HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout
Page 14
“Emma, how old were…?”
On the floor, Calvin coughed and twitched and then rolled onto his back.
“She wouldn’t let go,” said Emma, sitting very still, her hands folded together on her lap.
“Damn!” said von Sommerberg, setting the camera on its side. “Don’t stop, just… a moment....” He rustled through his pockets and produced a large, gray square battery, which he swapped out for the gray cube within the unit. He hoisted the camera back up, aimed the oversized lens back to Emma, and said, “white balance... and... go.”
Calvin, now sitting upright, managed to stand. He stumbled to the Victrola, which he wound and dropped the needle again play “The Charleston. “Hey, Momma, isn’t this what the Old Man taught you to dance?” Calvin staggered through the French doors, towards the kitchen.
“Keep going,” said von Sommerberg, in a methodical, quiet voice. “Really good…, really good.”
“No,” said Larry, quietly. “It’s over....”
“Emma,” said Lena, softly, gently. “Do you want to stop?”
Emma stared out into mirrored studio as the winding gyration of “The Charleston” danced around them invisibly.
“Please Emma,” said von Sommerberg, his face hidden behind the camera with the enormous lens. The red light glowed.
“This was the song,” said Emma, in a whisper.
“Yes, with the politician,” said Lena, pointing to the photo above Emma’s head.
“I didn’t know if the pain would end.”
“Oh,” whispered back Lena. “Oh.”
“The pretty girl with the crooked teeth never let go,” said Emma. “The boys only laughed.” Emma wiped away tears as Larry moved next to her and held her hand. Emma looked up to the camera. “I was 16 when my son was born,” she said, in a stronger voice. “I could not tell my mother When I told my father, it was only part of the story and he told mother only part of what he knew. My mother begged for us to move permanently to Europe. Each year, she returned to Copenhagen to dance and stayed longer before coming to California, until finally, when my dear father was ordered to San Francisco, she joined him there and never came to Long Beach again.”
“The Charleston” had finished its latest spin. Larry reached up and placed his open hand in front of von Sommerberg’s enormous lens. The director lowered the camera. Lena moved from her chair to the sofa, also next to Emma, and placed her arm around her.
.
A light knock at the main door to the suite was followed by the door opening and Lori Lewis, in jeans and a Ray Davies tee-shirt, stepped into the studio. “Larry?”
“Granola girl!” slurred Calvin, in a red bow tie and tuxedo shirt. “Nice pictures.”
“Where’s Larry?” asked Lori.
“With the Cow and some movie people,” said Calvin, motioning towards the balcony.
“Movie people?” said Lori, walking past Calvin, who reached a hand towards her ass. Lori spun and, within seconds, had Calvin’s arm high up his back, as he grimaced in pain. “Keep your hands to yourself, old man,” said Lori, just as quickly releasing his wrist. She crossed to the French doors.
“The Cow’s all weepy – boo hoo – so she must be telling the story of getting poked at the Pike,” said Calvin, drinking from his bottle and chuckling.
Lori stopped at the doors. “What are you talking about?”
“How’d’ya think the Old Man finally chased off the Cow’s mom?” said Calvin.
Lori turned and walked to the balcony, where Larry sat with his grandmother. With them were two tall blondes, one holding a camera with an enormous lens.
“My God,” said Lena, on looking up at Lori. She patted von Sommerberg on the shoulder and he opened his eyes, having been soaking up the California sun. He immediately grabbed the camera and aimed it at Lori. “I’m Lena Martin, from Denmark. Very good to meet you.”
Lori reached out her hand “I’m Lori Lewis.”
“Really good to meet you, Lori Lewis.”
The director handed off the camera to Lena and as the unit turned to him, von Sommerberg reached out his hand and wound up his smile. “Hel-lowww. Tres. Tres von Sommerberg, from Denmark. The director, film director, hello.”
Lori shook his hand and walked over to Larry and Emma, who sat together at the breakfast table. Lori leaned in to look at both their faces, smiling to each. Emma reached her hand upward and gently placed it onto Lori’s cheek. Lori reached her own hand up, gently cupping Emma’s hand and giving it a light kiss.
