Rachel Weisz has just flubbed a line.
It comes in Scene 8 of Neil LaButes film version of his play The Shape of Things. Weiszs character, Evelyn, is supposed to tell Paul Rudds Adam, We got you a cocoa, but for some reason it comes out juice. The slip gets a laugh on the set, which, in a way, is remarkable. The films four-member cast, which also includes Gretchen Mol as Jenny and Fred Weller (who is not on set tonight) as Phillip, hasnt just been working up this material for a long time (these actors also appeared in both the London and New York stage productions last year); this Saturday night marks their 19th day of a tight, four-week shoot. The coffeehouse set, described in the script as a local Starbucks-knockoff, is the very real Gourmet Coffee Warehouse, located on downtown L.A.s Traction Avenue. The place, renamed here La Dolce Latte, neatly fits the storys college-town requirements: a split-level floor plan with brick walls and bad art. All the set decorator had to add was a vintage Vespa scooter, some whorehouse drapes and a Fellini poster.
The Shape of Things is about two college couples, one on a marriage track (Mol and Weller), the other (Weisz and Rudd) involved in a Pygmalion romance in which art grad student Evelyn plays pussycat to Adams English-department owl. Scene 8 is a pivotal one, in which Evelyn, in an apparent moment of jealousy, forces Adam to choose between her and his friendship with the other couple. LaBute, whose new film, Possession, is slated to open in June, filmed the master shots Friday and tonight is doing coverage -- two-shots and individual close-ups. Considering the brutally precise badinage of such previous work as In the Company of Men and Your Friends & Neighbors, you might expect LaBute to be an intense perfectionist, insisting on retake after retake. Instead, he works at a surprisingly brisk clip.
I just kind of go by intuition, LaBute admits. If I feel Ive got it with two takes, Im happy with that. I certainly dont overcover things.
Indeed, he seems to be the most relaxed person on the set. A bearish 39-year-old with dark, curly hair and beard, LaBute fades back during shooting, a can of Diet Pepsi in hand, as though he were just some guy from the loft upstairs who has come down to watch. When the scene ends, he quietly says Cut and turns around 360 degrees so deliberately that you can almost read his thoughts before he asks, One more or what? And when Weisz says, Take it up one? -- asking whether LaBute wants her to bring her characters emotion up a notch for the retake -- he replies with near-comical nonchalance, Youre sure not going to go wrong that way.
Still, theres more happening here than laissez faire, as when LaBute insists on crowding as much of his wide, anamorphically lensed imagery with background scenery, placing his characters way off center in the frame.
Im not that enamored with the camera, hell say one moment, while the next owning up to his stage directors obsession with filling empty space with the props and detritus of his characters lives. The stage is a kind of socialistic environment. A theater audience can look anywhere they want onstage. In a film I turn their attention to where I want it.
LaButes work has been controversial in terms of shoving its audience into the arena of sexual politics, but its also clear he derives a certain satisfaction just from keeping people off balance. In his two stage productions of The Shape of Things, he deliberately assaulted viewers with a loud Smashing Pumpkins soundtrack, no blackouts, no intermission and, in London, no curtain call.
I have no qualms about making people sit for two hours without a break. Theyre used to their intermission, theyre used to an actor getting applause afterwards, but I dont really have much use for that. And Im not big on having the actors come out after the show and say, Oh, we were just kidding, we all really like each other, and hold hands and break the moment.
Still, compromises of a sort have been made for this film -- the script is a few pages lighter than the plays, and, to open it up, some scenes will be shot as exteriors. More important, consistent weather and a $4 million budget have ensured that the plays original conservative Midwestern setting is now loudly California: LaButes company has shot everything in L.A., San Pedro and Camarillo.
The actors take a long break as the Panaflex camera is re-positioned along a track. A stoic Gretchen Mol remains posted at her scenes tall-standing coffee table, while the fidgety Weisz wanders away in a Cookie Monster jacket -- the fluffy blue coat Evelyn wore on Broadway, which Weisz now wears strictly for warmth. (Its been deemed too over-the-top for the movie.) Rudd moves downstairs to the long service counter, takes a chocolate Malteaser from a jar, and goes outside to strum on a guitar then fool around with someones new digital camera.
Much of the crew has nothing to do except stay out of the way of others who are busy. The Gourmet Coffee Warehouse is not actually brewing coffee, so they buy it from a catering truck, which serves what must be the most powerful stimulant to be legally dispensed without prescription. Some settle in at the outdoor cafe tables installed for the movie -- Traction Avenue is not exactly the kind of thoroughfare on which real businesses set furniture out on the sidewalk. Meanwhile, the set dresser keeps an eye on a prop phone booth across the street to see if its making any money. (On an earlier movie project, he says, he installed one with a note on it advising passersby of its prop status, yet some still tried to make calls.)
After nearly an hour, everyone is ready to shoot the last part of the scene. When Evelyn accuses Adam of wavering fidelity, he replies, Jesus, next youre gonna tell me the handkerchief with the strawberries on it is missing. Evelyn barely blinks at the Othello allusion: I dont know that reference. Sometimes Weisz plays the line as a throwaway; other times it brings her to the brink of tears. LaBute doesnt indicate which of these readings he prefers.
The smart actors know how to modulate their performances down to force you to use a close-up on them, he had said before the shooting resumed. You constantly find youre in a battle, a game of strategy to get what you want and what they want.
Rudd teases him. You tell me what you want, and Ill make it work. Because thats what I do, thats my job -- Im a professional.
The mood suddenly lightens. Then someone questions the grammar of Evelyns line If this was a movie, Id see the light eventually, action ceases and discussions break out. When a visitor to the set volunteers that the line should be were a movie because its the conditional voice, LaButes eyes widen: Get off the set! No one who knows the conditional voice is allowed here! This is a blue-collar set! After the laughter dies down, he relents. Well, the rule I always go by is [singing] If I were a carpenter . . .
This prompts Rudd to mention that although Tim Harden wrote the song, Bobby Darin made a hit of it after he finished his lounge phase. You know, he had the Nicholson thing.
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Nicholson thing? LaBute asks.
He found out that his sister was really his mother.
What you mean is Bobby Darin was Nicholsons mother, LaBute muses. He died in childbirth. Jack was breach.
The riffing continues until everyone is ready and an assistant calls out, Were rolling! Everyone relax!