The View Was Exhausting

by Mikaella Clements

  It’s unsurprising that Whitman has picked up a nomination for Best Actress for this lush, clear-eyed film. She speaks of it with obvious pride and delight. “It kind of got into my blood,” she says, and adds, “my house is even in it.”

  It’s true: one outdoor scene is shot in the hills behind Whitman’s home, offering a brief glimpse of a sloping gray roof and a windowsill laden with flowers. (It’s actually her bathroom, she tells me; they added the extravagant window boxes to hide the modern plumbing system.)

  Even before Middlemarch, the house found its own place in the official Whitman Tagore mythology. It’s protected with a state-of-the-art security system and remote location, but once in a while tidbits or even photographs surface. Whitman idly references running through the hills behind her home; best friend and musician Shift posted a photo of Whitman lounging in the long grass on a golden summer afternoon, buttery sandstone walls covered in vines rising invitingly behind her. Last year the New York Post shared an exclusive cache of apparent family photos obtained from Leo’s older brother Geoffrey Milanowski, who was quoted saying, “Whitman Tagore is a great gal. Nobody’s perfect, but once you get to know her, she’s quite the treat.” Opening the family albums was meant to prove his point, and the internet had a field day over the photos, which included a Christmas scene with Whitman and Leo mid-hysterics presenting a very burned turkey to the camera and one of Leo sprawled out on a carpet, mid-conversation, with Whitman’s mother dozing in a chair behind him. The fan favorite was a cheerful shot of Geoffrey and sister Hannah, arms around each other out in front of the French house. In the background, just visible, Whitman and Leo are kissing, Leo’s hand gentle and possessive on her jaw. #WhitowskiLives trended for four days, but the most popular tweet of the week came from a pop culture journalist: can’t believe you guys are STILL falling for this shit.

  Four days later, Whitman picks me up in a sickly orange Lamborghini that she tells me, a little embarrassed, she has borrowed from her publicist for the week. We’re headed for a complex in downtown LA, where she and her team are preparing for the first in a long series of dress fittings before the Oscars. “I’m talking to a few designers, but I like a dress that tells a story,” Whitman explains (big surprise). “We want to settle on the overall aesthetic before we make any decisions.”

  Once we get downtown, Whitman is not the immediate object of attention. Instead, we arrive to find Leo Milanowski in a neat black suit, turning obediently from left to right as people flutter around him adjusting cuffs and taking Polaroids. His focus is absolute, his face almost severe in its blankness. His features conjure up classical sculpture, the same commanding beauty of something timeless and implacable, and he moves like a statue easing its way into life. He doesn’t react to us entering the room.

  “Oh, he’s doing his photo shoot face,” Whitman says to me, and then Leo does turn, quick as a snake in the grass, to wink at her before his attention is back on the camera.

  Leo will be Whitman’s date this year, hence the suit, which is not actually the no-brainer it seems. They don’t always attend these events together—Leo presumably has someplace to be, sometimes—and Whitman often replaces him with a member of her tight inner circle. Shift is a childhood friend who survived the crony cull to appear at premieres, and Whitman’s mother is becoming a recognizable, if not regular, red carpet fixture.

  “It’s definitely not her favorite activity,” Whitman admits. “I think she still finds the whole thing very frivolous, she hates getting her hair and makeup done. She’s never been a stage mom.” Whitman pronounces this with a disdainful, American twang. “We were talking about the Oscars outfit and she was like, Why don’t you just wear what you wore last year?”

  Leo laughs, back in jeans and a T-shirt after his fitting, and Whitman checks her watch. It’s already late morning, and she hasn’t even tried on the first dress. There’s a whole rack of samples from hopeful designers, and everyone has a different idea of what vibe she should be aiming for—metallic, regal, impenetrable? Pale green satin, sophisticated, relaxed? Severe in black? Leo is not consulted for his opinion but offers it nonetheless; he thinks it would be “cool” for Win to wear a cape.

  The truth behind the explosive revelations and accusations leveled against Whitman and Leo five years ago remains unclear: whether Whitman broke up a marriage, whether Whitman and Leo were always or never a real couple, whether they were caught up in some seedy polyamorous drama. Of the many hundreds of think pieces published about the scandal, some suggested that Leo was just as invested in the attention as his faux lover, but most agreed that he had been snagged like a fly in a web.

  Their relationship is still a subject of tabloid conjecture and feverish late-night forum posting. For those trawling for clues, all I can offer is that Whitman and Leo seem close. When we arrive, she hands him a slim black case that, he tells me with a grimace, contains his reading glasses—he’s not used to them yet, and keeps forgetting or losing them. “I’m on my fourth pair,” he says sadly. During the fitting of a very intense, geometric dress that keeps Whitman’s hands stiffly down at her sides, an assistant announces that Whitman’s mother is on the phone, and Leo answers the call for her. “Hey,” he says, moving to the back of the room and lowering his voice. “You were right, no one agrees with me about the cape.” At one point, tangled in a sheer web of chiffon, Whitman impatiently waves away her stylists and gets Leo to fish her out of the latest outfit. He is neat and capable, and his fingers trail up the back of her neck before he steps away.

