Dream Come True

Thirty years ago I saw a film about a film being made in which the director of the film, himself playing the director of the film within the film, goes to the actress playing the star of the film within the film and, just before getting a shot, carefully rearranges her hands on the sill of the window she is leaning on. That moment blew me away. To think that you could have a life where what counted was attention to a detail like that. To think that you could be somebody with the eye to know that it was the right thing to do. The director became my hero and the actress has remained--not just for me--an ideal of beauty and sexiness.

I just cast that actress in my movie.

She has had thirty years of being an international star (with ups and downs, of course) since then and has become a kind of friendly empress--but an empress. She's 63 years old now. I'm sure her sense of personal body space is acute. And the moment in that long-ago film was rehearsed and scripted. So what are the chances that I will actually be able to walk up to her before a shot and arrange her hands into a more elegant position? Probably nil. But I'll sure as hell have my eyes open for an opening if it presents itself.

Or maybe I'll just tell her the story over dinner.

On the health front: the heart rhythm went back to normal after about 30 hours leaving me, as usual, with a great sense of elation and relief. If there are any medical personnel out there--maybe one who lives in, say, Alabama--maybe they could share any ideas they might have for long-term approaches to the problem. Lord knows the cardiologists in California have f*** all to say about any thing like that.