She calls six hours later to check on me.
I'm lying on my futon, on my chest, with a down comforter on me and the air conditioning turned all the way up.
I'm sweating.
I can hardly hear my own thoughts.
I ask her what she said again.
"I said, do you want me to come over?"
"No, this is something I have to go through by myself."
She calls back a few hours later.
"I'm thinking of calling a doctor," is what I think she says.
"I already have a doctor."
"You're not making any sense, Lauren."
I hang up.
Then it's a show of lights, the windows turning into up-contrast rectangles and somewhere a light on my stove or microwave is calling to me in orange, and all this comes with pain that makes me want to jump out my window.
The next time Kristi calls, I tell her to come over.
"Whoah, what is this, missy?" she asks, turning up the temperature.
"Just don't touch me!"
"Ok."
"Touching makes it worse."
"I think you need to go to the hospital."
"Oh ha ha ha," I say. "I'm a regular, don't worry."
"What's wrong with you?"
"Problem with my head."
"What problem?"
"It hurts."
"Well, I brought over the only cure I know..for anything."
I see she has a bottle of Jameson.
"That'll work," I say, and I spin the cap off with my thumb and swig on it horizontally. I spill on the bed.
Kristi takes the bottle and gets in bed with me.
"Jesus fuck! Take a bath!!"
"Do I stink?"
"You're burning up!"
"Yeah I have this thermal deregulation problem."
"You mean dysregulation. Lauren. Get out of the bed. Get into the bathtub now."
And I did.
And she took care of me like a mother does a child.
This is part of what directors' assistants do.
Four months later we were in production.
On our first day, when everyone was gathered together, I had this to say:
"There are only two settings: shit, and brilliance."
Everyone was gathered in a circle: lighting people, actors, producers, all holding hands at my request.
"And," I continued, "if something is 99% brilliance, 1% shit..?"
"Then it's shit?" someone yells out.
"That's right. We're in the brilliance business, people. This movie will be the greatest achievement in your professional career. Mamet says a door doesn't have to be a house—it has to be a door. If your job here is to make a door I want the finest door you've made in your natural life. That is the level of performance I want from you every minute, every day. How many of you have ever taken a Myers-Briggs test in an interview for a movie? No one. Yeah. That is the kind of work I have put into selecting you for this film. Actors, I used psychological profilers to ensure that you will have the highest likelihood of interactional symmetry possible. One thing you should know about me: I'm like a five-year-old finger painter crossed with a 50-year-old brain surgeon. Art and science.
"Now, we've been over some of the rules. No one talks to the actors but me. No sleeping on set. We have these rules because sometimes to create a safe environment in which to play—to create—you need limitation to free you up. There's a famous psychological experiment. Children on a playground. Playground is surrounded by streets. Cars on the streets. Case one: no fence separating the kids from the cars. The kids all play in the middle of the playground, in a huddle. They stay away from the edges. Case two: the playground is separated from the street on all sides. Nice tall fence. Guess what? The kids go all the way up to the fence. They're not scared, and they play across the whole playground. That's what we're doing here: creating a safe environment in which to play. Only through true play will we reach the level of brilliance which I desire.
"And when I say brilliance, I am not joking. I am not exaggerating. You all will go on to make other movies—every one of you. If this movie sucks, Marcus—our cinematographer—as long as the film looks good, you'll get another job. Same with all of you except for me. If my movie sucks it'll be my last. I don't know how many movies I'll get to make. So I'm going for broke on this one.
"Let me tell you something. The truest path and the hardest path and the most rewarding path..are always the same thing. You know that thing about the candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long? Think about that as we go through this process. Shelly Kind has agreed to make a movie that has that potential—to be the movie that burns twice as bright. Help me make it so.
"You've read the script. It may frighten you. It may challenge your values. It's a myth about women directors that we don't like erotic elements. In fact most erotic films are directed by women. This isn't erotica, but it has a dense array of erotic elements. I think you'll agree it makes Lolita look like Sesame Street. This is what I want. Since I was eight, I always wanted to make films about white panties, violence, and blood. If you want to know why, or what impact I hope this will have on the world, see me during lunch break.
"Why do I have you holding hands? Because this isn't a film crew. It's a single organism, like a super-genius octopus. We treat each other well on my set. If you break the rule you're off the set. We're one machine, like something out of the Army. And what else did I want to say? Oh, yes, one more thing before we film:
"On boldness: boldness isn't brilliance..but it'll get you halfway there. I have said we're here to make a brilliant film. Maybe you don't feel brilliant. Maybe you don't know what brilliance is. Start with boldness. Ok? Let's go. Scene 17. I want to shoot in 20 minutes, not a fucking second later."
Kristi—bless that little kid—says, "Are you scared?"
And in front of everyone—but directly to Kristi—I say, "The only things to be scared of"—I touch my heart—"are in here. Every journey, my friend, is a journey within."
I bow to her.
She bows back.
I have everyone's silence and I speak quietly:
"If you bow to a child, they will bow back—a child who has never bowed before. If you say hi to a child, they will say hi back. But some adults, if you say hi, won't say anything. I contend that is what is flawed about our world."