They laughed.
She took a deep breath, & straightened her spine, readying to speak. Michael girded himself for feedback, the fingers on one hand moving like an anemone’s in a light current.
“A sensitive, talented man — a producer and director — a man who has it all is dying. Does that sound familiar, Michael? Of course, you’re not dying, not now, at least not more or less than the rest of us. Let’s just say your aptitude for both antipodes—life & death — is presently running at a higher pitch, it’s keener than most. Your appreciation of extinction has lit a fire under you; it has humbled, but not tamed. I’m sure it crossed your mind that Jazz might be too on the nose, you people in Hollywood used to love that phrase, do they use it still? Perhaps on one of your sleepless nights, I assume you’ve had many, you may have surmised there was something distasteful about the choice, the idea of it, something too flamboyant. The reachiness of it may have confused & depressed you.”
Reachiness. Jesus. Dead on.
“That, I think, is its brilliance. Is it a risk? An artistic risk? Of course it is. What isn’t? You wouldn’t seriously be thinking about it if it weren’t. So: the proof is already in the pudding. If you had sat there and told me you wanted to remake Star 80, then I’d say you had a problem. A big one. Because Star 80 is already perfect, in its own way. But I think you could do something spectacular with Jazz. Not just because it’s a goddawful movie. It’s dreadful. It’s a horror! As it happens, I watched it not too long ago & it fell flatter than a pancake. Cheap and egotistical in every wrong way. But his intentions were honorable, his intentions were brilliant. Bob was brilliant. The concept of the film is brilliant. I know what he was doing, he told me so, Bob strove to make his 8½ but all he got for his money was an ego bath, you know, flapping his wings in the water, all that chain-smoking and ‘It’s showtime!’ inanity. A tacky cabaret, a cartoon treatise on sexing & workaholism, completely uninstructive & utterly, radiantly charmless. He was frustrated with his therapy. I was too; he never worked very hard with me. Wouldn’t put in the time, not till toward the end. Jazz was ’79, Star 80 was ’83. He died in ’86 I think, maybe ’87. And because of this frustration, he wanted Scheider to die at the end, so Bob could live! Bob thought that would be enough, you see we hadn’t done our real shadow work at that time, he truly thought if he could kill himself off in the film he wouldn’t have to do the hard work of looking at his life & where he came from & why he was so hell-bent on destroying himself & those around him, those he loved — he refused for a long time to do the kind of work I did with you, the work we did together. By the time he was ready, you see it was almost too late. Now if Jazz had been a better movie, maybe Bob’s plan would have worked! Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. I think I’ve been too hard on him… excuse me, Michael”—she looked heavenward—“& forgive me, Bob. I’m not sure I’m looking in the right direction, but do forgive me! He was brave, I will say that, oh yes, I will say that without tergiversation.
“But you—you—I know your courage, Michael, I’ve seen it. It’s real. My God, you’re a long-distance runner. With everything you’ve been through, you have earned the right to bargain with the Angel of Death. Even if she’s your wife, especially if she’s your lovely wife. And don’t underestimate our Catherine. Don’t you dare, you know better than that. You know how tough that girl is. You’ve both earned the right. To bargain for a little more time, time to watch your kids grow, time to be together. Time to make a movie, which is a fair portion of what I believe your purpose is on this planet, what you’re meant to be doing. What I think you’re meant to be doing, from all the years, & everything that I know, everything that I feel & know about you. You’ve earned the right to bargain for a little more time to make sense of your life. Because all you need is a little more time, to see—that there is no sense in life but the doing of what you love, & the loving of those you love. That clarity will come, Michael, it’s right around the corner for you. You see, your gift is that you captivate people. You have marvelous energy, people love to look at you, to listen. Lord knows what you’ll do when you make that terrible film your own! Now that’s a challenge. You’ll captivate us all!
“This fear you have is not in depicting yourself as a dying man—& who, by the way, says the All That Jazz Michael Douglas must die? — no. That’s not what you’re afraid of. That is distinctly not your fear. You’ve flirted with death so much lately… the world was practically shouting at you two to ‘get a room’! Michael, you are an artist. I believe that has always been your central drama. ‘Am I an artist?’ That is the question that arises during your hour of the wolf. No? Do you remember we used to talk about the hour of the wolf? That terrible time between 3AM and 4AM when we are completely alone. ‘Am I an artist?’ Well, I’m going to give you the answer. I’m going to answer that question, and all you need to do is accept it as truth. As gospel. Because I know something about it. I know a lot about it. And I have never lied to you, ever. Not even once. Not even a white lie. Well, maybe I overbilled you now and then, but nothing too serious… ha! So here’s the answer, like it or not: Yes. You, Michael Douglas, are an artist. And I say that before God. You have my one hundred percent guarantee.
“Every artist I’ve ever known has the same fear, I call it the If I jump into the abyss, will I die? fear. And do you know what the answer to that is? If you don’t jump, you’ll die.”