by Lisa Ferrari
Kellan sits up, puts his silver-and-blue aviators on his head, and fixes me with his patented intense-yet-sexy-Scorpio look. “Of course. You do, too, right?”
“Of course. I just had an idea. What if . . . what if we got married here?”
“Really? We could. I’m game. I’m sure one of the hotels could do it. We could get married on the beach and have the reception in the hotel.”
“What if we got married in the movie?”
“We do get married in the movie.”
“I know. But what if we actually got married?”
“You mean, like, after?”
“No, I mean in the movie. What if we get a marriage license and do all the paperwork and stuff and we have an actual reverend perform the ceremony and we’ll let Aaron film it and put it in the movie?”
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Sure. Why not? They could throw us a really awesome, beautiful wedding. The only thing that would change would be that the actor marrying us would have to be ordained. I mean, the inciting incident in this story is when we crash-land on the foreign planet while we’re on our way to our honeymoon. So, what if we got married for real? We’d have a gorgeous wedding and… the production would pay for it, just as an added little perk. Plus, we’re already in Hawaii anyway, which we love, and think about how much it would help our process. We get married in the story but imagine if we were actually married? There’s a lot riding on this whole thing. Half a billion dollars at this point and more later, not to mention the careers of a lot of talented, hard-working people. So I really want to be able to throw myself into my part, you know? I want to lose myself in it. We have a movie to sell. It’s totally crazy, I know, to get married for real as part of making a movie and I don’t know if it’s even legal, though I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be. But imagine the hype and the buzz when people find out that you and I got married for real. Everyone will be talking about it. People love a real-life on-screen romance. They’ll come out in droves to see our real on-screen wedding.”
Kellan ponders it for several long moments.
I’m about ready to panic because he’s finally realized how nuts I actually am when he finally says, “That is genius.”
“Really? You think so?”
“I do.”
I’m so relieved.
“We’ll have to talk to Aaron and Sheila and Rami,” Kellan says. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
I take a moment to consider it once more. Now that I’ve brought it up, it’s real. We’re talking about our wedding.
I realize instantly that, yes, I do want to do it. Absolutely.
“Yes,” I say, “I do.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Do you?”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You know I want to marry you. I would do it tonight. I would do it right here beside this pool. I like it so I want to put a ring on it. I want to lock you down before anyone steals you away from me.”
“As if. So, we’re really going to do it?”
“Sure. Why not? I think it’s a great idea. Plus, it adds backstory, like you said. You can’t care about the characters if you don’t have time to get to know them so you come to care about them, right?”
“Right. Should I call Sheila?”
“Be my guest.”
I’m not sure what the physical manifestation of a squee is but I’m nearly leaping out of my skin, giddy with excitement and anticipation, hoping Sheila and the guys go for it. It’s not in the script, so I hope there’s time, and money, to do a wedding ceremony.
I CALL SHEILA but she doesn’t answer. I send her a text, saying Kellan and I really, really, REALLY need to talk to her.
The three of them get back to the hotel a couple hours later. Kellan and I are in the pool. We climb out of the water and all of us sit at a table in the hotel tiki bar. Rami orders a round of pina coladas and they show us the hundreds of pictures and videos they shot today while they were helicoptering around the island and roaming through the Hawaiian jungle landscape.
Sheila at last asks what’s up.
We present our plan.
We explain how we’ve been wondering when we were going to get married, and adding a wedding ceremony to the film and doing it for real would be a wonderful, serendipitous intertwining of art and life.
They love the idea.
The positively love it.
Sheila whips out her laptop and consults the production schedule.
Rami whips out his laptop and starts fiddling with the script, consulting with Aaron as to how they can write the wedding ceremony into the story, particularly the scenes we’ve already shot.
Ten minutes later, they’ve got it all worked out. Even a location. Sheila texts her wardrobe gal Tracy and tells her to bring a bunch of wedding dresses before she flies out of LAX tomorrow. Tracy says she will.
We get online to get all the paperwork taken care of. We just need an ordained person to perform the ceremony. Aaron says he’ll do it. He wanted to do a cameo anyway, and this would be perfect.
