Photographic (46 page)

The night of the opening of Odysseus was hyped by the marketing department as a definitive event in the history of film; not just for the NC-17, or for the scandal, but for the juxtaposition of filmmaker, actors, and media. The marketing department, who had at first distanced themselves from the notoriety of what looked to be the sinking ship of Odysseus, the bastard child of the studio, had in the eleventh hour come to see it as the challenge of their careers and gotten creative. They were trying their best to spin to their advantage what the studio heads had most decried: the first major studio motion picture with an NC-17 rating meant for the general public’s consumption. 

Tor’s vision held sway and the audience would see his film. The night would be a reunion for the three most talked-about participants in the most anticipated, controversial scene in film history in fifteen years. Vaughn, Tor, and Ian, not to mention their ambivalent partners, would all walk the red carpet and watch the premiere with an audience. 

From the moment they came in sight of the theater, Jane and Ian could feel the electricity of the crowd, vibrating all the way to the car as they waited to alight. Ian was quiet. Jane saw him slide his normally cool hands down his trousers repeatedly. She sat very still so as not to brush any sequins off her dress: a dark red, fitted Chinese silk, dragon rampant in gold thread embroidered in a figure-encompassing spiral, tiny sequins sprinkled down the bodice and skirt in snakelike trails. It was sewn beautifully, but it made her careful. 

Exiting the limo to a bloom of noise and flashes, they walked forward: a blur of red and light and hands reaching, pulling Ian back, pushing him on. Voices shouted: 

“This way!” 

“Over here!” 

“Ian! Ian!” 

“One more!”

Even: 

“Jane! Jane, this way!”

Another car pulled up. Jane turned to look. A pair of elegant legs emerged, then the rest of a rather short, regal black woman in violet, someone Jane didn’t recognize. Then Vaughn: legs and blonde hair, luminescent smile. All hell broke loose. Jane found herself pushed to the back as the photographers battled each other for pictures of Vaughn, meanwhile bellowing at her to get next to Ian. This was Vaughn’s first appearance stateside. Ian’s smooth public persona betrayed a momentary fluster as she approached; Jane saw him smile and greet her with quick kisses on each cheek, which generated explosions of white fury, day for night, capturing the historic reunion moment. Just when you thought they couldn’t take pictures any faster, Jane thought.

Not even this archetypal moment could keep the pack from sniffing out the other stories playing out right in front of them. After the salacious enjoyment of the shots of Vaughn and Ian together—who needed some degree of encouragement to pose with their arms around each other—the more highly-evolved wolves scented out the even juicier story lingering against the ropes, in the shadows. Salossa, as Jane had correctly identified her, was there with Vaughn, and here was Jane, the wronged wife. The American press hadn’t sussed out Vaughn’s ambiguous sexuality before, but they were willing to make up for lost time. Somehow the circle closed around them and Salossa and Jane were pushed forward, to be photographed as well. Jane stepped forward, in keeping with her resolution not to hide, and stood there knowing the photographs of Ian, Vaughn, Salossa, and herself would be smeared around the world. 

Amid the yelling of the fans behind the velvet ropes and the shouts of the photographers, certain questions rose above the cacophony. 

“Are there any hard feelings, Jane?”

“Are you and Vaughn friends now?”

“Are you staying together?”

“Why’d you take him back?”

It was amazing what they dared ask, right here, in front of the world, the cameras filming it for television, in front of thousands of people, in front of her husband and Vaughn and Salossa. Questions asked from sheer vulgar curiosity. 

It made a good story, she had to admit. That was the thing about humans: all curious about their fellow beings, wanting to know the why and wherefore, interested in the life of the famous actor as if he were the next door neighbor, wanting to know, involved in his day-to-day life, his pain, his love. Maybe vulgar curiosity wasn’t the right phrase, if what it meant deep down was a connection, no matter how distanced the life: he is me. 

She couldn’t imagine shouting out a response to questions too complicated and difficult to answer in such loud and public a setting. What she could do was show them what she felt through her demeanor. She nodded at them, smiled, and as the little crowd turned to go into the theater, took her husband’s hand as he reached for her, and waved goodbye.

