Tea and Scissors

by Sean Donnelly

I apologize to the filmmakers for my delay in this blog but my son came down with a respiratory infection and with a sick kid there’s no time to write. I am back, though. After being treated to a very condensed and whacked out version of “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” the day before I returned the next day to watch these guys shoot in the main room of their apartment. They must have had about 10 people dressing the space to become Victoria Thornton’s Parlor. As I walked in I thought I was in the wrong building. I couldn’t believe that overnight they had transformed the space with wallpaper, furniture, paintings, knick knacks, etc. I asked Patrick if they even slept the night before. “Yeah, we got a little sleep. We crashed at Thom’s place while Jessica (the Art/set dresser) created the room with her team.” He said. Jessica had been up for about 48 hours straight prepping and dressing today’s set. The dark circles under her eyes and the multiple cups of coffee are a testament to her hard labor.
As I wandered into the kitchen for a bagel and some coffee Thom was asking where Whit was. “He isn’t here yet?” Ashley the wardrobe mistress asked. People started looking a bit stressed. Finally Whit showed up about 20 minutes late. “Trains.” He said. Then Ashley shrieked and everyone filed onto the set. “Oh my God! What did you do to your hair?!” She said. The director appeared from around the corner and if looks could kill Whit was dead. The Director asked everyone to kindly return to work and then she led Whit into the kitchen to find out what happened and to problem solve the damage.
“What did you do?” She asked. Whit stumbled a bit and said, “My girlfriend told me that my hair had gotten a little long and that she would even it up for me. I gave her a picture---a still---so she could see---but---“
“You have completely put us in a real situation here. I’m not sure I can shoot today because of the continuity issue.” The director said calmly. “Yeah, I know---I’m sorry---“ Whit replied.
“Sandy is in cooking school. Do you think she is qualified to touch your hair?” The director asked. Whit just shrugged. “I have the card of a woman who does hair extensions---If I pay her enough she could probably fix it tonight.” Whit offered. The director stared at him for a minute and said, “Do not touch your f***ing hair, understand? Get into wardrobe while I figure this out.” And she turned and disappeared with some of her other crew people whispering and huddling as they moved like an amoeba across the room.
At about the same time Rebecca emerged from Hair and make-up looking sheet white. “What the hell happened to Whit’s hair?”
Thom replied, “We’re taking care of it.”
“Oh, Patrick is going to go ape shit when he sees him.” She added. “We’re taking care of it. Business as usual.” Thom reiterated. “Have something to eat, go over your lines, relax. We’ll let you know what the plan is.” Rebecca disappeared into the other room with a small muffin and some OJ. At that moment Patrick arrived on set and asked, “Why aren’t we rolling?” Eddie Joe, one of the grips on set said, “Hey, I have a friend, Anthony, in Queens who does wigs. Want me to call him?”
“I don’t remember paying you for hair and make-up, Ed. Why don’t you go plug in some lights.” Thom snapped. And Eddie disappeared mumbling, “First, I’m deferred so f**k you pay me.” I wandered out onto the stoop where most of the crew were smoking Marlboro Lights and downing coffee and experiencing tension tacos. AHHH! New York sets. Way different than the granola/evian kind in LaLa land. I took a short stroll around Fort Greene to call my wife and check on Justin. All was fine at home and upon my return to the set I felt like I had stepped onto a Merchant Ivory production. Whit had been groomed and trimmed and cleaned up. Stephanie, the Make-up person, fixed the botched haircut, trimmed his goatee and mustache and gave him a bit of a burnished glow. Rebecca was exquisite in a white polonaise dress with blue trim. She also seemed to have a glow but hers was natural.
The first time Victoria and Richard meet is by pure chance on the street in the snow. He is cut and bloody and she is dressed in bonnet and cloak. When Charles inquires about a portraitist for his wife he is given Richard’s name and arranges tea for his wife and the painter. Victoria has no idea who the painter is, but Richard in a previous meeting sees a small portrait of Mrs. Thornton on Charles’ mantel. It is obvious that Richard has cleaned himself up in anticipation of re-meeting Mrs. Thornton. When she sees him standing in her parlor he takes her breath away. She needs a moment to recompose herself. This man that she has been thinking about for weeks has suddenly appeared in her living room. Again, the chemistry between the two is palpable. I am told the director decided to add a small scene where we see Richard getting his hair cut. These unhappy accidents can sometimes lead to divine creative help. The layer it added to the scene makes Richard seem sensitive with a desire to impress this Lady. Victoria instantly realizes that he has groomed himself for her. It adds spice and subtlety to the rest of the scene as they verbally begin a kind of foreplay cloaked in their conversations about art. The scene went beautifully--kudos to the cast and crew for pulling it off. When I saw Rebecca on her way to wardrobe she smiled and said, “I guess we made lemonade.”
“Sweet lemonade.” I added. “Well the director is from Alabama so she’d know how to do it.” She replied and was gone.
I found Whit sneaking a smoke in the back yard waiting his turn for wardrobe. “I thought you were going to get your ass kicked when you walked in.” I said.
“Dude. Last night when Sandy started cutting I nearly shit myself. I didn’t sleep at all.” He replied. “The scene looks great, man.” I said. “This is only the third day and you guys have a whole vibe going. How do you do that?” Whit took a long drag and thought for minute. “I don’t usually give up my secrets…but…I observe a quality in my acting partner that seems the most familiar and work with that.” He said cryptically.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “There is a sliver of Rebecca’s personality that reminds me of someone I was involved with a while ago. The rest of it I make up and fill in.”
“Wow, must’ve been an intense relationship whoever she was.” I added.
“Yeah. It was.” He agreed.
Later I watch Whit and Rebecca practice their waltz for the next scene. It is tender and sensual. Previously Richard had been humiliated in public by his low station in life. An indignant Victoria admonishes the group of snobs as Richard excuses himself and vanishes into the night. She wants to go and tend to him but is held back by her husband and propriety. When Richard arrives days later to sketch her he is all business but she makes it known non-verbally that she wishes him to woo her. She says she was disappointed that he did not stay long enough to dance. Hence he waltzes with her in private and that begins their veiled courtship.
Most Merchant Ivory productions are adaptations of Henry James novels or writers of that period. They are brilliantly adapted by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala who has won at least one academy award (if not more) for her work. I’ve read a few of James’ novels and being a child of the 20th century find them to be enjoyable and brilliant yet slow with an incredible attention to detail so much so that it seems to take away from the flow of the story. That is more a judgment on me than on Mr. James. The same could be said of Edith Wharton. And books cannot be compared to screenplays as they are a different species entirely. However, there is a marked difference between something like The Golden Bowl (the movie) and this film. First they had a budget. But the other difference is the sheer sensuality that is translated onto film with this project. All the English etiquette pomp and circumstance that is so faithfully observed in the Merchant Ivory productions over shadow whatever sensuality there is in the actual story (with perhaps the exception being The Remains of The Day). James writes about marriage and adultery and very intense emotional situations and is a fascinating chronicler of the time. And it is also well known that the Victorians were outwardly repressed in their emotional and sexual natures. Human nature on the other hand seeks an outlet. That unencumbered and honest depiction in this project reveals the private side of Victorian life and human sensuality at the end of the nineteenth century.
I am summoned back to my homestead in Williamsburg to relieve the nurse on duty (my wife) and tuck my son in before he goes to sleep. As Scarlet says, “Tomorrow is another day…”