Fame and Wuthering Heights

‘I have to go,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse with longing. ‘I need to do this movie, Chrissie. We need it.’

Chrissie sat up, clamping her legs shut like a librarian slamming closed a book. ‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘But don’t you dare complain to me about how hard this is for you.’

‘Come with me,’ Dorian pleaded.

‘And what, live in a hotel in my own home city? Schlep Saskia around some freezing-cold film set like a piece of excess baggage? No thanks. I’m not interested in following you round the world as your little woman.’

Dorian realized he couldn’t win. He’d offered her the part of Cathy months ago, but as usual she’d turned him down flat, a mask of anger and fear falling over her face like a security grille. ‘Our daughter needs at least one parent,’ she’d told him bitterly. It was almost as if she wanted to be unhappy, but still Dorian felt like a failure. Things had not improved between them before he left for LA. He’d been in town for five days now, and Chrissie had yet to return one of his calls.

Angry and anxious, he needed a vent for his frustration. When Sabrina Leon showed up late to this morning’s script read-through, he found one.

The rest of the day was not a rehearsal. It was a bullfight, a gladiatorial combat to the death, and Sabrina was the bull. While everybody else was allowed to get through their scenes, with Dorian commenting on their performance only at the end, Sabrina was picked up on every line. She was sloppy. Her delivery was too fast. She failed to react with enough emotion to Viorel’s lines. She was too emotional.

Over and over again, Dorian hit her with the same three words, words Sabrina came to loathe like poison:

‘Do it again.’

By the end of the day, even the most die-hard Sabrina-haters in the cast were beginning to feel sorry for her. Spoiled she may be, and attention-seeking and entitled. But you had to admire the stamina with which she ran back at each scene, over and over and over and over, determined to get it right, switching from her two parts as both the older and younger Catherine with consummate professionalism. As older Cathy, she’d be reading a passionate love scene with Viorel one minute, then jumping straight into a painful scene where, as the younger Catherine, she was being tormented by Heathcliff, forced to live as a common servant in her own childhood home. Even without Dorian’s bullying, the emotional rollercoaster was intense.

At five o’clock, Dorian finally called time on the battle.

‘All right everybody. We’re done for the day. Does anyone have any questions?’

I do, thought Sabrina. When are you going to drop dead?

No one spoke. They all wanted to go home. Just watching Dorian shred Sabrina’s performance had been exhausting.

‘I have a question.’ Viorel Hudson’s sexy British drawl rang out through the silence. ‘Do we know when filming’s actually going to start?’

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. ‘Soon. Anyone else?’

‘Is that really all you can tell us?’ Viorel pressed him. ‘I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but I don’t understand the need for all the secrecy. I mean, I haven’t even been told where the location’s going to be. Has anyone else?’

Everyone shook their heads.

‘Whether or not you understand it, you have all signed confidentiality agreements,’ snapped Dorian. ‘All details – all details – about the production of this movie remain confidential, and logistical information will be released to you on a need-to-know basis only.

‘In the meantime,’ he went on, ‘I hope I don’t have to remind any of you that you are all under contract. I can call you in to work at any time, for any reason, and I will be doing so in the near future. You should expect to be asked to travel at extremely short notice, so I suggest you all go home, pack your bags and wait.’ Dorian closed his script and stood up, a clear signal that the matter was now closed.

Sabrina was the first to leave – she couldn’t wait to get out of there. The rest of the cast swiftly followed her lead. Only Viorel remained behind.

‘Is there something I can do for you, Mr Hudson?’ Dorian’s tone was less than friendly. He was in no mood to be interrogated by his leading man. Considering what Viorel was being paid, he expected him to put up and shut up along with everybody else.

‘I know it’s not my place to say so …’ said Viorel.

‘Then don’t,’ muttered Dorian.

‘But don’t you think you were a little rough on Sabrina in there? Every time she opened her mouth, you practically ripped her throat out.’

‘I did nothing of the kind,’ said Dorian. ‘I directed her performance. Last time I checked, I believe that was considered a key part of my job description.’

Viorel looked troubled. Dorian softened slightly. It wouldn’t do to alienate all his cast before filming had even started. ‘Look. I wouldn’t cry too many crocodile tears over Miss Leon if I were you. The young lady can look after herself. She has a lot to learn, as an actress and in life. If my set is where she has to learn it –’ he shrugged –‘then so be it.’

‘What if she doesn’t learn?’ asked Viorel. ‘She might just end up hating you for it.’

Dorian smiled. ‘I rather suspect she hates me already. But I’m not in this business to make friends, Mr Hudson. Are you?’

‘No, sir,’ said Viorel with feeling. ‘I’m here to make movies.’

‘As am I. In future, show up on time to rehearsals, please.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Do your own job properly, Mr Hudson, and I assure you, I will do mine.’

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