The Director's Cut Read online

  What will we have to do?

  “We’ll each draw out a slip of paper,” says James. His eyes are only on my face, as though he’s trying to reassure me. But it hardly registers in the whirl of fear I feel rising in my body.

  “What I want you all to do is think of a memory associated with that emotion,” he explains.

  No, no, no!

  This is one of the main reasons I dodged as many acting classes as I could at drama school. I always hated having to spill in front of the group.

  Script writing allows you to control what emotions you show.

  Maybe that’s the real reason I chose writing over acting.

  James is still speaking, and I force myself to tune back in.

  “And then we’ll each write down a few paragraphs about that memory,” he explains. “After that, I’ll read them out.” He pauses a moment to make sure we’ve all understood. “They’ll all remain anonymous,” he adds, “so no one has to know the memory is yours, unless you want them too.”

  In the maelstrom of emotions, this has a calming effect. I mentally do the math. Four of us. No one has to know which paper was mine.

  The thought makes me feel slightly better.

  “The point of the exercise,” says James, “is to help you open up to one another. The best acting comes from a feeling of trust and support in the cast. That’s what we’re looking to build in these method sessions. But we’re starting gently.”

  I sneak a look at Natalie, wondering if there’s a chance she’d ever feel close to her fellow actors. To my surprise, she looks accepting, as though she was expecting this.

  I guess she’s just come from rehab. Maybe they do a lot of this kind of stuff.

  “We don’t have to write a lot, do we?” Natalie asks. “I’m not the world’s best writer.”

  James shakes his head. “Just a few paragraphs. No need to worry about spelling or grammar.”

  Natalie nods, looking relieved.

  It never occurred to me that she would struggle with basic writing. But I realise that as a child star, she probably missed out on a lot of schooling.

  I feel a little sad for her, wondering how a poor education might have limited her options. There’s not much else she’s qualified for, if her acting dries up.

  James lifts the bag and shakes it.

  “Callum?” he says, “would you like to go first?”

  Callum stands and approaches James. He pushes his fist inside the bag and makes a little joke about fishing for the paper, twisting his face as he mauls the bag.

  Finally he pulls out a slip, and holds it aloft.

  “I have my slip,” he announces, returning to his seat.

  Natalie is already heading towards the bag as he sits down. I can’t see her face, but from James’s stern expression, she’s looking for clues as to which paper to pick.

  “Just take a slip, Natalie,” says James calmly. “There’s no way of telling the difference.”

  She picks out her paper, and James regards me.

  “Issy,” he says, “would you like to go next? Or shall I pick mine?”

  I shrug. “Pick yours.”

  I can’t imagine it would make any difference.

  James plucks his out of the bag. I see his face shift as he regards it. But beyond that, I can’t make out what he’s feeling.

  He heads over to me and holds the bag out.

  Watching his face, I dip my hand inside and close it around the last piece of paper.

  I feel James’s little finger sneak out and softly stroke the top of my hand.

  An electric current shoots through my body, and in that sudden moment, I’m shot through with desire for him.

  I return him a little secret smile, and then pull my hand out, the paper in my closed fist. I walk away, driving down the sudden surging feelings, and try to concentrate on what’s expected of me.

  “Alright then,” says James, moving away. “You have pens and paper beside you on the floor. We’ll take five minutes or so to write out our memories. Just do the first thing which comes into your head.”

  I unfold my paper with a deep sense of dread and read the single word written there.

  Shame.

  I feel my face fall and work to marshal my expression to neutral. This is better than I feared, I guess. The worst would be ‘grief’ or ‘loss’.

  Nevertheless, it’s not a nice emotion to investigate.

  I take a glance around the group. Everyone has similarly downcast expressions, so I’m guessing all the emotions are difficult.

  The knowledge that we only have five minutes forces me to act. I have no time to search for the answer which makes me look the best.

  Everyone else is already scribbling away. They must be aware of the time constraints too.

  So I just write the most shameful thing which comes to mind. It’s an effort, and I’m almost forcing my pen to move.

  Ugh. What a horrible exercise. I’m hating myself, just writing this.

  I’ve barely gotten the words down when James announces the time is up.

  “How did you all do?”

  No one answers, and judging from all our faces, no one enjoyed this exercise.

  “Ok,” says James, filling in the silence. “No one enjoyed that. I certainly didn’t. If we could all toss them back into the bag, and we’ll get on with the next part.”

  Silently, we all add our papers to the bag.

  James shakes it up.

  Then he reaches in and pulls out the first slip.

  “I’m not going to tell you the emotion that generated any of the memories,” says James. “I’m just going to read it out. And we’re all going to discuss what might have been behind it.”

  All of us have grim, anxious faces. I suddenly feel a little closer to Natalie. She looks just as worried as Callum and I.

  “When I was ten years old,” reads James, “My dad came to pick me up from a movie set. I was so excited. But he left me on set for two hours whilst he took the producers for drinks to try and land himself an acting role.”

  My eyes widen in amazement.

  That’s Natalie.

  It must be. She’s the only one of us who was acting so young.

