The Last Don - Mario Puzo [150]
“You’re just lazy,” Molly said. “Any excuse not to write. That’s the real reason why you wanted to kill yourself.” They all laughed. Ernest helped them to the veal on his dish and then to the extra desserts. The only time he was courtly was over dinner, he seemed to take pleasure in feeding people.
“That’s all true,” he said. “But a novelist can’t make a good living unless he writes simple novels. And even that is a dead end. A novel can never be as simple as a movie.”
Claudia said angrily, “Why do you put movies down? I’ve seen you cry at good movies. And they are art.”
Vail was enjoying himself. After all, he had won his fight against the Studio, he had his points. “Claudia, I really agree,” he said. “Movies are art. I complain out of envy. Movies are making novels irrelevant. What’s the point of writing a lyrical passage about nature, painting the world in red heat, a beautiful sunset, a mountain range coated with snow, the awe-inspiring waves of great oceans.” He was declaiming, waving his arms. “What can you write about passion and the beauty of women? What’s the use of all that when you can see it on the movie screen in Technicolor? Oh, those mysterious women with full red lips, their magical eyes, when you can see them bare-assed, tits as delicious-looking as beef Wellington. All much better than real life even, never mind prose. And how can we write about the amazing deeds of heroes who slay their enemies by the hundred, who conquer great odds and great temptation, when you can get it all in gouts of blood before your eyes, tortured, agonized faces on the screen. Actors and cameras doing all the work without processing through the brain. Sly Stallone as Achilles in the Iliad. Now the one thing the screen can’t do is get into the minds of their characters, it cannot duplicate the thinking process, the complexity of life.” He paused for a moment, then said wistfully, “But you know what’s worst of all? I’m an elitist. I wanted to be an artist to be something special. So what I hate is that movies are such a democratic art. Anybody can make a movie. You’re right, Claudia, I’ve seen movies that moved me to tears and I know for a fact that the people who made them are moronic, insensitive, uneducated, and with not an iota of morality. The screenwriter is illiterate, the director an egomaniac, the producer a butcher of morality and the actors smash their fists into the wall or a mirror to show the audience they are upset. But then the movie works. How can that be? Because a movie uses sculpture, painting, music, human bodies, and technology to form itself, while a novelist only has a string of words, black print on white paper. And to tell the truth that’s not so terrible. That’s progress. And the new great art. A democratic art. And art without suffering. Just buy the right camera and meet with your friends.”
Vail beamed at the two women. “Isn’t it wonderful, an art that requires no real talent? What democracy, what therapy, to make your own movie. It will replace sex. I go to see your movie and you come to see mine. It’s an art that will transform the world and for the better. Claudia, be happy that you are in an art form that is the future.”
“You are a condescending prick,” Molly said. “Claudia fought for you, defended you. And I’ve been more patient with you than any murderer I’ve defended. And you buy us dinner to insult us.”
Vail seemed genuinely astonished. “I’m not insulting, I’m just defining. I am grateful and I love you both.” He paused for a moment and then said humbly, “I’m not saying I’m better than you.”
Claudia burst out laughing. “Ernest, you’re so full of shit,” she said.
“Just in real life,” Vail said amiably. “Can we talk business a little bit? Molly, if I were dead and my family regained all the rights, would LoddStone pay five points?”
“At least five,” Molly said. “Now you’re going to kill yourself over extra points? You lose me entirely.”
Claudia was looking at him, troubled. She distrusted his high spirits. “Ernest, are you still unhappy? We got you a wonderful deal. I was so thrilled.