Remains to Be Scene (8 page)

During Dana’s diatribe, director Berg decided he’d had enough for one day. It was ten forty-five and he gave the assistant director the sign to clear the set for the night. He sent his weary cast and crew home with a reminder that the morning call time was six o’clock.

Dana stormed off the set and disappeared into the night. Missie was last seen heading toward her trailer. Jack threatened to telephone his agent to report how intolerable the working environment had become. A dejected Trixie, after being publicly humiliated, scuttled to her trailer—and died.

“That was then. This is now,” Dana sighed smugly, sitting in her make-up chair and remembering that night when she proved that she wielded enough star power to close down the production. She now tried to concentrate on her lines and fought misgivings about making Sedra’s role larger. She read the pages aloud while under a hair dryer. “I’m still the school slut,” she smiled with satisfaction as she read the scene and turned the page. “Everybody loves a tramp, and I’m really no different than any other teen who needs to satisfy her raging hormones.
Insert song
.” She realized that she’d read the stage direction and then crossed out the two words with her red pen.

Suddenly, even from under the hood of the noisy hair dryer, Dana could hear Missie Miller scream from the trailer next door. “No way! My part’s been chopped all to hell!” The voice of Missie was clear. “Someone’s gonna die! Dana!” she screamed. “I swear I’m gonna kill you and Sedra, too!

Just then, the ring tone of Dana’s cell phone played the first bars of the television theme music to “Tales from the Crypt.” Dana looked at her phone and found Missie’s name and number on the caller ID. She smiled and let the call go to voice mail. Looking at the makeup artist, Dana said, “Wait’ll she finds out that the writer has made her character pregnant…with twins!”

“T
ake twenty-seven.” The voice of the bleary-eyed assistant director was as somnambulant as a caller in a Bingo parlor. The morning, which had begun with a varnish of euphoria and camaraderie over the cast and crew, had evaporated into an afternoon of Armageddon, starting at the top with the stars, and quickly funneling all the way down the food chain to the craft service workers. Now it was dusk, and although director Berg and his principal players had been working the entire day, they had yet to commit one scene from the
Detention Rules!
script to film.

With stand-ins doing all but speaking the lines of dialogue, the pivotal scene in the movie had been blocked and reblocked, and the lighting was set and reset, per the whims of Sedra telling Dana what she—not director Berg—thought was best. Now, the cameras were ready to roll again, but when the cast was called from their respective trailers to report to the set only Missie Miller and Jack Wesley showed up. Sedra sent word via production assistants that she and Dana were unhappy with the director of photography’s camera angles, as well as the costume designer’s wardrobe. Most especially, they were disgusted with the ludicrous dialogue they were required to recite. “This guy’s writing for Lynn Redgrave, not for a teen like Dana, for Christ sake!” Sedra told the PA. Therefore, in solidarity, until changes were made, she and Dana would be too ill to work.

Adam Berg, known for being a safe harbor in a storm, finally snapped. He called his producer, who called Dana and Sedra’s agent, J. J. Norton, who telephoned Sedra Stone in her trailer and screamed, “Get your finally working ass onto that set. Has been!”

Within minutes the older star and the younger star were back together in the school’s gymnasium. Dana, however, was just as petulant as she had been before J. J.’s call. Out-for-blood, she angrily attacked the director with a mother-lode of venom. She insisted that the screenwriter be summoned to fix the script again.

“We don’t have time,” Adam Berg began to calmly debate the issue. “You’ll follow my direction and stand on your marks. Then you’ll speak the lines as written. Or else…”

With an imperious look Dana stepped forward. Her body language dared him to continue.

“Or else I’ll be forced to bring you up on SAG charges,” Berg accepted her challenge.

Dana looked at Sedra, who gave her a quick nod as if to prompt her to rehearsed action. Furious that she had been publicly upbraided in the condescending tone in which Berg was dismissing her, Dana dug in her heels. Standing before the entire cast and crew she took aim. “Okay, Mr. Big Shot first-time feature film director,” she sneered. “Right now, in front of all these people, tell me who is your star?”

A deafening silence fell on the set, but Berg did not flinch. “Well?” Dana provoked him further, trying to bully Berg into a fight. “Whose name is above the title of this film?”

Missie stepped forward. “Excuse me,” she interrupted, “but my name is next to yours. Stop wasting Mr. Berg’s and everybody else’s precious time.”

