Chapter 8
The next morning I arrive on-set full of determination to do a better job, with an unexpected lightness to my step – as if my interaction with Sienna and telling Spencer to throw away those postcards have strengthened my determination to persevere.
To make something of this opportunity. Unfortunately, though, within the first ten minutes on-set, I find out that the sound system is still causing issues and that the schedule for this morning has changed from filming to stunt training.
A ripple of disappointment runs through me – that I won’t have a chance to prove myself just yet.
But I can’t dwell on it for too long. This is just as important and I’ve been genuinely excited for this part of the process too.
I’ll have a stunt double, but not for the fight scenes where my face will be visible – some sparring with Avi’s character, as he helps me with my physical combat skills, and one actual fight with Roman’s character, which given our previous meeting will be interesting to film.
These scenes will be shot in slow motion and then sped up in post-production.
The stunt coordinator’s name is Lucy. She’s a friendly and impressive woman who is a full foot taller than me and looks like she could definitely handle herself in a fight.
I’m in the middle of talking to her about her career – how she got here, coming up through being a professional boxer – when Avi arrives. My throat instantly dries up.
I worry he’s going to try to talk about what happened yesterday.
But he doesn’t. Just greets Lucy warmly, by name – in the short time I’ve observed him on-set, he seems to have a propensity for learning and remembering everyone’s names – and flashes me an inscrutable smile.
She runs us through a few of the moves, then steps back to allow us to rehearse them.
At full speed, first, then slowing them down once we have the moves right.
Avi and I make it through the first few sequences without speaking. Left jab, right hook. Avi blocking with alternate hands. Stepping backwards as we go. Lucy slows us down and speeds us up as necessary. And I start to feel… comfortable, almost. Like he could be any other actor.
‘Wow,’ Avi says, as I throw a kick and he dodges it. ‘You’re good at this. How come I never knew you could throw a punch?’
Spoke too soon, I think. I take a breath, because, after the fiasco yesterday I’m determined to keep our relationship as professional as possible. Not to lose my cool again. To just focus on doing a good job.
‘I used to do karate,’ I reply, throwing another punch to try to avoid engaging further in conversation.
He dodges and then says, ‘Interesting,’ as if he’s waiting for me to say more. But this isn’t a topic I’m willing to elaborate on. So I ignore it, throwing a left hook instead. We get back into a rhythm and are silent for a few moments.
‘So… I was wondering if maybe you wanted to run some lines later?’ he asks, blocking another jab.
Oh, I think. And my first instinct is to say no, obviously – because the last thing I want to do is spend time with Avi one-on-one. But I’m on-set now. Committed to the role. And this definitely falls under ‘Things I Should Do To Make Sure I Don’t Fuck Up This Job’.
‘I think it would be helpful,’ he says. ‘You know, after what happened yesterday…’
And I can’t help it – this sends some frustration surging up. I can’t blame him for yesterday; it’s not his fault I forgot my line. But I don’t need him to tell me I fucked up – I already know.
Keep your cool, I think, as I spin him and pin his arm behind his back. But apparently I’m not keeping my cool, because I pull his arm so he’s actually pinned. Our bodies pressed against each other. I can hear his breath, heaving.
‘That’s great, Lara,’ the stunt coordinator says – and at the sound of her voice I come to my senses. ‘Now release him.’
I let go of his arm and take a step back, my heart hammering.
He brushes himself off. ‘Look, I’m sure yesterday wasn’t the start to filming you wanted.
And it’s fine, because it’s your first time on a set.
But I know you, Lara. I know you want better than that.
And I know Alessandro too. He’s a patient man, but if you push him too far this isn’t going to be the experience you want it to be. ’
We reset ourselves at our marks.
‘Why do you care about my experience?’ I ask, some of my confusion bursting out of me.
Because on one level, I understand. We have a shared goal: to make this film a success.
I have to accept that. But what he said at the audition and here on-set is so at odds with the way he’s acted over the last few years – like he doesn’t care about me at all – that I can’t get my head around it.
The stunt coordinator gives the signal and I lunge forwards a little quicker than intended; I catch him by surprise, twisting his arm behind his back and kicking his legs out, throwing him to the mat.
We crash down onto it and I land on top of him.
