Norman smiled to himself.
This was a cinch. There wasn't even any sound to louse this one up.
Slowly the door of the cabin began to open. Rina stepped out and looked down at the two men.
Norman swore to himself.
You'd think at least the shmuck would have enough sense to rip her dress a little.
After all, it was supposed to be out on the desert.
But no, the dress went right up to her neck like it was the middle of the winter.
The finest pair of tits in the whole business Dunbar had to work with and he kept them hidden.
The big camera began to dolly in for a close-up. Rina raised her head slowly and looked into the camera.
A moment passed. Another moment.
"Cry, damn you!" Dunbar screamed. "Cry!"
Rina blinked her eyes. Nothing happened.
"Cut!" Dunbar yelled.
He walked out on the set, stepping over one of the prostrate men to reach her. He looked at Rina for a moment. "In this scene, you're supposed to cry, remember?" he asked sarcastically.
She nodded silently.
He turned around and went back to his place beside the camera.
Rina went back into the cabin, closing the door behind her.
Again the assistant director and the script girl checked the positions, then walked off the set.
"Roll 'em!" "Scene three seventeen, take two!" The plateman called and stepped away from in front of the camera quickly. "Action!"
Everything happened exactly as before until the moment Rina looked into the camera. She stared into it for a moment.
Unwinking. Dry eyes.
Then, suddenly, she stepped aside.
"Cut!" Dunbar called. He started out onto the stage again.
"I’m sorry, Claude," Rina said. "I just can't. We'd better use make-up."
"Make-up!" the eager assistant director yelled. "Bring the tears!"
Norman nodded.
There was no use wasting money.
On screen, nobody could tell the difference. Besides, the phony tears photographed even better – they rolled down the cheeks like oiled ball bearings.
Dunbar turned. "No make-up!"
"No make-up!" his assistant echoed loudly. "Hold the tears!"
Dunbar looked at Rina. "This is the last scene of the picture," he said. "Two men are dead because of you and all I want is one lousy little tear. Not because you feel sorry for them or for yourself.
It's just to let me know that somewhere inside you, you still have a soul.
Not much, just enough to show you're a woman, not an animal.
Understand?" Rina nodded. "O.K., then," he said quietly. "Let's take it from the top."
He walked back to his place beside the camera. He bent slightly forward, peering intensely as Rina came out the door. She looked down at the men, then up as the camera began to dolly in close.
"Now!" Dunbar's voice was almost a whisper. "Cry!"
Rina stared into the approaching camera.
Nothing happened.
"Cut!" Dunbar yelled. He strode angrily into the scene. "What the fuck kind of a woman are you?" he screamed at her.
"Please, Claude," she begged.
He stared at her coldly.
"For five months we were making this picture.
I've worked day and night, for only one reason. You wanted to prove you were an actress.
Well, I've done all I could. I'm not going to destroy the integrity of this picture in the last scene because of your inadequacy.
You want to be an actress – well, prove it!
Act!"
He turned his back on her and walked away.
Norman covered his face with his hands.
Ten thousand dollars a day this was costing him.
He should have known better.