Did Someone Say Muuurder?

I show up in Prospect Park near the boathouse to help the Londinium crew with their first scene of the day. It is gorgeous out and not too hot, although that could change as the day wears on. Thom informs me that the scene is between Richard and another actress playing an actress in the film as they have a clandestine meeting in a tunnel. ‘Lisa’ is playing Ophelia in the Royal Court’s production of Hamlet and has slipped away during rehearsals to meet with him. When he produces a coin her rehearsals slip by the wayside. The last thing we see are Richard and Lisa walking away together sealing a deal that may be of the flesh. In a previous scene (see All of Brooklyn’s a Stage entry), Catherine (Judy) performs Queen Gertrude’s monologue from Hamlet. The dots begin to connect. Catherine knows this young woman Lisa, played wonderfully and with great sensitivity by Cooper Harris. That thought and the sexual game-playing begs the question: Is Catherine involved in this rendezvous? Is she also involved in the outcome? As the camera tilts upward a man watches the pair from his perch on the bridge. The whole thing is creepy. Parks (or woods) and murder seem to have struck a deal in a hotter than normal place in hell. That’s why it seems the brambles and brush seem to belch up more corpses than other locales. Whit is dressed in his top hat and frock coat looking dashing. As he channels Richard he oozes with charisma and I can see why these women will over rule their better judgment to go along with him. It’s the Ted Bundy effect. I am instructed to stand on the other side of the lake with a walkie-talkie and convey instructions from the AD who is just of camera in the woods. I can see Whit and Cooper chatting for a moment and then the Director steps in and gives a few notes. We wait a moment until she can get around the lake and take her place in front of the video tap. ACTION! She says. ACTION! I say into the walkie. ACTION I hear Thom’s voice echo through the woods on the side of the lake. Lisa, stunned, dirty and unkempt wanders a bit aimlessly towards the water. She has been attacked and apparently suffered some kind of trauma. She hums a child’s nursery rhyme and then plants herself at the water’s edge. Still humming, she dips her hands in the water and the dots really connect in this thick skull ‘o mine. Lisa and Ophelia are the same---contemplating suicidal thoughts from different traumatic events. And so I am stunned when we move to the next set-up and Cooper goes into SFX make-up and wardrobe. She makes a lovely corpse with a huge slash across her neck from ear to ear. She is wearing a medieval robe and Jules is placing different types of flowers in her stiffening hands. Flowers that Gertrude makes reference to in her Shakespearian monologue. The jib arm is assembled, Cooper is laid out in the grass and Jules straightens her robe before taking a post-mortem image of her with his motion picture camera. Murder? Did someone say Murder? Who Dunnit!? Was it Richard? Was it Jules? Or was it the voyeuristic man on the bridge?

That question remains unanswered through most of the movie.

We pack up quickly and caravan back to the Brooklyn brownstone where another scene between Richard and a prostitute takes place. I hang out as Whit changes costume.

“So isn’t Judy in this scene?” I ask.

“No man.” He says distracted.

“It says here in the sides that she’s behind that screen watching.” I continue.

“Dude we already shot that. Don’t you remember?” He replies.

“That’s a bummer.” I mumble.

“She was shot out yesterday.” Whit adds as he starts tying his shoelaces.

“WHAT? And no one told me?” I bellow. The indignity of not being notified! “But I didn’t get to say goodbye.” I whimper foolishly.

“You’ll see her at the screening.” Whit says as he picks up his script and looks it over with a seering intensity. Elisa Gierasch shows up to wardrobe. She will be playing Gert, the prostitute that Richard rustles up at the behest of Catherine and her voyeuristic game-playing. At that moment the Director taps me on the shoulder and says I have to clear set. Again, they are shooting a sensitive scene and she wants to close the set to all non-essential crew. Damn! I wish I could ‘Hollywood’ a light or hold a boom pole or wrangle cables or something. I look over the sides as I am relegated to the stoop with Ed.

“I think it’s time for a five minute power nap.” He says.

“It says plainly that Richard ‘fornicates’ with the prostitute while Catherine looks on.” I say to no one in particular. And then I watch as Ed stretches his six foot plus frame out on one of the steps and closes his eyes for a minute.

