skimmed his finger around the rim of his glass. “That’s all there is, really. Moments. In life. In film. You string them together and somehow they become a story.”
“Sounds like you’re getting a little sentimental there,” Michael remarked.
“Eh, rubbish,” Jean protested, downing the rest of his drink. “But I’ll tell you this, as the one nearest the grave at the table, best to focus on the moments. Live them, create them, bloody well steal them if you must. That’s where beauty hides. There is so much ugliness in this fucked-up abyss of human tragedy. Even beauty is bound to and corrupted by its underside. But on those rarest of occasions, glimmers of pure beauty can be found. It always hides in the moments.”
They all sat quietly soaking in the words, until Jean broke the silence. “Such a serious lot. Will be a damn long summer if you don’t lighten up. Michael, another bourbon. Then perhaps you’ll all indulge me with your stories of being overly pampered actors. Booze. Bravado. Broken chandeliers in hotel rooms. Don’t hold back.”
AFTER DINNER, MICHAEL AND JEAN RETIREDfor the evening. Roo turned to Georgia and said, “It’s still a bit early. I was thinking about another drink and perhaps checking out that DVD collection Ástríður mentioned. Care to join me?”
“I’d love to,” she replied.
