Silencing The Director

“Cut!”  Marcus screamed from his director’s chair.  “You have it all wrong.  You need to say it with conviction.  You are not saying it as though you mean it.  I want to feel it.”  Marcus barked, holding his hand up as if to grasp a ceiling light bulb.  He turned to Kirk, the cinematographer of the film, “who hired this bimbo?”  Marcus turned back to the crew patting down his slicked back black hair, “let’s take five.”  He then turned back to the actress on stage, “except for you, sweetheart.  I want you to stay right here and think about how you are going to give me a better performance that I can believe.” 

Julie Simmons was anything but a bimbo or a sweetheart.  She had been working steadily as an actor for well over a decade and the industry even nominated her for an Emmy.  But this was her first time working for the famed director, Marcus Tilder.  

When the Opportunity arose, she was excited.  It was a period piece that took place at a castle in a rural part of Scotland with Marcus Tilder.  In preparation, she studied all his films and read his biography before she came to the set.  She was ready for what Marcus Tilder had in store for her but the experience did not meet her expectations.  

He isolated her from the rest of the cast and crew. On her scenes, he would force her to film more takes than was necessary. He constantly criticized her acting, even mocking her during one of her scenes.  She had never once heard him call her by her name, it was always sweetheart and sugar.  And worst of all, he kept changing her lines on the script blaming her poor performances.  The project was scheduled to stop filming in three weeks, but Julie didn’t know if she could last in this position for that long.  Working with Marcus Tilder was torture of the worst kind.  

Julie stood in the center of the castle-like set, unsure of what to do with herself.  She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting and bit her lip to keep from making faces, reminding herself that she was a good actress.  This was not the first time he forced her to stand in an awkward setting, alone. Her thoughts around her own acting ability swirled as her thoughts turned to fantasizing about the death of Marcus Tilder.  

She fantasized about the lights coming crashing down on his head smashing him to pieces.  She pictured the prop gun being filled with real bullets as her co star shot it, landing a bullet smack dab in the center of Marcus’ chest.  She thought about him choking on the catered ham croissant sandwich he insisted on having every day at lunch.   She no longer cared about this project, she wanted it done, and the cherry on top would include the demise of Marcus Tilder, so he could never degrade another actress again.

As the cast and crew gathered back over to the set, Julie tensed up.  She felt confident in her acting skills, but she knew Marus would make her do the scene again and again, just as he had done for all the scenes before.  Julie rubbed at her temples.

“Remember, I need you to say the line with conviction.  Let’s start again.” Marcus said.

The clapper ran out to where Julie was standing, raising the clapper for the camera to see, “take twelve.”

“Action,” Marcus said.

“Stay away from me.  Don’t hurt me,” Julie backed up as was directed in the script.  

“Cut!  I guess that will have to do.” 

As evening descended and the filming for the day had ceased, the cast and crew congregated for a communal meal. Typically, Marcus would insist that Julie dine in solitude within the confines of her room. However, on this night, an unusual shift occurred, and Marcus appeared indifferent to her dining arrangements. Seizing the chance, Julie partook in the company of the group.

Dinner was in a spacious and inviting area, adorned with rustic wooden tables in a cozy arrangement. Soft, warm lighting cascaded from above, casting a gentle glow. Laughter and animated conversations resonated throughout the space, alongside the clinking of cutlery and glasses. It was a brief respite from the pressures of the set, a chance for the cast and crew to connect, share stories, and temporarily escape the intensity of their work.

“You really are doing a fantastic job,” Clair, one of the makeup artists on set, said to Julie, touching her arm lightly.  Julie smiled in response and she realized that was the first nice thing anyone had said to her since they started filming. 

Julie spotted Marcus and her smile faded.

“What is she doing here?” He whispered to Kirk. 

Julie was done with Marcus’s gaslighting and manipulation.  She had had enough.  She stared at him with daggers in her eyes as she took a seat at the large table.  She watched him as she ate, praying that a piece of meat would lodge in his throat, causing him to choke.  But she had no such luck.

As people began to descend back to their rooms and the room grew sparse, Julie noticed Marcus stand and walked toward the bathroom, Julie followed him, stopping briefly at the abandoned carving station to collect the large kitchen knife.  She followed him into the men’s restroom where he stood over the middle urinal humming to himself.

She raised the knife in anticipation as if she was Norman Bates in “Psycho”.  When she brought the knife down and into Marcus’s back, she did not expect the strength it would take to make the knife go in far enough to feel reassured he was dead.  

She stood longer than necessary holding the knife, unsure of her next move.  This was not a premeditated action.  Only an action of necessity in her mind.

She escaped the bathroom, heading towards the castle bedrooms where the cast and crew were staying.  As she climbed the stairs, she heard a man’s scream that sounded like Kirk.  Followed by the sound of bustling people.  Julie had to get away.  She had just killed one of the greatest directors of all time. 

Julie reached her room on the fourth floor, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to hasten her next move. Without hesitation, she packed the suitcase and rushed to the parking lot, throwing it into her white rental car. The adrenaline coursing through her veins masked any doubts or remorse. All she could think about was escape.

As she drove away from the set and the chaotic aftermath of her actions, a mix of emotions consumed Julie. She was relieved to be free from Marcus's torment, and relieved to free any other poor actress from his torment, but the weight of her actions weighed heavily on her conscience. The gravity of what she had done sank in, and the reality of being a fugitive dawned upon her.

She was in rural Scotland, a part of the world she was unfamiliar with.  What were her options?  Where could she go?  Getting on a plane was out of the question?  Do boats look for fugitives too?  Would she never see her Pomeranian, Bitsy, ever again?  

Julie drove into the night.  Where she would end up she did not know.