The Camera Always Lies

by Hugh Hood

  “She just said she wouldn’t eat with us.”

  “Was she unfriendly? Threatening? What?”

  “Bud, she was funny. She wasn’t anything. I felt like I was talking to the wall.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “I can’t explain it any better.”

  “She’ll do what we tell her; she has no choice.” Horler too looked puzzled and vaguely disturbed. “It’s getting so you’ve got to have a club in your hand at all times. I never thought Rose Leclair, of all people, would try to run out on a contract—it isn’t like her. If she ever got away to Europe, we’d have a hell of a time trying to collect, especially since we don’t want her for a picture.”

  “What should we ask for the release?”

  “Substantial indemnification, that’s the phrase. They haven’t sent over a figure yet.”

  “Do we want lawyers in the room while we talk?”

  “That fucking Solomon,” said Bud, really furious. “No, we don’t, not the way we have to do business.”

  Jean-Pierre said, “You should have a lawyer with you.”

  “Not this time. This time we’re going to use the house rules, and we’ll murder them.”

  “There’s something you haven’t told us,” said Peggi.

  Rose smiled smugly. “Right!”

  “Aren’t you going to?”

  “Wait and see. I’ll fix Danny Lenehan good if it’s the last thing I do in the good old U.S.A.”

  “I’ve got some news for you,” said Peggi. “You won’t find Lawyer Solomon at the conference table. He’s left them.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. I had lunch with him a week ago. He said he had to look out for his reputation . . . and he’s been with them eight or ten years.”

  Rose said, “I’m glad. I never thought he was quite as bad as the others. I ought to get him to come with us. Wouldn’t that be a switch?”

  “I don’t think he would.”

  “I guess not. Let’s get back to work.” They were flipping through the script of Les honnêtes gens, which Jean-Pierre had finished over the holiday weekend and had brought to the house the day before their appointment with Bud and Danny. This smoothly dovetailed development seemed almost providential to Rose, and made her feel that her transition was going ahead exactly as designed: she had a script, a director, European distribution, a terrific part. She was still in business. Les honnêtes gens would cost less than a tenth of what Goody had; it would be in black and white, with a male star who wasn’t widely known. But it was going to be a good picture, and would play, and she was doing something she really could do, in expert hands. They hoped for an award winner.

  Peggi knew no French at all, and they had spent most of the morning getting the idea of the picture across to her. As they did so, it grew more and more plain to all three that leaving Peggi behind was going to be painful, involving their feelings in complex and unexpected ways. It seemed to each of them, as they argued out the implications of the new script, with its subtle moral ideas, that a final break between old friends would be effected when Rose went, and there was nothing to be done about it.

  Peggi couldn’t quite get the title.

  Jean-Pierre said, “It’s a joke with a double reference. In France for centuries that phrase has described a special group of people, good or bad depending on how you see them. If you approve of them, it means the class between the nobility and the bourgeoisie.” He could see that Peggi wasn’t following him; she didn’t know what the bourgeoisie was. He tried again: “Between the aristocrats and the middle class,” and realized that Peggi couldn’t understand or take seriously such conceptions of class because she had no experience of them whatsoever, and virtually no formal education. She had a formidable natural moral intelligence, but no learning beyond simple literacy.

  “Then again,” he said, floundering, “if you disapprove of them it means ‘The Hypocrites’ or something like that. ‘The Pharisees.’ I don’t think that I can make myself clear.”

  “Well if you can’t, I don’t see how the title can make its point.”

  “It will in France,” said Jean-Pierre, jealous for his script.

  “Not internationally. Maybe that’s why your pictures haven’t played here, maybe they’re too special.’’

  She had a point. “That’s the way my mind works,” he said.

  “Would that title translate? Would an American audience get the joke?”

  “What audience?”

  “The big audience. My folks in Wheeling.”

  “I can’t make films for your folks in Wheeling, Peggi. I don’t know them.”

  Peggi shrugged, looking at Rose, and Jean-Pierre tried to think of the right translation. “Let’s see? ‘The Good People’ is too literal. ‘Right-Thinking People’ is inexact.”

  Rose said, “What about ‘People Who Count’?”

  “Too cynical.”

  Peggi was thinking hard. Finally she said, “I think ‘Decent People’ is what you’re looking for.’’ She was right, and they all knew it.

  “Exactly,” said Jean-Pierre. “I promise you that’ll be the North American title, and I’ll send you a royalty.’’

  She looked at him forlornly.

  “Oh, Peggi,” said Rose. “Oh!”

  “Honey, you’ve got to do what’s best for you.’’

  They sat looking at one another unhappily.

  But when they landed on the Horler/Lenehan doorstep next day, they didn’t betray their feelings. They were determined not to be put down by the producers. Bud and Danny had nothing on any of them, except perhaps Peggi, who would still be working in the U.S. and was therefore in a slightly exposed position. Jean-Pierre and Rose had urged her to stay away from the meeting so as not to get involved in a fight.

  “Ho ho ho,” she said, “nothing would make me miss this.”

  “But they might want to use you again.”