“Jees. Someone is gonna think you’re dead or passed out.” I warn.

“Not if you stay right where you are.” He replies. “If the landlord comes by tell him I had a diabetic sinking spell and I’m waiting for my insulin to kick in.”

“No way!” I exclaim. “I don’t want anyone calling an ambulance!”

“You’re a little high strung, aren’t ya, Sean.” He says. “If someone comes by I’ll jump up.” In thirty seconds flat Ed is snoring and I nervously read the New York Times on my blackberry. We look like a couple of swells on skid row. As we all know by now I am writing these blog entries well after the shoot. And since I am continuing to write even after the wrap of the film I have been given the opportunity to watch a few edited scenes as they come about. I got the chance to watch the edited scene of Richard and Gert and it is truly provocative. I have to give credit to the director who has created a seductive, sensual movie with no nudity. Some of the actors who have been given the opportunity of a sneak peek think that they have seen nudity but the reality is that there isn’t any. The power of the mind is amazing and a lot more visceral when you ‘think’ you’ve seen something that in turn creates a scintillating type of emotion. Elisa is stunning. She has ‘it’. ‘It’ is that quality that made Lauren Bacall a film classic. The smoky come hither look is innate. It cannot be learned. The scene might make some people uncomfortable but the director is fine with that. “I want people to feel something when they watch this story and if it happens to be uncomfortable then they’re paying attention.” She says.

We break for a meal and wait for Keith to arrive for the last scene of the day. In this scene Richard arrives to an interview with Charles Thornton. In a previous scene Charles asks Catherine if she can refer a starving artist to paint his wife’s portrait. She suggests Richard. Once again the dots start to connect this time on screen. Richard is led to a parlor by a servant to wait for Charles. He begins observing the pictures and mementos on the fireplace mantle. At the very end he is stunned to find an image of the kind woman who tended to him on that fateful snowy night in the street. It is Victoria. His face melts into hers as he remembers that night. It seems as though fate has stepped in and brought them together. Charles interrupts Richard’s daydream and the two men sum each other up. This is the first hint we have as to why Charles is in an arranged marriage. Charles decides to hire Richard at which point Richard suggests that it might speed things up if he is able to meet Mrs. Thornton. Mrs. Thornton, by the way, does not know Richard’s name and has no idea that she is about to be reunited with him in her very own home. And so the dots keep connecting until the whole picture blooms before our very eyes!

Les Liaisons Dangereuses

It is a Sunday morning and I am awakened by Church bells from the Polish Catholic Church down the street in my Williamsburg neighborhood.  Perhaps the bells are a reminder for me to be good, to keep my mind clean and to think pure thoughts.  I am now getting the emailed schedule for the Londinium shoot from Thom.  I’ve put in my hours  hauling C-stands, sandbags, stingers and light kits.  I’m free labor and because of that I’ve made the list.  I get up to check my email and the day’s scenes and am relieved to find that the set is closed until lunch due to a sensitive/intimate scene.  Only the director and DP are allowed.  I swan dive back into bed much to the chagrin of my wife who is rudely awakened by my gymnastics.  I am pummeled by the worn out and UNfluffy pillows by my wife with my son joining in the melee. Any hope of extra slumber is ruined so I get up and make some iced coffee and ‘organic cheerios’ garnished by a banana flavored fruit rollup.  Mmmm the magic of processed food.  I hold the rollup in my fist and wave it above my head a la Charlton Heston yelling, “It’s people---It’s made from people!”  my wife shakes her head sadly and ambles out of the room unimpressed. My son stares at me questioningly: ‘is it time to commit daddy, yet?’

