Joshua Mattson - A Short Film About Disappointment

Was Jonson the pig Lucretia claimed or was he the tinsel playboy I enjoyed spending my time with, blind to the world beyond his comforts? Both, neither. Jonson could use me as his excuse to misbehave. Let him make his juvenile film, destroy his marriage, and be eaten by his insecurities.

I caught a local out to the set before Jonson had the locks changed.

Goodbye to the painter’s studio. Night and warm. I used film canisters to smash the panes enclosing the set, throwing them like the Discobolus I sometimes shove over in the Heritage Museum. A russet hen I bought from Itchy Creek Farm for company, whom I named Ludwig, snores off her feed under the table. She deposits her speckled eggs in a prop wimple. Bellono’s canvas will not be filled.

Goodbye, set. Goodbye, Altarpiece .

Downtown Showdown , Saturdays, midnight, the New Old Argyle Theater. A tradition going on twenty years.

The theater was the filming location for the famous opening shoot-out in Downtown Showdown . Patrice and Regina rob the Central Hub Bank three blocks down. They run for the rail platform at Argyle and Cicero. It’s closed for repair. Regina was supposed to check the escape route. Instead, she went drinking. Regina has gotten sloppy since Matilda left the gang.

They run into the New Old Argyle. Executive Blasphemy is the matinee. The priest is casting devils from the president when the cops bust into the theater. Hundreds of shots are fired, but nobody is hit. Seward, a pacifist, couldn’t bear to portray suffering. Regina and Patrice escape.

It’s not a bad movie. Even a bad movie is preferable to my apartment.

Eating the Argyle’s mummified popcorn is like munching glass, but I thought I might get some anyway. In line. To my left, handsome, stately Rolf Millings, unshaven on a shoddy bench, his legs crossed at the knee.

I crossed the lobby.

Millings said, Isn’t this film a little too lowbrow for you?

I said, Millings, it isn’t the content of the film that matters, it’s the sentiment. Downtown Showdown is a human picture. Never mind the gunplay. Look at the faces.

He said, You’re always ready to tell me what to think.

I said, How’s the kiosk business?

He said, My wife took the opportunity, after your stunt, to take me off the board of my own company. I’m a bystander now. I quite like it.

I said, That’s lovely. I’m glad to have been of service.

He said, And you know, you might have thought you got me, but after that episode, I am still me, and you are still you, do you understand?

Millings smiled. No matter how cleverly I had managed to humiliate him, until the day of his death Millings was secure in the knowledge that he was a thoroughbred by upbringing, genetics, and inclination. I would never convince him that these things did not matter very much, and that was fine. To be secure in one’s delusions isn’t all that bad.

I said, You can’t deny it was a good joke, the whole room seeing you on camera with your pants down.

He said, It was a magnificent joke. But a joke can only do so much.

I said, A joke isn’t supposed to stick around. A little sleight of tongue, and poof, it’s gone.

He said, How’s that film of yours?

I said, It’s nonexistent. Jonson ditched me after your anonymous tip.

He said, What tip?

I said, About his wife and Seel.

He said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t mean that in a winking way. I am truly in the dark.

His face indicated this was true. If not Millings, who was it?

I said, Jonson thought I was lying to him, so he struck off on his own with our material, permits, and equipment.

He said, I’m sorry you lost your money. I have plenty. Let’s do something together. I’m so bored these days. It was more fun when I had to spend my time pretending to work. My mother calls me in the evenings, and I have to account for my time.

I said, Millings, I’m never again going to create under the manicured thumb of another person. Shall we see this film?

He said, Yes, let’s.

Knock at my door. A package. The courier left before I had a chance to stiff her on the tip. Lacking interest in its contents, I dragged the box into my kitchen, where Lawrence once stood. I have been mourning Lawrence at strange times. When the kiosk where I buy toothpaste reminded me to have a good day, because nobody’s days are guaranteed, I shed a few tears. I believe this is known in the literature as sublimation.

The frictionless weeks gliding on. I stopped seeing films. Jonson hadn’t gotten around to firing me from the Slaw , or perhaps this was his idea of mercy, so I filed reviews for films that didn’t exist. Good fun for a while, but in time I found it sterile. Without other people to promulgate and resist one’s passion, it becomes manageable, even routine. The stakes in such a life are no higher than those of a game of solitaire.

I opened the box.

It was an Okada Industries Filmmaking Kit, complete with tripod, two kliegs, an editing suite installed on a laptop, and a compact but impressive camera.

I set out to thank Dr. Lisa. Who else could have it been?

At the entrance to the Zone, I was detained.

The Transit agent said, Your permission to enter the Zone has been revoked.

I said, How come?

The Transit agent said, File says you smashed up a restaurant. The guest who owns the restaurant filed a complaint.

I said, My guilt hasn’t been established in that matter.

The Transit agent spun his monitor around. There was a video of me flipping tables in the dumpling house. Rolling on the floor strangling myself. The camera even got the part where Osvald was whacking me on the nose with the porno mag.

I said, I never argue with what’s on the screen.

I caught the Mauve Line back to Miniature Aleppo, as slow as was possible. A blurb of scarlet moon wove lemniscates. Children threw chunks of sidewalk at the cameras. A night for romance or at least groveling.

I pinged Dr. Lisa, i am dying / literally dying

I pinged, well i am figuratively dying / because i miss you

I pinged, jonson canceled the film because he wants to convince himself he’s in love with an actress / and i spent a lot of his money

I pinged, please meet me by the austerity monument / two hours

I pinged, i will be wearing the expression of extreme contrition / and hopelessness

No response.

She didn’t show up at the Austerity Monument.

Along with the Okada Kit there was a storage cube that I had assumed came with it. I was using it to prop a window. Arriving home from the monument, sitting at my desk, I noticed the cube was scratched up, as if it had been previously used.

On the cube, a single file, titled A Replicate , Rough Cut.

Open, Eastern Hub, drone footage. Rails coming in, rails leaving.

Here’s Osvald as the rough sculptor Billy. Isabel as Mayor Alison, hair dyed white. Isabel lost weight and Osvald found it. Neither could act, but I knew that.

When it ended, I started it again.

Woof. Osvald allowed himself three speeches. Isabel thoroughly masticates the scenery, which is a rococo fantasy of poverty. When would the urchins burst into song? The man playing Isabel’s husband, Gerald Horace, is a professional actor. Credits include Septuplets! , Octuplets! , conservation commercials. For his competence, he is awarded less than ten lines.

The best shots were mine. Osvald looted my brain. He used the triple-mirror. He used the close shots of the faces at night. He even took my argument between artist and patron, shot from the third-floor window of a building, in which it is never revealed who is doing the watching.