I visualize Esau’s response when Jacob returned to ask his forgiveness for stealing his birthright and offered gifts to make up for it. He’d said, “I already have plenty, my brother. Keep what you have for yourself.” How do I get to that place?
I sink onto the picnic bench and lean over to unlace Erin’s bright sneakers. If my life were a film, these kicks would be used for symbolism. They’d represent the envy that probably every woman has to deal with in life. While Erin wishes she could wear my pretty shoes, I wish I was confident enough to wear ugly shoes for comfort.
I pause, looking at the sneakers, and a video montage of iconic footwear in film history dances through my brain to the tune of “Boogie Shoes.” Wonder Woman in red boots, Dorothy in ruby-red slippers, then Cinderella’s glass ones. Did they deal with envy?
My lips part as I realize these women could relate. Cinderella, anyway. She definitely dealt with the impact of jealousy. Her stepsisters ripped her dress apart to keep her from going to the ball. If not for those magical glass slippers …
I sit up straight. What if Cinderella traded her shoes for Dorothy’s, and she’d only had to click her heels together to get home rather than race to a coach made out of a pumpkin? Prince Charming never would have found her.
And what if Dorothy had been wearing Wonder Woman’s boots? She would have needed an invisible jet to return to Kansas. Such a mash-up could be a fun story to watch, and it could have a powerful message about how we may envy what others have, but we already have exactly what we need.
I want to write it. And I want Charlie to film it in his documentary style. It would be like a reality show, where fictional characters talk to the camera about their issues, then Kai would cut to funny footage of their incidents. I can almost see Dorothy clicking the heels of Marty McFly’s Nikes together and saying, “There’s no place like 1985.”
“Charlie,” I call before I’m even aware of where he’s at and which direction I should be yelling.
“What?” His voice bellows from right in front of me.
My vision of the Wicked Witch of the West riding her broom to chase after a flying DeLorean fades to be replaced by my roommate’s face. His eyebrows dip in concern.
“What’s the theme to this year’s forty-eight-hour film competition?” My heart thumps in anticipation. Either my shoe idea is going to work, or it’s not.
He shrugs as if my part of our production is the easy part. “It has to tie into local culture.”
I bite my lip to keep from grinning in triumph before we’ve agreed on this theme. But anybody who knows Portland culture knows the Nike campus plays a big part. And anybody who knows Nike remembers the Michael Jordan commercial line:It’s gotta be the shoes.
Kai’s gaze slides my way. “Do you have an idea?”
I do, but I wonder if Kai will get it. The only shoes he ever wears are flip-flops, and there aren’t many movies where iconic characters wear flip-flops. Julia Roberts did inNotting Hill, but I’d always questioned that style choice. Of course, it made her more relatable, which is what Hugh Grant’s character needed. Had she been in herPretty Womanboots, I don’t think they ever would have gotten together.
Sadly, I doubt Kai or Charlie have ever watched either of those movies. How do I sell them on my idea?
I start with “It’s gotta be the shoes.”
They both look at my feet, and I remember I’m supposed to be removing Erin’s high-tops. I quickly finish unlacing them so I can tug them off and hand them over.
Charlie rubs his chin, probably trying to guess where I’m headed. “That slogan is from that Michael Jordan commercial.”
“Oh, yeah.” Kai catches up. “That fits into local culture. He played in the NBA finals against our Portland Trailblazers. But while he could fly, we had Clyde Drexler, who could glide.”
I clap my hands once at the connection. The basketball players aren’t movie characters, but they are iconic. “What if Jordan had wanted to glide like Clyde, so instead of wearing the shoes that were named after him, he wore Gene Kelly’s tap shoes?”
Kai tilts his head. “You want me to film Michael Jordan tap-dancing down the court?”
“Exactly. Well, not Jordan himself, we don’t have that kind of budget, but an actor playing Michael Jordan.”
“That would be memorable.” Charlie narrows his eyes. “But why?”
I hold up a strappy sandal before sliding it onto my sole. “To show how we all want something we can’t have. And how if we focus on trying to be like someone else, we miss out on how great we really have it.” I nod in agreement with myself. This is the fun part of writing—the idea stage, where an original idea gets better and better. “We can take this theme full circle until at the end of our film, we have a character who envies MJ.”
Kai snorts, sounding more entertained than convinced. “You mean we start out with Jordan tap-dancing, then we move to Gene Kelly who wants to do some ‘Dirty Dancing,’ so he puts on Baby’s white Keds … ?”
Charlie nods. “But the Keds get soaked when he’s singing in the rain.”
They are starting to see my vision. I script more of the picture for them. “Then Baby wears Mia’s Doc Martens fromThe Princess Diaries, but when Johnny tries to lift her above his head, the shoes are so heavy they both fall over.”
The guys laugh. A third chuckle joins their chorus.
Karson’s still crossing his arms and looking out at the track as if it has all his attention, but he’s wearing a small grin. He doesn’t make eye contact or give any indication he even notices me, but he says, “You going to put Baby back in the corner?”
