Not Ready for My Closeup

A film about the Lancers runs into unexpected difficulties. Sequel to my earlier work "Based Upon a True Story."

Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.

It was the business model in Hollywood to be risk-averse. There wouldn't be risk taking with new properties, or testing new creative ideas, so it was better to film a remake of an earlier successful property, or do a sequel.

A sequel was underway for a recent, unexpected hit. The movie was a throwback to earlier styles of westerns, fondly remembered by baby boomers and available to younger audiences by numerous vintage cable networks. Filmed on location, with real-not-cgi- cattle and horses, accomplished stunt riders, and a stirring film score, audiences loved it. Naturally there would be a sequel.

The sequel though, would focus not on the original lead actors, but the breakout star playing a real life half-Mexican gunfighter named Johnny Madrid. It was a happy convergence of character and actor, and young Joaquin played it to the hilt, stealing virtually every scene he was in with his line delivery and physical bits he added for the character.

The script seemed somewhat problematic. As the original closing text stated "After the events of this film, Johnny Madrid was lost to history," the new film, unlike the original, would be have to be purely fictional as there was no further record confirming the fate of Johnny Madrid.

At least, it had seemed that way. After the success of the movie, and the announcement that "Johnny Madrid" would be the focus of a fictional story, the bomb was dropped. The unexpected salvo came from an online comment from one Jack Lancer, CEO of Lancer Ranch in California, that reports of Johnny's death were greatly exaggerated, and that he became a successful rancher under his real name-John Lancer. There had been the usual visceral responses, extremes ranging from "provide link or you're lying" or "Cool! Tell more!" Confirmation, as Jack Lancer had stated in his response, was indeed provided by the California Historical Society and demonstrated through newspapers of the day, initially describing how the Lancer family, including Johnny Lancer "also known as the gunfighter, Johnny Madrid" had defeated a marauding band of outlaws, known as land pirates, eliminating them as a threat in the San Joaquin Valley.

Natalia Lopez-Williams, as writer and associate producer of the new film, had found her plot. It would be Johnny Madrid vs. the land pirates, and the other Lancers too, for good measure. She met with Jack Lancer, retained the services of Lancer cousin and historian Dr. Catherine Montoya as technical advisor, and learned much about the intriguing family history.

Location exteriors would be shot in part on the Lancer ranch, with cattle and horses they provided. Really, Natalia told herself, the Lancers had nothing to complain about-they were milking the publicity and boosting their online meat sales, leather sales, and an expanding list of branded products. Why would they complain? In reality, Natalia had a very good idea of why they would complain and wasn't looking forward to the meeting.

Jack Lancer couldn't help pacing the floor in anticipation. "I can't stop fuming about this, ever since Cat came to me about the script. She gave them the real story, even helped edit it, and they think it's not good enough! I'm tempted to kick them off the ranch!"

Lancer Ranch CEO emeritus, Malcolm Lancer, rubbed his chin. Unlike Jack, Mal Lancer was a descendant of Scott Lancer, and had inherited the same tall lean build and fine-boned facial features. Mal had followed family tradition in not only attending Harvard, but serving his country in the air cavalry, his Huey helicopter replacing a horse. "Our legal options may be limited. We may be liable for financial loss, spend a considerable amount of money to argue our position, and lose what control and influence we have in the process."

"So, while we may or may not have approval for story and depictions, fighting it may mean we win but lose anyway, for the big picture."

"That is how I see it."

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, noticing Mal do the same. It was more than a family tic-there had for generations been a tingling sensation when the original Lancers or matters of vital importance to the ranch were considered. What would they have done? was the inevitable question, and in following that action, the tingling would disappear, as if someone-or something-was pleased with the outcome.

There had been family jokes about the otherworldly presence of the original Lancers at key moments in ranch or family history. Jack told himself he was not superstitious, but there was that night in the family cemetery with a cousin and a lot of alcohol. In his haze, he was certain he heard and sensed what must have been Johnny and Scott, needling each other about the respective capacity of himself and his cousin, their descendants, to hold their liquor. Some sort of dream, except his cousin had the exact same dream, word for word. From then on, Jack knew, as did other relatives, something beyond their immediate world was in play.

