Rudolph Wurlitzer - Slow Fade

“I’m always open to discussing change,” Wesley said.

“Your team has assured me of that, and I find it immensely gratifying to find someone that I am in such awe of to be so available and communicative. We would, of course, bring in another writer. I have in mind a chap from Bombay. Very fine on local dialects and Indian customs. Very amusing fellow. Understands the subtleties of East and West. Also in terms of my money situation, having him would be most agreeable. My next point is really my main point. I am committed to pursuing the Indian project without a doubt, that is, of course, if everything can be worked out to our mutual satisfaction. But I am absolutely excited and overwhelmed by your current film, the one you are now shooting. Your team has shown me excerpts and I think it is very fine, very precious stuff.”

“What film?” Wesley asked.

“The one that you’re now shooting. This one. Here and now. You and your wife and son and the final breakup with the studio. Wonderful, wonderful footage. Shocking, really, the way you allow your whole life to be on the line, or not to be on the line. We shall find out which. But it’s wildly amusing as well. We must not abandon that project.”

“I haven’t seen it.”

“With that in mind, we have prepared a little soupçon for you of various moments in various places.”

Toulouse pushed a button that turned off the lights and another one that started a projector, a screen unrolling from the ceiling as they watched. .

. . a close-up of Wesley standing outside the saloon in Durango, a small spill of light from the window highlighting his chest but leaving his face in shadows. Members of the crew pass, some shaking his hand, others ignoring him. . The Prop Man, dangerously stoned and looking for trouble, embraces Wesley with both arms. “Say the word, boss, and I’ll sabotage the trucks and get the studio man busted at the border.”. .“None of them matter that much,” Wesley says. “I was losing it anyway. Could you tell?”. .“Well sure. I could tell for some time. This isn’t an old man’s game. Will the girl stay?”. .“Evelyn? For a while. Until I fuck up.”. .“Which you will,” the Prop Man says. “But there are others to take up the slack. What about that old broad in Mexico City?”. .“No more replays,” Wesley says. . The Prop Man embraces him again and moves on. . Finally Evelyn appears. “Where the hell have you been?” Wesley asks angrily. “I’ve had to stand here like I’m saying good-bye at my own funeral.”. .“I lost my purse.”. .“Oh, Christ, that’s all we need.”. .“Are you the only one that’s allowed to lose anything?”. .“At this moment, yes.”. . The camera focuses on him as he walks alone down the empty street, past the jail and the bank and the telegraph office. . Evelyn and Wesley sit at the airport bar, surrounded by the Production Manager, Assistant Director, Leading Man, and Art Director. “What will you do after Mazatlán?” the Production Manager asks Wesley. . “I don’t know. Write my memoirs. Look for my daughter. God knows where she is but she couldn’t be any more lost than me.”. .“Hell, you’re not lost, Wes,” the Leading Man says, desperately hung over and confused. “You went down with your guns blazing.”. . They drink silently, not knowing what to say. From behind the camera Sidney asks: “Where do you think your daughter is?”. .“My daughter? I don’t know. My son says India, but my son has been known to say one thing and mean another. Maybe we’ll both go over there and take a look. She’s a strange girl. Independent and willful. Like me, I guess. I don’t know about either of my kids, to tell the truth. I suppose they’ll come back to haunt me now.”. .Wesley walks on the beach at Mazatlán, holding a black umbrella to protect him from the sun. . Sitting in a bar, he looks straight into the camera: “I’m not going to sum up my goddamn life. Absolutely not. And fuck you for asking me.”. . On the beach at night, Evelyn and the Frenchman from Mexico City sit around a fire. They have been swimming and are wrapped in large beach towels. .“Do I love Wesley?” Evelyn asks. “You can’t just stick the camera in my face and ask questions like that.”. .“Why not?” Sidney asks. . “It is an invasion,” says the Frenchman. “How would you like it if I asked you questions?”. .“I wouldn’t mind.”. . The camera changes hands. . “What you do is obscene and childish,” the Frenchman says. “How can you defend yourself?. .”

Unable to watch any more, Evelyn rose from the couch and walked out of the salon, Wesley following her.

They stood on the stern deck, the yacht moving slowly down the river toward Battery Park and the open harbor.

Wesley was the first to speak. “If everything I do causes you such pain perhaps we should think about separating.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s not what I necessarily want but it seems to be what’s happening.”

A.D. came on deck and stood off by himself, smoking a cigarette and staring down at the ship’s wake.

Wesley spoke again: “Does your silence mean you have decided not to communicate on any level?”

“I’m considering that possibility.”

“It was a mistake for you to come. These meetings never mean anything.”

“It has been a mistake from the beginning,” she said sadly.

“I’m not altogether sure, but I don’t think so,” he said.

Stooping down, she took off her sneakers and handed them to him. It was only when she was almost over the railing that he figured out what she was doing.

In a long dive she cleared the yacht and started swimming for the shore a few hundred yards away.

“Someone stop her,” A.D. yelled.

“It’s okay,” Wesley said calmly. “She swims like a seal.”

A.D. was furious. “If we had a camera we could get that shot. It’s a one-in-a-million shot.”

“It’s a meaningless shot if you don’t know what you’re doing, and if you had a camera she wouldn’t have come.”

“You blew it with Toulouse,” A.D. said. “It was a bad time to split because the next scene was his favorite. You remember the party at the Frenchman’s house in Mazatlán? You listed your favorite films and were vicious about other directors, putting down the whole business. Then that South American critic busted you for not having any dignity.”

A sailor had run down from the bridge and was yelling for the captain but Evelyn had already reached the dock and was climbing up an outside ladder.

Wesley called out to the sailor: “It’s a bet we have on. Don’t worry about it. It was prearranged.”

The sailor went below to report to Toulouse.

“Some woman you have there,” A.D. said. “A real animal. Does this mean it’s quits between you two?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, she’s a bummer for the project. I’ve never heard that woman put in a good word for you.”

“I suppose not.”

“As one of your partners and all-time fans, I sure hope you can hang in there. With Toulouse, I mean. . He’ll pick up the tab and give us a location trip to India. That way we can shoot you finding Clementine and reuniting with Walker as well. You know how much this means to Walker. That boy has worked his guts out being on the trail of this story. Right now he’s probably up there in Albany with one of those religious fanatics. There’s nothing he’s not going to do to make a connection with you. I don’t see how we can let him down. I believe in this project, Wesley. This is it for me. I waited my whole life to find this one.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Maybe that’s true,” A.D. said quickly. “Maybe you’re not interested. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still keep it alive. Blow a little smoke up Toulouse’s ass. Sidney and I have put a lot of time on this project. We haven’t been drawing wages either. We’re going for broke. And you might not know it, but life on the street isn’t too colorful these days.”