The Last Don - Mario Puzo [51]
The initial flush of ego that she could attract such primary alpha males was quickly dampened by how they treated her.
The director, an unlikable ferret of a man only a few years older than she, had made three offbeat movies that not only were critical successes but had made a goodly sum of money. Every studio wanted a relationship with him. LoddStone Studios gave him a three-picture deal and also gave him Claudia to rewrite the script he was planning to shoot.
One of the elements of the director’s genius was that he had a clear vision of what he wanted. At first he condescended to Claudia because she was a woman and a writer, both inferior in the power structure of Hollywood. They quarreled immediately.
He asked her to write a scene she felt did not belong to the structure of the plot. On its own Claudia recognized that the scene would be a flashy bit that would be just a show-off scene for the director.
“I can’t write that scene,” Claudia said. “It does nothing for the story. It’s just action and camera.”
The director said curtly. “That’s why they’re movies. Just do it the way we discussed it.”
“I don’t want to waste your time and mine,” Claudia said. “Just go write with your fucking camera.”
The director didn’t waste time even getting angry. “You’re fired,” he said. “Off the picture.” He clapped his hands.
But Skippy Deere and Bobby Bantz made them reconcile, which was only possible because the director had become intrigued by her stubbornness. The picture was a success, and Claudia had to admit this was more because of the director’s talent as a moviemaker than hers as a writer. Quite simply she had not been able to see the director’s vision. They fell into bed almost by accident, but the director proved to be a disappointment. He refused to be naked, he made love with his shirt on. But still Claudia had dreams of the two of them making great movies together. One of the great director-writer teams of all time. She was quite willing to be the subordinate partner, to make her talent serve his genius. They would create great art together and become a legend. The affair lasted a month, until Claudia finished her “spec” script of Messalina and showed it to him. He read it and tossed it aside. “A piece of feminist bullshit with tits and ass,” he said. “You’re a clever girl but it’s not a picture I want to waste a year of my life making.”
“It’s only a first draft,” Claudia said.
“Jesus, I hate people taking advantage of a personal relationship to get a movie made,” the director said.
In that moment Claudia fell completely out of love with him. She was outraged. “I don’t have to fuck you to make a movie,” she said.
“Of course you don’t,” the director said. “You’re talented and you have your reputation of being one of the great pieces of ass in the movie business.”
Now Claudia was horrified. She never gossiped about her sexual partners. And she hated his tone, as if women were somehow shameful for doing what men did.
Claudia said to him, “You have talent, but a man who fucks with his shirt on has a worse reputation. And at least I never got laid by promising someone a screen test.”
That was the end of their relationship, and it had started her thinking of Dita Tommey as the director. She decided that only a woman could do justice to her script.
Well, what the hell, Claudia thought. The bastard never got totally naked and he didn’t like to talk after sex. He was truly a genius in film but he had no language. And for a genius he was a truly uninteresting man, except when he talked movies.
Now Claudia was approaching the great curve of the Pacific Coast Highway that showed the ocean as a great mirror by reflecting the cliffs to her right. It was her favorite spot in the world, natural beauty that always thrilled her. It was only ten minutes to the Malibu Colony, where Athena lived. Claudia tried to formulate her plea: to save the movie, to make Athena return. She remembered that at different times in their lives they had had the same lover, and she felt a flush of