LLLLLLLLLLLL

Natalia entered the impressive room. All of Lancer was bespoke of wealth and influence from the moment she drove onto the property, and under the arch. She braced herself for the confrontation, but there was also a hint of pleasing anticipation. Jack Lancer, with his dark hair and blazing blue eyes, was a very attractive man of simmering charisma. She was somewhat taken aback to see Mal Lancer alongside Jack. Another distraction. She caught herself unconsciously starting to touch her hair. Despite the difference in their ages, she couldn't help be affected by Mal Lancer. He was a total silver fox.

Natalia came directly to the point after the briefest of greetings, pushing her attraction to the men aside. "I understand that you have some concerns."

Jack was equally direct. "We do. As you recall, we made our records and history available, with the understanding and I thought agreement, that it would be reflected in the script."

This wasn't going to be pleasant, but Natalia had her marching orders. "I know, and we appreciate it. But, I'm sure you know that not every detail can be included. There is artistic license for time constraints, and the director's vision, to make the most compelling film."

"Of course," jibed Jack. "The story of these unique individuals-Johnny, Scott, Murdoch, Teresa- fighting off land pirates while coming together needs what you consider 'help' to be more interesting."

"This isn't a miniseries. We're trying to make a film to Terence's visions and to make money, leveraging the success for future films. Joaquin's portrays of Johnny Madrid is the draw and the hero of this story."

"He didn't do it alone," said Jack tartly.

"No, and if this were a documentary, we would cover the full story. But it isn't. Another matter is that Joaquin did get certain script approval commitments for signing on again." She paused and tried to look sympathetic. "I know this is frustrating. But the agreements are in place." She smiled. "Trust us. We'll make a good picture."

There wasn't much to say after that. There was a perfunctory but well-played exchange of acknowledgments of viewpoints, artistic and commercial success before Natalia took her leave.

Jack tossed the copy of the script on the desk. "I don't know what in hell might happen."

Mal rubbed his chin, still firm despite his years. "I think," he reflected, "that what is in hell might not be the problem." He looked knowingly at Jack. "I think that what might be going on in heaven is what we should worry about."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"I hear Jack is havin' some trouble with the movie people."

Scott's shade frowned. "I thought he had everything tied up legally, and Cat is a technical advisor. It does seem though that proper attention is not being given to previous understandings."

"Yeah, they're still not doing what any of us thought. Seems like we should step in. And where is Murdoch by the way? Why isn't he bothered?"

"Murdoch," declared Scott, "has no reason to appear. The script is good for the character, and the actor portraying him has almost as many awards as there are good blades of grass on Lancer. That said, for the rest of us an intervention may indeed be appropriate."

They were interrupted by a surge and a swirl of feminine energy. "Have you seen what that girl who is supposed to be me is doing?!"

"Hello Teresa," acknowledged Johnny.

Ever practical and to the point, Scott followed up. "What is she doing?"

"She's in pants so tight that they look painted on! And whenever she walks away, she always shakes and twitches her-her-"

"Ass?" offered Johnny helpfully.

"Derriere?" suggested Scott tactfully.

"Well, her bottom. I never did that!" The brother spirits sensed, rather than heard, the silent spectral stamp of a foot.

"Except maybe in private, in front of your husband. That right, Scott?

"SCOTT!"

Scott hastily sought to defuse the dynamite. "I have no comment about that."

"Another thing," remarked Johnny. "You were a great-grandma when you passed. So how come you're acting like that teenage girl we met when we first came to Lancer?"

"What? Oh. I-I guess I am. I don't know why." She expectantly turned to her best source for answers. "Scott?"

"Why are you asking me? How would I know?"

"You know so much about almost everything."

"No, he does know everything about everything."

Somewhat irritated by their expectations, Scott thought about the matter quickly. "I don't know. There is much to learn, and possibly never understand, about this realm we occupy. Perhaps it is because this time played such a monumental part in all of our lives. Perhaps because this is the time frame of the film they are making."

