A Star Until The Sunset

By Arunya Sakthi

“An espresso, please. Thank you.” I was sitting in the espresso bar and waiting

for my coffee. After all, I spent a day doing nothing, a special kind of tiresome.

The arms of my wristwatch showed six in the evening. As I sighed looking

around at busy waiters and customers, happy couples and families sitting

together and having their beverages, I felt the world had lost its inspiration.

Clicking a pen restlessly in my hand, lost deeply in thoughts, I stared aimlessly

at the street.

Suddenly I heard a shrieking voice, “She is the one!” Waking up from my

dreams, I turned around to see the source of the witch-like voice. “I want her

to be the lead! I do not care what Mr. Jones says.” A slim woman, in her mid-

thirties, came over to me with a timid-looking man behind her.

“Hello? I am Julia? Julia Stone?”

“Am I supposed to know her?” My mind started ticking off in anxiety.

“May I know your good name?”

“Mildred. Mildred Taylor.”

“Ah? What a good name? I like that one?” I finally realised she was one of

those normal people on earth who made every statement seem like a

question.

“Good evening, Ms. Stone. Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked.

“Yes. With tons of it.” She pulled out a chair and sat down with a huff.

“She sure looks pompous.”

“So, Mildred, I am sure you must’ve heard of me? The greatest casting director

with names of a host of Oscar-winning actors on my resume?”

“That sounds good.” I opined. “What on earth are you doing here in this café?”

The frightened man behind her stifled a giggle.

Julia was looking as dark as a cloud. She snapped at him, “Stop laughing or else

I’ll have you laughing on your life till time ends. So, Miss Taylor, I have got a job

offer I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Excuse me, but what makes you think I am unemployed?”

“A person with a pen in hand, looking disparagingly at everyone in this

romantic café sure isn’t employed. Employed people don’t have time for an

espresso or romance.” I was startled at this observation. She continued, “I

have a proposal for you? Would you like to act alongside Scarlett Swanson?”

My eyes popped out. “Acting? Scarlett Swanson? I do not understand what you

want to convey.” Swanson was really popular in those days. So, an acting gig

with her would be a miracle in the 50s, a time when miracles seemed bleak.

Julia sighed and replied, “Well, it’s just that we need an actress who can

portray a certain Holly for a scene as the original one is sick and God knows

what she is? You seem the best candidate and hence, you are going to come

with me to Hollywood Boulevard. James, explain the route and schedule to

her? We need to shoot the scene tomorrow itself.”

Next day, without me realising what was going on, I drove to the MGM studios

at the time James specified me in the café the previous evening. The taxi came

to a halt and I stepped out, unaware of the astonishments that awaited me. I

entered the studio after asking the Studio Number at the reception and voila!

Lights, camera, assistants, trailers and the hustle, everything attracted and

repelled me at the same time. I didn’t know I was doing something this big,

otherwise, I would have thought before agreeing. It was not that I didn’t know

acting, in fact, I act all the time. But this felt strange. I wasn’t a part of this

luxurious business and I despised Hollywood glamour since ages. However, you

can’t help when you are offered a big cheque, especially when you hardly

make ends meet.

“Mildred!” I jumped out of my skin when I heard the same shriek. “That’s the

girl I chose?” Julia was telling this to a sloppy, old man. I supposed he was the

director. “She doesn’t quite look the part, Julia. You just don’t know how to

cast people. I seriously don’t know how you even survive this business.” He

replied. “Mr. Jones, I think you are messing up with the wrong person. This is

nuts! I don’t think you even know how to direct. Your films are trash and you

dare to question my business? Just not done!” snapped Julia and Mr. Jones

walked away, muttering something. I felt awkward. People fighting over you

and accusing their respective careers of futility is embarrassing.

“Ignore him. He is the director.” I felt the strong irony. “I would like to

introduce Lily to you.” She shouted, “Lily!” and a petite girl in her twenties

came running towards us. “Yes, Julia. What happened? Is that girl not

coming?” “Nah, but we’ve got another one here. She’s Mildred. Doesn’t she

look quite the part?

“Yes, she sure does.”

