Lights! Camera! Puzzles!

by Parnell Hall

  Cora blinked. No, it wasn’t. Cora had seen Angela Broadbent in sitcoms, and she wasn’t this mousy little woman here. Angela Broadbent was a feisty wisecracking hellion, with a penchant for saying just the wrong thing at just the right time.

  Auditions weren’t over, but they might as well have been.

  “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the studio,” Angela said. “I just wanted to tell you I’m interested.”

  “Of course, of course. Listen, I don’t want you to have to come all the way back. Why don’t you read one scene while you’re here, and that will probably be enough. We’ll only call you back if we really have to.”

  “Oh, I don’t want you to think I’m giving you short shrift.”

  Sandy called to the actress up on stage. “Lauren. That’s enough for today. We’ll call you if we need you.”

  Lauren gave ground with gracious resignation. There was no way she was getting the part.

  Sandy threw his arm around Angela’s shoulders and walked her to the stage, “You’re reading Cora, of course, This scene is from back in the days when Cora and Melvin were still married.”

  Angela shrugged off her overcoat and hat. She wore sneakers, faded jeans, and a gray sweatshirt. She accepted the script from the gofer, shuffled out to center stage, and nodded to the young man reading Melvin.

  Then she tore the roof off the place. It was as if someone had pressed a button, but the minute she heard her cue, she was at her feisty best, giving it to Melvin with every line.

  Melvin sidled up to Cora. “She’s perfect,” he whispered.

  “She’s a bitchier version of me,” Cora said.

  Melvin turned his attention back to the reading.

  Angela tore through the pages with comic zeal. It didn’t sound like she was reading lines. It sounded like she was making the zingers up.

  She read the last line, lowered the script, and said, meekly, “Was that okay?”

  19

  She’s perfect.”

  “Oh?”

  “If I were looking for someone to play me, she is who I’d cast.”

  “Sounds good,” Sherry said.

  Sherry was only half-listening. Jennifer was having a playdate, and Sherry was paying more attention to the squeals coming out of the basement than she was to her aunt. From the girls’ wicked giggling she got the impression they were playing their favorite new game, which consisted of dressing up their dolls in blond wigs like Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones, and then cutting their heads off. Sherry tried telling Jennifer that Daenerys Targaryen doesn’t get her head cut off, to which Jennifer saucily replied if Sherry let her watch the show she’d know that.

  “Good?” Cora said. “She’s not just good. She sounds more like me than I do!”

  “That makes no sense.”

  Sherry went to the kitchen door. The giggling had suddenly stopped, usually a sign something devious was being plotted.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I haven’t the faintest.”

  “She’s ideal for the part!” Cora cried in exasperation. “For a bright woman, you miss the easiest concepts.”

  “Jennifer has a playdate.”

  “Where?”

  “Downstairs in the playroom.”

  “Oh.” Cora listened. “It’s too quiet.”

  “Exactly.” Sherry raised her voice. “What are you girls doing down there?”

  The giggling immediately started up again.

  “They’re all right,” Cora said. “Can I tell you about this actress?”

  “Sure. Does the director want her?”

  “He called her in.”

  “How did he know her?”

  “She’s a TV star, for Christ’s sake. Surely you’ve seen her.”

  “Seen who? You haven’t told me her name.”

  “Angela Broadbent. She’s in Strange Positions.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “It’s the name of the sitcom.”

  “And she’s a star?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is she willing to do it?”

  “She’s a TV actress. She’s never starred in a movie before.”

  “It’s the starring role?”

  “She’s playing me! Who did you think was the star?”

  “You don’t have to get all touchy about it.”

  “You know what I’m afraid of?”

  “Spiders?”

  “Are you trying to be annoying?”

  “Not much fun, is it?”

  “Damn it, Sherry. I’m serious.”

  “I know. That’s what’s so amazing. Two weeks ago you couldn’t give a damn about this movie.”

  “That was before I heard Angela Broadbent read. She’s a natural.”

  “A natural? I thought she was playing you.”

  “Thanks a heap.”

  “Anyway,” Sherry said, “you were telling me what you were afraid of.”

  “I’m afraid we won’t get her. I want her. Melvin wants her. The director wants her. The producer wants her. And she wants to do it.”

  “What could possibly go wrong?”

  “Everything! It’s the movies!”

  There came a fresh burst of giggling, the sound of skidding feet, and Buddy hurtled into the kitchen, spun in a circle, and shook furiously, as if trying to shed his skin. When that didn’t work he cocked his head and looked up at them with the most plaintive, sheepish expression.

  The toy poodle was dressed head to toe in a little dragon outfit, complete with wings and long, scaly tail. His poor little face just barely peeked out of the dragon’s mouth.

  Sherry raised her voice. “Oh, girls!” she called, heading for the playroom.

  Jennifer’s voice, “Uh oh,” filtered up from downstairs, followed by more giggling.

  Cora bent to rescue Buddy, and thanked her lucky stars that she was merely the aunt and not the mother.

