"So how do you like it so far?" I asked Margot over the phone.
"I love it," she said.
I'd sent Margot a still unfinished script for Ready or Not, which I'd been writing with a writer from Midas. Well, he did most of the writing while I supervised and told him the story I had in mind. This was his big break in the industry, so he was very eager.
"It's funny," she said. "I'm reading about a bride who's being hunted by her new in laws." She paused. "Is this some kind of foreshadowing for our own wedding?"
"Fuck, you found out," I said. "I guess we have to move our plans forward."
She laughed.
"Alice is going to be so disappointed. She even bought a special knife for the occasion," I added.
"Tell her I am looking forward to it."
"Alright, I've got to go. Love you."
"Love you too."
I hung up and turned toward the assistant director, Marcus Reed, who was standing nearby.
"Alright, let's do this."
Marcus flipped through his notes and updated me on today's filming.
It had been two days since we began. The first week was mainly focused on scenes involving Verbal Kint, Agent Dave Kujan, played by Alfred Molina, and Jack Baer, played by John David Washington, along with other establishing shots. Mostly the present day narrative of the movie. Today's big scene was the one near the end: Kujan's victory speech, where he thinks he's figured it all out.
Roger Dawkins, the cinematographer, walked over. "I've been looking at the setup. The lighting's a bit flat right now. I'm thinking we add a harder key light from the left."
I looked over and nodded. "Yeah, do that."
"I'll adjust it," Roger said.
We walked over to the set, where Paul and Alfred were going over their lines.
Paul was holding his leg. Yesterday, he fell and was limping while walking.
"My leg still hurts from yesterday," he said, shaking it out.
Alfred grinned. "Well, it's practice. When you're in your sixties, you won't even have to act."
Paul laughed. "Great. Something to look forward to."
They saw me coming and straightened up.
"Ready to do this?" I asked.
"Yeah," Paul said.
"Alright," I said. "I know we went over this yesterday, but let's do it one more time. Alfred, from Kujan's point of view, this is his victory speech. He's finally figured it out. Keaton is Keyser Söze. Keaton orchestrated everything. Verbal is just a useful idiot."
Alfred nodded. "I'm very triumphant."
"Exactly. You're Sherlock Holmes revealing the solution," I said.
I turned to Paul. "I loved what you did in the rehearsal. It was perfect. Let's do it again here. You're playing a guy who's also putting on a performance."
I paused. "No pressure."
There was some laughter.
They set up for the scene in the interrogation room set.
Alfred sat across from him at the table, looking down.
"Rolling," Marcus called out.
"Action," I said.
KUJAN: "Arturo Marquez. Ever hear of him?"
Paul, Verbal, shook his head slightly, confused.
VERBAL: "Wha... no."
KUJAN: "He was a stool pigeon for the Justice Department. He swore out a statement to Federal Marshals that he had seen and could positively identify one Keyser Söze and had intimate knowledge of his business, including, but not limited to, drug trafficking and murder."
VERBAL: "I never heard of him."
Alfred stood, pacing now.
KUJAN: "His own people were selling him to a gang of Hungarians. Most likely the same Hungarians that Söze all but wiped out back in Turkey. The money wasn't there for dope. The Hungarians were going to buy the one guy who could finger Söze for them."
Paul's face was a mask of confusion and growing dread.
VERBAL: "I said I never heard of him."
KUJAN: "But Keaton had. Edie Finneran was his extradition advisor. She knew who he was and what he knew."
VERBAL: "I don't."
Alfred leaned in close now.
"Cut," I said.
They stopped.
"Alfred, can you do it again, but walk over next to Paul faster? Start from 'But Keaton had.'"
Alfred nodded.
"Action."
KUJAN: "But Keaton had. Edie Finneran was his extradition advisor. She knew who he was and what he knew."
VERBAL: "I don't."
Alfred moved quickly this time, closing the distance and leaning in close.
KUJAN: "There were no drugs on that boat. It was a hit. A suicide mission to whack out the one man who could finger Keyser Söze. So Söze had a few thieves put to it. Men he knew he could march into certain death."