"Teresa," said Johnny, "Scott and I see some wrong things goin' on too. You don't like what's happenin,' go ahead and do something about it."

"Don't think I won't!"

There was another angry swirl of energy, and Teresa's spirit was away.

"I can think of another reason for why we look and act like we do," declared Johnny. He was surprised it hadn't occurred to Scott.

"And what is that reason?"

"We all looked really good back then. This is heaven, after all."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Terence rubbed his mouth in annoyance. "Rita was fine in rehearsals. This is the second time she carried in that plate of food and spilled it all over herself. I wanted to get that scene shot today and the rest of the segments and move on the exteriors tomorrow when the weather and natural light will be right."

Natalia kept her cool and spoke reassuringly. As a co-writer and associate producer, she considered it part of her job to keep the director focused and cool headed. "She's changing again. I'm sure it will be fine. She keeps saying it feels like someone jostled her, but she probably still has trouble with the tray."

They watched as their actress playing Teresa O'Brien-renamed Obregon for the movie and of Latin descent, took her mark for the scene. "Action!"

"Teresa" entered the room again trying to wear the scripted concerned expression as she tried to lay the tray on the table. She made it past the point where she had dropped everything before but suddenly she stumbled and spilled the food not only over herself again, but over Joaquin and Ron, who played Scott. "Cut!"

"You need to get you act together, querida," jeered Joaquin.

"That's enough!" snapped Terence. "I'll say what needs to be done." His reaction was to snap at Rita, but she already looked near tears in embarrassment. It was the job of a good director to say or do what was necessary to get the right performance out of his actors, and Terence was indeed a good director.

"One more time, Rita." He was thinking of ordering a re-write of the script.

"There's no more wardrobe left! I'm so sorry, I don't know how I tripped again."

Natalia jumped in. "Terence, there is no wardrobe left for this scene for Rita, but her stand in has the same outfit so we don't have to re-shoot the earlier scenes. Is that ok?"

"Fine, fine. Get the stand-in clothes."

Rita's stand in did indeed have the same outfit, but it was not the same size. The clothes fit more loosely, as most women would naturally wear working around the house. The scene went smoothly, and Rita held on to the tray. "Cut and print."

Terence uttered the words automatically, but he was not wholly satisfied. As the crew began to break for dinner, he motioned to Natalia. "I'm not satisfied with this. I wanted to show her sexuality, but shaking her tits and ass in that modest outfit looks ridiculous."

Natalia had been forming a plan as the prior shootings had failed. She had never wanted Rita for the part, having preferred another actress with a bigger talent but smaller boobs. She needed to convince Terence.

"From what I learned from Cat, Teresa was a combination of modesty and spirit, rather bold for her age in that time. If Rita isn't delivering, despite your good direction, maybe someone else. What about calling in Megan? You got a good audition out of her." Megan was the runner up for the part. Besides, it was always wise to flatter the director.

"What, get her here to re-do the scenes? And how much time would that take?"

Natalia pressed her advantage. "Remember, she's here on location to be one of the townspeople. And she knows this scene, it was part of the audition."

She could see the wheels turning. "It would be a different concept to the character" mused Terence.

She was ready. "It would be a reversion to the original script I worked on with Cat. She will be an Irish American, not Latina, but that's how it was in reality. And with your direction, she can be an appealing character to both men and women."

Terence, rubbed his chin, already multi-tasking about changes, and how the concept would play out. "I think it could work. We'll have to re-shoot, but I agree, I think Megan can deliver. Get her over here. Rita can be the girl that Pardee slaps around, and who later helps Johnny. It's a small but meaty part. She'd do well with it."

"I think it's a great idea you have Terence. It will make the picture better." She was certain that the money people would approve the cost overruns for authenticity. She suspected that money people included the Lancers anyway.

Filming resumed later that night, and went smoothly. Megan projected more of an air of believable strength and resiliency, appealing but letting the audience react to that and interpret quieter sex appeal.

