Page 7 of Love Scenes

“Cut.” Tyler pinches the skin between her eyes.

Guy takes off his pageboy cap to rest his hands on his bald head.

It’s fascinating seeing every crew member do their best not to give one another too many judgmental glances. Mom goes and fixes herself a cup of coffee, taking more time than needed, methodically ripping sugar packets and stacking them into a neat pile. She double taps the wooden stick she’s used to stir in her cream and sugar, then goes over to an emergency conference with Guy by the video monitor.

“I heard you guys are killing it in here,” I say to Tyler. I want to continue being smug, but I can’t deny that deep down, seeing her this tense has me worried.

“Joseph is... having a hard time,” she admits. “He made it through maybe three lines of dialogue this morning before seeming to black out and forget everything he’s ever known.”

“Classic,” I can’t help but mutter.

“We’ve already been adjusting coverage to get him out of frame for some of it. Guy keeps trying to change the dialogue. It’s a mess. He’s the one who wanted everyone to show up andbe collaborativeandcreate together.It’s looking like a rehearsal or two should’ve been included in thecreation. This isn’t the kind of thing that can be fixed in post.”

I can almost taste blood I’m biting my tongue so hard. “What does Guy think Mom can do about it?”

“Put the fear of God in Joseph? I don’t know. I told him not to find her. He didn’t listen.”

We look over to Mom and Guy. Mom has her hands turned backward on her hips with her head cocked to the side, making aface that could best be described as profound confusion colliding with deep dissatisfaction. She points to Joseph and beckons him over with one little hook gesture from her pointer finger.

“First-day jitters are not uncommon,” Mom starts. “But we need to know you’re committed to this project.”

“I’m committed. I swear,” Joseph says.

“Good. Then listen closely.” Her voice drops to a whisper I can’t hear.

Joseph is sweating, I notice. Pools are building in the fabric beneath his armpits as he nods furiously at whatever my mom tells him. Wardrobe clocks this too, and two assistants approach the mini–meeting of the minds to change Joseph from one shirt into another identical one. For a moment he stands there in only a white undershirt with his arms extended, like a mannequin waiting to be dressed, listening to Guy wax poetic about the art of filmmaking while Mom explains the timeline of the shoot.

“If we aren’t done on time, it will be expensive,” Mom says, loud enough for everyone on the soundstage to hear. “I’m funding a lot of this project myself. You can understand why I wouldn’t want that.”

“I should insert myself into this conversation. Yeah?” Tyler asks me.

She already knows the answer, but she still waits for my nod of validation before making a move. She picks a bad entry spot into their little circle, and she has to keep dodging flailing arms and frantic shuffle steps.

All the while, the camera crew takes it back to one.

Haven Church, the lead actress, wanders to her starting position. They’ve played to her every strength. Hair dyed platinum blonde and done up in perfect pin curls. Doe eyes winged and wide. Dangerous red lips. A powder-blue shirtwaist dress with abelt that cinches tight around her frame. But she wears an alarmingly vacant expression that I hope is a by-product of the Joseph meltdown.

When Mom releases him from their talk, Joseph moves to his mark. He repeats his lines to himself, avoiding eye contact with every person around him, Haven included.

I’ve never seen him like this. On screen or off. Usually when the camera rolls he’s riveting to watch, even while screwing up. There were so many takes ofA Little Luckhe saved through sheer charm alone, managing to muster up a loose outline of the intended dialogue and doing it with so much likability that the writers accepted most of his on-the-spot improvisations.

Not that they had much choice. We never would’ve finished the movie otherwise.

They run the scene again. Joseph makes it to the “I can handle it” line, says it with one mistake, takes it back a few lines, then gets it all out correctly. His acting is flat and strangely self-conscious, like the work of a college freshman on their first day in a scene study class.

Mom claps to herself. Our first AD, Tammy, pumps her fist.

This is so wrong. We shouldn’t be celebrating adequacy. Not on dayone.That’s for the last week of filming, when everyone is exhausted and the finish line is in sight. Leave it to Joseph Donovan to set the bar this low. Because of him, no one is addressing the fact that Haven is as interesting to watch on camera as a piece of blank paper.

To her credit, it’s hard to be lively when you’re working with someone who hasn’t even bothered to learn the dialogue. Eventually, you figure out that most of your scene partners are never going to give you enough when it’s time for your camera coverage.That you have to use your imagination to transform the Joseph Donovans of the world into someone better.

In this business, you have to be your own hero.

No one else will do it for you.

Watching Haven make choices I’d never make is hard to stomach. I’m not above admitting that much, even when this setup is my personal hell.

I swallow back my rude thoughts and tell myself to help her out instead. “Hey,” I say, walking up to where she waits for the next take, making sure Joseph can’t hear us.