  All of this, observed from the outside, gives a very good impression of a genuine relationship. Though, of course, it always has.

  While Whitman changes again, I probe a reluctant Leo about his latest venture, bankrolling a pair of art studios in London and Paris. His professed mission is to provide a studio space to those who might not be able to afford or find one for themselves. To what extent the pet project of a wealthy celebrity can truly make a difference in the lives of starving or marginalized artists, especially in such expensive, inaccessible cities, remains questionable. Most of the artists currently involved in the project are relative unknowns, and their output has been sporadic. Still, the studios are becoming established on the local scenes. Eloise Teng ran a series of workshops at the Paris location last month, the first big exhibition is expected this summer, and the parties are apparently off the wall.

  Leo himself is unforthcoming. “I just pay the rent,” he says, and is saved by the bell, as Whitman announces they’re done for the day. The team shares celebratory beers; alcohol is clearly part of Whitman’s MO, but not one that I complain about, as I’m invited to join the circle. Whitman and Leo reach out to clink bottles without looking at each other, hands meeting naturally in the air.

  It’s hard to tell what will happen if Whitman wins Best Actress at the Academy Awards this Sunday; it’s equally hard to tell what will happen if she doesn’t. Her trajectory once seemed like a golden narrative—the young ingenue, the dazzling Hollywood romance, the empress of the silver screen. When she fell, she fell hard, crashing and burning off her pedestal like a plane trailing smoke in the sky. Now she is something else, something that we don’t yet entirely know what to do with. If we’re not quick to make up our minds, Whitman will make them up for us, sliding a new character under our noses so gently that we’ll convince ourselves this version of her must be the real one.

  Love her or hate her, it’s easy to project a tragic narrative on Whitman. Her troubled rise, her fall from grace. You can read her as an outsider stigmatized by a cutthroat industry or a control freak who remains Hollywood’s most high-strung diva. Over our time together, though, I kept noticing her gentle swagger, the easy way she lined up her pool shots, the sure hand she rested on Leo Milanowski’s shoulder. She looked amused, as though she had a private joke no one knew about. She seemed calm, in control, her sharp, handsome face relatively untroubled by the scandals cast upon it. It seemed almost as though she was having fun.<
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  We would like to thank:

  Seema Mahanian and Frankie Edwards, our editing superduo, who saw exactly what we were trying to do with this novel and knew how to make it happen.

  Andrianna Yeatts, dream agent, who sent a kind email that changed our lives and who has never left our corner since. Lucy Morris, UK-wrangler, for everything and especially the laugh over Jeremy in a London café, as well as Sophie Baker and everybody else at Curtis Brown and ICM for their support and enthusiasm.

  Tree Abraham and Albert Tang for a cover better than anything we ever imagined, Angelina Krahn and Mari Okuda for their meticulous copyediting efforts, Andy Dodds, Morgan Swift, and everyone at Grand Central Publishing and Headline.

  Ulli and Ruby Clements, our first and loudest cheerleaders, as well as our other early readers who offered much needed advice, encouragement, and cheer: Sara Nunn, Emery Kennedy, Rosalie Bower, and Sophie Atkinson. Monica McInerney for her insight, guidance, wisdom, and humor on everything from editing to industry.

  Liz and Pranesh Datta, Shirmilla Datta, Marie McInerney, Daniel Clements, Ulli Clements, Ruby Clements and the little Rafster for love, joy, support, occasional mockery, and for buying us so many books. We love you.

  All our excellent friends and in particular Sophie Evans, Hannah Wolfram, and Jack Roberts for very politely listening to us talk a lot about fictional people and bringing us beers while we did.

  Wulf and Lokhi, who did not help at all.

  Finally, thank you to Shibani Datta, my Thakuma, for countless acts of love and encouragement and for being the center of my family, for which I’m so grateful. We love you, miss you, and think of you often.

  The View Was Exhausting is Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta's cowritten debut novel. They are married and live in Berlin.

  Reading Group Guide

  Discussion Questions

  1. Win is in a constant battle to control her image at the hands of the press, especially as it directly affects her career and the types of roles she receives. How much of this need for control do you attribute to the systems within which Win must operate?

  2. Leo often is frustrated by the fact that Win will not call out racism—subtle or overt—when she sees it, and Win struggles to make Leo understand why she doesn’t. How do the characters’ backgrounds and respective privilege contribute to their positions?

  3. Describe what elements make The View Was Exhausting feel like quintessential escapist fiction. Does it remind you of other novels with similar qualities?

  4. Win and her mother, Pritha, have an often-difficult relationship, to which intergenerational, cultural, and emotional factors contribute. What are some of the barriers that exist between them and why? What does it take to eventually break them down?

  5. The View Was Exhausting gives a fly-on-the-wall perspective at behind-the-scenes celebrity. Did it make you rethink your own consumption of celebrity news and gossip, or cast it through a more critical lens?