  The phone rang.

  Cora freed Buddy from his costume, and raced for the phone.

  It was Melvin. He was excited. “We got her!”

  20

  Roll it.”

  “Speed.”

  “One eighty-two double papa, take one.”

  Clack.

  “Action!”

  Felicia Nightshade came out the front door of an apartment building and walked down the street.

  “Cut!” Sandy cried. “Good for camera? Good for sound?” Barely waiting for a response he said, “Print it. It’s a camera move.”

  Becky turned to Cora. “He’s remarkably efficient.”

  “It’s a setup,” Cora said. “An absolutely simple shot they can get nine times out of ten. They shoot it first to make it look like the director’s on top of everything and give the crew a good feeling.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Melvin told me. He can’t resist showing off his movie expertise since he has none.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me too.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “To see if you’d dump on him. You did not disappoint.”

  Becky had come along to watch the first day of filming. So far it was totally unexciting, particularly the first shot, which was, as Cora said, a total setup. Not only was it a simple shot that they could get in one take, but Felicia Nightshade, the actress performing it wasn’t either of the Coras, but was a minor day player cast as one of Melvin’s one night stands. That was so she would be on time, and do exactly as she was told, as opposed to some temperamental star who might be late, drunk, or worse, want to discuss her motivation.

  During the camera move Sandy spotted Cora standing there and came over. “Hey, Puzzle Lady. Make yourself visible. See if you can attract a crowd. There’s no one here.”

  “You didn’t want a crowd. You wanted the streets clear so you could get the first shot.”

  “We got it. Now we want publicity.” Sandy’s eyes lit on Becky. “Well, hello
there. How is it I haven’t cast you?”

  Cora couldn’t believe it. Becky smiled like a schoolgirl, pushed her blond hair out of her eyes, and said, “I’m not an actress.”

  “You don’t have to act to be in the movies. Trust me on this. I gotta get you in front of a camera. Who are you, young lady?”

  “You met her,” Cora said. “During contract negotiations. She’s my lawyer. Becky Baldwin.”

  “Oh, yes,” Sandy said. “You were here for that, weren’t you? I think it’s the hair. Take away the briefcase and let down your hair, and what a difference.”

  Becky blushed.

  A gofer hurried up to Sandy with the news that the director of photography needed him. Sandy looked annoyed with the interruption, but he went.

  Cora cocked her head at Becky. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The director bats his camera at you and you go all mushy. I haven’t seen you that gooney-eyed since that young client used to drive you around on his motorcycle.”

  “I was younger then.”

  “You’re younger now. You’ve been young all your life. It’s not fair, but there you are. You’re a shrewd trial lawyer, but a director comes along with his casting couch and you’re putty in his hands.”

  “You think he just wants to get me into bed.”

  “Welcome to the real world, Becky.”

  “Directors don’t do that anymore. They’re scared of the Me-too movement.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. Particularly in your case.”

  “In my case?”

  “You’re a lawyer. You want to stand up in court and argue that you were stupid enough to let a movie director get you into bed on the promise of putting you in pictures?”

  Becky bit her lip. “You’re a real killjoy, you know.”

  “Glad to be of service.”

  Then rest of the first day was equally boring. None of the stars were there. All the scenes were pickup shots around the city that had to be gotten out of the way sometime. Sandy and the production manager had arranged the schedule so that they could get them all comfortably without any chance of going into overtime, let alone meal penalty. While this didn’t necessarily please the crew, the independent investors who had put up money for the movie would have nothing to complain about.

  Cora and Becky left after lunch.

  “So what time you going tomorrow?” Becky said as they drove back.

  “You’re going again?”

  “Well, today was nothing. When’s he going to work with the stars?”

  “You want to see the stars?” Cora said. “I’m leaving around eight. If you’re ready, I’ll pick you up.”

  “Fine,” Becky said.

  “Can’t wait to see what you’re going to wear,” Cora mumbled under her breath.

  21

  The second day of filming took place outside the Hyatt Regency Hotel on East Forty-second Street. It didn’t look like the Hyatt Regency, though. The entrance has been modified to look like the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. It wouldn’t have fooled anyone in a wide shot, but for a close-up of the actors exiting the hotel it was movie magic.

  Cora arrived to find them still setting up. The crew, perhaps unhappy with failing to go into overtime, had managed to knock over a light on a tripod, and dealing with the resultant mess and replacing the light was holding things up.

  Sandy was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and trying not to look pissed. His face lit up when he saw Cora, and he came over.

  “Where’s your lawyer lady friend?”

  “She came to her senses,” Cora said.

  A rather sheepish looking Becky Baldwin had begged off the shoot. Once away from the intoxicating tendrils of the movie set, Becky had remembered she was a lawyer, not a film star.

  “But Angela’s working today.”

  “Is she here?”

  “Of course she’s here. She’s a professional.”

  Cora had a hard time keeping a straight face. From what she’d heard of movie stars, showing up at the set on time was not a high priority. Some, she’d heard, prided themselves on showing up whenever they damn well felt like it.

