I hadn't planned on stopping at the coffee shop that morning. But fate, as it often does, had other ideas—like an overzealous cousin who insists you attend a gathering of relatives you've been dodging since Christmas.
You will remember Jack as the writer I met recently who assured me I'd love Hollywood. Apparently, he moved there to become a screenwriter but left for reasons unknown to this writer—I'd guess he was either fired or indicted.
"That hasn't been proven yet," I heard Claudia say, stirring her latte with the air of a woman who's heard one too many questionable stories before lunch.
"Not yet! But it will be!" Jack announced, nearly upending his espresso with the flourish of an orchestra conductor on his fourth coffee.
"Jack is telling us about the latest movie to be filmed in Wilmington," said Lupe, in the tone of someone reporting their neighbors believe they've been abducted by aliens.
"I have a friend at Cinespace Studios with a copy of the screenplay," Jack said. "He called offering me a scoop for the New Hanover Review."
Lupe turned to me. "What do you think?"
I understood the reason for questioning the facts of the story. "Well, my first reaction is 'no way'—there should have been press coverage by now. But assuming it's true, who's in it?"
"Oh, it's true," he said, glancing around with a furtive air before lowering his voice. "Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum."
"That's surely not true," I said. "Fresh off 'Fly Me to the Moon,' they're one of Hollywood's hottest pairs."
"That's what everyone says," Jack said, and I swear to you, he puffed up like a peacock.
"And that's not the half of it," he said, and suddenly, his eyes took on a dreamy look. "This production is going all out—creating a helluva wardrobe for her. This picture will have glitz."
I looked at the others around the table. Everyone shrugged. I sought frantically for something to say that wouldn't bring him down. Goodness and light is what I'm known for.
"Audiences are dying for glitz," I said.
"Tell Genome the storyline," said Claudia, placing her spoon on the table with a precision that became her well.
Jack stood and began pacing around the table like a barrister about to deliver the summation that would save his client from the gallows. "Johansson plays Zaira Nazarie, a quantum theorist at the IBM Watson Research Center."
"That's well and good, but what's the story?"
Jack clapped his hands with the ecstatic look of a writer who's just heard that the studio wants to option his screenplay.
"Quantum computers suffer errors unknown to classical computers--errors that standard techniques can't fix," he intoned, as though reading from an invisible teleprompter. "Scarlett is summoned to develop technology to detect and correct these errors as they occur."
"Good start," I said, nodding like a dashboard ornament.
"No one else understands the technology, but her leadership prevails. Before she's done, she and her staff accomplish heroic labors and save the free world from communist-dominated error correction."
My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline as though trying to escape the wonderland we seemed destined for.
"She turns up at a high-level Washington meeting in a truly divine outfit. In one scene, she says to the President, 'Hello, kiddo. Can't you just see it?'"
"But where does that lead?" I asked.
"The plot asks: 'Can a girl from New Jersey direct a high-security political scheme without becoming disenchanted with the government?'"
"Sounds like a crisis of confidence."
"Absolutely. When subordinates led by a Marine lieutenant colonel, portrayed by Tatum, attempt to sidestep the project with the Russians, our heroine manages it like a strong, empowered woman."
"How's that?" I asked, feeling like Alice tumbling down that rabbit hole.
"She uncovers a Russian spy on her team who's working for the Chinese. The climax features a hair-pulling catfight between our gal and the Chinese spy on the Capitol steps."
He looked at us as though expecting our comments but we sat there with our confusion hanging like fog over the Memorial Bridge.
"Oh, is that the time?" he suddenly exclaimed, glancing at his watch. "I'm late!"
He gulped his coffee and exited the cafe before anyone could throw a napkin dispenser at him. After his departure, my companions turned to me. "Well?" they said in syncopation.
"I don't feel good about it," I admitted.
Later, as I went about my day, I kept thinking about his bizarre story. I drove past the café in the afternoon and recognized Jack's car parked across the street. I found him inside looking as blue as heartache.
"My friend didn't have the screenplay," he said. "The studio's keeping everything locked up."
"Who is your source, anyway? The guy who works at Cinespace?"
"You wouldn't know him. He hangs out at Barbary Coast Bar with the other movie reviewers."
"Barbary Coast? Was Jamaican rum involved?" I asked, seeing the whole picture with clarity.
"He was drinking rum," he admitted finally.
"Jack," I said with more sympathy than I'd felt before now. "You should have read my blog post titled, 'Time for a Cool Change.' Intel from the Barbary Coast Bar will be sketchy at best when Jamaican rum is on hand.
He didn't take the news well. "Don't be too upset, bro. A new movie will begin filming in Wilmawood soon. It's called 'Driver's Ed' with Molly Shannon and Kumail Nanjiani in the lead roles. It's directed by the Farrelly Brothers. It should be fun. Start reading The Circular Journey blog to stay updated."
No comments:
Post a Comment