13. Now The Director Part 2

"Reprising my role?" I ask. If I sound incredulous it's because I am. I can't go back, even if I wanted to. "I understand stunt casting and all that, but I'm a little old to play a teenager even if I still imagine myself as one."

Marlee crosses her arms and says, "Oh, no offense, you're a lot old to be playing a teenager."

"Obviously, but now I'm confused. Well, I'm always confused, but I'm extra-super confused."

Marlee finishes her water. Her cup clinks against the glass tabletop, and the well-tuned engine of a luxury car buzzes by the house, up the mountain, toward even more expensive homes. All the details are important, especially the ones we miss. She says, "We have a young actor cast as the Thin Kid for, roughly, the first half of the film. You would take over as the masked Thin Kid at a certain point in the movie, after his transformation has begun."

"What certain point?"

She says, "I haven't fully decided. I wouldn't ask you to go through either the cigarette or finger-cutting scenes again." Marlee pauses and openly watches for my reaction.

I nod. I don't know what I'm nodding at, and I cover my right hand, the one with the missing half pinky.

"Likely with the mannequin-training scene," she continues. "By that time, your hand will be wrapped in gauze and your body will be partially covered in burns and scales. Your more mature physique would add a nice practical effect we couldn't otherwise replicate."

"‘More mature physique.' That's a nice way of saying my older man's body brings extra body horror."

She asks, "Is that a problem? You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

The latter statement is not true. She knows it too. We're already reading lines, playing out a scene. My audition. The idea of wearing the mask for real again is terrifying and intoxicating. I try not to let on that I want this, need this, have dreamed of this, because she's testing me. If I'm too eager, too desperate, she'll change her mind. I say, "Showing off the dad bod is not a problem as long as I'm wearing the mask."

It's Marlee's turn to nod. I can't tell if my answer was expected or disappointing or both. She says, "There's a version of this movie where I use young, age-appropriate actors and I also use actors who were semi-famous teen actors in the '90s for all the roles. I shoot two versions of the film with both sets of actors. Then in editing, I intercut them, switch them around, scene by scene, maybe shot by shot. To show us who we were and who we are at the same time. Maybe by the end of the film, we'll have killed nostalgia dead."

"I like it," I say. "But you didn't pitch that version, did you?"

"Oh, hell no." She laughs. "But the studio went nuts over my other idea."

"The idea of using me."

"Yeah. That's exactly the correct way of putting it."

This blast of honesty is both refreshing and off-putting. "I'm eager and willing to be used." I say it with a smile, like a joke. Like I'm the joke.

"Good. I think?" Her smile flashes, then fades. "You will not play the Thin Kid through to the very end of the film. The teen actor playing the Thin Kid, Jacob—he's quite talented, and I'm looking forward to you two meeting—he'll return to the role for the final kill scene. Having you participate in that scene wouldn't be... appropriate."

"I agree," I say. It doesn't sound like the sincerest "I agree" that has ever been uttered. I'm a better silent actor.

She narrows her eyes and can tell I'm not committed to my verbal agreement. She says, "I'm all for exploitation, but only up to a point. And I don't mean to joke, because I'm taking this movie and everything around it seriously."

"I appreciate that. And I'll do or not do whatever you need me to, um, do. Sorry, that's a lot of do."

"It is a lot. And thank you." She exhales and rests her hands on her lap, smiles again, which normally is Hollywood for We're done talking now, but she asks, "Do you have any questions for me? I have tons more for you, but they can wait."

My typical, defensive response to the I-have-more-questions-but-they-can-wait tactic is to answer preemptively and obliquely the anticipated questions about what happened on the set and later at the trial. An I-know-that-you-know bit that is more than a little paranoid on my part, but hey, I gotta be me. But here on my new director's back patio, I resist my typecasting. I say, "As an associate producer, may I ask what the budget will be?"

"You didn't hear it from me, but between twenty and twenty-five million."

"Holy shit." If I'd had a mouthful of water, I would've done a spit take.

"Holy shit is right."

"Fucking Hollywood. Don't get me wrong, spend the money, and pay me, please." I pause to laugh, the kind that doesn't go beyond my seat. "That seems excessive, considering how little we needed to make the movie, or almost make the movie, the first time. Unless the plan is for a shit ton of digital effects. Which would make me sad."

"I plan to spend it on sets, locations, actors—present company included, of course—and practical effects. We'll shoot on film. And I want to keep the digital effects to the absolute minimum."

I don't know what to say. Being paid and paid well wasn't necessarily part of my plan.

Marlee continues when I don't say anything. "This kind of budget will allow us to do everything the way Valentina and Cleo intended. Including filming the big scene in Karson's house as written in the screenplay and not what you ended up shooting."

I say, "Valentina never said so, but I could tell she wasn't happy with the throat-slash compromise. She'd hoped to use lighting and prosthetics, and even showed me the storyboards, which she normally didn't do. Once I saw the boards, I knew there was no way they'd be able to replicate what Cleo had written, at least not without it looking utterly silly."

"Can I admit that I'm afraid what the effects team and I came up with still might look silly? But I want to try. That scene is one of the many reasons I want to make the movie. If you don't mind me saying so, how the filmed scene currently ends is anticlimactic. The buildup is so unbearably intense and scary and unhinged. If you watch it under the right conditions, it breaks time. But after all that, the onscreen kill is a letdown." For a moment, she's a wide-eyed, enthusiastic, filterless, unselfconscious fan of horror films, and then her formidable intellect catches up with her "onscreen kill is a letdown" phrase and she is horrified at the words and at herself, and her hands move to cover her mouth but they're too late.

I jump in before she can apologize or dilute what she'd said. "Spoken like a true gore hound. You sound like one of the superfans that accost me at conventions." I smile to let her know I'm making fun of somebody, or something, but not her.

She waves a dismissive and relieved hand in my direction and says, "I'm not, generally. And when I first saw that scene on YouTube it was brilliant, and I loved it. I was obsessed with it and watched it repeatedly, but later when I read the screenplay and saw what the scene could be, I wanted that end to the scene. I still rewatch it, but only up until the throat slash. Even the timing of the slash feels off."

"It does. It's subtle. The editing isn't obviously off continuity-wise, but it's like there are one or two missing frames, somehow."

"Yes, exactly."

"I think Valentina put it together that way purposefully."

"Did she tell you that?"

I say no, which isn't exactly a lie because I can't remember if she did or not. So, it's the truth with a few missing frames. I continue, "But everything she did was purposeful. Including her choosing to upload that scene to YouTube. If she was truly disappointed in that scene, she wouldn't have released it."

"Maybe. I didn't know her like you did, obviously, but filmmaking is sometimes about proudly showing off your almosts and your failures. I'm guessing she knew that after people viewed that scene and the others, they'd debate the merits and meaning."

I say, adding to her riff, "Putting the idea of the movie, her movie, out into the world, planting it in people's heads, letting it grow into a life of its own, calling it back fully into being."

She says, "Looks like it worked."

"We're not there yet. But it feels like we're getting close."

Marlee shakes her head and says, "All right, I need to ask about the party scene, how you all filmed that. It seems impossible without a crane."