Квентин Тарантино - Once Upon a Time in Hollywood - The First Novel By Quentin Tarantino

Greeting Rick as if he were projecting to the back row of the Old Vic, the director announces, “Rick Dalton? Sam Wanamaker!”

The director shoots his hand out to the seated, slightly discombobulated, wet-faced actor, who instinctively completes the handshake greeting with a dripping-wet paw.

Clearing his voice, Rick sputters, “Good to meetcha—uh—uh—uh—Sam. Sorry ’bout the wet hand.”

Sam dismisses the wet-hand comment. “No worries, I’m used to it with Yul,” referencing the exotic Hollywood movie star Yul Brynner, who Wanamaker became friends with when the two acted together in the historical action picture Taras Bulba . Recently, Yul Brynner had backed Wanamaker’s move behind the camera by starring in Sam’s first feature, The File of the Golden Goose .

Wanamaker continues with Dalton, “I want you to know, Rick, I’m the one who cast you, and I couldn’t be more thrilled about you doing this.”

The director is dealing with Rick with a tank of high octane, while the quart-low actor is struggling to catch his equilibrium. Rick’s nerves kick in and his slight stammer starts making its first appearance of the day.

“Well-well, thanks, S-S-Sam, I appreciate it.” Then, finally getting a hold of the sentence, “It’s a good part.”

“Have you met the series lead, Jim Stacy?” Wanamaker asks, referring to the actor playing the role of Johnny Lancer.

“N-n-no, not yet,” Rick stutters.

Does this fucking guy stutter? Sam thinks.

“You guys are gonna be dynamite together,” Sam says.

“Well …” Rick looks for the right word, then gives up and just says, “That sounds exciting.”

Wanamaker says confidentially, even though Sonya and Rebekkah can hear everything he’s saying, “Just between you and me, the network cast the series leads, Jim and Wayne.” Wayne is the series co-lead, Wayne Maunder, who plays the Boston-raised Lancer brother, Scott.

“And they did a fine job. But nevertheless, the network chose them. But I chose you . Primarily because I can foresee possible gorilla magic between you and Stacy. And I want you to exploit that.”

Sam leans over Rick, the massive gold Zodiac medallion (Gemini) the director wears around his neck swinging in the air back and forth over Rick in the makeup chair. “That doesn’t mean I want you to be anything less than professional. But you’re the seasoned pro. I want to work with you ”—pointing a finger down at Rick—“to help me get what I need out of him ”—jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Stacy somewhere outside the makeup trailer. “When the two of you are in costume, I want you ”—again pointing down at Rick in his chair—“to subtextually keep the cock-measuring contest continuing between the two of you.”

Waving his hands in front of him in order to frame a picture in the air for Dalton to imagine: “Think of a confrontation between a silverback gorilla and a Kodiak bear.”

Rick chuckles, “Well … Sam … that’s some image.”

Wanamaker agrees, “I know.”

“Which one am I,” Rick asks, “the gorilla or the bear?”

“Which one has the biggest cock?” Wanamaker answers.

“Well,” Dalton deduces, “that would probably be the gorilla.”

“Have you ever seen a fully erect Kodiak bear?” Wanamaker challenges.

“I can’t say I have,” Dalton confides.

“Then don’t be so sure,” Wanamaker warns.

“When the two of you are in scenes,” Wanamaker directs, “I want you to goad him. You think you can do that, Rick?”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘goad him’?” Dalton asks.

“ Goad him ,” Wanamaker repeats. “Poke the bear, get his dander up. You goad him as if you’re trying to convince the network executives to fire Stacy and reshoot the pilot with you as Johnny Lancer. You go at him like that,” Wanamaker assures Dalton, “you’ll be doing both him and the show a favor. Not to mention capturing lightning in a bottle.”

Wanamaker finds Sonya behind him in the reflection in the mirror, sitting in her chair, smoking her Chesterfield. He doesn’t turn to address her; he just speaks to her reflection.

“Sonya,” he dictates, “first off, I want to give Caleb a mustache. A big, long, droopy Zapata-like mustache.”

Oh, great , Rick thinks. He hates fake beards and mustaches. It’s like trying to act with a caterpillar glued to your upper lip and a beaver attached to your face. Not to mention he hates spirit gum slathered on his mug.

After Wanamaker mentions the “Zapata-like mustache,” the director bursts out laughing and tells Rick, “And trust me, when Stacy gets a look at that goddamn mustache, he’s gonna flip his fucking wig!” The director explains, “We both wanted Johnny Lancer to have a mustache. I told the network we need facial hair like that to make the genre feel modern. Like what the Italians are doing in Europe.”

Rick winces.

Wanamaker continues, too wrapped up in his story to clock Rick’s reaction, “Well, CBS said no fucking way. You want to put a mustache on somebody, you put it on the heavy. And that means you, Rick,” Sam says with a big grin.

Rick doesn’t dig wearing phony mustaches, but if the lead wants it and can’t get it but he can? That could be a horse of a different color.

“So Stacy wanted to wear a mustache?” Rick confirms.

Wanamaker answers, “Yes.”

“Is that gonna bother Stacy?” Rick asks.

“Are you kidding? He’s gonna go fucking apeshit! But he knows what the network said. So it’ll just add another subtextual layer to the antagonism between you two.”

Then he turns around and addresses Rebekkah: “Now, Rebekkah darling, I want a different look for Rick’s character, Caleb . I don’t want him costumed like they costumed the heavies on Bonanza and The Big Valley for the last decade. I want a zeitgeist flair to the costume—nothing anachronistic. But where does 1969 and 1889 meet? I want a costume he could wear into the London Fog tonight and be the hippest guy in the place.”

The counterculture-savvy costume designer gives the hip director the answer he wants. “We got a Custer jacket, fringes all down the arm. It’s tan now, but I dye it dark brown, he could hit the Strip in it tonight.”

That’s what Wanamaker wants to hear. He runs a finger down her cheek and says, “That’s my girl.”

Rebekkah smiles back, and at that moment Rick knows Sam and Rebekkah are fucking.

Wanamaker spins back in Rick’s direction. “Now, Rick, about your hair.”

A touch too defensively, Rick asks, “What about my hair?”

Wanamaker answers back, “The Brylcreem - boy generation is dead.” Sam explains, “It’s very Eisenhower. I want Caleb to have a different hairdo.”

“How different?” Rick asks.

“Something more hippie-ish,” Sam tells him.

You want me to look like some goddamn hippie? Rick thinks.

“You want me to look like a goddamn hippie?” Rick questions with a skeptical face.

“Think less hippie,” Sam clarifies, “more Hells Angels.”

Sam’s eyes find Sonya again in the reflection of the mirror. “I wanna get an Indian wig, long hair, put it on his head, then cut it into a hippie hairstyle.”

Then, quickly turning to Rick, “But scary hippie,” he assures the actor.

Rick interrupts Sam’s creative flow with a question. “Sam … uh … Sam?”

Sam turns toward his actor, giving him his full attention. “Yes, Rick?”

Rick tries, without sounding like a temperamental horse’s ass, to slow Sam’s roll somewhat with a practical question: “Look … uh … uh … Sam, if you got my face covered up in all this … uh … uh,” he searches for the right word, “ junk , nobody’s gonna know it’s me.”