What do you think Julia is feeling when she says her line ‘Are you afraid?’”
“ She’s bluffing. She knows he won’t say, ‘Yes, I’m afraid.’ And if he doesn’t admit he’s afraid, then he has to let her do the hypno regression, and she uses the device on him and wins, boom.” Karen let the words out in a rush.
“ What if Julia has a response planned for either reaction from Blake? What if she wants him to say he’s afraid? Why might she want that?”
Karen played with her pearls. Despite her clinical-professional Julia costume of a white silk blouse and high heels, she seemed like a child. There must be a way that she could keep a hint of that quality during a take.
“ Do you remember ever desperately wanting someone you love to stay as they’re walking away? Maybe after a fight, when you’ve both really hurt each other.” He waited, but she only toyed with her hair. Simon lowered his voice and said, “I do. She wore a gray sweater of mine that was too big for her, and it was raining, in a town where it never rained. We were by the side of the road, and the wet dust stuck to her shoes so that her footprints were the only dry earth for as far as I could see.”
And she wore silver rings and had black hair that streamed behind her, and I never found out how she got home that day.
Karen raised her head. Her voice caught as she spoke. “Okay,” she said. “Give me a minute.”
“Take your time. I need to give Victor a note .” If she thought Victor needed notes, it might help her relax.
She pressed her lips into a smile and traced one eyebrow with her fingernail.
Simon took Victor aside. “We’re almost there. You okay with a few more takes?”
Victor nodded and shifted his weight.
“Can you do me a favor and help Karen out a little off-screen? Just talk to her once in a while. She hasn’t got your film experience.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Victor’s mouth twitched to one side.
“Just think about it for now.”
“Sure.”
So much for that idea.
Simon returned to Karen , who stood with her arms crossed and lip pushed out. A cramp like a thin band of cold metal had seized his gut, and he rubbed his temples to clear his memory of the black-haired girl. There were four more shots still to do today.
“ Karen.” Simon rubbed his chin, itchy with stubble, and sighed. “Drop. Give me thirty pushups. Now. Come on, come on.”
Karen stared.
“Now.” He raised his voice. “Do it.”
After a moment, she crouched to the floor, then sat back on her heels and laughed.
“You don’t really—”
“No girl pushups,” he said. “Keep your back straight. One, two, three.”
Around them, the crew quieted. Karen braced her hands against the floor and dipped into the first pushup. Her hair fell forward, touched the grit and dust on the floor as he counted aloud. Her makeup woman, a round Jamaican woman with cornrow braids, stepped forward but said nothing. By number twenty, Karen’s arms shook.
“Straight back. Get your ass out of the air.”
After number twenty-five, she stood and rubbed her biceps. Red-faced and trembling, she took a deep breath. Determined to go on.
“What was that, Karen?” asked Simon. “Are you ready to work now?”
Names. Much of their power lay in the fact that the only people who used them were either angry or bent on seduction.
Karen’s eyes grew enormous every time he said her name.
Simon stepped in close to speak in her ear. The heat of the lights grew thicker. Her hair, a dozen blended shades gold and amber, swung down over one eye. Her breath made a sound, the slow panic of emotion. Hatred? Fear? He put his finger under her chin , where it would piss her off but wouldn’t smear her makeup. Smooth. Her skin. Karen flinched like she’d been shocked, and the back of his neck prickled from the recoil.
“If you’re angry, use it. If the line doesn’t come out right the first time, repeat it as a throwaway; I’ll keep the cameras
“ She’s bluffing. She knows he won’t say, ‘Yes, I’m afraid.’ And if he doesn’t admit he’s afraid, then he has to let her do the hypno regression, and she uses the device on him and wins, boom.” Karen let the words out in a rush.
“ What if Julia has a response planned for either reaction from Blake? What if she wants him to say he’s afraid? Why might she want that?”
Karen played with her pearls. Despite her clinical-professional Julia costume of a white silk blouse and high heels, she seemed like a child. There must be a way that she could keep a hint of that quality during a take.
“ Do you remember ever desperately wanting someone you love to stay as they’re walking away? Maybe after a fight, when you’ve both really hurt each other.” He waited, but she only toyed with her hair. Simon lowered his voice and said, “I do. She wore a gray sweater of mine that was too big for her, and it was raining, in a town where it never rained. We were by the side of the road, and the wet dust stuck to her shoes so that her footprints were the only dry earth for as far as I could see.”
And she wore silver rings and had black hair that streamed behind her, and I never found out how she got home that day.
Karen raised her head. Her voice caught as she spoke. “Okay,” she said. “Give me a minute.”
“Take your time. I need to give Victor a note .” If she thought Victor needed notes, it might help her relax.
She pressed her lips into a smile and traced one eyebrow with her fingernail.
Simon took Victor aside. “We’re almost there. You okay with a few more takes?”
Victor nodded and shifted his weight.
“Can you do me a favor and help Karen out a little off-screen? Just talk to her once in a while. She hasn’t got your film experience.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Victor’s mouth twitched to one side.
“Just think about it for now.”
“Sure.”
So much for that idea.
Simon returned to Karen , who stood with her arms crossed and lip pushed out. A cramp like a thin band of cold metal had seized his gut, and he rubbed his temples to clear his memory of the black-haired girl. There were four more shots still to do today.
“ Karen.” Simon rubbed his chin, itchy with stubble, and sighed. “Drop. Give me thirty pushups. Now. Come on, come on.”
Karen stared.
“Now.” He raised his voice. “Do it.”
After a moment, she crouched to the floor, then sat back on her heels and laughed.
“You don’t really—”
“No girl pushups,” he said. “Keep your back straight. One, two, three.”
Around them, the crew quieted. Karen braced her hands against the floor and dipped into the first pushup. Her hair fell forward, touched the grit and dust on the floor as he counted aloud. Her makeup woman, a round Jamaican woman with cornrow braids, stepped forward but said nothing. By number twenty, Karen’s arms shook.
“Straight back. Get your ass out of the air.”
After number twenty-five, she stood and rubbed her biceps. Red-faced and trembling, she took a deep breath. Determined to go on.
“What was that, Karen?” asked Simon. “Are you ready to work now?”
Names. Much of their power lay in the fact that the only people who used them were either angry or bent on seduction.
Karen’s eyes grew enormous every time he said her name.
Simon stepped in close to speak in her ear. The heat of the lights grew thicker. Her hair, a dozen blended shades gold and amber, swung down over one eye. Her breath made a sound, the slow panic of emotion. Hatred? Fear? He put his finger under her chin , where it would piss her off but wouldn’t smear her makeup. Smooth. Her skin. Karen flinched like she’d been shocked, and the back of his neck prickled from the recoil.
“If you’re angry, use it. If the line doesn’t come out right the first time, repeat it as a throwaway; I’ll keep the cameras
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