Thirty minutes later, he’s ordained.
We scan the photos again and Aaron suggests a beautiful venue for the ceremony, one which is only minutes away on Kaanapaali Beach, which is where we got engaged! Kellan and I both love it. Sheila makes a few phone calls, and an hour later, we have a date and a venue: we’re getting married!
The matter of our names occurs to me. “What about our names?” I ask.
“Ooh, that’s a good point,” says Aaron.
“What do you mean?” asks Sheila.
“Two things,” says Aaron. “First, what names are they going to say in the vows? Second, how should Claire be credited?”
After a moment of thought, I say, “Generic pronouns in the vows and ‘Claire Valentine’ in the opening credits but ‘Claire Kearns’ in the end crawl. Unless you guys decide to do a cold open, in which case there will be no credits at the beginning so it’ll just be ‘Claire Kearns’ in the end crawl after everyone saw us get married. In fact, if we kept it a secret, just between the five of us, when people see the movie, they would read ‘Claire Kearns’ at the end. That would be their clue.”
Aaron says, “That is a very astute analysis, Claire. How do you know about cold opens and end crawls?”
I say, “You guys have rubbed off on me.”
Sheila says, “Poor girl.”
Everyone laughs.
Sheila says, “What do you say, Kellan?”
Kellan says, “I say Claire has laid it out perfectly. Reverend Aaron over here can perform the ceremony, you can do the credits just as Claire outlined, and everyone will want to see Claire’s name in the closing credits. That should help put butts in the seats. As if there isn’t already enough publicity to do that. But every little bit helps. Can we keep it a secret, though? Don’t we have to file a bunch of paperwork? All that stuff is public record, right?”
“Shit,” Sheila says.
“Hang on,” I say. I do a bit of searching and reading on my phone. “It looks like we file electronically and then we have to take our application to a marriage license agent.” I do a quick search. “It looks like there is one four-point-nine miles from here.” I dial the number and after a pleasant, brief conversation, we have an appointment. “She’ll see us in an hour.”
We haul ass upstairs to clean up, Sheila prints the application, and we all jump into an SUV. The agent is a very sweet woman who lives in a blue house. She assures us she’ll keep our wedding in the strictest confidence. She’s so sweet that I invite her to the wedding.
On our way back to the resort, I see a jewelry store. I tell Aaron to stop. We all go inside.
THE BIG DAY arrives.
It’s only two days later, but the interim seconds were lengthy beyond compare. Because this is a nontraditional wedding, Kellan and I go visit the venue the morning of our wedding.
It’s gorgeous.
Everything is gold and white. With an interesting futuristic look. Sheila explains that the production designer and set decorators and their teams have been working nonstop for the past two days, and they finished early this morning.
Tracy brings ten different wedding gowns, all of them gorgeous. I try on each one and the three of us evaluate. For this, I insist Kellan wait to see me until our ceremony.
Sheila, Tracy, and I all agree on the gown I select. Tracy does a few minor alterations and in a few hours it’s ready.
Aaron has seven extra cameras flown in as well, to compliment the six he already has, which are comprised of three primaries and a backup for each. Aaron has the Director of Photography (the DP), Gus, ready all six cameras in addition to the seven fresh off the plane. He’s planning to shoot with seven to ten, with three backups ready to go. I see dozens of silver boxes arranged outside the church; Aaron says they’re camera components, bodies, lenses, mags, and lots and lots of film. I ask him why he’s not shooting on digital video. He launches into a lengthy explanation of the rich life of celluloid compared to the flat and lifeless, soulless thing that is digital. Video was all the rage in the late 90s when the technology was new. It was cheaper than film and offered instantaneous feedback. Aaron tells me all about how when George Lucas was making the prequels, they were shooting at Pinewood Studios in London. They were shooting on digital, which meant the data could be sent via direct internet transfer to big computers at Skywalker Ranch in Marin, California, which is just north of San Francisco and is where George Lucas lives. By sending it overnight while everyone in London was asleep, the editors in California could get to work on it right away, and they could send rough cuts back to Lucas to help him with the rest of the movie. It was a truly cutting-edge technique.