It worked out all around: Terence pronounced himself satisfied with the dailies; the results were better; Rita was relieved she hadn't been fired completely from the project and looked forward to the other role and not merely playing a sexpot; and the production accountant gave approval from the money people. Whatever jinx seemed to curse the scenes appeared to have been banished.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Natalia sighed and grimaced when Terence stomped into the room. "What the hell happened? What's the delay"

"Joaquin stormed off to his trailer. He refuses to shoot the scene." They had been running dialogue for one of the first exterior shots. Scott and Johnny were to begin a fist fight that began with Scott knocking Johnny into a pond. Angered by the dominant move by Scott, Joaquin, as the star with script approval, had left the set and refused to return until he clearly won the fight and administered a lesson to the stuffy Eastern brother.

"Asshole. He's setting us back."

"I'm afraid," admitted Natalia, "he may have grounds. His agent was already on the phone about the contract. We may have to make the change, even though what I had was historically accurate."

"Fine, fine. Get on with it. I'm heading back to the second unit to plan the attack by the land pirates."

LLLLLLLLLL

"They've reduced me to a whining coward," Scott fumed. "The scene by the pond was correct, but now they have the Johnny character knocking me down after my portrayer makes some ignorant and bigoted comments. I won't stand for it." He did not wait for a reaction from Johnny or Teresa before vanishing.

"Oooh, Scott's pissed," grinned Johnny. "Let's go. I want to watch this."

That night Terance had a dream. It was one of those odd dreams where he watched the scene play out remotely, while being a part of it. He was in his chair when a tall, lean figure strode up and leaned in close to Terence's face, and placed both hands on the arms of the chair. They were big hands, he noticed, strong and smooth, almost incongruous with the man's slender build. The face was fine boned, attractive and aristocratic, under a head of blond hair.

"Director." The voice was crisp and clear. "You will listen to me. You will listen and do what I say. You will not depict Scott Lancer as some cowardly fop. You will not diminish his life as a soldier, or the lives of any soldiers who fought for a just cause in the war. He fought bravely in the war and at Lancer and survived a brutal ordeal in a Confederate prison. This is what you will do: you will have him portrayed accurately and show his vital role in saving Lancer, just as it was originally presented to you. You will do so or this and any other production will face misfortune as you cannot imagine. It will come in filming delays and mishaps, loss of financing, and any other aspect of your work. I see that I have you convinced. Be aware, I will be watching."

Terence awoke the next morning, with a vague memory of a dream about the film, but a new vivid take on the story he wanted to tell. What a waste it was, to have a character like Scott Lancer reduced to a weak supporting role. He called Natalia immediately, with orders to re-write the script once again.

Natalia did a happy dance after the call ended. She was allowed to go back to the original vision for Scott Lancer, and began to write. The words flowed from her in crafting the dialogue and scenes, and she was grinning and feeling inspired. When she finished, she was certain that this was some of the best writing she had ever done.

She caught herself in surprise. She had written pages in longhand. She hadn't done that in years-it was all done by laptop keyboard. The writing didn't even look like hers. It was bold and flowing, with flourishes she had seen but never used herself. Strange. It must have been that she was so inspired. Yes, that was it.

The part of Scott Lancer had been the role most difficult to cast. In following the original story draft, they wanted someone believable as Scott. It had proven a challenge, finding someone equally adept at playing a refined, educated, old-money Easterner as well as a brawling badass. They were fortunate to find Ron, tall, blond, and a product of Yale drama though so far being typecast as eye candy.

Ron had been thrilled and nervous about the role, and dismayed at the changes to weaken the character. Still, it was a prominent part, and he was pleasantly surprised to see the pink sheets for the revised script. He mentally prepared himself to resume playing Scott as a formidable man, voicing instructions to himself. Oddly, the instructions in his mind didn't sound like his own voice. Straighten yourself. You were a soldier. Carry yourself like one, as a man who commanded and led other men. Speak clearly. You are not a man to be taken lightly and are underestimated at others' peril.

Ron found himself inhabiting the essence of Scott Lancer-or perhaps it was the other way around. The voice in his head was unlike his own, deep, resonant, crisp, with a Boston accent. Clearly he was inspired. Yes, that was it.

