I shall be most interested in your reaction.
Sincerely,
Dan Pierce
She folded the letter and put it back in the script.
That Dan Pierce was a cutie. He knew better than to submit the script to the studio in the usual manner.
She picked up the script and started upstairs to her room. She would read it in bed after dinner.
14.
Dear Mr. Pierce:
Thank you for sending me the enclosed script of Aphrodite, which I am returning.
It is a most interesting screenplay. However, it is not one that I should particularly care to do. Jennie Denton
She wondered whether she had been right in so summarily dismissing the script.
She had mixed feelings about it.
At night, in bed, reading it for the first time, she could not put it down.
There was a fascination about the story that brought to her mind Standhurst's description of the courtesan who helped rule the world.
The screenplay seemed to capture the sensual imagery and poetry of the original work and yet bring it all within the limitations and confines of the Motion Picture Code.
Yet, the more she read, the less enthusiastic she became.
There was not one single line or scene that could be found objectionable.
On the surface.
Yet, beneath the surface, there was an acute awareness of the erotic byplay that would subtly work on an audience's subconscious.
By the time she reached the end of the screenplay, she felt this was the writer's only purpose.
She fell asleep, oddly disturbed, and awoke still disturbed.
At the studio, the next morning, she'd sent to the library for a copy of the original novel, then spent all of that day and part of the next reading it.
After that, she again read the screenplay. It was not until then that she realized how boldly the beauty and purpose of the story had been distorted.
Still, there was no doubt in her mind that it could be made into a great motion picture. And even less doubt that the actress who played Aphrodite would become the most talked about and important actress of that season.
The Aphrodite of the script was truly the goddess and woman who was all things to all men.
But that was not enough.
For, nowhere in the screenplay could she find the soul of Aphrodite, the one moment of spiritual love and contemplation that would lift her out of herself and make her one truly with the gods.
She was beautiful and warm and clever and loving and even moral, according to her own concept.
But she was a whore, no better than any since time immemorial, no better than any Jennie had known, no better than Jennie herself had been.
And something inside Jennie was appalled by what she had read. For, in another time and another place, she saw herself – what she had been and what she still remained.
She put the envelope on the dressing table and pressed the button for a messenger just as the telephone rang. She picked it up.
It was not until she heard his voice that she knew how much she'd missed him.
"Jonas!
Where are you? When did you get in?"
"I'm at the plant in Burbank.
I want to see you."
"Oh, Jonas, I want to see you, too.
It will seem like such a long day."
"Why wait until tonight?
Can't you come over here for lunch?"
"You know I can."
"One o'clock?"
"I’ll be there," she said, putting down the telephone.
"You can leave it here, John," Jonas said. "We'll help ourselves."
"Yes, Mr. Cord." The porter looked at Jennie, then back at Jonas. "Would it," he began hesitantly, "would it be all right if I troubled Miss Denton for her autograph?"
Jonas laughed.
"Ask her."
The porter looked inquiringly at Jennie. She smiled and nodded.
He took a pencil and paper from his pocket and quickly she scrawled her name on it.
"Thank you, Miss Denton."