  I feel a surge of respect towards her. She must have known we’d work out it was her memory. How brave of her.

  I turn to Natalie, and she gives me a little shrug and a half-smile.

  Callum, too, is staring at Natalie in admiration.

  “What emotion,” says James, “do we think that was based on?”

  This jolts me back into the exercise.

  “Fear?” says Callum. “Perhaps the person feared their father didn’t love them?”

  “Very good,” says James. “Issy?”

  “Pain,” I say. “Rejection, maybe.”

  Poor Natalie. I give her an apologetic glance.

  James nods. “It seems as though many emotions could be present. Let’s try another one.”

  He pulls a second paper out.

  “When I was in the depths of my drug addiction,” he reads, “I stole money from my father’s home.”

  Is that James? It could also be Callum. And if Natalie’s paper hadn’t been so obviously her, it could have fit her experiences too.

  The thought hits me, suddenly, as to what a large ex-drug problem is in this room.

  I realise that no one is speaking. The drugs revelation seems to have prompted a silence.

  “Desperation,” I say, to fill in the gap. “The memory is of a desperate act.”

  James raises his eyebrows slightly and nods. Callum, who seemed to have been frozen, suddenly twitches back to life.

  “Relief,” says Natalie.

  I turn to her in surprise.

  “I know it sounds ugly,” she says, “but when you’re an addict, getting money for drugs is a relief.”

  I’d never thought of it that way. But then, I don’t know too much about drug addiction. Natalie’s medication flips to the front of my mind.
>
  “Time for the next paper,” says James, plucking out a third memory.

  As he opens it up, I get a flash of the front and recognise the handwriting as my own. Part of me wants to sink into the ground. Another part of me wants to share. Everyone else has been so courageous.

  “After my father’s death,” reads James, “I was so angry with him, I didn’t attend the funeral.”

  I sit perfectly still, with my breath held.

  As far as I know, neither Natalie nor Callum would be able to work out this is my memory. James, of course, knows immediately. His eyes move to mine, loaded with feeling. They’re full of something I can’t quite place. Admiration? Love? I look away quickly.

  “Anger,” says Callum, sounding pleased to have such a straightforward deduction.

  Natalie nods. “Anger, and loss,” she says.

  Anger and loss? Is that how they read that memory? I am filled with shock. How could they not interpret that memory as shameful? I didn’t attend my own father’s funeral, for God’s sakes.

  Their reading of my memory throws me into an entirely different understanding of it. And I realise that maybe this is part of James’s method. Everyone, must understand their emotions differently, when they’re seen through other people’s eyes.

  I’m still wondering at this when James plucks out the last paper.

  “When my father remarried,” he reads, “I was so upset, that I refused to meet my new stepbrother.”

  Wow. Is that James? Or Callum? I find myself glancing between the two, trying to work out who looks the most affected.

  I have no idea about Callum’s background. I don’t know if his parents divorced or remarried.

  And I know that James did meet at least one of his stepbrothers. Ben. Did he have any other stepbrothers? I have no idea.

  On measure, I decide, Callum looks the most moved by this statement.

  “Betrayal,” says Natalie. “The person felt their father had betrayed them by remarrying.”

  “Pain,” I suggest, “that a new brother is being brought into the family.”

  Neither Callum nor James speak. And James quietly returns the paper to the bag.

  “I have something to share with you,” he says, “about that exercise.”

  We all stare at him expectantly.

  “It was interesting to hear you all voice different emotions,” he says, “and I am very grateful that you have all been so honest.”

  His eyes settle on Natalie for this last part.

  “But I thought you would be interested to know,” he concludes, “that you all had the same emotion to draw upon.”

  What? A ripple of surprise goes around the room.

  James nods.

  “All of you had the word ‘shame’ written down.”

  Wow. Really? I can’t believe that those other memories were prompted by that word.

  On either side of me, I see Callum and Natalie’s faces work around this new piece of information. I’m doing the same.

  The revelation throws all the other admissions into stark relief. All of those memories. They were things people were ashamed of?

  I let my mind track back. Stealing from your family to buy drugs. I can understand that would be shameful. But Natalie’s memory. Of her father deserting her. She feels ashamed of that? Why?

  The new understanding prompts another wave of feeling towards her.

  And refusing to meet a stepbrother after a remarriage. It seems… excessive to be ashamed of that. It’s not beyond the realms of understanding, after all.

  “So,” James is saying, “does anyone have anything to add with that new piece of information?”

  There’s a brief pause, and then I clear my throat to speak.

  “Isabella?” asks James. He sounds surprised.

  “I think,” I say slowly, “that the memories I heard didn’t sound shameful. They sounded sad. So perhaps we’re harder on ourselves than others would be.”

  My own memory is racing through my head as I speak. Should I reconsider the shamefulness of my own actions?

  James is nodding. He looks pleased.

  “That is exactly what I want you to start thinking,” he says. “Most people feel worse about their behaviour than we give them credit for. As actors, you can use that knowledge to add real texture to your roles.”

  We’re all taking this in.

  “Think about the hidden things your character might be feeling,” adds James. “I hope you’ll find it helpful.”

