The Silent Country (8 page)

‘In for a penny, in for a pound. One of my granny’s sayings.’

‘Yes,’ said Helen shortly. ‘I have heard the expression.’

Colin joined Peter the Dutchman in the next room. Topov stood in front of the marble fireplace as a group of people listened intently to what he was saying.

‘There’re a lot more of us than I thought. Do you think everyone will be coming along?’ asked Colin.

Peter shook his head. ‘I doubt it, these people do not look like they want to get their shoes dusty. Helen says they are non-participating investors.’

Colin took a small pastry from a plate on the dining table and suddenly saw another man he recognised. He inched around the room and when the man was alone he introduced himself.

‘Hello, I recognise you. I’m Colin, I’ve seen you at a couple of New Realist film screenings down at the wharves.’

‘Is that so? Sorry, did we meet? I talk to so many people at those meetings. I am Drago.’

‘Yes, yes. The cameraman. I heard you speak at one or two of the Wharfie’s Film Unit documentaries. There was one about workers’ living conditions. I was interested in what you said about film being the new instrument of progress. Are you part of this project?’ asked Colin with interest.

‘Yes. Regretfully, there is little work for cameramen in Australia. Not much film industry, not yet TV, so when I heard Maxim Topov was planning a film, I contacted him. His idea for this film is a good one, though we don’t know what is actually planned just yet.’

‘So you will be the cameraman, that’s exciting,’ said Colin, pleased the team had an experienced hand on board. Though Drago was only in his thirties, he seemed to be very worldly and capable, like Peter the Dutchman.

Drago shrugged. ‘I am not officially the cameraman. Topov likes to control the camera. I am his assistant. But I need to work and Topov is not as good as he thinks he is. Maybe he will need an experienced cameraman. This could be a big opportunity for me.’

‘Yes, I’m excited to see the outback.’

‘So you are coming along? What role has Topov for you?’ asked Drago with a smile.

‘Writer. Though I’m not very experienced,’ began Colin, ‘but I hope I can create something worthwhile and bring a sense of what we find to a cinema audience . . .’

Drago broke into Colin’s stumbling explanation and justification of his credentials. ‘Don’t worry about it. Topov will tell you what he wants. He is boss. Always boss.’ He glanced at Madame Olga and Helen. ‘Maybe too many boss people. It will be interesting.’

The party was winding up. Topov clapped his hands.

‘Topov has announcement. We have very good team coming here. We have Maxim Topov director, cinematographer.’ He gave a small bow as the room politely applauded. ‘We have patron, Madame Olga. We have business manager, Miss Helen. We have writer, Mr Colin. We have mechanic and driver, Mr Dutchy. We have assistant camera and second driver, Mr Drago.’ Each nodded as they were briefly acknowledged. ‘We take turns cooking.’

‘Until we find a cook and general factotum,’ broke in Helen who, it was obvious, had no intention of cooking for the camp.

‘Maybe we need other man. But, big, big question is – we must find
star
,’ thundered Topov. ‘Trees, natives, animals, all good, but we want beautiful lady actress to be star of film!’

Drago rolled his eyes and Peter the Dutchman smiled. Olga nodded in agreement.

Helen spoke first. ‘And how do we find this star?’ she asked.

‘Put ad in newspaper,’ declared Topov. ‘We make auditions.’ He stabbed a finger at Drago. ‘You use my Bolex camera and make film screen test.’ He then pointed at Colin. ‘You write scene for audition. You read with actress.’

‘So is this actress being paid, or does she invest as well?’ asked Helen.

‘Topov make her a big star but investing is also good,’ said Madame Olga.

‘Topov will decide,’ declared Topov. ‘We meet next week. Dutchy, find vehicles. Maybe boat. Come, we talk.’

Peter nodded at Colin. ‘See you next week. If you have any motor contacts, let me know.’

‘ ’Fraid not, Peter. I don’t even own a car,’ said Colin. He bid Topov goodbye and as his hand was gripped by the Russian’s large paw, Colin asked, ‘About this scene you want for the audition . . .’

