The location shoot, p.4
The Location Shoot, page 4
She smiled. “Well, you won’t need to eat alone anymore unless you choose to. I never miss breakfast, though I’m usually so swept up in my work that I forget to have lunch.”
“What are you working on? You mentioned a four-book project.”
“I’m interested in what brings human beings pleasure and what that experience is like. I have a theory that there are only four things human beings experience in their wholeness: sex, art, food, and nature. Culture can get in the way and influence, obscure, and subvert our experience of these things, and in fact, it usually does. Yet there is at least the possibility, the potentiality that we may experience them with a oneness that doesn’t exist elsewhere.”
Finn was completely enthralled, his eyes glued to her as she spoke.
She continued, “It’s why these things have the power to bring us tremendous pleasure like nothing else—they make us feel the splendor of being alive. When they are good and when we’re truly free and open to the experience, these things feed our souls, awaken our senses, and propel us to states of calm and ecstasy.”
“I’ve never thought about that before, but now I find myself reflecting on my own life and the things that have brought me bliss. I’m completely bowled over. This is fascinating.”
She smiled and said, “Thank you. So, I’m writing four short books, one on each of those topics. Together, it’s a study in human pleasure and this idea I have about oneness.”
“What about love?” he asked. “Do you think love brings us pleasure?”
“There’s nothing more devastatingly beautiful or pleasurable than love, I imagine, although I’m hardly an expert.” He smiled warmly at her and she continued, “It’s incredibly difficult to pin down. Love means so many different things and is experienced in innumerable ways. How do we define it without limiting it? There’s a materiality or physicality to the topics I’ve selected that’s impossible to have with an abstract concept like love.”
“I see,” he said.
“Still, it naturally creeps in when writing about these four topics. Love is part of all of them, with sex perhaps being the most obvious. Sex between people truly in love with one another can bring enormous pleasure, both physically and spiritually. Or so I’m told.”
“I think so too. Or at least I hope so.” They held each other’s gaze for a long, comfortable moment. Eventually, he said, “I apologize if this is a stupid question, but will you use the same writing style for all four books? Are they meant to mirror each other?”
She smiled brightly. “That’s a fantastic question. I’ve never been what you’d call a traditional writer. My writing merges different styles and structures—essays, fiction, plays. Creative thinking demands creative writing. I imagine the books will each be close to the same length but with differing approaches. Whatever works to deliver the ideas, you know? So far, I have rough drafts of the volumes on sex and art. I’m hoping to refine those while I’m here, with Jean’s input, and this feels like the ideal place to start on the nature book.”
Finn turned his attention out the window. “The grounds here are spectacular. The sun doesn’t set until around ten o’clock, and even after, it never really gets totally dark this time of year. I find the light in the evening to be particularly beautiful. Maybe one night after dinner we could take a stroll.”
“I’d love that,” she said.
Just then, the waiter delivered their breakfast.
“Bon appétit,” she said.
“Bon appétit,” he replied.
Before they could take a bite of their food, Michael came barreling into the room. His eyes went straight to Ella like a laser, as if he had been looking for her.
“Ah, it looks like you wouldn’t have been alone this morning after all,” she said to Finn.
“I have a feeling I’m not the one he was hoping to see,” he whispered.
She giggled.
“Michael, come join us,” Finn called.
“Thanks,” Michael said, dropping in the chair beside him. He threw his hand up to signal to the waiter and then hollered out his order: “An espresso and an egg white omelet with spinach, no dairy.” He turned to Ella and said, “You look lovely today. How was your first night in our humble abode?”
“Fine, thank you. I was glad for a good night’s sleep. It’s so quiet here. There’s nothing like the country, especially when you’re a city girl.”
“Where do you live?” Michael asked.
“All over. I rarely stay in one place for long. I’ve been renting a little flat in Paris, but then Jean started pestering me.”
“We’re all looking forward to having you on set today,” Michael said. “If you have any questions about the film, feel free to stop by my trailer and we can speak privately.”
She glanced at Finn, and he watched her eyes linger on his smile. Moving past Michael’s invitation, she picked up her small spoon and tapped on the egg’s light brown shell. “What is it about that sound that’s so satisfying?” she asked.
Finn smiled.
She stuck her spoon into the egg with consideration, slowly penetrating the white until she reached the runny yolk. She lifted the spoon, dripping in glistening, orange yolk, looked Finn directly in his inviting eyes, and said, “See? There’s something so pleasurable about that, and I haven’t even taken a bite.”
She and Finn smiled at each other like two people in on a private joke.
“What did I miss?” Michael asked, a bewildered expression on his face.
THEY WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF SHOOTING the same party scene they’d been working on since the first day of filming when Ella strolled onto set that afternoon. When Jean yelled, “Cut!” the band stopped playing and the actors wandered away from their marks.
Jean flashed a genuine, broad smile at the sight of her, something the actors had never seen on set before. As Ella flitted over, Michael whispered to Finn, “God, she’s gorgeous.”
“That she is. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful. I was speaking with her this morning about her work. Fascinating stuff. She’s a brilliant woman,” Finn replied, staring shamelessly.