  It has been helpful. And I am struck with deep pride for James. He really knows how to expand an actor’s sensibilities.

  The exercise has really opened my eyes. It’s done something else too. It’s made me think so much better of Natalie.

  “We’ll wrap up there,” James is saying. “There’s a buffet in the next room, and we can grab a bite to eat. Thank you all for participating. I hope you can apply what we’ve learned.”

  We stand, and Callum and I smile at one another. Then I make towards Natalie.

  “Hey,” I say, touching her arm, “that was really brave of you, to be so honest about your memories.”

  Natalie gives me a shy smile.

  “Oh, well, you know,” she says softly, “I’ve just come from rehab. It probably comes easier to me. Rehashing all that shameful stuff.”

  She glances up and me, and her deep green eyes look intensely vulnerable.

  “All the same,” I insist, “I really admire you for doing it.”

  Natalie’s face transforms into gratitude.

  “Thanks,” she mumbles, playing with her hair. “That means a lot.”

  Chapter 12

  I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until we stepped into the buffet room. But when the smell hits me, I feel suddenly famished.

  The nerves of revealing parts of my past must have subdued my appetite, I realise. But now it’s over with, and nothing terrible happened, I am ready to eat.

  As we enter the room, we see the rest of the cast has already arrived. I grin. Lorna is talking to a young male props handler who I recognise from our early rehearsals.

  “Shall we get some food?” asks Callum. This time, he’s including Natalie in the conversation. And I realise that the Berkeley Method is having the same effect on him as it is on me. It’s making him warm towards Natalie Ennis.

  Who’d have thought it?

  I smile to myself, wondering if this isn’t part of James’s genius.

  “Sure,” replies Natalie. She stares over at the buffet.

  “Bread,” she says with a grin. “Goody.”

  Knowing her usual refusal to have carbs in her presence, Callum and I exchange glances. Maybe the Method is working on Natalie too.

  James has gone back to his hotel room, and I find myself wondering whether this is deliberate, to further bonding between the rest of us.

  Callum and Natalie drift to the buffet, but I head over to where Lorna is standing, telling them I’ll be back in a minute.

  Lorna turns and notices me in the last few seconds before I reach her.

  “Hey, Issy!” She grins at me. “Come meet David. He’ll be making your props. Sounds like an amazing job.”

  “We’ve met already,” I smile, shaking David’s hand. I remember him from before. He looks uncertain as he returns my handshake.

  “Hi,” he mumbles shyly.

  “Hey listen, Lorna,” I say. “I’m just going to grab a plate of food. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Sure,” she smiles. “Make sure you load up. The food’s amazing. In fact,” she adds, “would you grab me another piece of chicken?”

  “Sure,” I reply. “David, would you like anything?”

  David looks surprised. Flustered even. I judge him to be in his early twenties, around the same age as me. So I can’t imagine why I would have that effect.

  “Um. No. Thank you,” he manages.

  Lorna winks at me. “There’s no need to be star-struck,” she says to David, “Issy is norma
l. I promise.”

  I widen my eyes at Lorna, but she just grins back.

  “Better get used to it, Ms Leading Lady,” she says. “Take it from me. I’ve been with the extras and crew all day. You’ve got a lot of fans already.”

  Poor David flushes red.

  “Oh, ok,” I babble, unsure of what to say. “I’ll be right back with your chicken,” I manage, heading for the buffet.

  Fans? I’m not sure how to handle that.

  My mind is spinning with how I would cope with any level of fame, since it makes me uncomfortable to have admirers in the crew. But my need for food soon takes over.

  I grab a plate and bunch in next to Natalie and Callum. From the pile on his plate, Callum has taken full advantage of Will’s absence to load up on carbs.

  Natalie’s plate only has salad on it.

  “Whoa, Callum,” I joke, helping myself to some vegetables and chicken. “Looks like a carb binge.”

  “Don’t tell Will,” he says, flicking his eyes back and forth in pretend terror.

  I glance back at Natalie’s plate. I don’t feel close enough to her to ask if she plans on eating anything besides salad. So I concentrate on stacking up my own food.

  The choice is incredible, and I have to restrain myself from trying a little of everything. Instead, I aim for a compromise. Rice and vegetables, with a decent sized piece of fried chicken. And one extra for Lorna.

  For a moment, I think that Natalie might join us to eat. But she heads over to a little cluster of her entourage instead.

  Callum raises his eyebrows at me.

  “We can’t expect her to change overnight,” he says.

  I nod, and Callum joins me as we head to join Lorna and the props handler.

  “Hello, Mr Reed,” says Lorna, almost tripping as she dives forward to shake his hand.

  Callum is encumbered by his buffet plate, so he balances it on one palm as Lorna pumps his palm enthusiastically.

  “I have always wanted to meet you,” enthuses Lorna. “I am a huge fan. I love your movies.”

  “Thank you,” says Callum, smiling. “You’re very kind.” I glance at his face, struck by the grace and ease at which he deals with this all.

  As a normal person coming into the scenario, I am suddenly realising how very strange it is to have perfect strangers approach you in this way.