Confessions of a Hollywood Star Read Online Free PDF Page B

meaningless?”
    “Well it’s not going to be Little Big Man or Catch-22 , is it?” Those are Sam’s all-time favourite movies. “Not with those lame-os in it.”
    No one has ever accused Sam Creek of being starstruck.
    I sighed again. “As you know very well, I think the only true drama takes place in the theatre – and of course I totally agree with you about a lot of the movies churned out by Hollywood, but let’s not forget that the entertainment industry is very important to the economy. It makes billions of dollars a year.”
    “So does the arms trade but that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.”
    “Oh, please… There’s no comparison. People don’t need to be shot or bombed, but they do need to be entertained. Man does not live by bread alone you know.”
    Sam put his how-could-you-forget-to-check-the-oil look on his face. “Baseball’s entertaining. So are basketball and soccer.” He started ticking off all the things in the world that are more entertaining than movies. “And bowling. And gymnastics. And the flying Shalon monks. And ballroom dancing.”
    “Ballroom dancing?” I didn’t even think Sam knew what ballroom dancing was.
    “Yeah. Ballroom dancing.”
    “Are you saying that you watch ballroom dancing?”
    “Sometimes. On cable. My dad likes it.”
    It’s true that, no matter how old you get or how much you think you know, life always has another surprise waiting. “Your father likes ballroom dancing?”
    “Yeah. He won trophies. That’s how he hooked up with my mother.”
    I never met Sam’s mother of course (she was killed in a car crash when Sam was four), but I have met Mr Creek. Mr Creek’s a small, thin man who looks like a balding troll who fell into a grease pit. It was really difficult to picture him doing the Fandango in a powder-blue lycra jumpsuit covered with sequins. “ Your father was a ballroom dancer?”
    “You’re repeating yourself.”
    “Just answer the question.”
    “You’re not the only person who likes to show off, you know,” said Sam.
    I made a face. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t like some minuscule part in this movie – if I can’t go to RADA I do feel it’s the least I deserve – but for your information it just so happens that this isn’t actually about me. It’s about someone else in Deadwood who likes to show off.”
    A slow smile spread over his face. “We’re talking about Carla, aren’t we?”
    “Who else?”
    Carla thinks that when the Bard said all the world’s a stage he meant her stage – and that everyone else is only here as her audience.
    “Don’t tell me you don’t want to see her face when she finds out that Dellwood’s being turned into a movie set while she’s off shopping in Rome.”
    “Oh, now I get it.” Sam laughed. “Now that’s a hell of a lot more entertaining than baseball.”

Like A Loaded Gun, Improvisation Can Be A Dangerous Thing
    I chose my outfit carefully on Monday morning. I wanted something casual and understated to contrast with the importance of the part I was about to play (the triumph of Good over Evil). I finally decided on a pair of vintage, button-fly jeans, a white silk shirt and the rope and canvas sandals Cal brought me back from Spain (my father’s picture books are very popular in the Old World). I thought of it as the Nicole-Kidman-goes-grocery-shopping look.
    Because she never stops talking about herself, Carla Santini is the kind of person who constantly gives you the feeling of déjà vu. When Ella, Sam and I got to the cafeteria that afternoon she was still going on about her holiday as though about three minutes had passed, not three days. The disciples were gathered around her, listening raptly, for all the world as though they’d never heard any of it before either.
    “Oh, Lola! There you are!” The gold bracelets on Carla’s wrist jangled like alarm bells as she waved her hand in my direction. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I had this fantastic idea last