  “I wouldn’t let them . . .”

  “Makes it unanimous,” said Rose.

  She wasn’t going to do anything for them at all, and was especially determined not to let them exercise any coercion over her, of any kind. She’d had all that.

  But they didn’t open the ball with her; they went after Jean-Pierre, with Danny leading off.

  “ . . . depriving us of the services of our star by running off with her just when we need her. Is that wise?”

  Jean-Pierre had resolved to keep his temper. “I think so. We plan to be married in Paris, at Christmas, when we’ve completed some private arrangements. We’ll be doing a picture together till then.”

  Danny pricked up his ears. “Who’s producing?”

  “My own company, Films Vinteuil.”

  “A low-budget production.”

  Rose said, “A sane production, sensibly budgeted for a change.”

  Danny ignored her. “What will you have going for you internationally?”

  “My star, my direction, and my script, which is a very good one.”

  “It really is, Danny,” said Peggi. “It’s a shame they won’t let you read it.”

  “Just stay out of this, Peggi, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  Peggi looked slightly frightened, and Jean-Pierre began to forget his resolutions. “That’s enough of that,” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” said Horler from behind his desk. “Do you want us to forget all about distributing your pictures?”

  “You’ve done nothing whatever about distributing my pictures, and I’m withdrawing them from your office today.”

  “I don’t think any distributor will handle them, without consulting us.”

  “That’s a lie, Jean-Pierre,” said Rose. “They have no influence with the distributors; it’s the other way around.”

  Jean
-Pierre said calmly, “I know. Those are empty threats and I don’t know why they bother to make them.”

  “We’ll see if they’re empty,” said Lenehan. “I think I can guarantee that none of your pictures will get North American bookings without our say-so.”

  “Except in Quebec,” said Horler cheerfully.

  “How do you enforce your blacklist?”

  “This is how it is. We have our producers’ association, don’t you see?”

  “They’re all at each other’s throats,” said Rose scornfully.

  “Maybe on domestic matters,” said Danny, “but just let a foreigner come in and try to break a contract we have with one of our own stars, and listen for the screams. This has been tried before, you know. You’re not the first who ever tried to run out on an option. Do you know what happened?”

  “What?” asked Rose. She didn’t seem very alarmed.

  “None of that man’s pictures ever played the domestic market again. I don’t need to remind you what that did to his star status. Inside of two years he didn’t draw flies at the box office; we had solidarity; we told the distributors, ‘Don’t book his pictures. If you do we’ll stop supplying you with our product.’ They backed off. You know who I mean, and what he’s doing now.”

  “He’s one of the ones who built the industry,” said Rose bitterly, “and you people screwed him without a second thought. But you won’t screw us, not this time.’’

  “Yes we will.”

  “I don’t think so. Don’t worry about a thing, Jean-Pierre. When we’ve got a print to market we’ll be able to go right across the street and book it all over North America, because we’re going to have next year’s top picture.”

  “You’ll fulfill your contract first,” said Horler.

  “Then you’ll pay us ‘substantial indemnification.’”

  “I’ll pay you ninety-eight cents.”

  “We’re thinking in terms of two hundred thousand.”

  “Don’t be silly, Bud. Was I worth two hundred thousand when you edited me out of Goody?”

  “You helped Goody. The courts would see that.”

  “It isn’t coming into court. I’m not going to pay you off for the option, not any more than ninety-eight cents, that is, and I’m not going to make any publicity tours for you, and when I’m interviewed I’m going to have nothing but harsh and libellous names for you, you pair of shits.” She grabbed Horler’s hand as it moved under his desk. “Don’t bother to switch it on. You won’t want a record of this next part.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you? Then let me fill you in. It’s a common practice to tape conversations like these, business discussions, just in case anything comes up.” She paused, every inch the experienced actress. “Have you ever heard of a man called Callegarini? Paul Callegarini?” The partners looked at each other with surprise. They couldn’t remember offhand how much Rose knew about their financing.

  “I may know the name,” said Horler.

  “I think you may,” said Rose, enjoying herself. She drew a stiff piece of paper from her bag. “I’ve got a letter from him right here. He says he’s the bank officer who approved your loans for Goody. That’s so, isn’t it?”

  “I guess it is, isn’t it, Bud?” said Danny.

  “Yes.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Rose. “Seems that Mr. Callegarini is one of my fans, isn’t that sweet? He says here that he sees me as one of the great ladies of the screen, and he’s not happy about the way I was treated by you boys, not too happy, no.”

  “So what?”

  “He tells me that he has tape recordings of his conversations with you about the first of April 1966, when you were arranging the financing of Goody. This is one of a number of photocopies of his letter—I’ve been passing them around for opinions. I can let you keep this one.” She passed it to Horler, who hastily scanned it. “As you see, he says that on these tapes your voices are perfectly recognizable, and that you conspire to induce my husband, I should say my ex-husband, to have an affair with another actress while still married to me, for publicity purposes connected with the exploitation of Goody. And he’s willing to testify about other, later conversations tending to the same purpose. I don’t think you want this statement made public, do you?”

