For Those Who Dream Monsters (7 page)

“Pierre!”
cried the village elder, drawing the creature’s attention back to himself. It
growled and once more prepared to leap, but Pierre shouted as loud as he could
over the rumble of the tank, “Here, over here!”

The
creature turned back to Pierre and sprinted towards the tank.

“Run!”
shouted Pierre. “Everybody run!”

The
villagers scattered in all directions, running as fast as they could away from
the village square. As the creature ran towards him, Pierre shouted at the top
of his voice, “Your mother sucks cocks in hell!” Then he fired.

There
was an ear-splitting noise, a bright flash pierced the darkness, and then blood
and guts, fur and brain tissue, bone fragments and mucus showered all over the
village square as the creature exploded into a million tiny pieces.

The months passed and the villagers tilled their land with sticks and stones,
and ate the grain and dried food and tinned goods donated by the kind people of
Europe and America. They did not look forward to the next convoy of Western
aid, but they were ready for it.

In
the lazy sunshine, a little man happily hummed Mike Oldfield’s
Tubular Bells
as he polished a large gleaming silver tank.

There
was talk that the village elder might allow a travelling cinema to come to the
village.

“I want her!” shouted Eli, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer –
especially not from the squat, balding little runt who was the producer of this
picture.

“She’s
a psychopath,” Mark explained patiently, with the tone of one speaking to a
spoilt child prone to temper tantrums. “She beat the crap out of one of the
other actresses at the audition. You know she did.”

“I
don’t care!” Eli was used to getting his own way. He was an award-winning
director and, even though Hollywood was temporarily boycotting him after he
caused an A-list actress to storm off the set of
Pretty Woman 2
in
tears, he still pulled in a large audience, and Mark knew he was lucky to have
him. This was Mark’s first production. He’d made his money in IT, when that was
still possible, but he’d always loved movies – and horror movies in particular
– and his dream of being a film producer was finally coming true. But first he
had to deal with Eli’s latest whim.

“Eli,
I bow to your superior experience,” he said in his best calm, steady voice,
“but even I know that your female lead needs to be able to act.”

“You
don’t know shit!” Eli raved theatrically, his performance as usual over the top
and such that Mark couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not. “She
doesn’t need to act – she’s a natural! What better actress to play a psychopath
than one with innate psychopathic tendencies?”

“She
has no acting experience to speak of.”

“She
has life experience… She’s perfect!” Eli was like a force of nature, and Mark
didn’t stand a chance.

Two weeks later and Eli’s rehearsals with the actors were in full swing.

“Where’s
Sylvia?” asked Mark, throwing down his jacket and perching on a hard-backed
chair in the small auditorium that had been hired for Eli and the actors to get
together and read through key scenes in the script.

“Ah,
the producer drops by!” boomed Eli in an amicable manner that immediately
aroused Mark’s suspicions. “Ten minutes’ break, everyone!” Eli told the actors
and stood up.

“Don’t
stop on my account,” protested Mark, but it was too late.

“Nonsense!”
Eli strode over to the young producer and went to put an arm around his
shoulders. “Come and say hi to the talent!”

“Eli,
where’s Sylvia?” Mark stood his ground and Eli lowered his arm.

“Not
here, dear boy.” Was that a hint of sheepishness under Eli’s bombastic tones?
Mark thought that it was.

“Yes,
I can see that she’s not here. But where is she?”

“Who
knows? Who cares?” Eli tried to herd Mark over to the actors, who were helping
themselves to the refreshments thoughtfully provided by a production assistant,
and eyeing the producer and director with growing interest. “She’s probably off
somewhere being Sylvia… How have you been, old boy?”

“
I
care, Eli. If I’m not wrong, you’re meant to be rehearsing the car park scene
today, and, if so, then I’d like to know why Sylvia isn’t here.” Mark wasn’t
going to let this go, and Eli didn’t want a scene in front of the actors. The
situation called for some quick thinking.

“Look,”
he whispered conspiratorially, pulling the producer to one side. “I’m trying
out this new technique with Sylvia. Rather than over-rehearsing her to death,
I’ve decided to play to her major strength – her spontaneity. She’s at home,
learning her lines, and when she finally meets the other actors on set it will
be a shock for all of them – a positive, constructive shock. She’ll act
spontaneously, naturally, eliciting a more spontaneous and natural response
from the others.”

