left hand tightly with a silk handkerchief.
‘Shoot it again if you have to,’ said Koolman slightly mollified by Nicolson’s anxiety. ‘Basic rule in movies: plenty of cover.’
‘This is a great sequence, Leo,’ promised Lightfoot believing the sequence was Marshall Stone punching an Eskimo stunt man in the head. They all watched attentively while Marshall Stone and two extras plodded over a hillock of special effects snow. Now it was Lightfoot who twisted his hands in silent prayer.
‘Yeah, great,’ said Koolman. ‘Really terrific: it builds.’ He’d hardly spoken when the film cut to a two-shot of the men, to a close-up of Stone, then the long-shot in which stunt men substituted for the actors. There was a brief exchange of blows after which a man wearing Marshall Stone’s distinctive red gloves somersaulted to the bottom of a snow drift. Lightfoot slowly released the breath that had almost exploded his lungs.
‘You’ll have to get rid of that,’ said Koolman. He flung the words over his shoulder. He sensed that the old director was his only vocal opposition in the theatre.
‘I thought it was pretty good,’ said the director.
‘Corny,’ said Koolman, ‘acrobatics.’
‘I think it should… stay in,’ said the director.
Koolman turned to Lightfoot. ‘Who have you got editing this picture?’ They both knew that it wasn’t the sort of information that Lightfoot was likely to have in his mind, so they waited until Nicolson said, ‘Sam Parnell, an old-timer, a really great editor.’
Koolman made a whirling movement of his finger as a signal to Phil Sanchez, his personal assistant. ‘I’ll talk to Parnell before we go back.’ He turned to Nicolson. ‘That be OK with you, Edgar?’
‘Sure thing, Leo,’ said Nicolson. ‘Anything you’ve got to say, we can always use advice.’ Phil Sanchez made a note in his little book. Nicolson unbound his bloodless hand.
‘I think we can do something with this movie. We can shape it into something,’ said Koolman. No one spoke.
On the screen Marshall Stone had lost his goggles and was feeling around in the snow between brief cuts of lens flare to show that the reflections were blinding him.
‘Great performance from Stone,’ said Koolman. ‘Now there’s a man who’s really learned his trade, eh, Edgar?’
‘Great performance, Leo,’ said Nicolson. ‘He gives gives gives all the time. This could be one for a nomination.’
‘Best actor,’ mused Koolman.
Weinberger said, ‘He’s had three nominations. This one could do it for him.’
‘What do you think, Arty?’ asked Koolman of one of his publicity men.
‘If we play it like that, then this movie is going to need some special nursing, Leo. We’ll need serious interviews, woo the egg-heads a bit. Even then I’d say this movie doesn’t stand a prayer for a “best picture” award – the whole membership…’ he wiggled his outstretched hand. ‘A “best actor” for Stone… maybe. But it will cost us, Leo.’
Nicolson said, ‘If we were going to go for an Oscar, that will control our release.’ He rubbed his hand to help the circulation. It began to tingle.
‘Sure,’ said Lightfoot. ‘Thirty days of exhibition in Los Angeles before the end of December. That would be quite a rush.’
‘We could do it,’ said Nicolson. ‘We’re close to dubbing.’
‘It wouldn’t stand a chance the following year unless we held it until fall.’
‘You guys work it out,’ said Koolman.
The music man said, ‘With great music like this maybe I’ll talk to Barbra or Andy.’
‘Or Sammy,’ said another voice. ‘Sammy’s a very good friend of mine: he comes to the house.’
‘Sure,’ said the music man, ‘Sammy, or better still Tom Jones might like to do an album, or Johnny Cash.’
‘Tom Jones is a wonderful person,’ said Nicolson, ‘and he would be great for the main title, we could use a vocal opening.’
‘Tapes or disc,’ said the music man, ‘but I’ll need them yesterday.’
They all laughed.
‘Great camerawork, Nic,’ said the only person still watching the screen. Marshall Stone had not found his goggles because they were caught on a crag which was kept in frame centre while Stone scrambled pitifully on the ground. Stone buried his head in his hands and gave a manly sob. The camera zoomed in to show the makeup department’s frostbite.
‘Do you want to turn that music down a little, Edgar?’
‘This is just a wild track. It’s not balanced or anything.’
‘Best actor,’ said Koolman softly. He leaned close to Lightfoot. ‘If we can get an Oscar for Stone it will make a great launch for the TV series, Dennis.’
‘Right, Leo, right.’ They both smiled at each other as though this idea had only just come to them.
There were eight motor-cars waiting outside KI Pictures in Wardour Street. Nine, if you count Jacob Weinberger’s chauffeur-driven Jaguar, although no one did count it because Weinberger said he had no car. This gave him a chance to ride with Leo Koolman in the Rolls Limousine. Also in the car there were Suzy Delft, her friend Penelope, Leo and Phil Sanchez his assistant. The girls had been waiting upstairs in Leo’s office.
When the convoy of cars arrived at Jamie’s Club, Leo was shown the big circular table set for ten. The two girls hurried away to repaint their faces. Koolman arranged the seating around the table. Nicolson and his director were across the table and Weinberger was two seats away, leaving an empty seat on each side of Koolman. When the girls returned Penelope was wearing a different dress. Koolman noticed this and remarked on it. The girl smiled. Koolman looked at the menu and patted the seat of the chair next to him without looking up. Obediently Penelope slid into it and gratefully took a menu from the waiter.
The New York executives alternated with their London equivalents. The seat between Weinberger and Koolman was held for Marshall Stone, who arrived with the wine waiter. Stone was in a dark suit with a stiff cutaway collar and a Travellers Club tie. A gold watch-chain on his waistcoat carried a gold nuclear disarmament medallion. He made a fine entrance. He walked up to Leo Koolman and stood with his hands stretched forward. He searched for words that might convey his sincere good wishes. When he did speak his voice was husky. ‘Leo, it’s good to see you. It’s damned good to see you.’
Koolman jumped to his feet like a bantamweight boxer coming out of his corner. ‘We saw a great performance tonight, Marsh. A truly great performance.’
Marshall Stone looked around the table with a quizzical smile on his face. ‘You’ve screened the new Richard and Liz film?’
‘We saw Silent Paradise, Marshall.’
‘You old bastard, Edgar,’ said Stone to Nicolson.