“Did I call?” asked Larry. “I don’t remember.”
“We were supposed to have lunch,” she said, sitting. “It’s okay.”
“It’s remarkable,” said Lena. “Who are you?”
“His friend,” said Lori, pointing to Larry. “School.”
“My dearest friend,” said Larry.
“Just amazing,” said von Sommerberg.
.
Lori Lewis slowly turned the page of the leather bound album, as von Sommerberg photographed her gazing intently, sometimes getting her eyes just inches from a photo, sometimes gasping. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen these,” said Lori, turning another page. “Wow,” said Lori, as she came to the final image, of the sweating, joyous, smiling, triumphant Astrid. Lori gazed at it for fully a minute before closing the volume. “Larry, ask her if she sees her mom when she looks at me.”
“Um, yeh,” said Larry, “but I can’t.” Larry motioned with his head towards the kitchen. “Uh, can you help me bring something out from the kitchen?”
“I gotta know, Larry.”
“But I don’t speak her language,” said Larry.
“Oh, come on,” said Lori, as Larry silently moved his head back and forth. “Oh, I mean, come on... to the kitchen.”
The two got up end quickly made their way from the balcony. “What? You’re not letting on that you know their language?”
“I want see if they’re playing us for dopes,” said Larry. “My grandmother’s going along with it, but I’m gonna get them out’ta here.” The two walked back to the balcony, looked at each other, and walked quickly back in to the kitchen. They grabbed what was close at hand and carried out two empty beer bottles, a nearly-cleared plate of cracker bread and a napkin holder to the table.
“Oh, sorry, I don’t drink beer, let me get fresh ones,” said Lori, disappearing again to the kitchen, before returning with four bottles of beer.
“Napkin?” asked Larry.
.
“I guess I never really paid too close attention to it,” said Lori, looking at the newspaper clipping of Herbert Hoover, Emma and her mother. “And I guess I didn’t see myself in the pictures before, cuz I didn’t look like that when I was a kid.”
Emma slowly walked through the French doors and stood next to Larry and Lori. “Please excuse me. I am going to rest.”
“Grandma, before you go to sleep,” said Larry, “Lori wants to know if, when you look at her, you see your own mother?”
Emma put her hands together and slowly lifted them to her lips, as though in prayer. “No,” she said, lowering her hands. “I see a loyal friend who makes my grandson happy.” Larry kissed his grandmother, who smiled, and turned to the open doors. She walked into the main living quarters, saying over her shoulder, “You can both stay. You don’t have to leave. You don’t ever have to leave.”
Larry’s cell phone rang. “It’s the danged movie people.”
Emma walked towards her bed and Lori, in the other direction, went to the Victrola, cranked the handle, lifted the needle and placed it on the start of the disc. “The Charleston” again wound its way through the room.
“Oh my God,” said Lori, “I haven’t danced to this in forever.” As Larry talked on the phone, Lori turned towards the wall and, seeing her reflection in the mirror, leaned slightly forward and swung her arms and legs. As the chorus swirled, she dropped her hands to her knees, then back up to swinging her arms and legs.
Larry l
owered his cell phone and just watched, as did Emma, who had walked back to the French doors, and was just gazing at Lori dancing.
On looking up to see her audience in the mirror, Lori stopped dancing. Speaking to the mirror, she said, to Larry’s reflection, “What?”
“I never knew you could dance,” said Larry.
“I don’t anymore,” said Lori, “but every girl can dance.”
‘Why didn’t you go to the dances?”
“Wasn’t cuz I couldn’t dance,” said Lori. “Just didn’t wanna be thought of as just a girl.”
Emma smiled, turned, and walked off towards her bed.
“Before I met you, my mom had me in little girl dance classes,” said Lori, “and my instructor loved the Charleston, so we always did that one almost every recital. A real show stopper.”
