ambush (chapter 22)

(Mother and Child in a Boat by Edmund Charles Tarbell)

Mae’s costume is anachronistically modern. The idea was that her character Edna was to appear to be evolving much more quickly than her environment. At the start of the film which is set at the end of the 1800s, Edna’s distinction is signaled by the colors she wears—while everyone else wears washed-out shades of white and grey and brown, she wears vivid blue—and by the end of the film she’ll be wearing a dress from the mid 1920’s with a 1960s flourish.

Before they begin shooting the scene, Lang catches Mae in her trailer fiddling with her clothes, the long skirt cinched tight at the waist, short jacket with rounded shoulders, vivid patterned blouse with a complicated asymmetric bow at the neck. Mae wears that nonchalant look that Lang has learned to interpret as apprehension.

“Don’t be nervous,” Lang tells her.

Mae clenches her jaw. “Why should I be nervous?”

“Of course you’re not nervous. I just said that reflexively.”

“I’m just not crazy about improvisation. I wish I had a couple of solid lines to hold onto in this scene.”

Lang pours them each a glass of water, sits down at the table, and motions for Mae to join her. They have a well-established rhythm now. The longer Lang talks, the further Mae falls under the spell of this thing they are doing together. Although Mae has a knack for pulling those chords, Lang’s role is not exactly maternal; she’s prefers to think of herself as a surrogate or midwife or coach, she’s not quite willing to step any closer because she knows the director must always retain her objectivity. But Lang is willing to go through the requisite motions and before each scene, Lang hovers behind Mae, whispering in her ear, squeezing her arm for emphasis. Like real intimates they have learned what needs to be said or heard. They inhale what they need to get under the surface of the scene.

The last time Lang phoned Elle, her daughter had chattered on about a blister on her heel and something about beans arguing with cornbread and an escaped slave who lived for seven years in an attic just so she could see her children and wanted to know did Lang ever see A Streetcar Named Desire? Lang had shut her eyes and tried to pay attention but her own film stills flicked across the backs of her eyelids, Edna; dozing with her eyes open in a hammock under a magnolia tree; Edna beneath the sparkling chandelier, she holds up a glass of champagne and tips it into the vase of roses; Edna walking down the street, hums and sashays along the curb. You can’t take your eyes off Edna, especially when she’s alone in the scene, those moments when something rises to the surface of her face, some submerged chunk of personality, and it’s so much more than Lang could ask for, because how do you ask for things like that, what words would you use to phrase your request? Because there are no words for what Lang wants, so how do you get something from someone without saying it? She could hint and allude, she could hope metaphor will suffice. She could do charades or resort to passive-aggression, subterfuge, or ambush. Like playing soccer without hands, she has to find the best way to manipulate the matter into the right position.

Elle could tell she was distracted. It was a relief when they hung up the phone.

Lang leans across the table so Mae can hear. “Dialogue is almost irrelevant here. All you have to do is walk down the path with the boys. The camera will be tracking on your left. You stroll slowly, enjoying the air since you’ve been cramped up in the city and you haven’t seen your boys for weeks.” Mae sits, still and absorbent as a sponge. “I’d like you to collect flowers for a small bouquet while you walk. Or if you see anything interesting, stop to look. Talk about what you notice as you stroll along—birds singing, the smell of grass, the shape of the clouds, the way the sunlight comes through the leaves of a tree, etcetera, no grandiose speeches, just an observation or two. Remember, your boys are overjoyed to see you and hungry to bask in your motherly wisdom. They want you to touch them, hug them close. At the end of the path, put a flower into one of the boy’s buttonholes like a little boutonniere. It doesn’t matter which boy, just grab the nearest one, stick a flower on his lapel and give him a hug.”

“A hug.” Mae’s face is blank. “My mother wasn’t really the huggy type.”

“So then give him a pat on the head or a friendly swat, whatever feels natural. The purpose of this scene is to capture a portrait of you as a mother and show what a good mother you are. We’re leaving it loose to keep it natural. With kids, you usually have to take several takes, so there’s plenty of room for happy accident. Just remember to go with the flow. You’re like a wave of maternal love flowing down the path and the boys are the little boats you carry along with you. You may encounter obstacles but you flow right through without stopping. Kids are unpredictable but you don’t have to follow any rules here. Just keep going, just move forward. Believe me, this is the best way to work with children.”

“Okay. I got it.” Mae grins and nods her head vigorously.

At the door, Lang turns: “Oh—just make sure the boys are safe. If one of them got hurt we might have to stop for the day.”

Beside the barn, the boys hired to play Edna’s sons, Etienne (3) and Raoul (5), are enduring the final adjustments to their costumes, hair, and makeup.

“Okay, boys, gather round.” Lang pulls them into a huddle. “This scene is going to be as fun as it can be. We’ll turn it into a game, okay? A fun game. What do you want to be?”

“Pirates!” shouts the older boy.

“Bunnies!” insists the younger.

“No, not bunnies. I don’t wanna be a stupid bunny!”

“No worries, we can all get what we want. You’ll be the pirate and you’ll be the rabbit. Now let me tell you the story. You’re going on a walk with a lady, that same lady you met before. Her name is Mama. In the game she’s your mother but she has been captured by a witch who cast a spell on her to make her forget her two little boys. But you are a very tough pirate and a very cute rabbit and if you try hard enough, if you are tough enough and cute enough, you can break the spell and win the prize.”

The big boy asks, “A real prize or just a pretend prize?”

“If you awaken Mama you’ll get a sweet treat but we have to play the game several times so we can catch all the parts with the cameras. Okay?”

“What kind of treat?” the little one asks. “I don’t like chocolate. Is it gonna be chocolate?”

“I promise it’ll be something you want. You’ll get to choose. Now this is how you win. Remember that Mama is sort of blind; she has magic clouds in her eyes and if you break the spell and remind her that you’re her boys and show how clever and good you are then there will be a happy ending. When your mama picks flowers you should help her make a bouquet. You should play games and do funny things to get her to look at you. Show her all your tricks—running, cartwheels, balancing, somersaults. If you awaken her, the spell will be broken and she’ll love you forever and make sweet treats for you.”

The boys are ready to play.

TAKE ONE:

Edna walks along the path holding the two boys’ hands. They charge forward. She laughs and pulls back to slow them down.

“Oh, look at this lovely flower.” She drops their hands and stoops to pick it.

Etienne grabs the flower from her hand and hops in a circle. “Lookit me, Mama! Look! I’m a cute little bunny!”

“You are the cutest little bunny!” Edna calls. “Bunny, come help pick a bouquet.”

Etienne hops along behind her, wiggling his nose and his imaginary tail. He yanks up a handful of grass and puts it in his mouth while she’s searching for flowers. Raoul has picked up a stick and is walking ahead of them, whacking the head off any flower he finds.

“It is so nice out here in the country. The air is so sweet,” she says.

“Not sweet like ice cream!” says Etienne through a mouthful of grass.

Edna can’t find any flowers to pick. She searches the grass as they stroll along. “Is that a cow I see up the hill there? Do you boys like cows?” she says brightly.

Raoul brandishes his stick. “Arg!” he yells, and charges up the hill.

“Look! Look, Mama! Look at me! Look! I can do a somersault,” Etienne calls. “See? See?”

Camera 1 catches the expression on her face when Edna looks from one boy to the other. Finally she turns to follow Raoul and runs up the hill to catch him. “Come back and walk with me, won’t you?” she calls. Her tone is utterly pleasant. “You can tell me everything you know about cows.”

Down at the bottom of the hill, Etienne is sitting on the ground crying and holding his knee. “I want my mommy.”

TAKE TWO…