III.
Because time was of the essence, Mitch and Stasi didn't find out more details about the movie and the production people until they, and a hastily packed set of warm clothing, were up in the air, and Stasi had the time to read through the file Henry had given them to brief them more thoroughly on the background. She treated Mitch to selected highlights, presented in the accent she used to employ when playing a Countess.
The director Mitch was to report to was called Arnold Fanck, to be addressed as Dr. Fanck, famous for founding an entire genre nicknamed "mountain movies". These had been international hits in the silent era, which was why Paul Kohner had been negotiating with Fanck for an American-German co-production since 1928. Neither Stasi or Mitch had actually seen a Fanck mountain movie, so they had no opinion on them, but the fact Fanck shot these on location and didn't bother with stuntmen meant he and his actors did sound somewhat mad.
"Our sort of people," Stasi said in her best pretentious lilt, though having to do this loudly enough to be heard in the cockpit of a flying air plane did spoil the effect somewhat.
One of Fanck's greatest hits, the success of which Kohner hoped to repeat with this new production, had presented a simple plot of mountaineers in distress and Ernst Udet, playing himself, coming to their rescue, which had afforded cinema goers with the chance to see both breathtaking landscapes and amazing air plane stunts. Because Fanck didn't want to do a simple remake, this new movie would have its heroes stranded not in the Alps but among the icebergs as members of a polar expedition, and while Udet would still come to the rescue, the movie's heroine, played by Leni Riefenstahl, would also be a pilot, trying to save her husband and crashing with her own plane in an earlier rescue attempt. At this point, Stasi lost the accent.
"Udet was supposed to fly a plane directly into an iceberg," she said, sounding oddly subdued for Stasi. "Making it look like she's doing it, then she jumps out for the camera, then he jumps out in the last minute. I'm starting to wonder whether this sudden sickness wasn't sheer survival instinct. And whether Henry wants to get rid of you."
"Just because I turned down his job offer? That's a bit harsh," Mitch replied, distracted from the prospect of having to fly a future plane into an iceberg by the current beauty he was piloting, the fact that this flight to Greenland would be one of the longest he'd had to handle on his own, and that being in a plane with the woman he loved was ridiculously like the fantasies he used to have before the war had left him in a state that made him believe fantasies would be all he'd ever have of anyone ever again.
Henry's file also contained the advice to tread carefully because it seemed relationships among the crew and cast were somewhat tense. Two of the original German actors in the cast had been replaced by Americans for the US audience, with scenes involving their characters having to be reshot, Fanck and Kohner were still fighting about the ending because Fanck had pronounced the ending Kohner wanted as pure kitsch, then there was bad blood between Fanck and his leading lady because he fancied himself her Pygmalion while she'd wanted to strike out on her own as a director and had in fact done so. But her debut movie had flopped last year, and she'd only taken the job because she needed the money.
"Basically, Udet seems to be the only one getting along with everyone else, and he's sick," Stasi finished.
"Well, we're not going to help them with their relationships," Mitch said philosophically. "I'm going to try not to get myself killed in Udet's plane, and you're checking out this actress for possession. Once we've done that, I'm hoping for whales. Have you ever seen one?"
"No, I don't think they had those when I was holidaying with Cousin Nikki on the Krim, darling," Stasi said, and Mitch grinned, then considered whether or not it was possible that this international film team included any Russians. Surely Henry would have mentioned that in the file. Would he? Then again, Stasi could wing anything, and he wasn't about to tell her to tone down her act. He was enjoying it too much.
"What about Dybbuks?" he asked. "Ever met one of those?"
She was silent. Which Mitch interpreted to mean she had, and didn't want to talk about it. It had to have been a serious encounter if she didn't at least invent a colourful lie about it. Sometimes he wondered whether he was handling this correctly; whether he shouldn't insist more, push for more truths. But it just felt wrong to him. It had been a game between them at first, discerning the occasional truth between her lies, and then truth had been a gift from her, telling him without any prompting. At least, that was how it had worked when they'd been friends.
The rules were supposed to be different for husband and wife. Except for the part that if this was the theory, what practice Mitch had been able to observe hadn't exactly confirmed it. In his own childhood, his mother had been the one insisting on truth all the time, and more often than not had been unhappy when she got it. He didn't want anything like his parents' marriage, and certainly not with Stasi, who was unlike anyone he'd ever known. There was a part of him still wondering whether he'd made her up, along with the life he was leading, doing what he loved, flying planes and saving the world with his friends. Maybe the reason why there were still parts of his life he couldn't recall was because he was truly mad, locked up somewhere and living a fantasy inside his head.
That was plausible enough for Mitch to shudder.
Stasi noticed and seemed to draw the wrong conclusions. "No self respecting Dybbuk would get into an actress," she said. "Dybbuks prefer people who don't lie for a living, because they like to be noticed, and nobody sees anything unusual in actors behaving like they're someone else. So I'm afraid we won't meet one in Greenland, darling. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not really," he said, smiling at her. "As long as you don't get bored."
