Price and Value

Marcus started asking for money when they were halfway through the main course. Madison could tell he had planned what to say, maybe even jotted down the words on a piece of paper before coming to the restaurant – “You know, this time it’ll be different. I have a much better understanding of the business side of it now,” he said. He had put down his fork and knife and looked up at them with an assuring smile that showcased the crinkles around his eyes. Madison leaned back into her chair and took a sip of white wine, then carefully moved the glass in her hand, watching the liquid’s colour change from transparent to golden as it met the light. Her husband Dan was still eating, carefully coating the pasta with cream sauce before lifting it to his mouth, but she could tell he was listening carefully to what Marcus was saying. “All Other Things wasn’t a success because the idea wasn’t ready for the big screen yet, you know? But not this time. I have a screenplay, I’ve called the actors, Jamie will do the camera work again, and I have already emailed a warehouse where we can shoot some of the scenes.” He was gesturing elaborately as he spoke, enthusiastically counting the hypothetical successes on his fingers.

Madison still remembered how impressed she had been when on their first meeting eight years ago, Marcus had told her that he was an independent film maker, fresh out of college with a degree in media studies, planning his first big project. It had been a 60-minute black and white piece about creative and sexual self-discovery in college, filmed from strange camera angles, the dialogue clumsy and sporadic. Since then, five more projects had followed, all of them accompanied by lengthy discussions at family gatherings. Frequently, conversations about Dan’s work, recent vacation destinations or Madison’s publications on ecosystem management in high-profile academic journals were cut short by speculations about funding and distribution opportunities for the soon to be finished project. All Other Things had been the latest one. It had played in the theatre in town for a week before being replaced by a popular action film sequel, and there had been a few reviews about the film online, one of them including the phrase “excessively stylized”. Others had remarked the “unconventional, shaky tone” and the “multidimensional exploration” of the topic. Since closing filmreviews.com that night, Madison had often found herself wondering why her brother-in-law so naively insisted on pursuing what only seemed like a childish dream.

Marcus was now providing Dan with a detailed summary of the plot, giving names of actors Madison had never heard of. She glanced at her husband, who had taken off his glasses to clean them with a tissue from his pocket, then put them back on and nodded a few times. “Money isn’t an issue,” he said patiently, and Madison stared at him in disbelief. From the corner of her eye, she could see a smile form on Marcus’ face, like he had always known he would have his older brother's support. Madison had once fallen in love with Dan’s gentleness, with the patience and tolerance that she could hold onto when she felt like time ran through her fingers like sand. But when it came to dealing with his brother, she sometimes fantasized about him making resolute and implacable remarks – no more film sponsoring, find a different dream – saying what they both knew to be true so that she wouldn’t have to carry around these pitiless thoughts by herself. But no, Money isn’t an issue. 

She felt a dull headache from behind her temple and emptied her wine glass with one gulp, then abruptly placed it on the table. Dan glanced at her, and she could tell from his nervous expression that he thought she was about to say something rash. When she spoke, her voice sounded louder than she intended, a faint ringing in her ear. “Oh yeah, money isn’t an issue, it’s a good thing at least your brother has a real job.” She had meant to say it lightly, with a witty edge that would show her appreciation of the entertainment industry while hiding her doubt about Marcus’ participation in it. But when the words echoed between them, she could tell that the joke would be impossible to take as one – because all of them knew she had been serious. 

Dan averted his gaze, pressed his lips together and ran his hand over his forehead, looking entirely displeased. Marcus stared at her, his brown eyes narrow and disapproving. “What is that supposed to mean, Madison?” he asked, his voice a quiet warning, and Madison was struck by how quickly his demeanour had changed. She breathed out audibly, giving Dan the chance to say something that would explain what she had meant, but he made no attempt of coming to her aid. Somehow, this irritated her even more. “I just mean that maybe you could, you know, consider finding a different job,” she said, and quickly glanced at Dan again, who remained silent. “These days it's easy to reorient yourself professionally –,“ she added, but Marcus interrupted her. “Oh, you mean, finding a real job?” He formed quotation marks with his fingers and scoffed. Madison felt herself turn red, like the wine had finally gotten to her head. “Well, at least real jobs pay money!” Marcus ran his hands over his face and muttered something that she couldn’t understand, and when she leaned forward, it felt like a dare, making him repeat what he had said. When he spoke again, it was loud enough for the other guests in the restaurant to hear. “Unlike you, money is not all I care about!”

Madison could hear the couple at the next table fall silent mid-conversation, and they watched shamelessly as Marcus pulled out his wallet, tossed a $20 bill on the table and reached for his jacket. “Call me when you’ve figured out your priorities,” he said, the disappointment like a mark on his face as he turned and left the restaurant. A few of the other guests looked up from their conversations and followed him with their eyes. Madison let out an exasperated sigh and looked down at her plate; her risotto had gone cold, the rice looked sticky and unappetizing now. She kept her eyes fixed on it nonetheless as she waited for Dan to speak, to tell her that she had been right, that while it hadn’t been the most elegant way of addressing the issue, at least it was out in the open now. She wanted to hear that he supported her, that he agreed with her sentiment. But Dan continued to stay silent. He only gestured at the approaching waitress for the bill, a young woman with blonde hair who looked like she was still in college. Dan apologetically smiled at her and paid in cash, handing her a crisp $10 bill as a tip which Madison knew had nothing to do with the service, but only with her husband’s bad conscience. He hated causing a scene, even if he had no part in it. The waitress didn’t ask where Marcus had gone, but quietly took the money and wished them a good night. Madison only noticed how drunk she was when she rose from the chair. The restaurant spun and she had to hold onto the table until the walls stopped turning before she could follow Dan through the door and out into the night.

They fought in the car on the way home, about Marcus and money and other things that didn’t have anything to do with the life choices his younger brother had made. Dan’s voice was calm and collected, but she could hear the reproach in the words he chose: “difficult situation”, “fraternal responsibility”, “unreasonable behaviour”. She tried to listen but felt vaguely sick, her stomach irritated by the wine, the streetlights passing by too quickly. When Dan finally pulled into the driveway, she stayed in the car while he went inside and closed the front door behind him. The night sky was cloudy, and no moon was visible against the dark canvas. Madison pulled out her phone and fleetingly scrolled through social media without recognizing any of the faces that popped up on the screen. She opened a new tab and typed actors strike into the search bar, her face illuminated by the brightness of the screen. Several recent articles and videos came up, but she scrolled to the bottom of the page until she found the website she was looking for. 

Call for donations! Show your support for the courageous actors, writers, and producers at the heart of the entertainment industrywho are now standing up for better working conditions. Donate today and make a difference as they continue to fight for a better future for themselves and future generations of artists.

The text was written in big red letters, and in abrupt motions, she clicked on the button and typed in her name and bank details, her hands shaking slightly. The page re-loaded, and the writing changed. Thank you very much for your generous contribution of $200! Madison stared at the page for another minute until the screen went dark, then she got out of the car and walked up to the house, wrapping her arms around her chest. Fall was coming.