"He what??!!!"
"He bought it."
"He WHAT!!!!!??"
"He bought it!!"
"That's a miracle."
"Yeah."
"No. I mean. That's a Hollywood miracle. Things like this don't happen. You must be blessed. Can I touch your shoe?"
I let her touch my shoe.
"May you have many happy days."
"No, I'm serious missy, this is not how fortunes run in this town. You must have seriously brought gods with you from Portland."
"Um..Kristi..when you meet my gods you will be very, very scared."
"And why is that?"
"Because they like to kill people."
"You're not a mass murderer or anything."
"No."
"You don't watch murder porn."
"What in the fuck is murder porn?"
"Investigation Discovery channel."
"No."
"Well your gods must also have an interest in the movie business because shit. Like. This. Does. Not. Happen."
"Can we stop talking in terms of gods as I'm pretty sure neither of us believes in them except as metaphor?"
"Whatever you want, boss."
"We've got a lot of work to do."
"Tell me what to do, boss."
"I'm gonna need you attached to my hip for the next..about..year."
"I'm there boss."
"Kristi you're killing me."
"What with the boss thing?"
"No, you can't be walking around my apartment in your underwear..though they are cute..I like the bow.."
"Putting it on, boss," she says, and she puts her fucking pants on.
"Better?"
"Better. Now get me Diego."
"Ruiz?"
"Ruiz. We have a payroll person now. Nancy..Brigman. Get her number from Shelly Kind."
"You have Shelly Kind's number in your cell phone?"
"Yes and he promised to behead me if it got out so if it gets out, that ax will chop your neck first. Call Shelly. Get Brigman. Get Ruiz. Pay Ruiz. Ruiz is our script supervisor—"
"Right, naturally..I figured that out. I do this for a living you know."
"I didn't mean to insult you, Kristi."
"You didn't. I'm just messin' with you. I don't believe you made this deal. Can I give you a kiss?"
"A small one. On the cheek."
She does it.
"Next we're going to casting."
"When?"
"Today."
"What do you mean, today?"
"I mean get your shoes on we're going to meet with a bunch of casting people right now."
"What!?"
Kristi jumps up.
"Can I hug you?"
"No. You can put your fucking shoes on and help me cast my movie."
From that point on we worked.
And when I say we worked, I mean we worked every hour of every day for a year and we worked until we couldn't keep our eyes open and then we worked some more.
Kristi and I became one person. Like in the Army, we no longer said thank you and you're welcome—waste of time. I told her what to do, she did it. She didn't even say ok or yes..her action became an extension of my word.
I abused her—anyone who has an assistant does. It was with love, and I like to think that makes it ok, but it doesn't. So if you're reading this, Kristi..well..we've said our words.
"We could get Burt Buke."
"I don't want Burt Buke."
The casting agent looks at me and says, "You're not going to get better than Burt for..this type..of picture."
Kristi looks at the casting agent. "We don't want Burt Buke. We'll see the next option now."
This is the kind of service Kristi performed. And it wasn't for me—it was for the casting agent. Because I'm the type of person that when I get in my creative mode if you ask me to say the same thing twice I will jump across your desk and murder you.
Kristi saved people from getting murdered by me.
Lots of people: production designers, boom operators, sound mixers, camera assistants..all these people would be murdered if it weren't for Kristi. Keeping people from getting murdered is a little-known feature of directors' assistants. Because directors are crazy. And through the process of making my movie, I discovered I was definitely a director.
Directors are savages. They are. They're not normal people. There's a psychological profile. Tragedy in youth that almost kills you—seriously, most directors have that. It makes you fearless. And directing—making a movie in general—is one of those few tasks on Earth that always seems impossible until it's actually done. Every day, when making a movie, you are presented with something that seems to be a show stopper..something that seems it will bring the whole thing to a catastrophic halt. This scares the shit out of most people but it doesn't scare a director. A director is irrationally not scared of catastrophic tragedy. They—or we I guess—actually get calmer as the level of chaos increases. We're like an animal whose blood is cooled by imminent failure.
"So this is what Shelly Kind told me."
"What," Kristi says, as we get into my Honda.
"That guy is kind of a guru, you know."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah I mean he's not just some jackass executive."
"So what did he say?"
"He said, Lauren, I'm going to give you a three-second course in directing film."
Kristi laughs.
"Was it good?"
"Yeah, it was. He said, The only thing a director needs to know before they make their movie is this: How do I want my audience to feel at the end. That's it. According to Shelly Kind, Warner Bros exec, master and commander of hundreds of movies, all I need to know—"
"—is how you want your audience to feel at the end of your movie. That's brilliant."
"I told you he's kind of a guru. Kristi."
"Mmm."
"I have a headache."
"Migraine?"
"No. But I'm gonna need to drop you off and lie down for a while."
Kristi looks at me sideways and I know I'm worrying her.