Larry’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, looked at the number, smiled and took the call. “Hello? Oh, hey. No, hasn’t come in, yet. Just a couple weeks more, though…. Yeh, exciting. She is. Hold on.” Larry handed the phone to Lori. “December.”
Lori rolled her eyes and took the phone. “Hello? Oh, yeh, heya. No. Just lookin’ for work. I know he says I am on his team, but I’d like to find something on my own. A pride thing, I guess. Sure, that’d be okay. Now? Um, sure, okay. See’ya.”
“Looks like you’ll finally get your gift.”
“Whatever.”
Larry’s phone rang again.
“Oh, man,” said Lori, “if it’s December, tell her I went outside or something....”
“No,” said Larry, sitting on the sofa. “It’s the movie people.” Larry pushed “speaker.”
“Hel-lowww. Tres. Tres von…”
“I know,” said Larry. “… from Denmark….” Lori walked over and sat down next to Larry. They leaned in together to listen.
“I have a question for your friend, Miss Lewis. Is she still with you?”
Lori shook her head no. “Sorry, she’s outside running…. Preparing for a marathon.”
“Wow,” said von Sommerberg. “Really something. I want her to be in the movie. We are willing to make major changes to the film. Can I come back to talk with you and your grandmother?”
“She’s gone to sleep.”
“May I speak just with you, then?” After a moment of silence from Larry, von Sommerberg spoke in a side conversation. “No, he isn’t giving an answer.” Von Sommerberg then spoke directly into the phone again. “Hel-lowww, I am really eager to again visit. Lena and I are on the way.”
“No!” said Larry.
“On our way,” said von Sommerberg. “We will see you in a few minutes.”
“Shit, he hung up.”
“I’m not going to be in a movie,” said Lori.
“Well, you know,” said Larry, “why not, yeh?”
“No.”
“You just said you wanted to get something on your own,” said Larry. “No one helped you get this. Could be decent money.”
“You promise me, Larry van der Bix, that you are not fronting this,” said Lori, a stern expression on her face.
Larry put both hands in the air. “I have nothing to do with this. If they want you, it’s entirely their own idea.”
.
“Really good to see you again,” said Lena Martin. “You must be an amazing runner. Your skin is so clear after your run.”
“Yeh, well,” said Lori. “Good genes, I guess.”
“We should sit down,” said von Sommerberg, “because I am going to talk about something really big with you.”
Lena shouldered the camera, as Tres moved to the sofa.
“Put that away,” said Lori, “I don’t want to be filmed.”
The director nodded quickly and Lena carefully set the camera onto the hardwood floor. “My film is what is called for those who know movies, the Dogme95. The director makes a vow that guides how every Dogme film is made. All the scenes are shot in the here and now. There is no genre film. But they are still stories and if I have an actress who can be here and speak now, then I can weave a new element into my film and that will make this Dogme film different than all others. You are that new element, Miss Lewis.”
“You may be a director and you may be a producer, but I am not an actress,” said Lori. “So it’s nice to ask me, but I don’t think it will work me being in your movie. Thanks.”
A booming knock came from the main studio door.
“What the fuck?” said Larry, rising from the sofa and crossing the studio. He opened the door. Calvin leaned into the doorframe, a satisfied grin on his face, as December, in an oversized hooded sweatshirt and sweats, stood at the Thorvaldsen, reverently, slowly running her hands over the surface, as one would over a lover returned from a long journey. After trading her warmth with the coolness of the stone, she dropped her hands and walked to the main doors of the suite.
“Hi, sweeties,” December said, stepping into the main studio. “Ooo, pretty,” she said, “and the mirrors... nice. Larry, is dis where you live?”
“No,” said Calvin, “remember what I said coming up the stairs, Hot Stuff? When the Cow who lives here kicks off, this place is mine.”
“Get out’ta here, Dad,” said Larry.
“… And I could use some sweet thing up here who can appreciate the good life.”
December, walking in Lori’s direction, seemed to be pulled magnetically to each item of furniture, which she touched; to framed photos on the walls, which she looked at; and, finally, to the Victrola, which she caressed when she reached it, one hand on the handle and the other on the elegant wood casing.
