60 Collateral
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16th October 1997 (Thursday)
Ricky Stirling (POV)
"I'll gouge out your motherfuckin' eyes-"
I pause the video and contemplate for a second before turning to the other 2 occupants in the room.
"The final scene. Now, I want to create a sense of urgency and excitement at the start, mirroring the fast-paced rhythm of the music, and then gradually heighten the drama and intensity… while at the same time, highlighting and emphasizing the skill and excellence of Andrew's frenetic performance… Trent?"
He sits still for a second before walking over to an adjoining computer and fast-forwarding to captured overhead footage of the drumset, "Now, obviously the first half will require tight editing, cutting between close-up shots of his drumming, and sparing shots of the audience and fellow musicians, capturing their reactions. I think camera 4, 7, and 2 will have all that you need for Fletcher's reactions. A backend shot capturing facial expressions, a close up, and the Steadicam. As for Andrew… quick cuts and tight-framing… that's off the top of my head though, I got all that I could, in the end it's up to you to decide what makes the cut."
I nod in agreement, "Nice touch with the cymbal shots by the way… the thin sheen of sweat, blood droplets bouncing to the rhythm… it'll count as symbolism if nothing else. Now, Grover, what's the update on color grading?" I ask to my left as the African-American in his late 20s, answers back.
"Ok, so as you know, I used a cold color palette throughout, with a focus on blues and greens, to create a sense of detachment and intensity. At your behest, I occasionally changed it to warmer tones, such as orange and yellow during more intimate or emotionally charged sequences, adding visual depth to it. I'm thinking we go with it for the final scene… warm, golden tones creating a sense of warmth and intimacy that contrasts with the cold harsher colors used during scenes with Fletcher, to throw the audience off. Since it's from Andrew's perspective, it'll convey a sense of triumph and resolution, as he finally impressed Fletcher and got the recognition he was seeking from the start. It-It's the culmination of his journey from start to finish, showing his passion and determination, but- and this is really important Ricky… it'll create a false ending. From his perspective he won… but the second you look deeper into it-"
"He won… but at what cost… right?" I interject.
He snaps his finger excitedly, "Exactly! The thin line between passion and obsession, I think it'll… yeah- I think it will work. What do you think?" He looks at me, looking for my view on his… vision.
"I think…" I began with a sedate tone, "... yeah, it works. Good job Grover, you did it."
And boy oh boy, did he do it.
I taught him, you know? Ever since I hired him to be the in-house editor at 'Midas', I spent every single second editing the film in his presence, ensuring he observed the process immaculately, not missing a beat.
Of course I had a little help…
Teaching Lvl. 62
The Gamer is just… stupidly overpowered at this point.
I clap my hands loudly, making Trent and Grover flinch slightly in their seats before directing an exasperated expression at me… which I choose to ignore without any reservations.
"Ok, Grover, get to work, make sure you finish by tomorrow, I'll pay you a visit sometime afternoon, will probably have to check with Daisy on that and Trent… good job buddy. You're done for now, talk to Missy, and collect your upfront payment, residuals will follow in February."
And with that I depart the editing lab, and make my way out of Stirling Studios' Headquarters, beelining towards my car.
Yep, I had to rent out Stirling's editing lab for this endeavor, considering I didn't have one of my own, and probably won't for a few weeks at the very least, if not months all together.
Repercussions of having a temp office I suppose, and construction on my headquarters being halted as a result of a lack of cash flow. And taking out loans in this kind of economy… me and Missy were in consensus on how terrible of a move that would be.
It's not like we would have to wait that long to resume it all though.
After all, it's been over a month since Good Will Hunting released in theaters worldwide and started dominating the weekend box office.
It was really strategic actually, considering the summer box office season had ended in August, so the slate of movies in theaters was of questionable quality overall.
And then in came a compelling emotional drama, that won one of the most prestigious awards in the film industry, and a ton of good press by international publications and critics, who were mostly impressed by how I managed to fill in so many vital roles in the production process in a seamless manner, and in my sophomore outing no less.
Since the movie was released, it was given 2 thumbs up by Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel in their famous movie review television show, 'At the Movies', and me and the cast were invited to all kinds of interviews, both live and written. We also had a 20 minute segment on a popular late night show with this stand up guy named Ed Kalan, where we played a bastardized version of beer pong… which I naturally ended up winning.
