Read by David Mildon
LIGHTS - CAMERA - AND…
“I’m sorry, am I really expected to jump that?”
CUT!
“I mean, I don’t want to be awkward but the gap between these buildings is really rather large.”
The Director gets out of his chair and glares at me angrily from the top of the opposite building. Although he doesn’t need it to be heard, he yells back at me using his megaphone.
Cinematically I can’t argue with this. It will make a rather impressive scene. But the more I look at it, the more it seems obvious to me that there is no way I can jump the required distance.
“I was just wondering…” I begin, trying to sound as constructive as I possibly can, “whether you might get someone else to dress up to look just like me and maybe he could do the jump?”
The Director seems to mutter something to himself that I can't hear from my rooftop. Then he puts the megaphone back to his mouth, “See buddy – that doesn’t work. Audiences can spot that it is someone else. Besides, we want the cinemagoers to really see fear in the actor’s face. And you’re giving us great fear.”
I nod respectfully to accept the praise as everyone begins to get ready again. Near me the piano man hired to create the right mood music on the shoot begins playing an appropriately foreboding refrain.
LIGHTS
CAMERA
AND –
“Do you think we could do without the music?”
CUT!
“I’m honestly not trying to be awkward, but can’t we leave all that to the good musicians in all the theatres? These ominous sounds of impending peril, well they’re not really helping me to get ready for the leap.”
I can’t quite make out the eyes of the Director but I'm pretty sure they are rolling skyward.
“Sure, sure – we’ll go without the music.”
“Thanks awfully.” I smile.
Everything cranks up again.
LIGHTS
CAMERA
AND...
ACTION!
At this I begin running to the edge of the building. My limbs surging with energy, as if ready for a triumphant leap of supreme athleticism.
And then I notice a coin lying on the rooftop.
“Hey everybody, look, a nickel!” I stop to pick it up and hold it so all the crew could see. “This belong to anyone by any chance?”
CUT!
“You stupid limey pansy-ass wimp!” the Director fumes. He hasn’t bothered with the megaphone this time, but curiously I hear him better than ever.
“Well, there’s no need for that.” I reply, “if I had lost a nickel I would be jolly grateful if someone had the decency to point out they’d found it.”
The Director turns to a couple of members of his technical crew. I watch them conferring in a small huddle. I begin hoping that they are agreeing a last minute script rewrite that would see the fair maiden rescued by an act of more reasonable bravery. I try to casually put one hand in my trouser pocket to hide the fact I have my fingers crossed.
“Hey Charley, what's the hold-up?” The leading lady appears on the opposite rooftop, cigarette dangling from her mouth and a retinue of make-up artists ensuring her looks remain immaculate, “I got a big ate this evening with a wealthy widower and I ain’t gonna be late.”
“It’s the limey”, the Director growls, “Coward won’t jump.”
This is seemingly important enough news for her to take the fag from her lips. “What!” her face halves in size as it scrunches up in angry frustration. “Hey, Little Lord Fauntleroy!”
“Hallo,” I respond awkwardly.
“Just shoot the damn scene.”
I begin trying to draw to her attention the fact that the distance between the rooftop I am standing on, and the rooftop that she and most of the crew are occupying is not a distance that a man could reasonably be expected to jump without at least several months of preparation.
“Blah! Blah! Blah!” She rudely speaks over me me halfway through my explanation. “I ain’t interested. Let’s just shoot this and get on to the next scene.”
Ah yes, the next scene. I am anxious to get to that too. That’s the scene where I have rescued her and so get to embrace her in my arms and plant a loving kiss on her lips. I am very much looking forward to that. Personality aside, she is quite the finest woman I have ever met.
But there is still this jump.
“Excuse me,” a little man with glasses appears beside me on my rooftop. “I am from the Contracts division of Monumental Pictures. I feel it is my obligation to remind you that when you first applied to work with the aforementioned illustrious and benevolent film company you did tell us that you had…”
He pauses and takes a sheet of paper from his pocket. Peering through his glasses he reads it slowly. “Lengthy experience in England of theatrical stunt work, including spells with Her Majesty’s Trapeze Regiment, the Kensington Rodeo and the Finchley Canyon Jumpers.” His eyes looked back up at me.
Oh my hat! I mean everyone embellishes their applications somewhat with a few fictional occupations. It hardly seems fair to expect them to live up to the letter with everything on there.