Dana ignored her costar and continued her diatribe against the director. “Who can’t you do without at this late stage in the production?” Dana folded her arms across her chest. “Does the crew have to reset the lights again? Damn right they do. Do you have to reblock the scene to show off my best side? Without question. Does the costume witch have to find something more suitable for Sedra Stone to wear? Until you answer
yes
to all of the above, Sedra says we’ll be in our trailers.” And then she linked arms with Sedra and turned to leave the set.

The usually unflappable Adam Berg was now nearly apoplectic. He stood in dumbfounded anger and watched the two actresses retreat. Then he mimicked Dana loudly enough for her and everybody else to clearly hear. “‘Sedra says, ‘go fetch.’ Sedra says, ‘roll over and play
dead
.’ Sedra says…”

Dana and Sedra both stopped at the door and turned around. “Is that some sort of threat?” Dana asked, feigning amusement.

“A prophecy,” Adam smiled evilly.

“Kiss my prophetic butt,” Dana said, mocking Adam’s baneful smile. Then she pushed open the door and began to leave. When Sedra did not move Dana whined, “Let’s go!”

“Um, you run along, dear,” Sedra encouraged. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

In a huff, Dana was gone.

Berg shook his head. “It was bad enough with the great and powerful Dana Pointer trying to run my set by herself,” he said to the rest of the cast and crew. “Now she’s got a master manipulator teaching her how to fine tune her diva skills.” He cocked his head toward Sedra.

“She has a lot to learn,” Sedra said apologetically. “Now, if you’ll simply consider a few changes to the script here and there….” She stopped herself. “No, you’re in charge, and I’m simply a little cog in your big creative wheel. I certainly didn’t mean to overstep my bounds. I apologize.” Sedra hung her head in shame. “While you’re resetting the lights, I’ll be in my trailer,” Sedra said before exiting the building.

The delays in filming had been mounting even before Trixie’s death; however, director Berg was biting his nails and trying to figure out a way to replace the aging star Sedra Stone. But he was boxed in. How, he asked himself, could he replace Sedra this late in the production? Polly Pepper immediately came to mind. She had made it clear, however, that she was otherwise engaged. Even if he managed to get rid of Sedra through a buy-out of her contract, Dana still had casting approval. It was a no-win situation. Adam Berg was defeated. He had no choice but to make the changes demanded by his teen star and her nefarious mentor.

Missie sidled up to Adam and casually patted him on the back. “You could always have them electrocuted,” she whispered and smiled at Adam and his assistant. Missie pointed to the floor. “Gee. With all these cables and wires and voltage boxes, there’s a tragic accident waiting to happen. I’m kidding, of course.” Under her breath she added, “Sort of.”

“Trust me. I’ve considered that—and a dozen other possible scenarios,” Berg smiled conspiratorially. He sighed. “Those two no talent bitches aren’t worth facing LAPD homicide charges for and ending my career. Of course when the film is ready for release we’ll all do the press junket publicity stuff and tell ‘Access Hollywood’ how much we loved working with each other.”

“I know the drill,” Missie laughed. “We’ll smile and say that Dana’s a generous and talented actor. And that Sedra’s nothing like her reptilian reputation. She’s a saint and we can’t wait to work with her again.”

Adam and Missie shared a snicker. “That’s the business of show,” Berg said.

“And people buy all the lies we sell,” Missie agreed. “Dana and Sedra will get what they deserve,” she said. “It’s karma. And you’ll have the pleasure of watching their careers die.”

Director Berg faced his young star. “You’re the only human being on this production,” he said. “As a special prize, you should be dating Jack Wesley. He’s really a nice kid. And he’s going to be the next Matt Damon.”

Missie blushed. “He’s definitely nice looking,” she said.

“He’s got a killer bod!” Judith pointed out, trying to ease Missie away from her meal ticket.

Missie looked at Judith. “But I’m not his type. He’s with…. Never mind. Plus I think Sedra has her delusional sights on him. When I was coming to the set I saw him leaving her trailer and buttoning his shirt.”

“Good grief,” Berg sighed. “Next thing you know, she’ll be teaching him how to castrate a director.”

Just then, the assistant director called out, “Stand-ins! On set, please!” Activity on the set went into overdrive as the technicians began to reset the lighting and reblock the scene with the stand-ins substituting for the actors. “I’d better help out,” Judith said, and left to join the crew.

Berg returned his attention to Missie. “This’ll take at least an hour to set up. How about a drink in my trailer?”

Missie deftly deflected his advances. “I’m afraid of your cute girlfriend,” she chuckled. “She looks as though she could beat up Sedra—and would actually like to.” Missie caught herself. “Oh, but in a totally feminine kind of self-defense way, naturally.”