“No
rehearsals for Sylvia?”

“None
whatsoever!” Eli cried triumphantly, but Mark was unimpressed.

“Let
me get this straight: not only have you cast an inexperienced actress as one of
the leads, you are not rehearsing her until we get on set?”

“You’re
smarter than you look,” quipped Eli. Mark ignored him.

“Eli,
this isn’t
Shadow of the Vampire
. You’re not F. W. Murnau. And Sylvia
isn’t Max Schreck who needs to be kept off set to stop him eating the other
cast members before the camera rolls. This is real life. We have investors
whose money we’re spending, and whose money I have promised to make back for
them, with profit.”

“Ah!
Investors, money, profit, and a very amusing and apt film reference,” Eli took
a firm hold of Mark’s arm and steered him towards the waiting thespians.
“You’ll make a fine film producer, mark my words … Mark! … but you must learn
one thing – faith. Have a little faith… Now come and say hi to Tania, she’s
been asking lots of questions about you. If you play your cards right…”

“Put the boom down, Wendy!” Bob the boom operator was entertaining the runners
with his Jack Nicholson impersonation.

“Who’s
Wendy?” asked Nicki. It was the pretty seventeen-year-old’s first film shoot
and she was grateful that the other crew members were making her feel welcome
and helping her learn the ropes. The lighting guys were setting up the lights
for the next scene, under the watchful eye of Graham – the Director of
Photography, while the sound guys and the two runners hung out by the table
with the tea, coffee and chocolate bars.

“She’s
Jack’s wife in
The Shining
,” Marty the sound recordist explained
helpfully. “Put the bat down, Wendy! … Remember?” Nicki shook her head. “I’m
not going to hurt you; I’m just going to bash your brains in…?”

“I
haven’t seen it,” admitted Nicki, then added, “What’s a boom?” A moment later
she jumped as something large and furry touched her ear – it was Bob’s long
microphone pole, the mike at the end of it holstered in a fluffy grey cover,
designed to reduce wind-noise during outdoor filming.

“
That’s
a boom,” laughed Bob, tickling Nicki with the microphone cover, then poking her
in the leg with it and barking like a dog.

“Nicki,
can you see if Sylvia’s here yet.” Andrea – the First Assistant Director – had
heard Bob’s Jack Nicholson impersonation a dozen times already and all of the sound
guys’ jokes at least as often. How predictable they were – sniffing like dogs
around every pretty new runner or production assistant who wandered on set. And
Nicki’s long, peroxide-blonde hair and skinny girlish figure were distracting
all the male technicians and rendering them even more stupid than usual. How
was Andrea supposed to run a tight set under these conditions?

“Oh,
okay.” Nicki hadn’t heard the First Assistant Director come up behind her, and
Andrea took her surprised expression to be the result of being asked to
actually do some work.

“Today,
please, Nicki.” Andrea turned to go.

“Where
should I look for her?” Nicki called after Andrea.

“Start
with Wardrobe, then check Make-up and Catering.”

“Oh,
okay.” Nicki set off to look for Sylvia and the guys watched her go. Andrea
huffed silently to herself and stomped off next door to make sure the Lighting
Department weren’t slacking.

After
twenty minutes of running around the film unit, Nicki was forced to admit
defeat to Andrea, and Andrea was forced to tell the director that his lead
actress had failed to turn up for their first shooting day.

“Why
didn’t you send a car to pick her up?” demanded Eli.

“She
insisted that she’d get here herself.”

“Well,
why don’t you phone her and find out where she is?”

“We’ve
already tried, Eli. She’s not picking up at home and her mobile’s off.”

“Blasted
woman,” Eli was quick to anger and quick to come up with a solution. “Okay,
we’ll do the reverse shots with Clive. Then, if Sylvia still isn’t here, we’ll
shoot some cutaways. Tell Graham that we’re shooting tight first, towards the
far wall with the large cabinet. Tell him he has five minutes to move the
lights; that way it’ll take him ten. And tell one of the runners to keep trying
to get hold of Sylvia.”

“Yes,
Eli.”