When I arrive on the set Judy and Sandra DeLuca (who is playing Sophie Newhardt) are in their corsets and bloomers.  A scene shot the day before introduces the audience to Catherine and Richard’s voyeuristic natures.  They love to be challenged.  Sophie is Catherine’s sometime lover.  She is a pawn in the web of manipulation between Richard and Catherine.  She is a bon vivant with youth as her guide, everything is an adventure and to her credit she is not easily hurt or not aware that she should feel hurt by the machinations going on about her.  In a previous scene Richard fulfills his challenge and when Catherine feigns illness he threatens that she find a woman so that he can watch or else he will come looking for her.  I wonder if Richard is capable of harming Catherine and over the past two weeks my answer is yes and without the slightest bit if guilt.  On the earlier closed set Catherine fulfills her challenge and engages in a lesbian tryst with Sophie much to Richard’s hidden pleasure.  Peering from behind a screen we become voyeurs of the voyeurs.  It leaves one with a creepy feeling.  I shouldn’t be watching someone who is enjoying watching other people have sex. I feel kind of dirty.  Once the women reach their peaks Sophie passes out and Catherine eyes the peephole.  Richard can now collect his reward.  Wait a minute, not so fast, bub.  Catherine plays ever harder to get by claiming she’s all worn out from pleasuring Sophie.  It gets even darker, folks.  Richard, nonplussed, will collect his reward from the unconscious Sophie.  Now I feel really dirty.  Catherine throws down the gauntlet.  “Do as you please.”  Okay.  That’s not what that phrase means.  To a man’s ears it means, “If you do it, I’ll cut your balls off.  I’ll make your life so miserable you will wish you had been boiled in oil and your fingernails slowly pulled out by needle nosed pliers.”  The Menage a troi has been averted by the steely glare of a jealous and possessive nemesis.  The scene ends and we are left with the idea that Richard did collect his reward from Catherine and that she was only too happy to participate.  We break and the cast and crew get ready for the next scene. 

The colors are deep and saturated and it reminds me of the rich aesthetics of such French films as: Delicatessen and Amelie.  The camera is positioned and the actors emerge from Make-up.  Whit looks a bit more disheveled.  Stephanie added more growth to his five o’clock shadow. Catherine has that tossled look. In the next scene I watch in rapt attention.  Catherine has referred Richard to Charles as a portraitist to Paint Victoria’s likeness.  After watching Richard beam in Victoria’s presence and her in his at the infamous dinner party Catherine’s little green monster grows.  She notices a framed daguerreotype of Victoria in Richard’s studio.  Another competition begins.  “Good Luck getting into her knickers.”  Catherine says to which Richard replies, “Are you challenging me?”  This gives me pause.  It changes everything I know about this project and it calls to mind Les Liaisons Dangereuses.  It makes me wonder if what I am seeing really is happening.  Is Richard really falling for Victoria or is the entire story about winning.  Now I am challenged.  My mission from here on out is to comb through all I have seen and heard and wonder what is genuine about Richard and what is not.  One of my favorite programs before it got too ridiculous and eventually had guests on that I would not consider consummate actors was The Actor’s Studio on Bravo (before it was eaten by NBC). In the early days when the show was new the guests were people I would pay an arm and a leg to hear speak.  People like Robert Redford, Paul Newman, Eli Wallach, Meryl Streep, Glen Close, Rip Torn, Dennis Hopper, Al Pacino, Mike Nichols, etc. One night I tuned in specifically to hear what Meryl Streep had to say.  Her self-effacing demeanor is endearing and is most likely one of the main reasons she works so much and is held in such high esteem by her colleagues (besides the obvious reason).  Actors sometimes know what they are doing and sometimes don’t know what they’re doing.  When they don’t know what they’re doing is when the magic happens.  Something Ms. Streep said stuck with me.  She said that when she reads a script there is usually one word or phrase that is the key to the entire story and character.  A lot of times she does not know what the word or phrase is until she is on her feet and it strikes her.  Other times she can see it on the page and know that it is a story she wants to live and tell.  When one sees an actor have an epiphany we, the audience, become bon vivants.  It is like fine aged wine, expensive smooth champagne, truffle oil that tickles the taste buds and true dark chocolate from the Peruvian rain forest.  The epiphany engages our senses with the ‘real’ and that which brings pleasure, discovery, compassion and understanding.  There is a method to the madness.  The voyeurism of these characters is just one stripe to this tiger. The question is who will be eaten?  Or will they cannibalize themselves.  The obvious victim is Victoria but she is smarter than the average bear.  Keen and observant and aware of her cousin’s antics Victoria could quite possibly out maneuver them all and come out winning.  The greatest prize of all? True love.  I know that sounds trite and archaic but it is the engine that drives this genre.  I grab Whit before he makes his get away into make-up.  “Is he playing to win?” I ask.