The video of me flicking the ball at the table, and bouncing 7 times before rolling on the ring of the cup and then falling in quickly went viral on the internet… not only 'cause of what an amazing trickshot it was. Nope, the reason was, that I predicted it seconds before it actually happened.
I asked Ed to choose a number between 5-10, and bless his heart, he chose 7. And the very next moment, I stared deeply into his eyes, before flicking the ball at the table without looking… and creating late night television history.
… The standing ovation I received back then was probably longer than the one I was subjected to in Venice.
Anyways, I had my fair share of fun the week after Venice but eventually, I had to reign in the press tour, and focus on my work, namely creating my production house from the ground up, and begin filming 'Whiplash', something I managed to wrap up in near record time actually.
And to really ensure that I had the final cut ready by mid - November, I cleverly made use of my employees, and delegated work in a manner where filming, sound mixing, score recording, and a chunk of editing would go on simultaneously, a process which made efficiency rise through the roof in my production process.
Not to forget the contributions of my amazing team members, who have worked harder than anyone else… oh wait.
Who am I kidding?! This ain't a puff-piece interview, and I don't need to be all humble and down to earth!
Screw it, the truth is… I'm a goddamn genius. And while they helped in their own way, I was the one who brought them together… who trained them, and subtly influenced their thinking to pursue the goal of perfection…
Yeah… sure I appreciate them a lot, and have grown to really enjoy their company but I'm not gonna choose to live in a delusion. If not for me, they would've never cultivated such an efficient and effective work ethic in their collective lives.
Then again, that's neither here nor there… there's no merit in thinking about What-Ifs, truth of the matter is… they met me… and I noticed them. I saw their potential, so I took them in, and a couple of years later when they stand at the pinnacle of their respective professions, they'll thank their lucky stars they ever met me… at least I think they will. Who knows what's gonna happen years down the line?
At this point, even I don't.
The history of this timeline is far too muddled up in most areas, while keeping some pristinely similar, to even remotely predict any future events, other than major geological disasters, or… economic recessions.
Hmmm… will the subprime mortgage crisis occur in this reality? If yes, then will the time stamp match that of the OTL? Will the events be synchronized in nature? Will the symptoms begin appearing in 2005? Or will the housing bubble pop later than usual?
Will the war in Iraq occur? What about 9/11? Will a plane crash into the twin towers, forever changing the world's perception of terrorism?
… So many questions, and not an answer in sight.
Then again what do I care? I'm a film-maker, as long as I can make Hollywood my playground, I don't need to worry about anything else. So I will.
And the 70th Academy Awards will be the ceremony to do just that.
…
24th October 1997 (Friday)
Ricky Stirling (POV)
I storm through the doors, not even stopping to open them, just crashing into them at my power-walking speed, making them blast open.
An odd course of action to take, but perfectly justified in my opinion, considering the situation at hand, which could end up becoming one of the biggest PR disasters if not handled right this very second.
I take a seat at the table, catching everyone's attention.
And by everyone… I mean my dad, Nathaniel Dixon, Morrison the head of PR and Marketing, and the guest of honor… the man who screwed the pooch, and talked to the press without consulting us… making statements that were not only blatantly false but some that would cause outrage if proven wrong… which they were.
I take a sip of water from the cup in front of me, before looking across the table, my eyes finding the man in question… Frank Abagnale Jr.
He had an entirely unremarkable face, with classic male pattern baldness and mousy features overall, though his demeanor mirrored that of a well-wishing grandpa a little.
Rest assured… he did not wish us well, his actions certainly indicate as such.
"Mr. Abagnale," I begin, "I, along with my father," I point towards him, "and Mr. Dixon have called you here to… well to verify a few things. It has come to our attention that you seeked out a media outlet, and gave an impromptu interview regarding your role in the production of this movie… and your life in general… You reportedly made claims that were… of questionable veracity to say the least… and you name-dropped me in some of your… affirmations… the fidelity of which remain… inconclusive. Would you care to perhaps offer a reason for your clandestine course of action?" I ask, careful to be diplomatic, so as to not alienate him this early in the discussion.