Paul's eyes widened, Verbal trying to process it.
VERBAL: "But how... wait. You're saying Söze sent us to kill someone?"
Alfred smiled, cold and certain.
KUJAN: "I'm saying Keaton did."
Paul's face crumpled. He squinted, trying to understand.
Paul was really into it now. He was perfect. I watched the monitor with a smile on my face.
"Zoom camera 2 in further on Paul's face," I said quietly to Roger.
The camera adjusted.
KUJAN: "Verbal, he left you behind for a reason. If you all knew Söze could find you anywhere, why was he ready to send you off with the money when he could have used you to take the boat?"
VERBAL: "He wanted me to live."
KUJAN: "Why did he want you to live? A one time dirty cop without a loyalty in the world finds it in his heart to save a worthless rat cripple? No, sir. Why?"
Paul looked down, his voice breaking.
VERBAL: "Edie."
KUJAN: "I don't buy that reform story for a minute. And even if I did, I certainly don't believe he would send you to protect her. So why?"
VERBAL: "Because he was my friend."
Alfred shook his head.
KUJAN: "No, Verbal. You weren't friends. Keaton didn't have friends. He saved you because he wanted it that way. It was his will."
Paul's face, Verbal grinding to a mental halt, trying to grasp the implication.
Then suddenly:
VERBAL: "No..."
Alfred leaned in, delivering the final blow.
KUJAN: "Keaton was Keyser Söze."
"Cut!" I yelled.
Paul stopped, looking at me.
"Paul, when you say 'no,' stand up. Let the anger take over."
Paul nodded. "Got it."
"Action."
KUJAN: "Keaton was Keyser Söze."
VERBAL: "NO."
Paul shot up from his chair, shaking.
KUJAN: "The kind of guy who could wrangle the wills of men like Hockney and McManus. The kind of man who could engineer a police lineup from all his years of contacts in the N.Y.P.D."
Paul, Verbal, stood on wobbly legs, shaking with anger, tears forming.
VERBAL: "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO."
Alfred's voice rose, cutting through.
KUJAN: "THE KIND OF MAN THAT COULD HAVE KILLED EDIE FINNERAN."
Paul's face changed to one of shock and revelation.
KUJAN: "They found her yesterday. Shot twice in the head."
Paul's eyes swelled. His voice broke.
VERBAL: "Edie..."
KUJAN: "He used all of you to get him on that boat. He couldn't get on alone, and he had to pull the trigger himself to make sure he got his man. The one man who could identify him."
VERBAL: "This is all bullshit."
KUJAN: "He left you to stay behind and tell us he was dead. You saw him die, right? Or did you? You had to hide when the first police cars showed up. You heard the shot just before the fire, but you didn't see him die."
Paul shook his head, tears streaming now.
VERBAL: "I knew him. He would never..."
KUJAN: "He programmed you to tell us just what he wanted you to. Customs has been investigating him for years. He knew we were close. You said it yourself. Where is the political pressure coming from? Why are you being protected? It's Keaton making sure you tell us what you're supposed to. Immunity is your reward."
Paul's voice rose, desperate and broken.
VERBAL: "BUT WHY ME? WHY NOT HOCKNEY OR FENSTER OR McMANUS? I'm a cripple. I'm stupid. Why me?"
Paul heard the weight of his own words and fell back into his chair.
Alfred looked at him with pity.
I looked around with a smile. We wouldn't even have to do another shot of this. Paul was in the zone.
KUJAN: "Because you're a cripple, Verbal. Because you're stupid. Because you were weaker than them. Because you couldn't see far enough into him to know the truth."
Paul was crying now. He shook his head, eyes closed.
KUJAN: "If he's dead, Verbal, if what you say is true, then it won't matter. It was his idea to hit the Taxi Service in New York, wasn't it? Tell me the truth."
Paul sobbed.
VERBAL: "It was all Keaton. We followed him from the beginning."
Alfred smiled.
