The PA nods and steps to the side.
I lean closer to Christine. “I need you to…” My cheeks warm with embarrassment, but I’m out of other options. “I need you to tell me to stay put. To wait until filming’s done.”
“Oh, really?” Her curious, coy smile shows off her pointed teeth, and her canines seem even longer than usual.
I tuck my arms to my ribs and shuffle my feet. Turning away, I mutter, “This was stupid.”
Christine’s voice falls over my shoulder, right next to my ear, and freezes me in my tracks.
“Now, Mylo, be a good boy. Go sit down and wait for Mommy.”
I canfeelthe words in my body, like an auditory weighted blanket, soothing that restlessness. I turn and look up at her, eyes wide.
All I can see is her face; the entire rest of the world becomes a blur.
Her eyes crinkle in a soft smile, and she tips her head at the monitors. “Go on. I’ll come get you soon.Relax.”
Christine’s words guide me back to my chair, and I plop down, feeling suddenly at peace.
Oh no. This is workingtoowell.
It’s a high I don’t trust, the kind of addiction that could all too easily ruin my life.
Whatever it takes to finish filming.
The rest of the afternoon flies by. And then as the clapboard snaps, I realize they’re ten takes into the last shot of the film: ironically, the first time Electra and Melinoë see each other, set in the Vengeance League headquarters when Melinoë steals the plot device that sets off the narrative’s events.
“Cut!” Lana calls. She reviews the footage. “Let’s go again, but… more surprise, less shock.”
Christine nods, as if that makes any sense. They reset and run the scene again.
Electra turns on the light to see Melinoë perched in the window, about to make her escape. This shot is a close-up on Electra’s face, but the camera hardly does justice to the minutiae of her expressions. They don’t show the subtle way her fingers gesture or her legs tense with readiness, even outside of the shot. When I look at the monitor, those electric blue eyes seem to cut straight through me.
Electra takes a step forward, then freezes—knowing as soon as she gets an inch closer, Melinoë is gone.
“I know I’ll hardly be getting any answers out of you,” Electra says, “so let me give you a warning. If you leave withthat, then no matter where you go, no matter how far, on this planet or to the edge of the universe, Iwillfind you. You can’t escape me.”
Melinoë just smirks, and even though the camera isn’t facing her, Haley gives Christine a compelling performance to act off of.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Melinoë whispers, and she drops out of the window—really just dropping onto a cushy mat, since it’s not part of the shot.
But what I haven’t noticed in the previous takes, what I hadn’t thought about in the script, is Electra’s face as Melinoë slips away.
Christine’s face—set with determination but letting slip a subtle internal breaking. Relief veneered over deeper sorrow.
My heart cracks in my chest, and I’d run to her if not for her earlier command.
It’s fake, I remind myself.Fake, it’s all fake. Movie magic and hormones. She’s fine. Everything’s fine.
And sure enough, when Lana calls cut, Christine’s easy smile slides back into place. It gives me the same feeling it did when I first saw it: a tightening of my hackles, a warning to be wary that things are not as they appear.
The smile’s fake. So does that mean the sorrow is real? They can’t both be fake, can they?
My head spins, trying desperately to sort through what everything means.
The takes drag on as Lana gives cryptic note after note, and Christine obliges. As everyone resets without complaint, the set comes to an unspoken understanding: none of us want this to end.
Finally, Lana’s vocabulary is exhausted.