  Cora managed to slip away from the director and headed for the catering truck, one of her favorite haunts. Aside from serving meals, the catering truck had coffee and pastries available all day. While they weren’t as good as the muffins and scones from the Silver Moon Bakery, which the proprietor of the Bakerhaven Bake Shop passed off as her own, they were free, which was an offer Cora couldn’t refuse. She figured she was getting fat, but it was the least of her worries.

  Cora was nibbling on a cheese Danish when the gofer Max found her.

  “Angela wants to see you.”

  Cora wasn’t surprised. She figured it was only a matter of time before the actress playing her decided to check out the genuine article.

  Angela was in her trailer, a concession to her TV star status. Thelma Blevins didn’t have a trailer.

  “Come in,” Angela called.

  Cora went in and found herself in what passed for movie set heaven. A bed, a bathroom, a makeup table, a sitting area, a kitchen area, and a TV.

  Angela was at the kitchen table. “Sit down. Want a cup of coffee?”

  “Just had one.”

  “Ah. Hanging out at the catering truck? I did that one season. By the time they filmed the last episode I couldn’t fit into my clothes.”

  Cora grinned. “You caught me. The thing is, if you’re going to spend all day long for two minutes of film, there’s a lot of standing around.

  “I’ll tell you a little trick.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Shoot the master.”

  “Huh?”

  “If I’m not in a scene, I still want to know what they’re doing. And some actors have a tendency to change scenes. Their lines, their blocking. Sometimes just the way they play it. Comic, straight, broad, subtle. Some emote like crazy, you’ve gotta deal with that. The thing is, with most scenes they shoot a wide shot of the entire scene. That’s the master. Then they move the camera and shoot close ups from various angles of various parts of the scene. But once they shoot the master, they are pretty well locked into how the scene will be. In terms of dialogue, action, the way the scene will be played. So, once they shoot the master, I’m done. I can go home.

  “The same goes for you. Once they’ve shot the master, no more unpleasant surprises. You could take off if you want, do something else.”

  “Like hang out with you.”

  Angela smiled. “It’s a much better option. I may be boring, but I won’t say the same thing from several angles.”

  “Gotcha,” Cora said. “So, I imagine you want to see what the woman you’re playing is like?”

  Angela waved it away. “Oh, hell no. Not that you’re not interesting, but that’s not my gig. I don’t do this Stanislavsky crap. You know, these method actors who can’t eat a sandwich without knowing their motivation. I am strictly a hack. Give me a part, I do my shtick, I’m done. So what if I’m not doing it like you would? Or like you did, since all of this supposedly actually happened. Though I’m betting not much of it did.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s Melvin telling the story. And I would imagine his male ego has colored the narrative.”

  “No kidding. You should have been at our divorce hearing. You’d think we were talking about two different marriages. So you’re not looking for inspiration. Please tell me you’re not a crossword puzzle fan.”

  “I can’t do ’em. Some actors do ’em on the set to pass the time, but not me. Sometimes I do Sudoku. I love Sudoku.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re perfect! I love Sudoku. Almost as much as I loathe crossword puzzles.”

  “But you’re the Puzzle Lady.”

  “Well, life is full of disappointments. At least you get to play several roles. I’m stuck playing one.”

  “You don’t like
being the Puzzle Lady?”

  “Well, I don’t mind the money. But you can’t imagine how annoying it is everyone wanting to ask you about words. And God forbid I should get one wrong. Sometimes I do it deliberately, just to drive people crazy.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “It is the first time. It gets old pretty fast.”

  “Well, I promise not to ask you about crossword puzzles.”

  “You wanna ask me about Sudoku?”

  Angela blushed. “Well, actually. I’m embarrassed to admit.” She took out a piece of paper. It was a Sudoku.

  “I was hoping you’d sign one for me.”

  “What?”

  “I have a six-year-old niece who is not at all impressed that I’m a TV actress but would flip out if she knew I knew the famous Puzzle Lady.”

  “Of course, I’ll sign it,” Cora said. “I’m flattered to death.” She took the pen Angela offered her. “Do you want me to solve it too?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “I know you couldn’t. That’s why I offered. Trust me, it’s no trouble.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Cora whizzed through the Sudoku and signed it with a flourish.

  “There you go. With my compliments.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  “Don’t believe it. And for God’s sake don’t let it color your acting.”

  “Never fear.”

  “So,” Cora said. You don’t want to study my unique personality, and I can’t believe you got me in here just to sign a Sudoku. What did you want to talk about?”

  “The murder, of course.”

  22

  cora’s mouth fell open. “What do you know about the murder?”

  “Nothing, of course. That’s why I want to learn about it.”

  “That happened before you got here.”

  “That should make me less of a suspect.”

  “I hope you’re joking.”

  “You think I killed a production assistant to get the part?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t think you had anything to do with it. I don’t think I had anything to do with it either.”

  “So who did?”

  “Would you believe the boyfriend?”