‘I don’t think you want to hear it,’ he says.
‘Try me,’ I reply. Our faces are inches apart, our bodies flush against each other.
‘Because I care about you, Lara,’ he says, his voice full of emotion.
His expression shifts, a little frustration underlying it.
Frustration I share – because he’s right.
I didn’t want to hear that. He doesn’t get to just tell me that now, after ignoring me for three years.
‘If you want to believe that I’m an arsehole and I hate you, then fine.
But I want this film to be a success, for both our sakes. And I know that you do too.’
The stunt coordinator calls over and tells us we’re done for the day. We get up, an awkward tangle of limbs that makes me blush as he reluctantly reaches out his hand and pulls me to my feet, avoiding eye contact.
But as he does, there’s a pull in my stomach.
Like there’s a hook there, attached to him.
And an image flashes through my mind: of Alessandro’s face, yesterday.
So disappointed in me. I might not like this, but I promised myself my personal relationship with Avi wouldn’t get in the way of my work and here I am, letting it.
The postcards are gone, Lara, I think to myself. You’ve committed to a fresh start.
‘Avi,’ I say, my heart clenching. ‘Wait.’
‘What?’ he says, seeming a little irritated. I fight a bristle of anger at his tone, taking a breath.
Because I have to do a good job. Want to. And whether or not Avi cares about me is beside the point. The point is Amelia, and what’s best for her. I exhale slowly. ‘I think running lines is a good idea. Can I come to your trailer this afternoon?’
And some of the frustration melts from his expression, his face brightening into a smile that makes me almost want to look away.
‘Straight after filming?’ he asks. I nod. ‘Looking forward to it,’ he says. ‘I promise you won’t regret it.’
I hope not, I think, as I watch him walk away.
David informs me when I arrive back on-set that the sound issue is fixed, meaning we’re safe to film again.
And so I’m put through hair and make-up.
Sarah, the same woman who did my make-up yesterday, asks how my first day went and I avoid the question by saying instead how relieved I am that the sound issue has been resolved.
Then I thank her for the calming pastilles she always has on hand – one of which I take before reaching set.
My stomach knots when I think about what I’ve just agreed to with Avi, because a) I don’t want to believe that I need his help and b) I feel strangely vulnerable about spending time alone with him in his trailer.
But I also know that I can’t afford to let anything get in the way of doing a good job.
Especially after Sienna came and found us after our stunt training, her presence reminding me of what might happen if I screw this all up.
They invited me to have lunch with them, but I elected to eat alone in my trailer instead.
I arrive on-set to find Avi already waiting on his mark.
Alessandro greets me briefly and I do my best not to overanalyse his tone and read too much disappointment into it; at the very least, he seems frustrated by the delays and keen to get moving and start getting some useable footage filmed.
But I know he’d be a little less anxious had I not completely screwed up my first take.
Come on, Lara, I think as I approach my mark. This is your chance.
After we’ve prepped and blocked everything, Alessandro goes back to his place and calls ‘Action!’, and Avi and I start the scene. The same scene we were doing yesterday – directly back into the fire. Into the spot where I messed up.
At first, it’s going well, I think. I remember my lines, hit my marks. I feel calm, collected. In control of myself and the scene. Avi is electric – right in the moment. His talent shining through so brightly that for a second I forget I was ever annoyed with him.
This feels good.
‘Cut!’ Alessandro calls. I falter, slightly concerned – because we haven’t yet finished the scene. Alessandro approaches us slowly, his expression carefully measured.
‘Avi,’ he says. ‘You were excellent. No notes.’
I hold my breath.
Oh, shit, I think. So the problem is me.
‘Now Lara,’ he says, grasping my hands. My heart thuds. ‘Carina mia. Amelia mia. How can I say this? You look a little… constipated. Do you think you could look less constipated?’
Oh. My. God.
This might be up there with the worst feedback I’ve ever received, second only to an acting teacher who told me a boulder would have more charisma on stage than me. My face flushes under my make-up and I avoid Avi’s gaze.
‘Uh, sure, Alessandro,’ I say.
And so I set my shoulders, breathing into the scene. Embodying Amelia. Trying to forget that there are cameras on me and a thousand people watching me.
The next take is – somehow – even worse.
And so we try again.
And again.