But history has shown that film generates superior results in the minds of filmmakers and in the hearts of moviegoers.
Aaron wants a golden, “magic hour” look to the wedding scene, so we start shooting around noon. There are huge lights set up outside the windows with orange and yellow plastic in front of them, creating the glow of the sun. We shoot several scenes in which I am preparing for the wedding, along with the help of my “family” and “friends”, all of whom are actors I’ve never met until today but all of whom are great. We have so much fun, it almost feels like a real wedding with real family members. I have a moment in which I doubt my decision to go through with this on-camera wedding because I realize how hurt my mother and father and sister and Denise will be when they hear that we did this and they weren’t involved, nor were they even notified that Kellan and I were getting married.
But then I remember the tension between my parents and Kellan and me, particularly with respect to my mother. I know my sister, and especially Denise, would say to go for it and to have fun because I’m in a movie, a big movie. We’re making history. Getting married on camera is a neat idea people will find fascinating when they learn of it.
I’m surprised when a glass of champagne is handed to me and we continue our pre-ceremony revelry. I’m surprised further when I taste the champagne and discover it is in fact champagne. I resolve not to drink too much of it. I don’t want to be slurring my words while Kellan and I are saying our vows, which Kellan and I sat down and wrote together last night.
Aaron hides cameras all around the room and has three Steadicam operators carrying cameras covered in green tape he says will enable them to be removed in post. One of the operators walks backward in front of me as I walk down the aisle. Kellan is on the dais. He’s wearing a tuxedo. His hair is done. A heavenly shaft of light shines down on him through one of the high windows. He looks incredible.
My movie parents give me away.
Kellan takes my hands, Aaron says his lines, and we say our vows.
Kellan and I stare into one another’s eyes all the while. We are surrounded by the heavenly light. I am aware of the people watching us, dressed in their lovely finery. But my focus is on Kellan. I love him so much.
We exchange rings.
Aaron removes the rings from a little purple silk pouch and hands them to us. I put Kellan’s ring on his finger. He puts my ring on my finger, where it joins the engagement ring he gave me on the beach not far from here.
Aaron says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Kellan takes me in his arms, tight, and presses his lips to mine.
I kiss him back. My husband.
THE RECEPTION IS a grand affair. Everyone drinks and dances and laughs. The food is amazing. There are cameras everywhere. Aaron handed special, high-quality flagship mobile phones to everyone to record the wedding and take a lot of pictures, all of which he plans to incorporate into the film.
We have such a great time; I am incapable of distinguishing this from a regular wedding and reception, one not being filmed. (And as a person who has catered several hundred weddings, I think it’s safe to say I know whereof I speak.) Nearly everyone involved in the production participates, including Sheila and Rami and Aaron and Heather and everyone I’ve met over the past six months. Though Aaron is busy filming me with a camera in his hand. Calista and Garth join the revelry as well. Aaron said he’s going to remove their faces in post. I’m glad they can attend. We all dance together, and it’s so much fun.
Several hours later, we make our way outside to a limousine. Everyone throws rice on us as we dash toward the car. I’m sweaty and exhausted and half-drunk on champagne and three huge pieces of chocolate-mocha wedding cake, and totally exhilarated.
Kellan and I pile into the back of the limo, careful not to catch my train in the door. We stand up through the sun roof and wave to everyone. That’s when I realize I still have the bouquet in my hand. We’ve completely forgotten to do the bouquet toss. I wave it over my head and beckon Sheila and Calista toward me. All the ladies gather around the limo. I cover my eyes and toss the bouquet high in the air.
I hear cheering.
I open my eyes and see Calista is holding it high overhead. Aaron is right in her face with his camera. I hope he got it all. I hope Calista gets married soon. I make a mental note to ask her if she’s dating anyone who might fit the bill.
