CHAPTER EIGHT - CORY STILLING - Filming

The movie set of “The Lancer Ultimatum”-1971 Wayne Hampton looked through the lens. He backed away from the camera and nodded to his cinematographer.

“Looks good, Carlos.” Hampton clapped his hands. “Okay, first team, let’s go!”

The stand-in waited on the mark for Cory to take her place.

“It’s hot,” said the stand-in, referring to the lights.

 Cory patted her on the shoulder. “It’s always hot. Thanks, Linda.”

Cory took Linda’s place on the mark and looked directly into the camera. This was a reaction shot. Her character was watching a plane take off with a bomb planted on it. Wayne said he wanted her to show no emotion for a few moments, then give a tiny smile. It was a dynamite role and Cory was in her second week of filming. So far, she had not shot any key scenes, but Wayne Hampton wanted everyone to be comfortable with each other before they got into the heavy dialogue.

The assistant director was waving at the cast and crew on the set.

“Okay, settle. Everybody settle….” He pointed to continuity man. “…Slate in.” The man with the clapboard held it in front of the camera. On the board in yellow chalk was the scene and take numbers. 

“Speed!” cried the soundman.

“Speed!” confirmed the camera operator. 

The AD pointed to the continuity man. “Slate.” The man snapped the top part of the board, then moved out of camera range.

 Hampton quietly gave the command. “Action.”

Cory stood on her mark, looking just to the right of the camera. She imagined the plane taking off.  The bomb was on board. Mission accomplished. She gave the hint of a smile and held it.

“Cut!” said Hampton. “That’s a print.” Hampton looked over to the AD, who turned to the crew.

“Lunch break!” yelled the AD. Wayne motioned to Cory.

“Very good, Cory. Will you join me for lunch?”

“Sure,” said Cory as her assistant Gena, handed her a cold rag. 

“You’re already sweating. I can’t wait for the scene where you have to dash down the beach,” chuckled Gena.

“Those lights are hot. I don’t know how my stand-in takes it.” Cory and Gena walked to her dressing room.

“Did you want me to order lunch?”

 Cory shook her head. “No. Herr Director wants me to dine with him.”

“Lucky you,” said Gena. “I’ll bet the commissary doesn’t cater his meals.”

“I’ve heard he has smoked salmon sent in from Nero’s on Thursdays.”

“Sounds yummy.”

“Today’s Wednesday,” Cory said sourly with a smile. Yummy, she thought. Yes, it did sound good. Maybe Wayne would ask her to lunch tomorrow as well.

Hampton had a bungalow on the lot. It was his as long as he was filming “The Lancer Ultimatum”. Cory heard that it was once Errol Flynn’s home away from home. Of course the whole lot echoed with the ghosts of Gable, Harlow, Cooper and many others.

Cory picked at her caviar as Hampton entertained her with some of the Hollywood lore associated with the bungalow.

“Bart, the janitor, told me that Flynn, Gable and Ward Bond had a forty-eight hour poker game here once. Bond won the pot, which was around twelve thousand dollars. Pretty good for a couple of nights work in 1935.”

“That would be more like forty thousand today,” she said.

He was leading up to something and she was wary of the director. As soon as she entered the bungalow and saw the sumptuous feast of caviar and roast duck spread out, her antennae was up and operating. She didn’t think he was going to try and get funny with her, because at an earlier reading, he’d thrown his best lines at her and she made it pretty clear that the casting couch was not her favorite piece of furniture.

“Can I get you a drink?” Hampton had already gotten to the bar and was pouring himself a bourbon.

“Just water, thank you.”

He reached into the refrigerator and took out a bottled water. “Sure you don’t want a chaser?”  he joked.

 Cory laughed. “I think I’m drinking the chaser.”

 He brought the water to her and took a swig of his bourbon. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met over the age of twelve, who doesn’t drink.” 

Cory flashed him a smile. “I’m drinking, look.” She took a sip of water. 

Wayne Hampton looked at her curiously. “To each his own, I suppose.” He reached over and picked up his script off a chair. “The reason I wanted to see you was to discuss scene thirty two.” Here it came.

“Scene thirty two?”

“Yeah, let me find it.” As he flipped through the pages, Cory was trying to think of what happened in scene thirty-two. “Ah…here we are.” He read it to himself for a moment. Cory spread some margarine on a whole-wheat roll. Hampton continued. “This is the scene where Sharif is watching you through the binoculars.”

“The beach scene, right?”

“Right.”

“What about it, Wayne?”

 He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “It says here that you are alone on the beach, putting sun tan lotion on your shoulder.”

“Right. And Omar is watching me through the binoculars.”

“Correct. We’ll have a camera zoom in on you in double circles like it’s his point of view. It has you in a black, one-piece bathing suit. I was talking to Bruno about maybe changing that.”

“Why?”

He looked like she’d asked him how to hem a dress wearing oven mitts. “Well…well for one thing, you look like Annette in “Beach Blanket Bingo” in the black suit. This isn’t a Disney picture.”

“I don’t think “Beach Blanket Bingo” was a Disney picture either.”

“Just consider what Bruno suggested.”

Bruno Slezak was one of Hollywood’s top costume designers. Hampton pulled out some sketches that he’d put in the back of the script. He laid them out on the table.

“We’ve got several good choices here.”

Every sketch showed a revealing bathing suit. Most of them were skimpy bikinis. The others were a lot less.

“I don’t feel comfortable with any of those Wayne.”

 He kept his eyes on the sketches. “Which ones do you like?” Cory gave an inward groan. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I just said, I don’t like any of them.” 

Wayne picked up the sketch of a suit that left little to the imagination. “This one would really compliment your figure.” Nice try, pal.

“I’d feel naked in that, Wayne. I don’t want to wear any of those bikinis.”

 He shook his head. “Maybe we could compromise. We could shoot it both ways. First, we’ll shoot it with you wearing this one.” He gave a little shake of the sketch that he held in his hand. And then we’ll shoot it with you wearing your black one piece.”

“Then you’ll pick the best shot?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

Cory already knew which shot he was going to pick. “No,” she said. “I don’t like it. I want to wear the black bathing suit.”

“Look Cory, I know you don’t do nude scenes. I respect that. But this isn’t nudity.”

“It might as well be,” she said evenly. They locked eyes. After what seemed like a long time, Hampton’s gaze wavered.

“I don’t need your approval on this Cory. We want you to wear one of the costumes in these sketches. I’ll even let you make the choice.” For a brief moment, Cory thought about his offer, but her decision was already made.

“No.  I won’t do it Wayne. I’m sorry.”

Hampton slammed the sketch down on the table in frustration. The food and drinks shook on impact. He shot out of his chair and began to pace.

“You realize that I could replace you, Cory. We haven’t shot any major scenes yet. I could pick up that phone and get a hundred actresses who would give up their own mother to be in your position.” 

Cory stood up. “Well, I guess a mother somewhere is going to be daughterless. At least I know I won’t be leaving you in the lurch since you’ve got a lot of choices.”

“You’ll have trouble getting work with your attitude Cory. I tell you that as a friend.”

“Thanks friend. If that’s the worst of my worries, I’ll handle it.”

She walked past a fuming Hampton and out of the bungalow. As she made her way past some scenery being moved towards a sound stage, she heard Hampton screaming at her.

“Who do you think you are?! You think you’re better than everybody else?!” No, thought Cory…but I’m right.