Chapter 3
three
Isard was feeling bad: bad with the scene, bad with what had just happened in the caravan of… the guy hadn’t actually told him his name… his martial arts teacher. Who was Catalan, not Chinese, and he’d F’d that one with a capital “F”. Two strikes, or was it three?
He needed to concentrate. Valentí, the director, with his softly spoken intensity, was telling him something, and he needed to listen.
“There are eye movements we take for granted, but we pick up the signals subconsciously. Look up right when you’re thinking of something, getting an idea, inventing; left for memories, remembering. So, what’s happening here?”
Isard tried to organize his thoughts, shunt the cute Asian out of the picture:
“Yeah, so I’m wondering, if this guy turns up, will he blow my cover… will I die at midday?”
“Good, good, and you’re also scheming. You know stuff that no one else does at this point… even the audience, so you’ve that up your sleeve. But the martial arts, you’ve never used it for a violent end. And you don’t want to… ever. So?”
“So, yeah, that’s where my conflict, the subtext is. I get it. I must avoid violence.”
“OK, let’s try that sequence again then.”
And Valentí gave a quick nod to the First AD, who began to bellow:
“Tots a primera posició, llestos! Everyone into first position, ready!”
And the small army that was the film crew scurried to do the First AD’s bidding.
From then on, Isard was concentrated, fully focused on his craft.
There was a moment of magic, when the First AD yelled Silenci!
and a hundred people all ceased what they were doing and froze.
Every conversation stilled, every generator was cut off, not a single caravan door slammed or a footstep was heard, and all hundred people focused on that one single moment when the camera closed in on Isard’s eyelids to film that subtle double take.
A sequence of four or five seconds, when the movement of Isard’s eyes controlled the entire film crew.
That was what he loved about film: everyone, from the lowliest generator maintenance crew right up to the director, were all part of the same family, all united in a single cause, all creating a project together.
And you needed everyone, no missing links.
Everyone was important and needed to do their job.
Otherwise it didn’t work. The film wouldn’t get made.
“Tots a primera… Silenci… Motor… Acció!”
Isard was thoroughly immersed in the moment, living and breathing his part, going through the processes for those four or five seconds.
“I talla!” Cut.
“It’s a wrap!” the First AD called.
Valentí leaned in close to him smiling, and murmured in his low, almost whispering voice: “Thanks, Isard, that was beautiful.”
He nodded. “Sure, thanks.”
Then Valentí was gone, deep in discussion with his First AD, and Isard’s larger-than-life agent was suddenly there before him, smiling. She was dressed in a loud purple ski suit and huge round sunglasses, her electric halo of frizzy red hair framing her freckled face.
“Dolors!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to see you here!”
“You couldn’t have kept me away,” she said. “I have four actors working on this production. So I wanted to check in with you all, make sure you’re taking your vitamins and drinking your milk.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I also love film sets, love the energy!” She leaned in close. “This is an important one, Isard. I can tell. I can feel the vibe. This is going to be a big film and it could make your career. I know Valentí’s work. He’s a genius. Just listen to him, trust him, and do exactly what he says.”
Isard nodded. “Yeah, I am. I have huge respect for him. I’m a massive fan of all his films.”
“Good boy. I knew you were the perfect actor for this role when I put you up for it. Not just for your acting talent, but for your attitude.” Dolors looked around the set, smiling, but also checking that no one was standing within earshot before she went on.
“But here’s the thing: I might have oversold your martial arts skills slightly when I put you up for the part. ”
“Dolors, I don’t have any martial arts skills.
I told you that before the audition. I thought the agreement was that I would learn as I went along…
on set.” He didn’t like the way her piercing green eyes, just visible through her shades, searched him after that, or how the silence began to stretch.
“Ah, I’ve met my martial arts teacher,” he offered, hoping to wipe the serious look off her face.
“You’ve met Alex? Good, I was going to introduce you.
” She broke out into a smile. “And you guys get on? Excellent! That’s going to be so important for this shoot.
You two really need to stick together and devote every free minute of your time when you’re not filming to getting your martial arts skills up to par.
I’ve told Alex that he’s got to follow you like a shadow. Can you do that for me, Isard?”
Dolors really did feel like his mother at times.
“Did you honestly tell Valentí I know martial arts?”
“Not in so many words, but he seems to have got the idea that you’re a black belt in something.”
“A black belt?”
“Relax, you’ve got four weeks. Your fight sequences aren’t till the end of the shoot. I made sure of that.”
“Dolors!”
“I’ve got to go, darling. Actors to see and all that. Just make sure you put the time in with Alex. Otherwise it could be… tricky for all of us.”
And then she was gone, billowing off like a voluminous purple and orange cloud. Four weeks to become a black belt? And that prickly character whom he’d insulted, and all over whose caravan he’d spilled tea, was the guy who was meant to help him with that? Thanks, Dolors.