I was led to the make-up room that was bustling with activity. Even before I

could comprehend, the world around me went into a hullabaloo. There were

some random people with my gown that was too itchy and heavy of course,

some with blushes and brushes, rushing perhaps to make me ‘look quite the

part’. Observing the lady using heated rollers to put my mass of curls into a 50s

step cut, I asked, “I don’t really want to look like Marilyn Monroe.” She replied,

rather coldly, “You don’t need to look either.”

A dull, closed factory was all it seemed to me. Did I feel that because I was a

greenhorn or simply because I was an outsider, imagining characters with ink

than mascara? As the hues of blushes and eye shadows glowed on my face, I

saw the wounds of solitude and inability being washed as well as pricked at,

with all the golden glitter. Remembering Gibran, all I could see were my

invisible broken wings being swept away into the dustbin without a care.

Standing near Swanson was beyond belief, arresting. Used to seeing her on the

silver screen, I could not help but admire the poise which made her a star in

her own right. However, the 70 mm and 35mm film rolls, all in black and white,

would not have captured the first time Swanson might have been on a film set.

As my face getting as much attention as the one way more popular than me, I

felt noticed, which was a great feeling, given how solitude had engulfed me a

few moments ago. I couldn’t talk to Swanson, since she seemed like the strict

headmistresses in grammar schools, reading her script with razor-sharp focus.

So, I admired her from far, like I had admired so many all my life.

The assistant director cried, “Places!” Everyone took filled their positions –

cameras, lights, and the director’s chair. Everyone seemed ready. Everything

seemed ready. And off went the phrase we used to fancy at school, “Lights,

cameras, action!” It was then that it hit me: clichés existed for a reason.

SCENE 5

SETTING INT: Inside the dimly-lit cinemas of the 20’s London.

Billy Wilder’s “Sunset Boulevard” is playing on the silver

screen and we-

CUT TO:

CLEMENTINE

Holly, it’s the perspectives!

[Holly nods with a placid expression, blankly.]

As soon as he shouted, ‘Cut!’ the make-up artists rushed to Swanson and me. I

was not used to getting the attention so I thought of enjoying this a bit. After

all, I was popular neither in school nor in my university, though I passed with

distinction. Nevertheless, as they pushed me aside and went to lighten up

Scarlett’s face, I realised I was wrong yet again.

Little did I know that the artists were interested in the Hollywood star and not

me. I was a mere double who didn’t even have a dialogue. As they combed

Swanson’s hair, applied her blush, lipstick, glitter and whatever-it-takes-to-

look-goddess, I stood there not knowing what to do. At last, I approached Lily.

Timid, I asked her, “Is it all over? Or is there anything else I have to do?” “I’m

afraid there isn’t anything. That’s just how the business is. Either you get to be

a star or they throw you in the dungeons of contempt.” Shaking her head, she

headed towards Mr. Jones. Just a few minutes back, people were hovering

around me and suddenly, I was standing all alone, just as I have been all my

life.

I saw Julia and thought of talking to her about another role, if she has any, to

offer me. I had just left my job as a waitress the previous month and I knew my

love for writing isn’t going to get me anywhere for the time being. “Hi Julia. I

was wondering if…” my voice trailed off as she cut me short. “Yeah, Mildred,

we have shot the scene. I hope you had a nice time. Great then, goodbye.” The

woman walked away without giving a hang about me. Perhaps casting

directors get so used to casting obnoxious actors that they start acting as

actors themselves. A few moments later I was smiling, thinking that I had

learnt the art of silent acting.

I came out of studios just as alone as I entered it. My arms of my watch struck

six in the evening. “Incredible day, wasn’t it?” I thought as my mind started a

soliloquy. My sarcasm caught the better of me and I started talking to myself

as usual. I reached the espresso bar at Sunset Boulevard and ordered an

espresso, once again. People were happily chattering away and the

atmosphere was as the previous day. It felt, however, different this time. The

waiter served my coffee, and I looked out of the window. It was the beginning

of a new night. As I drank my coffee, the sun was setting and I thought,

“Perhaps I have got an inspiration.”

THE END