Whit just smiles.  “Secret’s in the sauce.” He says enigmatically and walks away.  I help the crew break down.

“You think the director would let me do a walk-on, Thom?” Ed asks.

“I don’t know, can you walk?” Thom says.

“No one likes a smart aleck.” Ed says.  Silence.

“I’m craving jerk chicken.  Ya think we can stop at that little joint on fourth avenue?” Ed asks.

“This is why you should drive yourself or take the train.” Thom says.

“You don’t want jerk chicken?” Ed replies.

“I don’t NEED jerk chicken.  I’ve got stuff to do.” Thom adds.

“I just thought we could spend some quality time together, ya know?” Ed says.

“Okay. (exasperated sigh) we’ll get some jerk chicken.” Thom softens.

“Maybe you could give me some acting pointers.  In case the director uses me.” Ed says starting to giggle.

“Get away from me.” Thom says as he throws down the cords and stomps off to smoke.

“You walked right into that one.” Ed says laughing.  Thom flips him the bird as he disappears out onto the stoop.  And that wraps another day on the set.

All of Brooklyn's a Stage

I take a ride down Shore Road in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn on the way to a doctor’s appointment only to be told by the cab driver that the mansion we motor past was once the home of America’s silent star darling, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks.  Some might find it hard to believe that New York City (and New Jersey) were the homes of the first movie studios.  Edison’s Black Maria is being restored as we speak in West Orange, NJ.  In 1919 Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks were the three top stars of the silent era that formed the first Actor’s Film Studio a.k.a. United Artists along with the great film director, D. W. Griffith (Birth of a Nation).  However by that time the filmmakers and the people who financed them all caravanned to California since the weather permitted year round film production.  And film at that time needed a lot of light---a lot---like sunlight.  I call Thom from the doctor’s office and he says if I can get there in a half hour I’ll be able to see Judy Krause perform the Queen’s Monologue scene.  I hustle up to Fort Greene where the art department has once again transformed one of the rooms into a portion of a Victorian proscenium stage.  I know.  You don’t believe me.  But I have to tell you that these guys have used every square foot of their brownstone like a movie soundstage.  I ask Patrick what the dimensions are of the entire floor.  He tells me 850 square feet, give or take.  I know.  You don’t believe me.  I can hardly believe it myself if I hadn’t spent the past two weeks watching these crew people do it.  Once again they used ebay for the materials and some of the faux work.  They used progresso bread crumb packages to create the footlights, bought red damask fabric in bulk and sewed grand curtains.  I see Judy getting into costume.  She is in a lush red velvet medieval dress with long strings of pearls and beads.  I hear the director tell the make-up artist that her character, Catherine Burroughs is a grande dame of the Victorian stage so her make-up has to be period correct.  Judy mounts the stage looking like she walked off the set of Shakespeare in Love or Topsy-Turvy.  She is the perfect actress for this part.  The director gives Eddie Jo the high sign, yells “Places!” the fog machines gurgles and churns.  She’s almost obscured by the mist and just before it clears “ACTION!”.  She begins Queen Gertrude’s monologue from Hamlet.  The director has advised her to play as big as possible as if the space is a 500 seat theatre.  Again, to be period correct the acting style goes against all the modern techniques.  That’s how they did it.  If you don’t believe me watch Mike Leigh’s Topsy Turvy, a fantastic movie about Gilbert and Sullivan’s collaboration and their hit The Mikado.  The filmmakers do several takes and adjustments.  Judy is hustled into make-up where she is stripped bare to her translucent porcelain skin. They move a red velvet chair onto the stage, lower the lights so that Judy glows.  And she performs the same soliloquy as an interior monologue.  Subtle and rife with double meaning, I wonder as the words move effortlessly from her mouth if in recounting Ophelia’s death she is speaking of her own broken heart from her liaison with Richard.  It sets the tone for the rest of the film.  Editing between the two versions of the monologue presents the gulf between the face we present to the world and the private one we choose to hide away.   There are several takes and a dolly in.  I can’t take my eyes off her.  Her interpretation is brilliant.  We break for lunch.  She changes into a pair of shorts and a tank top.  We all converge in the kitchen where the Thom and Ed show is about to begin. 