VERBAL: "I didn't know. I saw him die. I believe he's dead. Christ."
Paul paused, then added, improvising, his voice shaking:
VERBAL: "I swear to God, I saw him die. I saw it."
I leaned forward. That was perfect. Paul was adding layers.
KUJAN: "Why lie about everything else, then?"
Paul looked up, his voice raw, improvising again:
VERBAL: "Because... because I'm nothing, Agent Kujan. I'm nothing. The one thing, the one thing I could do was keep my mouth shut. Keep the code. That's all I had. And you took it from me."
I glanced at Marcus. He was watching, transfixed.
Paul continued, tears streaming:
VERBAL: "I didn't want to tell you for my dignity. That's all. And you robbed me, Agent Kujan. You robbed me."
Alfred pulled the microphone out from under his tie and placed it on the desk.
Paul actually managed a bitter laugh.
"Cut," I said quietly.
Paul wiped his face, breaking character. "Was that okay?"
"That was more than okay," I said, walking over. "That was perfect. Loved the improvised lines."
Paul nodded, still catching his breath.
We did a few more takes, adjusting angles and getting coverage, but the first one was the one. Paul had nailed it.
After the final take, I called out, "Alright, that's a wrap for today."
========
The first week of filming was a big success. It ended with filming the final scene of the movie: Verbal walking out of the police station and the big twist reveal.
Now it was time to film the hardest part of the movie.
The next four weeks.
Week 2: This week was mostly going to focus on the five main suspects and all of Scarlett's scenes as Edie.
Week 3 and 4: Location shoots, the heists, and more.
Week 5: The final week. The last scenes I planned to end filming with were everything at the docks, mostly shot at night and involving a lot of action.
Today we were filming the scene where Edie and Keaton walk out of the police station after he's released. Their small conversation. The other four watching them as they leave. A very tension filled scene.
It was going to be shot on the New York street set in Studio One, a backlot Stardust had acquired from Warner Bros.
I was in conversation with Roger, the cinematographer, about the atmosphere and lighting when I noticed Scarlett, Robert, Tom Hardy, LaKeith, and Michael Peña all watching me from across the set. They were looking at each other and nodding.
I glanced at them, then turned back to Roger and finished the conversation.
Time to begin.
I walked over to Scarlett. The others had moved away as the assistant director talked to them.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing," she said, smiling innocently.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Really?"
"Yeah," she said. Then she paused. "I was just thinking... The Blair Witch Project. I remember you just walking around confused most of the time, watching filming. And now here you are."
"Can't believe it's been ten years," I said.
Scarlett grinned. "You know, I recently watched that episode of South Park."
"Oh, great," I said, already annoyed.
"Robert was just showing us all a clip from it and..."
"It was funny, I guess, but I don't see..."
Robert's voice came from behind me. "AHA! SEE, THERE IT IS!" He was pointing at me. Well, at my right hand.
Michael Peña, standing beside him, laughed. "Damn, they were right."
LaKeith and Tom were laughing too.
"What?" I asked.
Robert grinned. "You're air jerking."
"Oh, fuck," I muttered.
That joke from the South Park episode where I appeared. They'd made a running gag about how I always seemed to be doing what they called "air jerking," where one of my hands always looked like it was jerking off an invisible dick whenever I talked in interview clips.
Honestly, after watching the episode, I realized I did have a habit of moving my hands a lot when I spoke.
"I barely do it," I said defensively.
Robert pointed. "You did it again."
I looked at my hand.
"Damn it," I muttered as I grabbed my right hand.
Scarlett was trying not to laugh. Tom was imitating the motion. LaKeith had his phone out, recording.
"Delete that," I said, pointing at LaKeith.
"You know we're about to film a very serious scene. We can't waste time."
"Don't worry about that, Daniel. We are professionals," Peña said, while one of his hands imitated my "air jerking."
Robert clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Danny. We love you. And your very enthusiastic hand gestures."
"Fuck all of you," I said, but I was grinning as some of the crew around us laughed.