Berg laughed. “She’s a bigger man than I am. Take a rain check?”

Never far from the set, Sedra Stone’s stand-in Lauren Gaul appeared prepared to start all over again working with the director of photography and camera crew to reset the scene. Lauren, who was also an actress—when she could find work—had a lengthy resume of motion picture credits as a stand-in. A woman of fifty-five, she had worked with such legends as Jessica Tandy, Katharine Hepburn, Judi Dench, and, most recently, Trixie Wilder. Now she was Sedra Stone’s stand-in, although the star had never acknowledged her presence.
Typical diva
, Lauren thought and shrugged her shoulders in resignation. On motion picture sets, as in any profession, there is a hierarchy of queen bees and drones. Stand-ins are among the worker bees. They’re just above background extras, but they are below the acting talent. And there is an unspoken law that they never associate with the stars for whom they are standing in, unless the star speaks first. Still, Lauren felt that she was just as good, if not better, than Sedra Stone, with whom she had a past association.

Although Lauren was usually employed on feature films, she had also worked on television programs. In fact, although Sedra would never remember—and Lauren couldn’t bring it up—early in her career she had been a stand-in on “Monarchy.” However, her assignment on that show was short lived. While filming the pilot episode, one of the production assistants informed her that her services were no longer required. “Miss Stone said to beat it.”

“But why?” Lauren had pleaded, as tears welled in her eyes.

Although the production assistant was as tough as frozen Styrofoam, she felt a moment of pity. She shook her head and said, “Listen, honey, an insecure star like Sedra Stone doesn’t want a stand-in who’s younger and prettier than she is. Them there are the breaks. Sorry.”

Those were the exact words. Lauren had never forgotten them and never forgiven Sedra’s vanity and cruelty. She had been unceremoniously dismissed from a job she desperately needed, and was depressed and out of work for three months afterward.

It had been Lauren’s fate to work in the industry not as a player, but ostensibly as a piece of equipment. Serving as a facsimile of the star on the set, a stand-in saves the actor and the production a lot of time by simply standing still as the DOP set the lights for the scene.

In addition to being cooperative and taking direction well, Lauren had to be the same height and have the same hair color as the actor for whom she was assigned. On some jobs, if the star was particularly lazy, Lauren actually got to film the long shot scenes, or stand-in for overhead shots, or shots from behind. The fun part of her job was when she was asked to run the star’s lines with the other actors until the cameras were actually rolling and the real star was ready to emerge from the chrysalis of her trailer dressing room to shoot the scene.

Although she had once been an ambitious young actress herself, Lauren had eventually accepted the fact that her bread and butter came from merely being nothing more than a member of the crew. She did all of the off-camera work with the other actors, but as soon as the star was ready to face the lens, Lauren stepped back into the nothingness and anonymity of being behind-the-scenes. Yes, the work was steady, and she could earn more than a thousand dollars a week for her services, but a part of her was still bitter and resentful that she wasn’t a working actor. It sucked. But it paid the rent.

Lauren spent the next hour along with the other stand-ins being moved from one spot on the set to another. She stood patiently still while the DOP checked his light meter, and another assistant placed colored tape next to her feet on the floor to mark the spot where Sedra Stone would eventually stand. All the while she was thinking;
After all these years, I’m still a stand-in. And I’m a better actor than Sedra Stone could ever hope to be
.

When the new camera blocking was done, Lauren left the set and continued her off-time habit of exploring whatever location she was on. In this case, the school campus. As a new state-of-the-art institution, Gary High School had an Olympic-size swimming pool and Lauren discovered it boasted a ten-meter diving platform. Although the water had been drained, she strolled around the perimeter of the pit and inhaled the scent of chlorine.

By the time the screenwriter reluctantly altered several lines of his script, as Dana had commanded, and the cinematographer reset the lighting, and the new blocking had been worked out, and the caterers had fed the cast and crew, it was nearly nine o’clock at night. Director Adam Berg summoned his principals, and sarcastically asked if they were finally satisfied with the dialogue changes, the costumes, the lighting, and the overtime penalty pay that the technicians would be receiving as a result of having to work fifteen hours straight. In a gentle voice he said, “Let’s try this once again, shall we?” Then he sat in the director’s chair and let the assistant director call, “Take twenty-eight. Action.”

Three minutes later, Berg’s quiet and mocking voice said, “That was lovely. Thank you. We’ll print it.” Continuing to speak as though to a class room of children, Berg said, “How good of you all to spend twelve hours rehearsing that one-hundred-thirty second scene, and committing to film the extraordinary new dialogue of Mr. Ben Tyler.