“Thom.  Did you bring potato salad today?” Ed asks.

“No.  We had potato salad yesterday.” Thom replies.

“So?” Ed says.

“So it loses its appeal if you eat it all the time.  It’s called the law of diminishing returns.”  Thom says a bit impatient.

“Potato Salad never ‘diminishes’ for me.  I could eat it for days.”  Ed says.

Thom jams his hand in his pocket, pulls out a ten spot, throws it on the table like a gauntlet and says,  “Get yourself some friggin’ potato salad.  Path Mark is down the block.”

“It’s not a reflection on you, Thom.  That you forgot, I mean.” Ed says.

“I didn’t forget! I CHOSE not to buy it.” Thom retorts.

“How could you? since you know it’s my favorite?”  Ed says.

“I’m going to punch you in about two seconds.” Thom threatens.

“Guys---guys---I’ll take a walk to path mark for the potato salad.” Judy offers.

“You know, Thom, I think you have anger issues.  You should see a professional or something.” Ed adds. Thom does not reply.  He sits chewing vigorously.  Pregnant pause.

“Hey, did you remember to bring the Fresca?” Ed asks quietly.

“That’s it.” Thom says and he grabs his sandwich and smokes and stomps out to the stoop.  Show over.  Whit arrives in cut offs and flip flops Cold Play blasting on his iPod.

“Man it’s hot.  I’m sweatin’ like a cat in a roomful of rockin’ chairs.” He says.  Stephanie turns around and glares. “I’m a member of PETA and I find that offensive.”

“Hey I’m sorry.  It’s just an expression.” He says. “It’s not like a chair could kill a cat.” He mumbles.

“That’s not an apology.” She says and she turns on her heels and disappears.

“Stephanie?  Want some potato salad?” Judy says weakly.  I can tell it’s hot by everyone’s disposition.  I tell Pat maybe we should blast the air conditioners so everyone cools down.  Good idea.  I watch as the amazing crew has completely broken down the temporary stage, lights and paraphernalia and moves in the contents of Richard’s art studio/bedroom bed, bureau, easels, paintings, etc.

Next up is a post-coital scene between Richard and Catherine.  The director arranges them on the ‘porn bed’ as the crew calls it.  It is Richard’s flat in the East End of London.  Catherine asks him if he’s been in a fight as he has cuts on his face.  We’ve already been shown that a young woman has been murdered in the park.  He is mysterious with an air of danger.  Catherine is the type of woman who is aroused by the idea of being with someone dangerous.  The chemistry between Whit and Judy is palpable and sexy. 

“I like it when you frighten me.” She purrs.  Then he moves into position for another go.

In the next scene Richard is painting a small study of Catherine who models for him.  She gives him Charles’ card and tells Richard that Charles wants a portrait for his wife.  Richard has no idea who the wife is but takes the card and decides to take Catherine right there in the chair.  She pushes him away and says she wants to watch him with another first.  This is our introduction to their voyeuristic nature.  

I find a common thread between national fear and voyeurism.  Hitchcock was the master with classics like, Psycho, Rear Window & Vertigo.  Whenever a society grows fearful they bunch up like a school of fish or a herd of caribou.  Sexual repression is rampant and the free expression embraced in a time of plenty seems persecuted during scarcity.  The peaks and valleys of the studio system reflect that.  This is a time when authentic expression through independent films can make their mark.  Sex, Lies and Videotape and Blue Velvet for example. One made during the Reagan Administration and the other during the Daddy Bush era.

Peeping Tom, a 1960 film by director Michael Powell is about a focus puller at a film studio.  At night he kills women and puts the murders on film.  A neighbor downstairs discovers his stash of snuff films and terrified---her curiosity compels her to watch.  1960 may as well have been 1950.  The film ruined Michael Powell’s career and was pulled from theatres within a week as being filthy, nasty and only fit for the sewer.  It was not until Martin Scorsese saw it and found social validation in it. He breathed life back into it and into Powell’s career. It is an underground favorite.  This thread runs through Londinium.  Only imagine this: that the first motion picture camera was used for snuff films…the Ripper murders.