  “No,” said Danny.

  “And I don’t suppose that you’ll be wanting to hold me to any contractual obligations, real or imaginary, will you?”

  “I guess not.”

  “I’ll be running along then. I’ll put a check for ninety-eight cents in the mail to you, maybe even a dollar. In return, I want a piece of paper waiving that option, for value received, just in case.”

  “You needn’t worry,” said Danny, who seemed to be taking it well.

  “But I would worry,” Rose said, “I’d worry about you and Bud. I’d sooner have the piece of paper, if you don’t mind, for a souvenir, after you get my cheque in the mail tomorrow.”

  “If that’s what you want,” said Danny reluctantly.

  “All right. Goody-bye now.” She took Jean-Pierre’s hand and they sailed out of the room laughing. Peggi turned to follow and Danny stepped silently across the carpet and put his hand gently on her shoulder. “Just wait one moment, will you, dear?” he entreated. Peggi paused, looking after her friends as they went out. Danny’s grip tightened on her shoulder.

  8

  For some reason Danny and Bud kept their New York conference room very badly lighted. Perhaps they felt that the murky atmosphere intensified the aura of trickiness and half-offered bribery in which they felt most at home. The lighting may have been nothing more than a calculated prop, but as Peggi turned back into the center of the longish narrow room she felt real fright, for she wasn’t immune to threats. She was not a star, and who would protect her? She was a scrambling featured player whose last four or five parts had been found for her through Rose’s help. She’d been certain of a part in any Rose Leclair picture if she wanted one, but couldn’t count on that any longer. She understood that Rose had had to make her move when she did, if she wasn’t to slide downhill very fast. And yet she knew that she could hardly afford to lose Rose’s help and Horler and Lenehan too. Her last credit had been just fine; a lot of people were talking her up for an Oscar nomination for Goody, but nominations and awards didn’t necessarily keep you working; sometimes they had the opposite effect.

  “Peggi, do you know what that just cost us?” said Horler.

  She shook her head silently. The narrow room seemed to confuse her thoughts peculiarly. She said, “I’m leaving. I’ve got a date.”

  “Stick around for a minute,” said Lenehan brusquely, “we’ve got things to talk about.”

  “I’m late.”

  “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, is she, Bud?”

  The situation was exaggerated; surely they wouldn’t hurt her. She was in a midtown office building with a receptionist next door. Her imagination was carrying her away. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Peggi, do you want to go on working in pictures?” Horler stood up and tried to look mean and threatening, but didn’t achieve much more than a comic English Peter Lorre effect. “Do you know what we can do to you?” His ineffectual menace made her giggle, and then stop, as they both began to gesture spasmodically in what now struck her as a shared murderous rage. For a second time she thought that Horler was going to hit her.

  “Don’t you threaten me,” she said bravely, “I’m just as important as you are.” She knew as she said it that it wasn’t true; she didn’t have the leverage they had. “Why would you want to hurt me anyway?” She saw that both men were in frenzied pain, they were so angry.

  “It isn’t the money,” Lenehan got out.

  “It is and it isn’t,” said Horler. “We might have got two hundred thousand out of her.”

 
“You’re out of your mind,” said Peggi, and Horler came up to her and almost seized her collar; she saw his hand tremble with the repressed movement. “Don’t,” she said.

  “Don’t tell me I’m crazy,” he said, “you’re the crazy one. You put her up to it, didn’t you? Actors!” He said the word as you might exclaim: “Ordure!”

  “You introduced her to Jean-Pierre,” Peggi said, “and you thought you might as well use him, the way you use everybody else. It’s time you learned that you can’t pick people up and drop them, just like that. Look how you treated Rose! She’s going to come back and haunt all you little Hitlers who think sex is a matter of big tits. I’ll bet you in five years she’s set for life, bigger than she’s ever been over here. This fellow she’s got now, he’s smart and he’s good, not like you. I know you’re supposed to be smart, with your hidden microphones and your cutting-room tricks, but you’re bad people. I mean wicked.”

  Horler took a last step towards her and slapped her face very hard.

  “Oh,” cried Peggi, “that’s it. You’re going to shut me up with a slap or a punch, you big producer, you. All your money and all your reputation doesn’t make you any better than the bums who used to shove me around when I was a teen-ager in Wheeling. Worse, because they had no chance to be anything but what they were, slobs, punks, little nothings; and you’re worse. Horler and Lenehan, the columnists’ delight, beating up a woman in their office. You really are out of your mind.”

  “Better keep your hands off her, Bud,” said Danny. “All right, dear, time to go. I’ll just mention this one thing: we don’t like actors tampering with people under contract to us.’’

  “I didn’t tamper with her. I never suggested anything to her.”

  “Everybody knows you’re her best friend. Now go on, beat it. We’ll get you on the blacklist if it’s the last thing we do. Producers don’t like mouthy actors. I mean, Christ, who are you? It wasn’t as if you were anybody. You need work and we’re going to make it awfully tough for you to work. Remember that!”

  Taking her arm, as gently as ever, he turned her towards the door.