"Let's get this scene rolling," I added.
"Did it again," LaKeith pointed out.
I just walked off, though now that it was in my head, I felt like I was doing it more and more.
========
Week 2 went by great. Scarlett's dates needed to be extended into Week 3, but that was only a small complication.
Well, I thought it was going smoothly.
Week 3 turned out to be a week of complications.
There was an incident involving a stuntman doubling for Tom Hardy that could have ended in disaster. A wire malfunctioned during a fight sequence, and the stuntman fell harder than expected. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries, only some cuts on his arm and bruising. Tom had insisted on doing some of his own stunts, but after that incident, he backed off.
There were permit issues at the warehouse we'd planned to shoot in. The owner changed his mind at the last minute, something about insurance liability. I had to pay out of pocket and negotiate with him on the spot to let us shoot there. We lost half a day of filming, but I got it done.
Mads Mikkelsen had a family emergency during the final days of shooting his scenes. He was supposed to be there for the first half of Week 4 as well. I had to quickly rearrange the shooting schedule, compress his remaining scenes into two intensive days, and finish everything with the guarantee that he'd be available for reshoots if needed.
I also had some creative disagreements with Roger and Robert about certain scenes. Roger wanted more natural lighting in some scenes, which would have softened the tone. I wanted it harsh and oppressive. Robert wanted some changes to Dean's scenes with Edie. I pushed back, but eventually we compromised on a few shots. It was frustrating.
Week 3 was actually the worst. That was when I really started having doubts, wondering if I'd bitten off more than I could chew.
And now, by the end of Week 5, I was ready to wrap it up.
The final day of filming turned out to be the hardest day of the movie yet.
The dock scenes, shot at night, turned out to be brutally cold. For some reason, those few days had unseasonably frigid nights, an anomaly, according to the weather reports. The crew was bundled up in layers, their breath visible in the air.
Robert got sick on the first day, so filming was delayed. Now he was feeling a bit better, and we were ready to film his final scene: Söze shooting and killing Keaton.
"Where's Robert?" I asked as we prepared to begin.
"He was still napping," one of my assistants said.
"Can someone go get him?" I said.
I took the time to make sure everything was perfect, because I really wanted to finish this and get everyone out of the cold.
Robert showed up a few minutes later. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was him still recovering from being sick, but the exhaustion on his face was perfect for the scene.
"This is good," I said. "Yes. Let's do this."
Robert pulled his coat tighter. "I'm ready to leave this place, Danny. We can do this in one shot."
"I may need a couple more," I said.
Robert nodded and sighed. "Alright. Let's get it done."
"Rolling," Marcus called out.
"Action."
Keaton, Robert, was on the ground. The camera followed as he lifted himself up slightly, grimacing in pain. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with shaking hands, and took a drag.
The extra playing Keyser Söze walked up slowly, looming over him.
"How are you, Keaton?"
Robert looked up, his face twisted in pain and bitterness.
"I'd have to say my spine was broken, Keyser."
He spat the name out like it was poison.
The man put the lighter back in his pocket and reached under his jacket. He produced a stainless .38 revolver.
"Ready?"
Keaton took another drag, his hand trembling.
"What time is it?"
The hand holding the gun turned over, revealing a gold watch on the wrist.
The sound of sirens grew closer. Headed this way.
"Twelve thirty."
Keaton grimaced bitterly and nodded. He turned his head away and took another drag, savoring it.
The hand with the gun waited long enough for Keaton to enjoy his last drag.
"Cut," I said.
Silence.
"That was good," I said. "Let's do one more."
Robert groaned. "One more."
We did it again.
"Cut!" I yelled.
I paused, looking at the monitor.
"That's it!" I shouted. "That's a wrap!"
Everyone applauded.
Robert walked up and gave me a hug.
The applause continued i could see everyone was happy the movie wrapped up and also mostly now that they could get out of the cold.
"That's a wrap, everyone!" I called out again, louder this time.
The crew cheered.
The Usual Suspects was done.