The Perfect Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Linda Barnes
Claire an item then?
SD: Oh, Teddy, you keep trying.
TB: An innocent question. Just trying to keep the time line straight.
SD: Then you know Malcolm and Claire were just about to be married. She was pregnant with Jenna, but nobody knew it then.
TB: Do you think that’s why he stopped the series at three? Because of Claire?
SD: You’d have to ask him, Teddy. And tell him if he ever does another Justice sequel, I’m available.
TB: Any favorite editing moments with Malcolm?
SD: So many. The detail work that man would do! The homework! He loved doing research.
TB: For instance?
SD: Remember the arson sequence in Blue Flame ?
TB: Of course.
SD: He spent days with a specialist from the fire department, learning different methods of fire-setting, deciding on the best technique. So that when he finished filming, I had every conceivable shot I needed, twice over. We argued about that sequence. I think he’d had such fun learning about fire that he thought the audience would like an education, a break in the middle of a tight action film for a little schooling on arson methods. He totally obssessed about the fire-starters, the alarm clocks the terrorists rigged to delay ignition. I used a few quick cuts, close-ups, the wooden floorboards, the damaged propane tank, the flaring lighter. He played with the sound, too, the long hiss of the escaping gas, the striking of the lighter. He was a stickler for authenticity.
TB: Over the years, how would you say Malcolm has changed?
SD: Like everyone does, he became more himself. After the Justice films, he took a break. Then he did the two comedies, Rip Tide and Still Moon. The critics didn’t like that. They thought he was taking too long a break, like he’d gone on an extended vacation, but I think those films are way undervalued. Underrated. They’re worth watching for Claire’s performances alone. They’re sweet and unassuming, small but intense. They were much more popular in Europe than they ever were in the States. And then after Claire’s death, he concentrated on those two incredible noirs. The similarities in his films, the obstacles his heroes face, and overcome or don’t overcome, those are his trademarks. The intensity of his characters, the way they experience the world, the way they persevere.
TB: Do you see Malcolm as being like the heroes in his films?
SD: It’s too glib, too easy, Teddy. He had a hermit-like tendency from the start; but with Claire, he socialized. With her gone, he shut down for a while. But he came back and made some superb films. And then the isolation, the theater group on the Cape, it’s like he’s gone backward—toward the limitation of theater over the freedom of film, but that’s just how I see it, because you can’t manipulate live theater in an editing room. Maybe he feels he has more control as a theatrical director, but it makes me sad.
TB: Why?
SD: Because he doesn’t need me anymore, I guess, although I wouldn’t like to read that in your book.
TB: Off the record, then.
SD: It’s like he’s living in the past. Staying on the Cape where the Justice films were shot, where Jenna was born, working in theater like he did when he was a child. It seems like a retreat somehow, and I wish he’d come back to film. It’s not like we don’t need him. He’s one of the great film talents, up there with Scorsese and Coppola, and that you can absolutely quote me on.
CHAPTER
six
Rain pelted down on the Southeast Expressway. Windshield wipers clacked like a metronome, and I found myself wondering whether Malcolm and Sylvie had done it. Did you decide one way or the other, Teddy? Malcolm was drop-dead handsome then, dark and brooding, and he had a reputation for that kind of thing. When he acted, they said he slept with any available starlet. When he directed, he moved up to leading ladies. Would he have drawn the line at an editor,
SD: Oh, Teddy, you keep trying.
TB: An innocent question. Just trying to keep the time line straight.
SD: Then you know Malcolm and Claire were just about to be married. She was pregnant with Jenna, but nobody knew it then.
TB: Do you think that’s why he stopped the series at three? Because of Claire?
SD: You’d have to ask him, Teddy. And tell him if he ever does another Justice sequel, I’m available.
TB: Any favorite editing moments with Malcolm?
SD: So many. The detail work that man would do! The homework! He loved doing research.
TB: For instance?
SD: Remember the arson sequence in Blue Flame ?
TB: Of course.
SD: He spent days with a specialist from the fire department, learning different methods of fire-setting, deciding on the best technique. So that when he finished filming, I had every conceivable shot I needed, twice over. We argued about that sequence. I think he’d had such fun learning about fire that he thought the audience would like an education, a break in the middle of a tight action film for a little schooling on arson methods. He totally obssessed about the fire-starters, the alarm clocks the terrorists rigged to delay ignition. I used a few quick cuts, close-ups, the wooden floorboards, the damaged propane tank, the flaring lighter. He played with the sound, too, the long hiss of the escaping gas, the striking of the lighter. He was a stickler for authenticity.
TB: Over the years, how would you say Malcolm has changed?
SD: Like everyone does, he became more himself. After the Justice films, he took a break. Then he did the two comedies, Rip Tide and Still Moon. The critics didn’t like that. They thought he was taking too long a break, like he’d gone on an extended vacation, but I think those films are way undervalued. Underrated. They’re worth watching for Claire’s performances alone. They’re sweet and unassuming, small but intense. They were much more popular in Europe than they ever were in the States. And then after Claire’s death, he concentrated on those two incredible noirs. The similarities in his films, the obstacles his heroes face, and overcome or don’t overcome, those are his trademarks. The intensity of his characters, the way they experience the world, the way they persevere.
TB: Do you see Malcolm as being like the heroes in his films?
SD: It’s too glib, too easy, Teddy. He had a hermit-like tendency from the start; but with Claire, he socialized. With her gone, he shut down for a while. But he came back and made some superb films. And then the isolation, the theater group on the Cape, it’s like he’s gone backward—toward the limitation of theater over the freedom of film, but that’s just how I see it, because you can’t manipulate live theater in an editing room. Maybe he feels he has more control as a theatrical director, but it makes me sad.
TB: Why?
SD: Because he doesn’t need me anymore, I guess, although I wouldn’t like to read that in your book.
TB: Off the record, then.
SD: It’s like he’s living in the past. Staying on the Cape where the Justice films were shot, where Jenna was born, working in theater like he did when he was a child. It seems like a retreat somehow, and I wish he’d come back to film. It’s not like we don’t need him. He’s one of the great film talents, up there with Scorsese and Coppola, and that you can absolutely quote me on.
CHAPTER
six
Rain pelted down on the Southeast Expressway. Windshield wipers clacked like a metronome, and I found myself wondering whether Malcolm and Sylvie had done it. Did you decide one way or the other, Teddy? Malcolm was drop-dead handsome then, dark and brooding, and he had a reputation for that kind of thing. When he acted, they said he slept with any available starlet. When he directed, he moved up to leading ladies. Would he have drawn the line at an editor,
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