Larry, a few steps away, looked to his father, in the doorway. “Calvin; go!” His father, without a word, turned and left, the sound of his footsteps growing dimmer as he descended the stairway. Lena crossed the room and closed the door, as Larry stepped over to the Victrola, cranked the handle and dropped the needle onto the Charleston, filling the room with the opening strains.
“Old timey,” December cooed. “I like it.” She crossed to Lori and whispered loud enough for all to hear: “Hi, baby. I bought you something army.” December sat down and put her hand casually on Lori’s thigh. “Who’re dey?” she said, pointing to the filmmakers. “Dat’s a big lens.”
The Charleston hit the chorus, and suddenly December looked up. She stood and ran to the middle of the studio, declaring, “Oh! I know dis one!” and she proceeded to dance a version of the Charleston that was heavy on leaning forward and running one’s hands across the knees.
Von Sommerberg picked up the camera and began to lift it to his shoulder, before Lori put her hands onto the camera, and said, “No, please, no, just let her dance.”
The filmmaker looked up to Lori, who stood over him. “Only because that it is you who asks.” He set the camera dawn and turned again to December, who danced on the floor where once danced Astrid Ullagaard, and now a woman identical in appearance to the famous Scandinavian. After the disc finished its play, December laughed. “I learned dat in high school.”
Larry clapped, and, after a few seconds of his lonely applause, the filmmakers and Lori joined. December smiled broadly and bowed.
“Is dis where your grandmother lives?”
“Yeh,” said Larry. “My dad and his bastard children live in the floors below us. I lived with my grandmother from when I was ten,” said Larry, as he crossed to December, lightly took her fingers, and brought her across the room to show her the picture of Emma with Herbert Hoover.
“I can’t read it,” said December.
Larry pointed to the little girl.
“Who’s she? the one who looks like Lori?” asked December.
“My grandmother’ s mom,” said Larry, “and that’s my grandma,” pointing to the little girl. Larry pointed to the man in the white suit. “And that’s Herbert Hoover.”
“Who’s dat?” December turned away from the photo, to the two filmmakers. “Who’re dey, and what’s with the camera? Dat’s a serious unit.”
“Dat’s the number three where I come from,” said December. “Where’s Denmark?”
“.... Film director… it’s above Germany... I’m a film director, from Denmark. We’re just a little country, but we’re famous with the films.”
“Are you famous?”
“I’m here with my producer,” said von Sommerberg, pointing to Lena. “We’re making a movie about his great grandmother, the famous dancer and I’ve come back to ask Miss Lewis here to star in our movie.”
Lori exhaled as though she had been punched. “P-uhhh, what?”
December excitedly jumped up and down, noticeably causing her sweatshirt to flop about. “Do it, Lori! Oh! Do it! Can I be in the movie with my Baby?”
Lena stammered, “Tres, we have to....”
Von Sommerberg, seemingly hypnotized by the flopping of December’s sweatshirt, weakly let out, “… well, I don’t see why we can’t write another part.”
“No!” said Lori. “I’m not going to be in some movie. I’m not your ‘star.’ No.”
“We, of course, would pay you,” said Lena. “And we wouldn’t be shooting during this trip, as we need to rewrite our story.”
December ran over to Lori and held both of her hands. “Oh, hunny, they want you to star in a movie! We can be in a movie together! Please say yes!”
“No.”
“Oh, hunny, please,” begged December. “At least say you’ll think about it.”
Lori looked across to Larry. “Bix?”
“Basically, he’s an idiot,” said Larry, “but, you know, maybe hear out the offer maybe, huh?”
“What’s your offer?” asked Lori.
“Well,” said von Sommerberg, “we have to rewrite the story, so we are not sure how the part will play out, but it will be a leading role. Dogme is not about the money, but we cannot let this movie be made without you. I have never seen anyone who more closely resembles Astrid Ullagård Can you dance?”
“Every girl can dance,” said Lori.