Ten
minutes later, the lighting guys had finished re-setting the lights, and a
disgruntled Graham was sitting next to Eli in front of the video monitor that
showed what the camera was seeing. Graham checked for flares of light,
double-shadows and any other lighting imperfections. Eli watched as Clive –
Sylvia’s acting partner in this scene – did a quick walk-through with Jamie the
runner, who was standing in for the missing actress. The camera operator kept
the camera focused on Clive, while Bob and Marty worked out how close they
could get the microphone to the actor without the boom getting into shot.
Behind Graham and Eli hovered the make-up girl, watching for any untoward shine
on Clive’s nose caused by reflected light from the bright film lamps.

Happy
with Clive’s performance, Eli decided not to waste any time.

“Ready
everyone?” he asked. Nods all round. “Call it, please, Andrea.”

“Quiet
please everyone, we’re going for a take!” Silence fell and the air buzzed with
anticipation. Andrea glanced at Eli and got the almost imperceptible tilt of
his head she was after. She took a deep breath, looked at the sound recordist,
then added, “Roll sound!”

Marty
hit record. “Rolling,” he declared.

Andrea
turned to the camera operator. “Roll camera!”

The
operator got the old 35 mm camera running. “Speed.” The concentration on set
was almost tangible.

“And
action
!” Eli’s authoritative voice cut through the tension, his sharp
blue eyes flitting between Clive’s image on the monitor and the actor himself.
Then…

“Hello
everyone!” Sylvia burst into the room; a flustered, red-faced Nicki hot on her
heals. Clive, who’d been about to deliver his first line, almost fell over as
he turned to face the door. Everyone else followed his gaze.

“Cut!”
yelled Eli. “What the
hell
is
this
?” The director looked like he
was about to explode as Sylvia marched onto centre stage.

“I’m
sorry! I tried to stop her!” Nicki burst into tears as the First Assistant
Director strode towards her angrily.

“Sylvia!
What the hell are you doing?” shouted Eli.

“Sorry
I’m late, Eli,” responded Sylvia, not sounding sorry at all.

“You
never,
never
burst onto set when we’re rolling!”

“Yeah,
whatever,” Sylvia smoothed down her frizzy hair in a nonchalant gesture, while
Eli turned to Andrea, who was telling Nicki off in a corner of the room.

“This
is meant to be a secure set. Who was on crowd control?”

“Nicki.”

“I’m
sorry,” sobbed the runner, mascara running down her face. “I tried to stop her,
but, but…” Eli had already turned his attention back to Sylvia as Nicki added
quietly, “she bit me.”

“And
you
never
turn up on set late!”

“Alright,
keep your hair on, mate!” the tall and imposing Sylvia glared at Eli defiantly.
The silence was total, as all eyes turned to the director, awaiting the
inevitable eruption of rage that would bury them all. You could have heard the
proverbial pin drop as Eli and Sylvia faced each other across the room for
three very long seconds. The two of them would not have looked out of place on
the set of a Western. But as usual Eli surprised everyone.

“Yes,
well,” he said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. “Let’s
all
keep our hair
on, shall we? Now Sylvia, be a dear and get yourself off to Hair and Make-up,
will you? Quick as you can. Nicki will show you where to go.”

“Yes,
Eli.” And Sylvia went, baring her teeth at the snivelling Nicki on her way out.

“Ready
to go again?” asked Eli, a demure smile on his face. His eyes dared anyone to
so much as exhale loudly.

“So what happened?” Mark had popped in during the brief tea break to check on
his investment.

“What
do you mean, what happened?” asked Eli defensively.

“I
hear you’re having trouble with Sylvia.”

“Oh,
you hear, do you?” Mark couldn’t tell whether Eli’s indignation was real or
fake. “You hear through your little spy network? Didn’t take them long to
infiltrate my set! So who was the little bird who flew to Daddy and told tales
on big bad Eli?”

“Calm
down, Eli. I just heard that Sylvia was late and burst in on your first shot.”

“My,
what precise little spies you have, my dear Mark! … So she was late. So it
won’t happen again. Alright?”

“Have
you shot anything with her yet?”

“Haven’t
you got some accounts to do or something?”

“I’m
just asking what you’ve shot so far.”

“We
did Clive’s singles and the cutaways. We’re shooting with Sylvia next.”

“Thank
you, Eli.”

“You’re
welcome, Mark. Now if you’re through interrogating me, I have a film to shoot.”

“Any
problems, let me know. I’m here to help you, you know.”

“A
helpful producer, that’ll be a first… Andrea! Can we get everyone together
please?”