What You See in the Dark - Manuel Munoz [49]
“Not at all,” she said. “It’s to be applauded, I would say.”
“I’m guilty of judging a picture harshly myself. I can’t bring myself to forgive even television. One evening, I was watching an episode of I Love Lucy with my wife. Very harmless and comical. Do you like her?”
“Oh, very much so.”
“She’s a genius really, though I have to tell you that, as a director, I wouldn’t know what to do with someone who is so gifted physically. It’s a whole other element to bring to an already complicated task. In any case, the episode had Lucy and her friend planning to steal John Wayne’s footprints from Grauman’s Theatre in Hollywood—”
“I remember that episode. She was quite funny!”
The Director laughed. She felt relieved to hear him let loose, a good, wholesome chortle, easygoing, and it made him lose the sharp edge he had, the silent, watchful scrutiny that she had already observed from him in their previous meetings. She ate a little more freely and took some of the wine.
“Very funny indeed. Yet as I was watching, I was appalled that such a marvelous sketch had such terribly shoddy sets. When the two girls get ready to steal the footprints, they hear someone coming, so they hide in a set of bushes tucked to the side. Pure convenience! I know Grauman’s. They have no such landscaping. And that got me thinking about the time of day. They were stealing the chunk of sidewalk in the evening, yet the lighting was incorrect, and there was hardly an effort to disguise the fact. Inexcusable, even if it is television.”
“It didn’t ruin your pleasure, though, did it? You still found it funny, no?”
“I enjoy a good slapstick, so, yes—my wife and I enjoyed the episode very much. But my point is the respect you must give to the discerning eye, to people who know how to look rather than just see.” He eyed the room, studying the walls and the simple decor, not a shabby dining area by any measure. “Service able, don’t you think? For a city this size?”
“Absolutely.” She looked at the walls, painted deep blue, and the white wainscoting ringing the room. She watched in surprise as the Director lifted an edge of the tablecloth and knocked at the table, as if listening.
“That’s good solid oak for a modest room.”
“They don’t skimp around here apparently. It’s a lovely meal, isn’t it?”
“Suitable,” he said, and they ate silently for a moment, enjoying the food. “I’m very glad,” he said, “that you made the comment about not having a window in this room. I like your attentiveness.”
“A little light would’ve been nice. I always like to know what time it is.”
The Director glanced at his watch. “Say, we have a little bit of daylight left. Would you like to do some scouting with me, out on the west side of town?”
“The west side?”
“The motels. We can compare our findings with the photographer’s work from this afternoon.”
She agreed, and while they didn’t rush the rest of the meal, she begged off another glass of wine, eager to get on with the Director’s invitation. When the wardrobe mistress had spoken to her about the brassieres involved in the first scene, she’d told the Actress that she’d been asked to go around Los Angeles and think carefully about the undergarments that a secretary’s pay could afford. So here was a chance to be, strangely, just like the set decorators, to engage in the level of scrutiny they’d been asked to apply in their study of young women’s apartments in Phoenix. The details might even take the burden away from the difficulty of her performance.
They thanked the clerk at the front desk and stepped out front, where Carter, the driver, was smoking a cigarette. He stamped it out quickly and opened the car door for them, and the Director instructed him to drive out to the highway access road, where the motels were strung along in a neon line. The day was giving itself over to dusk, but the light was strong enough to allow solid views of the passing