All of it showed in his performance. Terence was pleased, and congratulated himself on his ability to draw this out of his actor.

Joaquin was holding things up again, grumbling and complaining about the change and threatening to call his agent again. After an angry exchange with Terence, who reminded Joaquin about the lackluster box office of the projects since his one hit film, and did he want to continue to work, Joaquin finally relented to say the new lines as written, and the camera rolled for a test shot. They did compromise and agreed that Joaquin would not end up in the pond, just stagger a bit from Scott's punch.

Then there was a yell, and Joaquin suddenly tumbled down the side of the embankment and landed in the water. He scrambled up cursing. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed at Ron. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Cut!" shouted Terence.

Ron, off to the side, looked blank. He had been focusing on his lines and physical mannerisms. "I didn't do anything."

"You shoved me in the pond as soon as I turned my back!"

"I've been over here the entire time!"

"Enough, the both of you!" Terence cut them off quickly. "Joaquin, I was watching the setup. No one was near you."

"I felt it! Someone knocked me into the pond!"

"Joaquin. No one was near you. Go get cleaned up and change. Everyone else take twenty." Damn. More time lost. There was one bright spot though. He motioned Natalia and his cameraman over. "Save that film. We'll keep it for the blooper reel."

"On a continuous loop," added Natalia with a grin. Joaquin didn't have many friends left.

That night, the film editor took pains to find the footage. He viewed it once, then again. Then again. Finally he picked up his phone to text Natalia and Terence. You need to come and see this.

They all stared. "What the hell?! I watched the whole time. There was no one near Joaquin when he fell in."

"I saw too. He was by himself."

"Yes, alone! So who is that?"

LLLLLLLLLLL

Natalia drove to the Lancer house. She had urgently asked to speak to Jack and Mal. It was all completely bizarre what had happened. She faced them, keeping a calm tone.

"Thanks for meeting me at short notice."

"We had time,' answered Jack. "You said there was an issue with filming today. What happened and what do you need to talk to us about?"

"Well, it was the scene by the pond. We re-wrote it, and started some test shots. Joaquin was by himself when he suddenly just fell into the pond."

Jack shook his head. "And? What does that have to do with us?"

"Well.." She suddenly felt foolish. There seemed to be no good answer that made sense, so she gave the one she had.

"Joaquin was completely alone as we watched. He swore someone shoved him. We were sure he was wrong."

Mal made a gesture. "I will repeat Jack's question. How is this relevant to us?"

She braced herself, hoping there was an answer. "We saved the footage, and screened it with the dailies, and-we saw. On film, Joaquin wasn't alone. He was knocked into the pond." She looked from one man to another.

"The man who shoved him looked like Johnny Madrid."

LLLLLLLLLLLLl

Jack entered the cemetery, feeling the usual combination of reverence and intimidation. The three founding Lancers had come from such disparate and in their own different ways challenging backgrounds, and achieved more than he ever could. Theirs had been a very different world. Who was he, Jack Lancer, to presume to do this, even if there was a basis in reality. And he thought he would speak to them, as if they could hear? There was a tingling in his neck again, and he thought of his speech. He had prepared carefully, with reason and planning to speak forcefully and compellingly. Some actual words finally stumbled out.

"Hey, you guys. Come on. Lighten up, okay?"

There was no answer, of course. A light breeze stirred some fallen leaves, but the area remained as peaceful as when he entered. He turned to leave, admonishing himself for even thinking he should do this, when he felt the sensation of soft, indulgent laughter as he left.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"So, you knocked Joaquin into the pond. I can't say I'm sorry, but why did you do it?"

"As I see it," declared Johnny, "they should stick better to what happened. You knocked me down by that pond fair and square."

"Actually, I must concede it was a bit of a cheap shot."

"So then I gave it back. These people don't know a good story unless they get hit in the head with it."