‘You write something sexy. Make her cry, make her laugh, make her scared. You know best paper for advertisement?’

‘I think so,’ said Colin.

‘Then you write ad and put in paper. Say auditions on Wednesday.’

‘Ah, whereabouts? How do they apply?’ wondered Colin.

‘Tell them Nino’s Café. We take details and good ones get to screen test.’ Topov turned away.

‘Get a receipt from the newspaper,’ Helen reminded Colin.

‘Oh, right.’

The next day he lodged the advertisement, paid for it and put the receipt in his wallet. The ad appeared in a large box in the classified section of the morning newspaper.

International movie director making a film in the Northern Territory seeks talented, adventurous actress. Must be prepared to travel in rough conditions for several months through outback with large experienced crew. Interviews Nino’s Café, Macleay Street, Kings Cross, nine am, Wednesday. Screen test to follow
.

Colin hoped he’d covered the essentials and wondered just who might respond to the ad. It seemed rather unprofessional. Didn’t actors have agents? He decided to make up a few flyers, maybe he could mimeograph them at the bank and stick them up around the halls and meeting rooms at the docks where some out-of-work actors congregated. He imagined it might take some time for word to get around, but anyone could leave their details at Nino’s and it would reach Topov, who treated the café as his office.

After dinner, as he was leaving his flat, he clattered down the stairs and passed Johnny the cockney, who lived below him.

‘What’s up, Col? You going out?’

‘Hello, Johnny. Yes, I’m sticking up a few flyers. Where do you think actors and actresses might hang out? Real ones I mean, not girls from around here.’

‘What d’you want with actresses? Not your cup of tea I would’ve thought, eh Colin, me lad,’ grinned Johnny.

Colin showed Johnny the flyer and briefly explained the search for a leading lady.

‘Well, I’ll be blowed. A man could make a lot of use out of this if I had the time. Tell you what, come with me, I’ll take you down to the theatre district. Go round the stage doors and get them to put ’em on the noticeboard backstage.’

Johnny led the way, chatting nonstop as they jumped on a tram to the city. He was a short, energetic man, about Colin’s age, with a mischievous smile and cheeky personality, the sort of chap Colin’s mother would describe as being able to ‘charm the birds from the trees’. All Colin knew about him was that he’d come out to Australia as a ten-pound Pom and loved the place, which he confidently told Colin was ‘ripe for the pickings’. He was always dressed in a shiny suit, a narrow tie and a snappy narrow-brimmed fedora hat. He seemed to turn up everywhere and he told Colin that he had a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. Johnny always had a deal he was doing or was about to do.

‘So, tell me more about this film thing. Where is the Northern Territory exactly? Where are you going and for how long?’

‘Well, in the north. It’s the outback, way out bush. Past the black stump, Johnny,’ said Colin. ‘Actually I have no idea exactly where we’re going.’

‘You mean you’re going on this caper? How’s a fellow get to go, then?’ asked Johnny with sudden, serious interest.

Colin rubbed his fingers together indicating money, as he’d seen Johnny do. ‘You will probably have to invest in the film.’

‘How much?’ asked Johnny.

‘Johnny, what’s it matter? It’s not your sort of thing.’ Colin almost laughed at the idea of Johnny in his spiffy suit and hat in the bush. ‘It’s going to be a bit rough. You
know, dirt roads, no roads, bush tracks, rivers, desert. Who knows what.’

‘Listen, I want to talk to the bloke in charge. You fellows are going to need vehicles, trucks, just to get you there. Not that easy finding the right sort of transport to go to those sorts of places, but you know I’ve got contacts. Do you know if anything’s been organised?’

‘It’s not up to me. You need to talk to Topov, it’s his film, or Helen, the business manager. Come to the café when the auditions are on,’ suggested Colin.

‘I’ll certainly do that. Be there with bells on. C’mon, this is our stop. Let’s hit the Capitol Theatre and the Tiv and put up some of these flyers.’

