by Drew Lindsay
‘Michael. Would you mind just coming over here for a second?’
‘OK Mr. Shaw.’
Michael walked out of the range of the soft lighting and approached the elderly bald man sitting in a collapsible chair in the darkness, just off set. Michael was starting to tremble and with just cause.
‘And the rest of you,’ said Mr. Stewart Shaw, slowly, ‘take five…. especially you Brenda my dear. In your case, take ten. I want to speak with you later.’
Stewart Shaw had been directing films for almost 20 years. Some more recently, starring Brenda Grant, had done remarkably well and made him very wealthy. Others were a failure. His home was New York. He hated Los Angles where he was forced to work. He hated the heat. He hated the people. He hated producers and he hated actors, especially those from California. He was in his early 50’s but looked more mid 60’s. His skin was reddened from accidental exposure to the sun. The cargo pants he wore were too big and his collection of Hawaiian shirts was the source of much amusement among the film crew.
‘Michael. You work the dolly, is that right?’
‘Yes sir. I pull the dolly.’
‘Are you an experienced dolly puller, as I was led to believe when we started this film?’
Michael hesitated for a moment. ‘Um…I can pull a dolly sir.’
‘OK, you can pull a dolly. Do you know what the dolly is for Michael?’
‘It runs on tracks and the camera sits on it.’
‘Yes, and do you know why the camera sits on a dolly that sits on tracks?’
‘Er… to move it?’
‘Not only move it Michael, but to move it smoothly and at the appropriate speed. We don’t want the cinema goers to know the camera is moving because we want them, in this case, to concentrate on Brenda.’
‘Well they won’t have trouble doing that boss. She’s not wearing much.’
‘Michael.’ Stewart Shaw sat back in his collapsible chair and locked his fingers behind his head. ‘Brenda is walking from her lover’s bedroom to his library.’
‘Yes, they told me that.’
‘Good. Now concentrate. It’s the middle of the night and she has exhausted him and now she is going to steal something from his library, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it’s very still and very quiet,’
‘Yes.’
‘And she is walking slowly and cautiously because she doesn’t want to wake him up, even though he is an old guy, right?
‘I guess so.’
Stewart Shaw moved his head from side to side in an attempt to relieve the tension pain. ‘Then why in God’s name are you attempting to race her to the library?’
‘Race her?’
‘She had to run to keep up with you Mr. Dolly puller! She sets the pace, not you! Get out of my sight!’ Stewart Shaw was now yelling. Michael fled.
‘ELIZABETH….!
The set was deserted.
‘ELIZABETH, get out here now!’ Mr. Shaw was sweating and rubbing his temples.
A tall, very well structured woman in her early 40’s emerged from the darkness and approached the Director. Elizabeth Rose had long black hair tied back in a pony tail. Her fringe wisped over her forehead, almost hiding deep blue eyes. She strode confidently across the darkened set and stood before Shaw. He looked up at her, suddenly unnerved. ‘Where’s Brenda?’
‘You told her to get off the set so she got off the set.’
‘I told her to hang around. I need to speak with her.’
‘She’s gone out somewhere.’
‘What!.’
‘Out somewhere.’
‘Where the hell Elizabeth?’
‘I don’t know. She just took off.’
Stewart Shaw stood up and put his face as close to Elizabeth’s as he could. In this case it failed and he succeeded only in bringing his eyes level with her extremely large breasts barely contained in a cream coloured shirt with dragons embroidered on each side of the collar.
‘Where?’
‘How should I know? I’m not her keeper.’
‘Yes you damn well are. That’s what we pay you for.’
‘She’ll be back in the morning. You’ve got the crew in a bundle of nerves anyway so let’s just call it a day.’
The director slumped back into his chair and put his head in his hands. ‘This is turning into a nightmare. We haven’t even done the location shoot yet and the entire bloody project is falling apart.’
‘Perhaps you should tell us where this fabulous location shoot is and we’d be a bit more interested.’
‘No. I say no and the producers say no. We’re not leaking this project all over America.’
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. ‘This is not that kind of film Stewart.’
‘And you would know right?’
Elizabeth was quiet for a while. She turned and walked a few paces away. ‘She’s not handling things all that well just now. Cut her some slack Stewart.’
‘I’ll cut her right out of the damn picture if she’s not on this set at 6 am tomorrow. You got that!’
‘Without her, you’ve got no picture. You got that?’
Elizabeth turned and the two stared at each other. ‘Tits and arse Elizabeth. That’s all.’
‘You’re a deadshit Stewart.’ Elizabeth walked out of the studio.
“****”
Chapter Five