"Well, in that case-we should hold that thought, and apply as needed."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Joaquin was out for a run. There was time before resuming shooting, and he skipped the dinner break to get away from everyone. He was certain he was mocked behind his back, and there were quiet signs of it in front of him. It made him testy and he was short in the latest interview he had just given, tiring of joking for the umpteenth time about the blue contact lenses he wore to play Johnny. He and the crew had access to the roads as long as they didn't venture onto any pastures, and he took advantage now to try and clear his head.

Reaching the top of a rise, he paused to take a breather.

"Pretty here, isn't it?"

Joaquin started. The words in the Spanish of a native speaker, and he turned to see a man leaning against a shade tree, twirling a long stem of grass between his fingers.

Joaquin looked around. It was pretty, beautiful in fact. He could see into a lush green valley, with scattered ponds and herds of cattle and horses. The Lancers were indeed lucky to have this place.

"Yes, it is."

The man rose, and Joaquin could see the silver studs on his pants and brightly patterned blue shirt with a hint of ruffles. "Takes work to keep it looking this good, for so long." This was said in unaccented English.

Joaquin assumed the man was in costume. "Are you one of the extras or cast on the film? I don't think we met."

"No, no. You could say I work for Lancer." He looked young, though his hat, pulled low, obscured most of the features of his upper face. Joaquin caught a flash of vivid blue eyes. No contacts there.

"You must be with the film people." The grass stem was chewed a bit more, and Joaquin was examined again.

"Yes, I play Johnny Madrid." The man should have known that.

"Well, I guess Johnny could be interesting. I hear playing 'Johnny' was a big success."

"Yes, it was. I look forward to this movie leading to more good projects."

"Hmmmm." He worked the grass again, flicking it in different directions. "Yeah, I guess I could see that. Finest man I ever knew once warned me about throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me. If I made a bad choice, I'd never leave a ripple." He paused. "Something like that ever happen to actors?"

Joaquin was taken aback. He surprised himself by listening so closely to this man. Who was he anyway? The mention of actors and choices hit home. A person in show business was only in demand as much as the success of their most recent work-and it better be a hit. His projects since the first movie which introduced him as Johnny Madrid had been resounding flops. He desperately needed this movie to succeed. He looked more closely at the man, seeing a hint of sly smile. "And did you ever leave a ripple?"

"Oh, I did all right. I had to change my attitude a bit, and there were some bumps along that road. I didn't do it alone either. Takes some others to help sometimes. This movie- takes a lot of people, doing their jobs as best as they can to make a good one, doesn't it?"

This was true. Joaquin felt ashamed. He hadn't been as gracious as he could have been to his colleagues, or worked with them fully as a team to make this picture a success. I know better than this. I was raised to behave better than I have been. I let the stardom get to me.

"Yes, it does. We all need to pull together."

The man threw down the blade of grass. "Well then. Be good at your trade. Don't screw it up."

Joaquin grinned. He looked back into the valley. He had been a jerk, but he would do better. He turned to thank the man, but he seemed to have disappeared.

Joaquin did indeed do better. He arrived onset the next morning with the fresh doughnuts and churros, apologized to everyone, and behaved like the professional he was supposed to be. Terence noticed in the rushes that he and Ron actually had good screen chemistry, and decided to exploit it.

"So," he ordered Natalia, "we're shifting some of the hostility between Johnny and Scott to show them coming to respect, and then like each other."

She pondered over the changes needed for the rest of the film. "They were an important source of conflict. I'd want to make it up somewhere besides the land raiders."

"Okay. We'll change Murdoch. Johnny and Scott can work together against Murdoch. We'll make him more of a tyrant that they have to battle against, along with the land raiders."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

That night Terence had another of those vivid dreams. He was sitting in his director's chair again, when a lean, towering figure approached. He gripped the arms of Terence's chair, and set his heavy, square-jawed face in front of Terence.

"Director. You will listen to me." The words were crisp and polished with the diction of a trained stage actor projecting to the balcony. "I understand that someone told you he was the worst nightmare you will ever have. That is wrong. I am the worst nightmare you will ever have. You will do what I say about the depiction of Murdoch Lancer. You will do what I say or suffer worse consequences than what you have been warned about. Now, this is what you will do…"