Still gawking, Michael said, “She has something special, some quality about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s intoxicating.”
“Be careful,” Finn cautioned. “The last thing you want to do is piss off the filmmaker.”
Michael shrugged. “They’re just friends. He said so himself.”
“She’s important to him. He went to a lot of trouble to have her here. I don’t think he’d want her, well, upset in any way.”
“I can be very charming, I’ll have you know. Women go crazy for me,” Michael replied in a joking tone.
Finn didn’t respond. It was clear to him that Ella had no interest in Michael.
After Ella and Jean chatted for a minute, Jean yelled, “Places, everyone! We’re going to run it again.”
Finn glanced at Ella, and she smiled at him before looking away with a bashfulness that surprised him.
“Rolling . . . Action!” Jean called.
They began shooting the dancing scene again as multiple cameras spun around the room, capturing it from different angles. Ella stood on the sidelines to watch the action, but after only three minutes, she pecked Jean on each cheek and quietly slipped out.
When they cut the scene, Michael said to Finn, “She didn’t stay very long.”
“We couldn’t have been that bad,” Finn joked. “We didn’t even have any dialogue.”
Michael laughed. “What exactly do you think she’s meant to do here? Jean desperately wanted her to join us, but then she drifts in and out for a few minutes in the middle of the day. I don’t get it.”
Finn shrugged. “Beats me. But I have a feeling that whatever she brings to a project is something we’ll all be grateful for.”
AFTER A LONG DAY, THEY ALL SAT DOWN to break bread, as had become their tradition. The women and Jean sat in the booth, and the others sat in surrounding chairs. The staff promptly served drinks and announced, “The dinner buffet is open.”
“Shall we toast?” Ella asked, raising her glass.
“Before we indulge ourselves, let’s hear your thoughts,” Jean said. “Have you figured out what the film is about?”
Ella smiled coyly, all eyes upon her. “All right,” she said, rolling the glass of amber liquid between her palms. She leaned back and continued, “Obviously you were filming a party scene, but not just any party. It’s a massively grand celebration befitting the obscenely rich, and since there were no bridal gowns or caskets, it must be a birthday. His, I imagine,” she said, gesturing at Albie.
Everyone smiled, absolutely riveted.
Jean smirked. “Well, that was easy. Even they know that. Tell them something they don’t know.”
“Ah, good. Then I’m right so far,” she replied. “Well, you always use metaphor and symbolism to examine one theme central to the human condition—love, sex, death, violence, the environment. This time you’re trying to tackle the biggest theme of them all, which is why you wanted me here. Your film is about the meaning of life itself. Given your dire view of the species, it’s about the tragedy of human life,” she said, crinkling her nose and giggling.
Jean glanced down and shook his head in wonder. He looked up, his eyes on Ella, and caressed her cheek. “Oui, ma chérie. Tell them more.”
She smiled. “It’s about the meaning or meaninglessness of a single life, and by extension, the human race. It’s about our struggle to matter, and the deep fear we hold that perhaps we do not, that we could not. I imagine there will be an exploration of regret, missed opportunities, pride, and longing.” She paused and added, “The party scene is the center of the film. It’s trivial, meant to imply that our lives are often trivial. The characters will start coming apart at the seams because, deep down, they know it too.”
Jean smirked, faced the group, and said, “She is exactly right. It’s an exploration of the meaning of human life, which of course is impossible to capture, and thus is a great white whale of a beast.”
“Oh my God,” Finn mumbled. “It all makes sense now. The script, the . . .”
“My character represents death, mortality,” Albie said, as if he were figuring it out as each word left his mouth.
“My character must be meant to represent hope or naïveté,” Willow said. “She still believes that a human being can matter, even in the face of all the pettiness and conflict she has with the others. She continues to feel this way even though her family can’t rise above their own pathetic, selfish desires and cruelty toward one another.”
Ella smiled as the actors began to understand their part in the mysterious, grand plan that suddenly seemed clear as day.
“Did anyone show her a script?” Jean asked accusatorially.
They all shook their heads.
Jean turned to Ella and said, “The title. Have you guessed it?”
“Hmm, that’s always tricky. Let me give it a try. You always use one-word titles, so I’m assuming that’s the case here and you’re not trying to bamboozle me.”
He chuckled. “Go on.”
All eyes were glued to Ella.
“The film is about life itself, but you wouldn’t choose the word life. Too obvious, too pedestrian. Given your misanthropic views, it could be called Doom or Wasteland. Perhaps you’ve chosen to be more subtle, in which case something like Fragile would be the clear choice. But subtlety has never been your style, has it?” She crinkled her nose and giggled. “Because you have such a bleak view of humanity, some people don’t appreciate your wonderful, ironic sense of humor. The media often misses that altogether. It’s a pity; it’s such a fantastic part of your personality and your art. If you were going to create a film about the tragedy of the human condition, you would give it a falsely uplifting title. Hmm. What could it be, given that the film centers around a party?” Her face lit up with recognition, and she put her hand on his shoulder. “Darling, I seized upon the title as soon as we began this conversation. I said the scene you were shooting today was not just any party but ‘a massively grand celebration.’ The title of the film is Celebration.”