The limo takes us to a resort in the mountains. Kellan closes the privacy divider between us and our driver. He pulls me into his lap, kisses me hard, and the next thing I know he’s inside me. We make love in the back of the sleek black limousine with the sunroof open as we drive. A spring shower erupts overhead and warm rain pours in through the sunroof, soaking us as we make love for the first time as husband and wife. The fact that Kellan couldn’t wait until we reached the hotel is so hot. Kellan is ravenous, like an animal, devouring me with his lips. His tongue fills my mouth. He flips me onto my back, lifts my dress, spreads my legs and makes love to me hard and fast and deep, driving into me, taking my breath away. I’m still wearing my white stockings and garters and white heels.
Eventually, the car comes to a stop.
The driver’s voice comes over an intercom, “Mister and Misses, we’ve arrived at the hotel.”
Kellan smiles at me. “Let’s get up to our room. I’m not through with you yet.”
My heart skips a beat, teased and promised by the notion of what my new husband is going to do to me.
Kellan pulls up his pants and buttons them, tucks in his shirt, and smooths his hair. He sniffs my white panties, kisses them, and puts them in his pocket. He pulls down my dress and straightens it, and helps me out of the car while our driver holds the door open.
“You’re all checked in, sir,” says our driver. “Your bags are already on their way up.”
“Thank you,” says Kellan.
Kellan sweeps me up into his arms and carries me into the hotel.
There are a couple dozen people in the lobby. They clap and cheer when they see us. Several of them hold up their phones, taking pics of the happy couple.
Kellan c
arries me to the elevator and holds me in his arms, kissing me throughout the brief journey up to the top floor penthouse suite.
He carries me down the hall to our room, which is a spacious apartment unto itself. There is a couple’s Jacuzzi tub beside a window with a glorious view of the Hawaiian landscape, a vast expanse of lush green treetops, like a beautiful jungle and we’re in a five-star treehouse. There is a fireplace, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, and a master bedroom with a beautiful four-poster canopy bed. It makes me horny just looking at it.
Once we’re in our room, Kellan finishes what he started in the limousine.
He removes his own clothes very quickly but wants me to remain in my dress. I am all too happy to oblige.
We make love in every room and on every piece of furniture, including on the dining room table (careful not to knock over the magnums of Dom Perignon). We’re both damp from the rain and our own sweat.
Eventually I shrug out of my dress and make love to Kellan wearing only my white stockings and garter belt and heels. I push him down into a plush, padded chaise lounge and straddle him, using the heels and my legs for leverage to ride him like he’s never been ridden before in his entire life.
Every time he says he’s about to come, I stop. I rest, letting him calm down. I want this day to last forever.
THREE DAYS LATER, Kellan and I are more or less forced to stop having sex. My vagina hurts. My mouth hurts. My anus hurts. Kellan’s penis hurts. His mouth hurts. His tongue hurts. My clit hurts. We begin joking that we may actually be fucked-out.
But we’re married!!!
The suite is littered with empty energy drink cans and bottles of champagne (which go well together!). We’ve had the Do Not Disturb sign on the door so no one has disturbed us. It looks like a whirlwind of insatiable passion tore through here. I think there’s semen on the ceiling.
Kellan and I have spent the last 14 hours sleeping, our nude bodies intertwined, a mess of arms and legs, muscles and bronzed skin, getting caught up on some much-needed sleep and rest.
My phone buzzes. I reach out from where I’m sprawled on the mattress (which is somewhat sideways and sorta hanging off the boxspring; I don’t know where the sheets and pillows went). It’s a text from Aaron. A cryptic one. It’s just two sets of numbers. I show the text to Kellan, who is face down and spread-eagled, dozing. His perfect, round, muscular butt is looking at me, just begging me to kiss it and bite it and do things to it. Kellan says the numbers look like latitude and longitude, GPS coordinates. We look them up on Google Maps. It’s somewhere out in the Hawaiian jungle. A bit of digging reveals it’s a spot famous for its ultra-secluded waterfalls frequented by amorous couples and newlyweds. Kellan and I agree to go for a drive and a hike. And, hopefully, a swim.
