We step into the throng of journalists chatting as they wait to be shown to the next actor, while publicists and assistants dart around with iPads, trying to find whoever they’ve been sent to locate.
An hour at a press junket can feel like a lifetime as you’re shepherded from room to room to ask the same questions as every other journalist there, the actors forced to repeat why they were drawn to this role, this script, this director, this setting, when they likely finished filming it a year ago and can’t remember the answers to any of those questions.
To give the actors a bit of a break and in an attempt to stand out from other journalists, I’ve discovered that it’s best to throw in some kooky questions to try to make them laugh, which consequently leads them to answer questions with a little more ease and enthusiasm. Although, I have to admit that method doesn’talwayswork—I once joked with a particularly straightlaced actor about ditching the junket and flying together to the Bahamas and, without cracking even a hint of a smile, he said, “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” and promptly cut the interview short.
Today I get some nice quotes from the other actors in the film, but, like everyone else, I’m here to get time with Isabella Blossom, the star who will draw in the crowds. She’s a talentedactor but she’s also got ahugesocial media following, and lots of endorsement deals. Her face seems to be everywhere at the moment, from promoting makeup brands to maternity items. She’s young, powerful, and aspirational, which could make her a difficult interview subject.
Celebrities with a big social following tend to know what sells and what doesn’t, what engages an audience and what turns them off. They can create the perfect persona and rarely put a toe out of line—it’s why I try to avoid interviewing “influencers.” They reel off well-rehearsed sound bites and aren’t very forthcoming on their opinions, avoiding any topics that might put their brand endorsements at risk. I completely understand, but it doesn’t make for the most engaging read. But Isabella is an actor first and foremost, so I’m hoping she’ll give me some good stuff about her creative process at the very least.
When I’m finally ushered into her suite by Rachael (who reminds me under her breath that I have “tenminutes, not fifteen”), I find Isabella in a comfortable armchair by the window, a large vase of flowers on the table next to her.
There are some people in this world who justlooklike movie stars, and Isabella Blossom is one of them, with the name to match, as though her parents knew that one day it would be emblazoned across movie posters. She’s strikingly beautiful, with big, dark eyes, razor-sharp cheekbones, and plump, full lips, and her long, black curls are impossibly glossy.
She’s in a bold red maxi summer dress with a flowing skirt and a tied waist that shows off her bump.
“Hi!” I say, heading over. “I’m not sure if you’ll remember me, I’m Harper, from—”
“It’s nice to see you again, Harper,” she smiles, about to get up.
“Sit down, please,” I insist, plonking myself on the chair opposite her while Rachael lurks in the background, there to monitor proceedings and make sure nothing gets untoward, like aRegency chaperone. “You look great. Not long now until your due date, how are you feeling? And I’m asking that off the record.”
“Like a beached whale,” she says, slumping back in her seat. “Everyone talks about the glow of pregnancy. No one mentions the constipation.”
“Prune juice,” I recommend, placing my digital voice recorder on the table and flicking through the pages on my notepad to find my prepared list of questions that I jotted down on the tube on the way here. “A celebrity nutritionist told me she had stockpiled the stuff when she was pregnant.”
“Yeah, I’ve tried that. It’s gross.” She wrinkles her nose. “The beautiful journey of pregnancy. What a load of bollocks.”
I laugh. “Now, if only you’d said that on the record—that would make a great cover line. Are you ready for me to press Record? I know we’re on a tight schedule.”
“Please,” she says, nodding, while Rachael checks her watch.
I press the button on my digital voice recorder.
“So, Isabella Blossom, why—”
The adjoining doors of her suite suddenly burst open and a man marches in with a thunderous expression on his face.
“Did you tell that Jonathan Cliff guy fromExpressionthat I didn’t write the lighthouse movie?” he seethes, striding across the room toward us.
Rachael tenses, widening her eyes at me. I take this to be the charming new film-director boyfriend, Elijah.
“Honey,” Isabella says with a fixed smile, “this is Harper; she’s a journalist from—”
“Yeah, hi, I don’t have time for introductions,” he says, dismissing me with a wave of his hand before addressing her again. “Did you say that to theExpressionjourno? You know he writes scathing articles about everyone!”
“We can talk about this in a minute. I’m in the middle of an interview,” she says, her smile wobbling.
“I can’t believe you!” He runs his hands through his shoulder-length brown hair, pacing back and forth. “Iwrotethat movie!”
“You’redirectingthe movie,” Isabella says, frowning at him. “You didn’t write it. It’s adapted from a novel and the author has written the script.”
“Yes, but I have hadmajorinfluence on the screenplay!” he argues. “You know that!”
“Elijah,” Rachael interjects calmly, “perhaps you could find another time to—”
“I’m so fed up with this bullshit!” Elijah rages to Isabella, ignoring Rachael’s attempt to diffuse the situation. “It’s like you go out of your way to bring me down.”
“It was an honest mistake!” Isabella says, looking hurt. “I wasn’t trying to upset you or make you look bad. He asked who wrote the script, so I told him. I didn’t realize you were getting a writing credit, too. I’m sure you can speak to the journalist and correct him?”
