Robert Lopez - Good People

She asks me what I do and I tell her I’m between jobs. I always say this, hoping for a discount. It’s never worked. Even still, they don’t need to know what I do and where I do it. I could tend bar, wait tables, drive a truck, practice proctology, or be a state senator and the conversation would be the same.

There is music playing. She asks if I mind and I say I do not. If the music was bad or if it bothered me, I’d say so. This one likes to talk a lot. She says she’d like to be on TV someday, wants to know if I know anyone who works in TV. I tell her the people who make television wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I tell her they have their own agenda. She makes a sound from deep in her throat when I say this, so I say that the people on television aren’t actual people, that they aren’t the people you see walking around in the world.

Once I saw a mama-san on the street, handing out business cards. She didn’t recognize me. Otherwise, she did. Either way, I kept walking.

This big one isn’t digging in. In fact, her touch is soft. Maybe she is afraid she’ll hurt me. Sometimes they ask if you want hard or soft. They always go soft later, before the flip, but it’s best to dig in at first, work the muscles. This one isn’t doing that. She drapes her body over my back and sometimes talks into it. Sometimes I can’t hear what she’s saying.

We are back on the daughter, I think. The big one says she is having a sleepover, says she is going to wind up pregnant. She says she cannot take care of a baby again, says once was enough. She is not ready to be a grandmother. I tell her she’d make a sexy grandmother, but it’s not true. Still, people like to hear this kind of thing about themselves.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with being nice to people, even if you have to lie.

She tells me I’m a good person. I like hearing this because it’s true. She tells me not everyone is a good person but that most people are, at least her clients. I want to ask how many she has, if she sees all of them here, but I don’t. I want to ask if any of them ask for anything crazy. I want to ask if she has a menu, any hard limits. But you can’t ask these kinds of questions the first time you see someone, the first time you’ve been inside her house.

I’ve been inside my neighbor’s apartment only once. She didn’t extend a proper invitation, but, rather, asked me to help her lug a desk up the stairs. She caught me at the wrong time coming home. Women know that men can’t refuse favors like this because they know we’d like one or two in return. It never happens this way, but even still, we hope for it.

The desk was an antique and probably weighed a thousand pounds. We lugged it up the stairs and into her living room where we placed it against a wall. By this time I was sweating, maybe even panting. She said, Let me get you a glass of water, or maybe you’d like a beer. I told her a beer sounded great. She said I should make myself comfortable. People do a good job of leaving me alone most of the time, so they almost never tell me I should make myself comfortable. I think most people can take one look at me and know better. I almost started taking off my clothes, but I caught myself while unbuttoning my shirt. She came back with the beer and said, Excuse me, I have to make a telephone call. She disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I didn’t know what was happening, but I was happy to be left alone. I was hoping to collect my thoughts, consider what had taken place and what was likely to happen next. I also can’t remember if this was before or after I’d suggested having a drink together. It seems like it’s both important and beside the point at the same time.

She was inside her bedroom for about ten minutes. I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t tell if she was actually on the telephone. I considered leaving but thought that might be rude. I drank the beer and waited.

Finally she came back, apologized, said it was her fiancé. He was overseas in another time zone and they had a phone date, had to discuss something urgent, something involving someone’s health and life expectancy. She said something about an uncle or grandfather, about a hospital, about it not looking good. By that point I wasn’t listening. She asked me what I had planned for the rest of the day, said it was beautiful out, said she was going for a run. I hadn’t noticed the weather, but I thanked her for the beer and left.

I’m not sure what this proves, if anything. Maybe this is an example of me being good, or maybe it exemplifies something else. I tell this story to the big woman when she asks if I have a lady in my life. She tells me I deserve better.

Then she asks me to turn over.

Five minutes later, I’m getting dressed and thanking her. Five minutes after that, I wonder what’s the point, why I bother.

On the train ride home, I sit across from two young girls. They’re talking to each other, very concerned about something. Neither is big, but both are unquestionably beautiful. You can tell they have no idea there are other people in this train car, that there are other people in the world. This is the way with beautiful women. I can’t help it: I want both, even though neither looks eighteen yet. The one with the strawberry blonde ponytail would be game, you can tell, but I don’t know about the other one. She might need persuasion. I know I’m not the one to do it, though, not the right man for the job. I’m too good a person, and besides, I don’t usually go for the young ones.

with Samuel Ligon

GIVE THE ACTOR SOMETHING TO DO, a piece of business. Get him moving. Have him smoke a cigarette or bounce a ball.

Foster a collegial atmosphere on set. Encourage the minions to mix with the extras. Allow the underlings to stand near when you reference Stanislavski, Griffith, Mayer.

Do not impose a dress code. Do not enforce arbitrary rules. Do not chastise a member of the crew for chewing gum during rehearsals.

When marking up the script, make sure your handwriting is illegible.

Do not let anyone look at your copy of the script.

When reading the script, remember they are paying you for your time, your vision.

They are paying you.

Remember to have a vision. This is similar to an idea, only comprehensive.

Always talk in abstractions, metaphors. Say out loud this film is about an old lady knitting an afghan. It’s about a child tying his shoelaces.

Never call the writer an idiot when other people are around.

Never use the words inciting action in any conversation.

Do not call anyone by name, particularly the idiot. Instead say, Hey, kid, Hey, partner, Hey, sweet pea.

At the table reading, do not sit at the head of the table for two reasons. One is, you are expected to sit at the head of the table, and it is always good to confound expectations. The other reason is setting the proper tone, fostering the collegial atmosphere.

If the actor won’t smoke, ridicule him. Do this in front of the cast and crew. Make everyone avert their eyes, shift weight from one leg to the other.

Tell Star the shower scene will be handled with the utmost. Tell Star she has nothing to worry about.

Ask the location manager if she’s found a park with trees and benches and a man-made lake. Tell her there has to be a man-made lake.

Tell the idiot he has to add an outdoor scene at a park with trees and benches and a man-made lake. Tell him people should be doing all the things one does in a park.