Sean Donnelly
Intrigued by my visit to the “A Rogue in Londinium” set the night before I asked the producers if I could be a fly on the wall for the next day’s shoot and watch for a little while. I knew they were shooting in their kitchen again a.k.a. Charles Thornton’s gentleman’s parlor and the idea of spending the day in a sauna in New York in the middle of August seemed like a masochistic way to spend my time. Honestly, I could think of ten other ways to punish myself like driving bamboo shoots up my fingernails but I wanted to see these guys pull it off. You know what they say---curiosity killed the cat. But cats have nine lives and this cat was willing to die of heat exhaustion to watch besides which I have eight more. (I protest too much. It wasn’t that hot.)
As I wandered through the crew and found an apple box to perch upon Mr. Sullivan turned and said, “You’re in for a treat. Thom Milano is playing Inspector McNeely from Scotland Yard today.” The crew had the AC turned on turbo fan to keep the green room as icy cold as it could get. Ms. Damon was in a stunning brocade Victorian dress sipping water daintily as the make-up person was powdering her down. “You look so content under the circumstances”, I said. She smiled and replied, “I’ve worked with the director before and it seems like extreme shooting every time we film---it’s either boiling hot or freezing cold. That’s the nature of indies.” “Why do it?” I ask. “It’s the material---I fall in love with good material. My being a bit warm is a temporary state. I can deal with it.”
Thom Milano was in another corner trying to keep cool in a wool frock coat and trousers. In most films set against the Jack the Ripper murders, the police are the good guys, but Thom has something up his sleeve. As I watch the scene unfold there is an antagonism between his character and Mrs. Thornton. He’s mean, vitriolic, vengeful and jealous. He certainly has an agenda. We’re not sure what it is, perhaps to get even? But with whom or what? Inspector McNeely’s own issues of sexuality and propriety give this fellow layers and makes one question, could it be him? Could he be the killer? The layers Thom has created with this role also inform us of the class distinction evident in Britain of the time. A working class Englishman taking orders from a woman of leisure. It is a bitter pill for him to swallow but I can see he is biding his time.
I notice when the actors break for a moment they are still holding onto their hostility. Mr. Sullivan chuckles under his breath, “Check it out. It’s like watching “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.” Guess which one is Joan and which one is Bette”. The actor’s themselves obviously like each other as they spend their time chatting while the crew sets up the next shot. I interrupt the small talk and ask Thom why he isn’t working as much as he should. He’s good---really good and absolutely castable for a variety of parts. He tells me he was working quite a lot about eight years ago and then he met Patrick and his wife and they decided to form a production company. “It’s a full time job trying to get projects off the ground.” He says. “I look at my absence from acting as a hiatus. I really want to make this work. Besides, I act in a lot of our projects.” Bjornquist Films produced Thom’s short films, “…go I” (it went on to over nine festivals across the US) and their most recent short “One Lies, The Other Swears”, (with the fabulous Keith Herron) will be premiering at the Poppy Jasper film Festival in San Francisco mid-November. Thom is the writer/director on both. Speaking of directors
the Director on this project is totally hands-on and I have yet to be introduced to her as she is the busiest person on set. I ask Mr. Sullivan if he might make the introduction. He says if she actually breaks for lunch he’ll make it happen. “Oh, by the way, she’s my wife.”
Whit Hamilton wanders in during the break wearing cargo shorts, sandals and a dead head T-shirt. He looks like a skateboarding dude who forgot to shave for a few days. He sports a patchy two-day growth that the make-up artist will have to ‘even out’. “Hey, How’s it going, man?” he says before disappearing with Ashley into wardrobe. Someone at the lunch table starts singing, “I’ve written a letter to Daddy who’s address is heaven above…” The infamous song Bette Davis sings in her infantile state at age 70 in the movie, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”. It must be Thom in a falsetto.
“So how did this project begin?” I inquire. It began as a play first I am told but trying to produce something beyond a showcase was out of the question. “We just didn’t have the whole chunk of cash at one time to do it”, Patrick said. “Besides, unless you’re Mamet or Albee you can’t make money on a play.” Wandering through the set I discover that the Director is a painter and quite a good one at that. “She began a few paintings of the characters as set dressing for the play, studying Whistler, John Singer Sargent and Edward Manet to start. One thing led to another and before she knew it she had painted about two dozen works. She just kept going”, Patrick said. For a peek at the art: (http://www.southernartwerks.com/Pages/WGallerypgs/wgallerypg9.html) “When we got to the point of production design for the film she had most of the work done. We realized as we started putting rooms together for various sets that some of the art we wanted would be out of our price range in terms of rights so she painted every piece on the set. There are, Goyas, Velázquez’, Eakins, Titians you name it.”, Thom added. “Once we were shot out of a room or set she’d paint over the canvases for the next set.” I am duly impressed. It is quite an undertaking to take on a chunk of art history and then add on the intense pressure of making a feature film.
Utilizing art as another character in the film informs us who is ‘in’ and who can afford such great works. Apparently the Thorntons are well off enough to own masterpieces and bequeath them to museums of their choice. Seeing Richard Rhys’ canvases tells us that he is no slouch. If he lived in America he could keep up and even give Whistler a run for his money but because of his station in British society at the time, the odds weigh heavily against him. Mr. Rhys seems to have run himself into walls at every turn trying to carve out a living for himself and though he does seem to subsist on his meager earnings, he is only an accident away from the poorhouse. Liquor seems to anesthetize his reality and he seems to supplement his income by servicing various ladies of means. Intimacy for a price renders the experience innocuous. Thus the darkness of Rhys is formed. And yet his palette is colorful. There is light in him somewhere under the layers of social and economic injustice. That is the light that Victoria sees upon their first meeting on that magically snowy night.
The set is lit for night and Whit enters in his top hat and greatcoat. The make-up person has roughed him up. He has a fat lip and a bruise on his cheek. “What happened to you?” I ask. “Well, I just beat the shit out of Jules Whitby in the park trying to protect her.” Rebecca stands in for lights and laughs, “Poor Stewart. Poor Stewart.”
“I don’t think she appreciates the beating I took.” Whit adds. That is followed by more laughter from Ms. Damon. In the previous scene yet to be shot, the character Jules Whitby has a magic lantern. However this particular camera is a prototype of the first motion picture camera akin to the Lumiere brothers or Thomas Edison. Personally I love this angle. Watching the first actualities by the Edison Company or any true silent films is like drinking fine wine for me, but I digress. Jules has recorded Richard and Victoria stealing a private kiss in the park. Richard realizes that an image of them together could throw Victoria into a terrible scandal and potentially ruin her socially. So he defends her reputation and honor by attacking Jules almost killing him and exposing the offending celluloid to daylight. As the scene begins they have returned from the park to Victoria’s home. Victoria is frightened of his rage and violence, but more than that anything that is uncivil is repugnant to her. Richard tries to persuade her that he would never do anything to hurt her. He is from the streets and that is what one does to protect the woman he loves. She remains unconvinced and sends him away. But there is something else going on. She is trembling and the concern is deeper than witnessing a violent outburst. He is devoted to her. He is that guy that is waist deep in a relationship. I know, I was that guy when I was in about the sixth month of dating my soon-to-be-wife. I won’t spoil the surprise. I’ll write about that scene when they shoot it. Until then…stay tuned.
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