I already knew it would be good. I’d been there, after all, antagonising girl-Dylan and shoving Cece into the pool. But what he’d put together was… well, it was a clear indication that Murray O’Connell was a fucking genius.
The way he’d drawn out boy-Dylan, emphasising his kindness and his emotional literacy. The way he’d drawn out the women, too, ensuring they came across as people rather than caricatures. The seeds he’d planted for the love stories that I knew were to come: the stolen looks between Amanda and girl-Dylan, boy-Dylan hero-carrying Cece down the hill.
There wasn’t much in the first episode that jumped out to me as a pickup he’d filmed after the fact – one ITM with Amanda where she said she was bisexual, that was about it – but they became more obvious as the season went on, especially after the hurdle of the Heather episodes (something which coincided with a substantial amount of the abuse in Lily Fireball’s DMs turning into messages of support, although the general levels of racism stayed about the same). He’d shot little conversations here and there between Amanda and girl-Dylan that slowly turned into pleas from Amanda that girl-Dylan leave the show with her.Then there was boy-Dylan and Cece, hugging a little too long, having trouble letting go. Murray had utilised the security-camera feel of the mounted cams perfectly. I might know that the two couples were perfectly aware they were being filmed – but no one else would have a clue.
And then, in Episode Nine, one episode after Lily Fireball departed, declaring to the Dylans that they weren’t right for each other, Murray dropped the hammer. He shot a conversation between boy-Dylan and girl-Dylan through trees, to give the feeling of a spy-cam, where they revealed that they’d both signed contracts, and the show was rigged.
It was breathtaking, game-changing television. He’d cast aside the usual question we asked – ‘Who will the Romeo fall in love with?’ – and replaced it with the much more interesting ‘How can these two couples ever be together?’. All our usual obstacles (time, distance, other people) were replaced with the whole commercial enterprise of reality TV itself, trying to force the Dylans together: and keep the real lovers apart.
I got a call from Fucking Greg the day after Episode Ten aired. ‘I’m going to say the same thing to you that you said to me,’ he announced, sounding very satisfied with himself. ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Two propositions for you, actually. One, we want you to co-host one of our big finale parties. The Romeo and his girlfriend will be doing one, and we want you to do the other one, with the Japanese Juliet and the lesbians.’
I rolled my eyes –Fucking Greg– and then did the calculations. Given boy-Dylan was the star of the season, they’dalmost certainly send Murray with him and Cece, so I’d still be keeping my promise to give him time and space. ‘Okay.’
‘And then the second…’
My heart started beating faster as he told me. And faster. And faster.
I should say no. It was the opposite of giving Murray time and space. The opposite of doing things on his terms.
But then my eyes fell on that stupid cushion.Are you ready to be brave?
No more hiding,Murray had told me, that day in the rain when he’d given me a choice between filming my ITM or him taking my dress off with his teeth.No more kissing me and running away. Tell me what you want.
I’d been brave then, but it was an outlier. Every other time when things had become too intense, I’d run.
But that one time I’d been brave? When I’d finally cracked and crossed the Rubicon?
It had paid off. I might have sabotaged it swiftly afterwards, but it hadworked.
I could be brave again. Instead of fleeing, I could stand. I could fight.
‘I love that idea,’ I purred at Greg.
31Murray
I didn’t see Lily for five months.
I spent the first two and a half months on set – first, doing reshoots with my two sets of star-crossed lovers so we could patch the story holes; and then shooting a new season ofWherefore Art Thou Romeo?,starring Kumiko.
The pandemic protocols weren’t as strict as they had been for Romeo-Dylan’s season, but they weren’t exactly loose either, so we were still operating in a bubble with vastly reduced crew numbers. Consequently, my workload was enormous, but I didn’t mind. The more I had to work, the less time I had to stare at the ceiling.
The premiere of Romeo-Dylan’s season aired about a month after we’d wrapped shooting on Kumiko’s. It rated through the fucking roof.
Typically, in a season of a Romeo and Juliet show, ratings went down after the premiere, as viewers fell away or got bored.
Our ratings went up.
We’d moved beyond being a ratings success story. We’d moved beyond high social media engagement. We started getting coverage in major media outlets. We’d become a cultural phenomenon.
In finale week, Fucking Greg called me into his office. ‘O’Connell!’ he roared, ignoring the elbow I’d offered him to bump and practically yanking my shoulder out of its socket in his ferocious desire to shake my hand. ‘The man of the moment!’
I extricated myself as politely as possible. ‘Hi, Greg.’
‘Just watched the second draft of theWhereforefinale you sent through. I didn’t think you’d be able to top theMMJtwist, but mate – you’re damn close. Close the door, would you?’