"Oh well, first of all, that's not really true you know? Not true at all in fact. Really, I never seeked out a media outlet, they- they accosted me outside my very home you know? And my ma raised me polite so I invited them in for a cup of tea, and then well… They began asking all kinds of questions about my life. And you know me, I got nothing to be ashamed of. I served my time, and I make an honest living, so- I told him my story… and that he'll probably see a movie on it in a few months-"
This son of a bitch…Oh dear goodness I can't even- literally every single statement is a lie, made up to distract us from the truth at hand… and his subtle humble brags, his repeated insinuations of… oh bloody hell.
This motherfucker is the financial equivalent of Frank Dux… and just like Jean Claude Van Damme, I made a movie that white-washes his very reputation- oh fuck... is this what regret is supposed to feel like?!
"Mr. Abagnale- Mr- Mr. ABAGNALE!" I interrupt his droning, finally managing to drown out his nasal voice, "Mr. Abagnale… I read the interview. You stated you were closely involved in the film-making process, and were a consultant on set. You also proclaimed that I wrote the script and the directed the movie, keeping factual accuracy in my mind… you have made-"
"NO I DID NOT- I did not say anything to that effect- it was a fabrication by the journalist who clearly twisted my words-"
"MR. ABAGNALE," I raise my voice in a bid to drown out his own, "Frank for fuck's sake will you shut the hell up?!" I finally snap… desperate to get his amateurish gaslighting over with.
After establishing silence on his part I continued, "You think I'm an idiot Frank- no look at me! Don't- don't fuckin' roll your eyes Frank and look at me. You think I," I pointed towards my chest, "am an idiot? You think any of us are?" I asked, gesturing around the room as Dixon and father viewed Frank with the utmost derision. "I checked the official documents Frank, and your so called 'biography' is clearly a clever work of fiction-"
"How dare you say that? It's my life and I will never lie about that, never again Mr. Stirling! Every single sentence in that book is 100% accurate-"
"Yes, and Richard Nixon is an honest man who upholds the American values of integrity and freedom." I respond, my voice filled with sugary sweetness.
"... What?" He asks in confusion, as his face twists into incredulity.
"Oh I'm sorry, the second I heard your claim about the book being 100% accurate, I figured we had started playing a game where the objective was to come up with the most outrageous lie known to mankind… you win by the way- Now listen here you vainglorious buffoon," I drop my facade of faux-politeness, and forgo all presumptions of civility, "You're lucky the mag was a fucking tabloid, a piece of rag that no-one ever takes seriously. To counteract your false statements, we'll set up a press conference, invite every major publication in town to discuss the movie, and you'll be a panelist. We'll coach you on what to say, and if you dare to go off script…" I pause to let him stew a little.
"I'll spend millions, MILLIONS… to set off every lawyer in Los Angeles after you. I will drown your fuckin' condo in legal notices you rat-faced bastard. Now that I think about it, I hear Cornstock is great this time of the year… say didn't you spend 3 years over there?"
His eyes widen dramatically, as I finally call his stupid ass bluff.
This little bitch… lying is one thing. But not even bothering to try to cover up the truth?! Even Gilderoy Lockhart was better than that…
"You got any old friends from your time in Great Meadows… people who would be real happy to see you again perhaps? Will the prison guard recognize your ugly mug? Then again, that was decades ago I suppose… memories can get hazy with time… but I reckon court documents don't."
I pause for a few seconds, pouring myself some water from the jug, before downing it in one go.
I slam down the mug on the table before turning back to Frank… who was almost shivering out of… fear I suppose. Or could be anything. I quite literally have no idea what's going on in his head… that's how stupid he is. His foolishness makes him weirdly unpredictable… or maybe I don't want to waste a second on trying to discern his mental state. Could be either.
"You understand… right Frank?"
I'm half-hoping he doesn't… but he's not THAT foolish… Is he?
…
Frank exits the room after a couple of minutes, and the second he does…
My eyes meet my Dad's, before meeting Dixon's… and we all collectively dissolve into laughter.
Loud, unrestrained laughter, hell Frankie could probably hear it down the hallway, that loud.
Good.
I want him to hear it.
To know exactly how big of a clown I consider him to be.
It's strangely cathartic… satisfying in a twisted sort of way.
