Page 33 of Hollywood Crush

“Look, Patrick,” I started. I was determined to let him down gently as I knew how good this fake romance was playing for his career, but before I could finish I was interrupted.

“Daniel Ellison, over here now!” I heard from across the beach, cutting me off. If Roland was shouting at the actors, things were really bad. He’d started off the production as a complete arsehole to all the production crew whilst worshipping the land we walked on. But now he was almost as bad toward us. I almost hoped the show wouldn’t become successful in the ratings, as I couldn’t imagine another few years of coming back here to shoot under these conditions.

I looked up to where I could just see the hotel perched over the cliff. What I wouldn’t have givenfor an extra long stay in Tudor’s bed rather than spending my day in the pouring rain being shouted at by a very sad little man.

“C’mon, you might as well come with,” I said to Stacey. Roland was gesturing emphatically at my stunt double who was bent over and rubbing at his own ankle with one hand.

“What’s up?” I asked, jogging over to where the two stood.

“Bastard thinks he can’t run over sand with a twinge in his ankle,” snorted Roland. “A stunt double who doesn’t even want to run!”

“You OK, mate?” I asked. I was embarrassed to admit I didn’t know the stunt double’s name, but he nodded up at me. He was new, as Roland had fired the last lot over something trivial. No one should ever have given one man such power over production, and not for the first time I wondered whose dick he’d had to suck to get given free reign over a project this big. Normally, there’d be a director per block of one or two episodes with producers and editors overarching the whole series. Roland seemed to be doing it all himself, and morale on set was suffering for it.

“It’s not just my ankle, anyway,” said the stunt double. “I have concerns over the size and placement of the charges in the sand too.”

“Maybe we should take a quick break, yeah? Calm things down, see if we can discuss this all with the stunt coordinator.” Stacey had stepped forwardso that she was in line with me. Her tone was conciliatory, calming, but didn’t seem to have the intended effect.

Roland’s eyes widened with rage as his face turned an ever darker puce. “Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that? Makeup? I have a hundred people who want your job, a hundred who could do it just as well as you. Go back to your tent and do your fucking job.”

Cowed, Stacey turned and slunk back toward the makeup tent. I watched her go and could feel the anger rising up within me.

Before I had chance to say anything myself, another figure stalked past me and poked Roland in the chest. All four-foot eleven of Dani, the first AD, was squaring up to Roland.“I swear to God, if I hear you speaking to the crew like that one more time, I call the union in. And you won’t like it when I do that. They will crawl over your arse and dig out your deepest shit if you think you’re going to keep running the show the way that you are.”

She was intimidating despite her stature and slight size, but Roland didn’t seem bothered. “Call the union, then. See if I care. The studio will defend me to the ends of the earth.”

Dani stalked back to the tent from which she had come.

“Come on then, we have to get to filming,” said Roland. “We only have so many hours left in the day. We’re going to film the stunt doubles runningfrom the explosion, and then film the close ups on Patrick and Daniel on the ground.”

He was barking orders at the crew to get ready for the scene. The explosion could only be rigged once due to complexity and it was imperative that Roland got the shot he wanted from the doubles.

They took their places next to the boat that had been disguised as a pile of rocks, but the stunt double that looked like me had to limp to get onto his spot. The clapperboard was ready, cameras focused, and Roland was dancing a little jig just out of shot, like he just couldn’t wait to blow shit up. He was holding a little remote in hand, which I was sure wasn’t standard protocol. Where was the stunt co-ordinator, VFX manager or other producers? Where was the responsibility?

“Wait,” called the man who looked so eerily like me in the make-up. “I can’t. I won’t be able to run on this.” He pointed at his ankle again.

“Fine. Fired.” Roland’s tone was short and clipped, and oh-so brutal.

“What?” asked the stunt double. It sounded like he couldn’t hear his ears and frankly neither could I.

“Get out. You’re fired. Done. Finito.”

The poor double became the third person to walk away from Roland in as many minutes. I looked around me, but it seemed that there weren’t all that many people around. The set felt quiet, under-staffed. I wondered how long Roland’s behaviourhad been going so completely unchecked with me just chalking it up to a diva-ish director like so many others.

“Right,” he said. “Get in place.”

I gestured to Patrick, and we both walked toward the spot we’d previously rehearsed. On the ground, post explosion. It wasn’t my business if Roland couldn’t film the actual stunts today.

“No, not both of you. We have a stunt performer for Lord Kazran. It’s the Elf King we’re missing.”

I turned to Roland in shock as what he had said sunk in. “You want me to do stunt work? Without proper training? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“I’ll add the explosion in post. You’re in no danger. All I’m asking you to do is run as if you’re running from it.”

“So all you’re asking me to do is run? No explosion, no risk?”

“No worries. Just run across the beach and we can do all the dangerous stuff with the stunts later.” Roland was being suspiciously reasonable and fair and I wasn’t sure how he would achieve what he wanted later when he’d fired one of his stunt actors.

I took my place on the sand next to Patrick’s stunt double. It was still eerie on set looking between the actor and the double, no matter how many years I had been doing this job.

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