  6. In some respects, Win and Lila are opposites. What do you think has given them their different attitudes toward their public images and the way they interact with the media?

  7. Throughout Win and Leo’s years of friendship and as they confront the truth of their relationship, both Win and Leo must grapple with their own identity. How do these two characters grow by being together? How do they gain a more nuanced understanding of themselves and each other?

  8. There is a clear distinction between the Whitman Tagore who exists in front of the cameras, and Win’s more authentic self. Discuss the situations in which we are all forced to present ourselves differently, and why.

  9. By being a successful actor, Win has been a willing participant in the Hollywood machine and courted the media for her gain. How do you feel this affects Win’s right to privacy?

  10. What’s the most swoon-worthy moment in this book, and what do you think is the biggest turning point for Leo and Win’s relationship?

  Discussion with Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta

  1. What inspired you both to write The View Was Exhausting?

  We started writing The View Was Exhausting in summer 2016: there were a number of high-profile celebrity relationships splashed across social media, and just as much speculation about whether or not those relationships were real or just to drum up publicity. We’ve always been fond of the “fake dating” trope but we found ourselves particularly intrigued by it that summer, wondering, okay, sure, say the relationship is fake—what would that be like? How would that feel? What would the “real” relationship actually be? We started writing just to answer some of those questions.

  It was also a time when criticism of social media was beginning to feel very one-note and dull; it was before people got properly critical about the way social media can be damaging and the narrative instead seemed to revolve around how narcissistic and soul-sucking it was. We were interested in the idea of someone using their image very practically without that element of narcissism, making use of leisure with absolute ruthlessness.

  2. This novel is such an intimate look at the world of fame and celebrity. Was there any research involved for you to make it feel authentic?

  To be honest, the practical details of fame didn’t interest us very much. We did some cursory research around, like, yacht parties and film contracts, but for the most part it was more of a thought experiment around emotion: What would it feel like to live that life, how would you manage your relationships? We weren’t so interested in the technical details as a result.

  The whole novel is about someone selling a fantasy, and so we were very interested in that fantasy itself. We weren’t interested in the ins and outs of real celebrity life but rather the cultural images of it. We thought about Gwen Stefani’s “Cool” music video, Madonna saying she hasn’t eaten pizza in years, Nicole Kidman dancing on her way back from her divorce with Tom Cruise. Those iconic images of celebrity that seem more real than the actual experience.

  3. Were there any major changes to the novel between when you first started writing it and now?

  The question of Win’s race and how that affected her character and her trajectory was something that developed a lot, both over the course of our first draft and—much more so—in the multiple editorial rounds afterward. We didn’t go into the novel meaning to write about race in the film industry, but it became apparent quickly that Win’s position as a woman of color was something that would be on her mind all the time, and we needed and wanted to go deeper into that. Our wonderful editor was crucial in teasing out these ideas and pushing us to explain ourselves and explore Win in more detail.

  On a sillier note, Leo had a different name for three whole drafts before he became Leo the Lion.

  4. Win is such a nuanced character—charming, fiercely protective, ambitious, yet also impatient and quick tempered—all of which makes her feel so relatable and human. How important was it to you to make sure that Win wasn’t just a straightforwardly loveable character, but complex and flawed as we all are?

  It was very important! We think probably every author wants their character to be nuanced and three-dimensional, because that’s where a lot of the drama and tension comes from. We also didn’t want to set Win up as a kind of Victorian heroine who just gets tossed around by these invisible forces in her life: she should have agency, she should make mistakes. Most important, girls with bad tempers are hot.

  5. The View Was Exhausting makes many nods to our current fame and tabloid obsessed culture, and there are some subtle Easter eggs and homages to real celebrities in the book. Were there any real celebrity moments that inspired any scenes, characters, or imagery in your novel?

  We were careful not to name any real celebrities in The View Was Exhausting, because it felt important that it was its own self-contained universe. But there are of course lots
of referents, if you’re looking for them! The Taylor Swift/Tom Hiddleston romance was a big jumping off point for us: obviously the debate at the time around whether it was real, but also just some of those incredible images, like Taylor in her yellow dress with him at the Colosseum, or the Fourth of July party with the “I Heart Taylor” shirt. We also listened to the Reputation album a lot during later drafts: “Getaway Car” is our secret soundtrack to the opening chapter.

  The Cara Delevingne/Michelle Rodriguez romance was another big inspiration for the Saint-Tropez section—they had some incredible public moments, making out at basketball games, the beach shots. And Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson’s coolly obsessed short-lived romance was a great inspiration for the ways Win and Leo might talk about each other in interviews.

  We’re also both fascinated by Kim Kardashian West. There’s not really an Easter egg moment about her in the novel, but she’s present in every conversation about female celebrity, especially about women taking agency and control over their own narrative—for better or worse.

  And, not going to lie, the book was a good opportunity to poke some fun at the male establishment. We won’t name any names but there are a few recognizable figures in there if you’re hunting for them.