All the actors’ mouths were hanging open, their eyes nearly popping out of their heads.
“Ah, I see I’m right,” Ella said proudly.
“Holy shit,” Michael said. “That was amazing. You’re practically clairvoyant. You got all that from three minutes on set while we were dancing?”
“You’re extraordinarily perceptive,” Charlotte remarked.
Jean smiled and said, “She never misses a thing.” He raised his glass. “Ella, would you like to do the honors?”
She held up her glass. “To making beautiful art and exploring the big questions.”
“Cheers!” Jean exclaimed.
“Santé!”
“Skål!”
“Bottoms up,” Ella said, and they all clinked glasses.
PEOPLE CASUALLY WANDERED OVER to the buffet, and Ella and Finn found themselves to be the last two perusing the spread. “The food here is actually pretty good, and they’ve been very accommodating. They always have vegetarian options for Charlotte.”
Ella smiled. “I love Swedish food, especially the gravlax,” she said, picking up the tongs.
“Have you spent much time in Sweden?”
“A fair amount. Stockholm is a great city. It’s entirely walkable with gorgeous water views, and I simply adore the modern art museum. You?”
“For all the traveling I do, this is only my second time in this country. The last time I was here, I was stuck in a hotel doing press junkets,” he replied. He noticed she was eyeing the dill potatoes and said, “May I?” as he picked up the serving spoon.
“Please,” she replied.
“You really blew everyone’s minds,” he said as he served her a scoop of creamy potatoes. “I can’t believe how much you inferred from the little you saw.”
She shrugged. “I know how Jean’s mind works.”
He shook his head and said, “I’ll never know how you figured out the title.”
She flirtatiously gestured for him to come closer. He leaned in close enough to smell her floral perfume and feel her warm breath on his ear, and she whispered, “One of the cameramen had the title taped to his equipment.”
Finn burst into laughter. When he could manage to get the words out, he said, “You really had Jean going. Hell, you had all of us going!”
“People believe what they want to believe. Besides, I must have some fun if he insists on playing his little mind games.” She giggled and said, “Jean was right, after all, I never miss a thing. He just misinterpreted what that meant.” She winked at him, and they both returned to the table smiling.
They all spent the next three hours eating, drinking, smoking, and telling stories. All the while, Finn couldn’t take his eyes off Ella.
CHAPTER 5
Ella waltzed into the dining room the next morning, her laptop under her arm. Albie was tucked away in the corner, his nose in a newspaper. Finn was sitting at the table they had shared the morning before. He smiled brightly and said, “I saved you a seat.”
“Good morning,” she said as she sat opposite him and placed her laptop to the side.
“Good morning. I took a chance you’d join me and ordered you a pot of tea.”
“That was sweet. Thank you,” she replied, filling her teacup.
“Working on your books?” he asked, gesturing at her computer.
“Yes. I’m making a few final edits, and then I’ll give Jean copies of the sex and art volumes tomorrow for his feedback. Next, I’ll start taking notes for the nature volume. What about you? Are you looking forward to filming today?”
“More than ever. We’ve all felt so lost during the shoot, not understanding what the film is about or what Jean wants. Now we get it. Plus, the way he works is so unconventional. His filming changes without warning. Suddenly, you’re in the middle of a close-up you had no idea was coming. Without any blocking or rehearsals, it’s all about feeling things out with the other actors. I thought I was a seasoned pro, but this is a totally new experience.”
“Those are usually the best kinds of experiences, don’t you think? Besides, you have all the tools you need. Just trust it and be open to the moment. Jean gave me a copy of the script last night, and I curled up in bed and read it. It’s good. Couldn’t put it down. It’s going to be a beautiful work of art.”
“Charlotte’s really been having a tough time. She’s such a professional, but she’s never worked in this kind of free-form way before. On set, Jean isn’t the most . . .”
“Complimentary? Supportive?” Ella said.
“Yeah,” Finn replied.
“That’s just his way. He hates acting, so he doesn’t quite know how to remark on it, other than to tell his actors to stop doing it.”
Finn laughed.
“I know he’s a huge fan of Charlotte’s work,” Ella said. “He sees something special in each of you. When he writes a new script, he’s considering the cast as he goes. The roles were developed with each of you in mind because of what you’ve achieved, but also because of what he sees inside you that maybe hasn’t had a chance to come out yet. His shoots are meant to be an expansive experience for the actors.”
Finn smiled. “It’s why I took the job. When my agent told me that Jean Mercier wanted me for a film, I signed on without even seeing a script. I’ve been stuck in the blockbuster world for too long. These days, there are so few filmmakers who are truly trying to create cinematic art. It was a chance I couldn’t pass up.”
“I hope you feel you’ve made the right choice.”
“I do. I already know this is something special. I do feel bad for Charlotte, though. She takes her work very seriously. As you know, we’re married in the film, so we have most of our scenes together. I can tell that Jean’s . . .”