This bespectacled character continues yabbering on, and I find myself hating this baboon more with every word he utters. “Therefore, should you refuse to shoot a scene that falls within the parameters of that which could reasonably be expected from a person with experience of stunt work, you will immediately be found to be in breach of contract with the blessed Monumental Pic…”
“Yes, yes!” I snap, having heard enough. “I’ll do the dashed jump.”
“I am glad we have arrived at a mutually beneficial understanding of the situation” he oozes, before slinking back to whatever grimy little office he’d come from.
I close my eyes and focus. Maybe this is one of those moments when a man is suddenly taken with thoughts of his own fragile mortality. That a man must takes risks in life, for is a life truly worth living if one lives it without risk? Is it not when one stares death in the face that one truly learns what it is to be alive? These ideas that had always seemed a bucketload of fatuous old tat to me previously, now seem incredibly wise. Now would be a good time to consider why that might...
“Will you just JUMP already?!” the leading lady screams impatiently.
Maybe now isn’t the time. If this is my moment of laughing in the face of death then I’d best get it over with so I cAN relax with a G&T later.
So I start running, powerful strides across the rooftop. Nothing can stop me now as I gaze at the opposite rooftop, my goal so clearly in reach.
Any
Second
Now –
“WAIT WAIT WAIT!!” the Director yells, and I screech to a halt at the very edge of the rooftop. “We’re not filming! You need to do it when the cameras are running!”
I steady myself, so close to the edge now I can look down. I can see quite how far it is to fall. I spy the camera crew on the ground, hoping to catch an all-encompassing shot of mythe hero’s heroic feat. They look tiny. Not quite as small as ants, but definitely the size of weasels.
I feel my legs begin to wobble. The ground far below seems as if it had been pretty much designed to be as tough as possible. Just for anyone foolish enough to go squishing into it.
I hear the Director again “Ok buddy – we’re ready now. Cameras are all set to go. Just do what you were about to.”
“I, er…” I struggle to find the words to explain why I wasn’t going to risk anything going wrong.
I spot the Director whispering something to the leading lady. Her expression seems to change. She tosses her cigarette-end at a passing lackey and walks towards her rooftop edge.
“You know,” she smiles. “I really think you were gonna do it that time.” Her voice seems to have shifted several rungs up the social ladder since last she spoke. Suddenly I find myself respecting her opinion more. “You really are an amazingly well built actor. Probably the best I have ever worked with.”
I acknowledge her words with a flirty, successful grin and a charming “thank you”. I bow courteously, nearly sending myself over the edge in the process.
“All the girls in the studio are already talking about you,” she purrs. “If they learn you were the first actor to make the big jump, well they’ll do more than talking. If you know what I mean.” She winks coyly.
I feel my legs wobble slightly again, and quickly step back from the edge. “I know exactly what you mean,” I wink back, not entirely sure what she's talking about. But it does sound exciting.
She spies my wink, smiles and blows me a kiss.
I feign catching her kiss and then perform an amusing little slapstick routine of mine based around nearly dropping the kiss, having it tumbling through my fingers before I finally grab it and with a happy sigh hold it dearly up to my heart. Then, romantically, I blow her a kiss back.
Which she misses entirely due to lighting herself another gasper.
“Ready whenever you are!” the Director is shouting again
“Righto!” I shout back, getting to my starting point.
LIGHTS
I limber up, shaking out my limbs in preparation. I felt re-energised now, like a perky gazelle.
CAMERA
I mentally prepare myself. This is it. My jump into stardom. After this feat ... after this film, I’ll no longer be just a contract player. This will make me a household name. Years from now all lovers of cinema will mention in awe the great Batholomew F. Carmichael and my long and admired career in cinema.
ACTION!
And with that – I leap into the future.
(c) Alan Graham, 2015
Alan Graham studied "Creative Writing" and "Economics" at UEA and is still unsure which discipline relies on make-believe the most. He currently lives and works in London.
David Mildon (left) is an actor and playwright and was a founding member of Liars' League. His stories “Worms’ Feast” and “Red” were performed here and appeared in Arachne Press anthologies London Lies and Weird Lies. Recently, his play The Flood was produced at the Hope Theatre Islington and his short plays Second Skin and Either/Or were performed at Theatre 503.
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