The film was beautiful. Jane couldn’t help be swept up in the story of it, the pageantry, her husband and Tor’s artistry. She had to give them credit. They took a myth, one of the first best tales carried from the ancient world into the modern one, baring the wisdom of human nature distilled by the wisest of the human race, almost three thousand years before. Watching Ian as Odysseus, knowing him as she did, it was easy to see how he had channeled his aloneness, their isolation from each other, into his performance. The pain on his face when he looked over the ship’s rail, thinking of his family, brought tears she was glad were hidden by the darkness. 

The time had come. Odysseus is rescued by Calypso, saved and loved and commanded by her. As he spends his years as the prisoner and guest of her island, Jane felt her anticipation and dread rise. Should she watch? If she left, would anyone notice? She didn’t need Marta to answer that question for her. Ian took her hand.

It was very like her dream. Smoke and candlelight, golden bodies sliding across fur. Music at the beginning that faded into silence. The sound of their breathing, the click of Calypso’s jewelry. Faraway glamour dissolving as the camera moves closer, peers into their faces.

Shots like cinema vérité: jump cuts, characters sliding in and out of the shot, in and out of focus. A collage. Expressionist, careening between the uncomfortable feel of Calypso imposing her will upon the ambivalent Odysseus and their sadness and affection. The finite but desperate desire in a last encounter.

Then it was over. There hadn’t been one moment of climax or obvious penetration. In that way the scene had created a tone, a mood, instead of the usual arc of a sexual act on film. The graphic nature of it was in the lack of artifice in the way they coupled, not from some explicit portrayal of what they did. It was unromantic, leaving the viewer undeceived by the shadows and gold. In this light they were revealed, no flattery of angle or filter, yet with a searing emotion, coiled resentment, fear of loss on Calypso’s side, which made the scene wrenching instead of erotic. 

She remembered a line from the book, the translation of The Odyssey she had brought with her to London. As Odysseus tells his story, he describes those who have tried to keep him from his journey home from war. “They never won the heart inside me, never…So nothing is as sweet as a man’s own country….” And Calypso, for the real Ian, could stand in for any of the lustrous gifts always before him, luring him away from what he chose for himself. The taunts, the mirage of other victories, which would only prove their hollowness when it was too late to come back home. 

THE END

F
OR
THE
R
EADER

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SEA CHANGE

Awesome Indies Approved

“A deeply profound story about human emotions, Sea Change is a hard book to put down.”

In the summer before college, Connor Lascaux has two things on his mind: finding his mother, who has traveled overseas and not returned, and the beautiful girl, Reven, he meets while looking for her. 

BOOK OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

How far would you go to bring your spouse back from the brink? 

Former professional athlete Terrence thinks his wife's blues have gone on long enough. If pro sports taught him anything, it's how to shake it off. Octavia was an Olympian once. Now she's a mess. Time for an intervention, Terrence-style.

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T
O
MY
parents, for their support and love. 

The Robert Fagles translation of
The Odyssey
, a gorgeous, accessible, and lyrical English version from the ancient Greek, proved an invaluable resource as I studied the story behind this one. 

Thank you to many of the friends who have helped along the way: Mimi Boelter, Mary Beth Cox, Nancy Eskridge, Letitia Trent, Jaclyn Perlmutter, Christine Pang, Michelle Vitale, Diana Baranowski, and Lena Loomis. You have all given something important during the long incubation of this novel. It wouldn’t be the same book without you. 

Thank you to teachers and professors Nancy Bjork, Mike Kristan, Robert Johnson, Frank Brownlow, and B.H. Fairchild. 

Most especially thanks to William, for your insights and encouragement, and our son, my loves.

A
BOUT
THE
A
UTHOR

K.D. Lovgren graduated with degrees in English and German from Mount Holyoke College. Her travels across Europe inspired many of the locations in her novels.

PHOTOGRAPHIC: A NOVEL
explores the perils of marriage to a movie star in the tabloid age. In
SEA CHANGE
, a young man searches for answers to his mother's disappearance.
BOOK OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS
, a novella, is a modern Gothic tale of suspense. Upcoming THE COMPLETE ASSASSIN features a philosophical killer.

Note to Apple users: the preceding links to Amazon may not work for you because of current Apple restrictions. Please use
www.kdlovgren.com
to access the book list.

B
IBLIOGRAPHY

H
OMER
. T
HE
Odyssey. Translated by Robert Fagles. Introduction and notes by Bernard Knox. New York: Penguin Books, 1996.

C
OPYRIGHT
© 2015 by K.D. Lovgren

Cover design by
Jeroen ten Berge

Published by Grey Kestrel Press

Second edition: September 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.