"Fine."
"You said that she invented the business with the mess kit while you were shooting the film, that it did not appear in your screenplay. Miss Tucker ad-libbed it on the set because your property man had neglected to include a mirror in her handbag."
"That's right."
"When you noticed the missing mirror, why didn't you stop the shooting?"
"Because the scene was going very well."
"Yes, but it was only a first take, wasn't it?"
"Of a very difficult shot."
"Well, surely you could have stopped the camera, and then given Miss Tucker a mirror, and continued shooting. Movies are a matter of splicing together scenes, anyway, aren't they?"
"That would have been impossible with this particular shot. If I had stopped the action, we would have had to go again from the top. Besides, as I told you, I didn't want to stop the action. The scene was going very well, and when I saw what Shirley was up to, I just let her go right ahead."
"Why would it have been impossible to stop this particular scene without starting again from the beginning of it?"
"The camera was on a boom and a dolly both. There was continuous action, the dolly moving in…"
"The dolly?"
"It's a… well, I guess you can call it a cart or a wagon on tracks, and the camera is mounted on it. As the scene progressed, the dolly was coming in closer and closer to Miss Tucker, and then as she picked up the lipstick we began to move up on the boom…"
"I'm afraid you'll have to tell me what a boom is also."
"It's a mechanical — well… a lift, I guess would describe it — that moves the camera up and down, vertically. When we were in close on her, we went for the boom shot, all without breaking the action. In other words, I wanted this scene to have a complete flow, without any cutting, and it was necessary to shoot it from top to bottom without stopping. That's why I let her use the mess kit. As it turned out, we got the scene in one take and were delighted with it. It's one of the best scenes in the movie, in fact."
"An ad-libbed scene?"
"Well, the part with the mess kit was ad-libbed."
"It was not in your screenplay?"
"No, sir."
"Would you turn to reel 5, page 2 of this, Mr. Knowles?"
"What?"
"Please. Reel 5, page 2."
"Yes?"
"Do you see the numeral 176, right after the lieutenant says, 'Colman's the one who's responsible for their anger and their hatred.' Read on after that, would you, from DS — which I assume means 'downstage.' "
"No, it means 'dolly shot.' It says, 'DS — JAN — AND INTO BOOM SHOT: She takes lipstick from her purse and then, finding no mirror, picks up a mess kit from the table, discovers that its back is shiny, and uses it as she applies her lipstick.' "
"Now you testified that this scene was ad-libbed. Yet right here in your screenplay…"
"This is not my screenplay," Ralph said.
"It has your name on it."
"It's the cutting continuity of the film."
"Isn't that the same as.?"
"No, sir. This is the cutting continuity, reel by reel. It's a record of all the action and dialogue in the film as it was shot. The cutter put this together."
"From the shooting script?"
"No, sir, from the completed film."
"Exactly as it was shot?"
"Exactly. But this is not a screenplay. This was not in existence until the film was finally completed."
"It is nonetheless a script, no matter what you choose to call—"
"No, sir, it is the continuity of the actual film. It is not a script in any sense of the word."
"But it nonetheless shows exactly what happened on the screen?"
"Yes."
"And what happened on the screen was that the girl used a mess kit for a mirror."
"Yes."
"That's all, thank you."
"Have you concluded your cross, Mr. Brackman?"
"I have, your Honor."
"Any further questions?"
"None, your Honor," Genitori said.
"None," Willow said.
"Thank you, Mr. Knowles," McIntyre said.
"Thank you, sir," Ralph said.
"Your Honor, Mr. Knowles is on his way to the Orient where he is beginning a new film. Would it be possible to release him at this point?"
"Certainly."
"Thank you," Ralph said, and rose and began walking toward the jury box. Behind him, he could hear the judge telling everyone that it was now ten minutes to four, and then asking Willow whether he wanted to begin his direct examination of James Driscoll now or would he prefer waiting until morning. Willow replied that he would rather wait until morning, and McIntyre commented that this was probably best since he thought they were all a bit weary, and then the clerk said something about the court reconvening at ten in the morning, and Ralph kept walking toward the jury box and then realized that everyone was rising to leave the courtroom and turned instead to head for the bronze-studded doors. He was very pleased with himself, and he nodded and smiled at Driscoll, who was rising and moving out of the jury box, and then he glanced over his shoulder to see Genitori rising from behind the defense table and moving very quickly toward him, and he continued smiling as he opened the door because he knew without a doubt that he had performed beautifully and perhaps saved this miserable little trial from total obscurity.
"You're a son of a bitch," Genitori said.
"What?" Ralph said. "What?"
"You heard me, you prick!"
"What? What?"
He had wedged Ralph into a corner of the corridor, and now he leaned toward him in fury, his fists bunched at his sides, his arms straight, his face turned up, eyes glaring, as though he were restraining himself only with the greatest of effort. He is very comical, Ralph thought, this little butterball of a man with his balding head and pale blue eyes, hurling epithets, I could flatten him with one punch — But he did not raise his hands because there was something terrifying about Genitori's anger, and Ralph knew without question that the lawyer could commit murder here in this sunless corridor, and he had no intention of provoking his own demise.
"What's the matter with you?" he said. "Now calm down, will you? What's the matter with you?"
"You son of a bitch," Genitori said.
"Look, now let's watch the language, do you mind? You're…"
"What do you think we're doing here? You think we're playing games here, you son of a bitch?"
"Now look…"
"Shut up!"
"Look, Sam…"
"Shut up, you egocentric asshole!"
The juxtaposition of adjective and noun amused Ralph, but he did not laugh. The anger emanating from Genitori was monumental, it was awesome, it was classic. He knew that a laugh, a smile, even a mere upturning of his lips might trigger mayhem, so he tried to ease his way out of the cul-de-sac into which Genitori had wedged him, but the walls on either side of him were immovable and Genitori blocked his path like a small raging bull about to lower his horns and charge.
"Now take it easy," Ralph said.
"What did we discuss last night, you miserable bastard?" Genitori said. "Why did I drive all the way to Idlewild…"
"Kennedy."
"You son of a bitch, don't correct me, you miserable jackass! All the way in from Massapequa, you think I enjoy midnight rides?"
"Now look, Sam…"
"Don't look me, you moron! There's a man's career at stake in that courtroom, we're not kidding around here! We lose this case, and James Driscoll goes down the drain!"
"What did I do, would you mind…"
"What didn't you do? You gave them everything they wanted!"