Colin had laboured over his little audition scene and was feeling quite pleased with the short two hander. There was a nice speech for the actress and while he fed her lines, she could give scope to various emotions. He’d set it on the bank of a river, a scene he’d recreated from a picture on his calendar of somewhere in rural Australia where a river meandered over stones between sandy banks lined with willow trees and captioned ‘On Tranquil Banks’.

He could not get to the café until his lunch break. He hurried downstairs to where Nino had given Topov the space in the basement restaurant that was closed to customers during the day. To his surprise, he found that the auditions had not even started and that Helen was just setting up a table with three chairs behind it and putting notepads in front of each chair. On one side of the table, Drago had a small tripod and a camera set up and several professional lights to take still photographs of any potential leading ladies.

‘Hello, Colin. Do you have copies of the audition piece?’ asked Helen.

‘I dropped them into Nino’s this morning on my way to work, but I only managed to do a few copies. Do you want me to get them? Where’s Mr Topov?’

‘He’ll be along. We’ll ask only those girls who have obvious talent to read,’ she said.

‘So how do you decide who that will be? By their experience?’ asked Colin.

‘What good is that? Most of them will make up their résumés,’ said Helen.

‘It’ll be the looks,’ said Drago. ‘Did you put in the advertisement that only pretty girls need apply?’

At last Topov arrived, looking as if he’d slept in his clothes, rumpled hair and bleary-eyed and told Peter to bring in the applicants. Colin was amazed at the turnout. Twenty had arrived to be interviewed, including two male transvestites still in their make-up and cocktail dresses from the previous evening.

Topov dropped a large black-leather notebook on the table and called for espresso coffee. ‘Topov is writing brilliant script,’ he announced.

Colin blanched, wondering if he was suddenly out of a job. ‘Mr Topov, I’ve written a scene for the leading lady. If you’d like to look at it . . .’ But Topov pushed the papers back at Colin.

‘Good, good. First we look at girls. Bring in first star to be.’

The women were dressed in a variety of outfits from casual to elaborate party wear. Some had never acted at all, others inflated their meagre thespian experiences. One young woman, dressed in denim jeans with turned up cuffs and a man’s shirt seemed to be the most experienced and talented. But when she said she was studying method acting with another actor from New York, Topov threw his hands in the air.

‘This rubbish. Crazy acting. Be a cow. Be an alligator.
Be a cloud.’ He began dancing about waving his arms, in a surprisingly nimble way.

The woman scowled. ‘Is that what your film is about? Cows and alligators? Count me out.’ And she stomped from the room.

Topov burst into laughter. ‘I like this one.’

‘I don’t think she’s interested,’ said Helen. ‘Let’s move on.’

Topov, Colin and Helen sat behind the table as the women continued to come forward to answer questions posed by Topov. It was an ordeal for everyone. Colin cringed as Topov challenged, taunted, teased and flirted with the women, dismissing most of them, but telling a few, ‘You wait. Come back for screen test.’

It became obvious to Colin that Drago had been right. Topov only spent time with the pretty women, even when it was obvious they lacked experience or had not the faintest idea of what they would be embarking upon. One girl wanted to come back home at weekends to visit her boyfriend, another asked if she could bring her mother along. One actress wanted to be able to go back and forth for theatre auditions.

Topov continued to ignore Colin’s script. When he thought a girl had some potential he leapt up and sketched a brief dramatic scenario, which proved to be mostly incomprehensible to the actress. But with Topov leaping dramatically in front of her screaming, ‘Killer snake, crocodile, wild beast . . . coming to attack! What to do,’ the girl quickly got the message to squeal, scream and emote. While several of the girls simply looked at Topov as if he were a madman and walked away, others flung themselves into scenes of abandon, throwing themselves around, howling and crying.

Helen sat stony faced. Drago dropped his head in his hands. Colin had no idea what to say, so tried to make
notes. Finally there were no more hopeful leading ladies and Colin knew he would have to return to the bank.

‘Is there anyone you want me to film?’ asked Drago.

‘No, they are all dragons,’ declared Topov. ‘We go.’

‘What are we going to do about a leading lady?’ asked Colin anxiously.