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The following days of rehearsals and preparations were blissful, feeling less like work and more like those innocent, carefree high school days. I had mastered the piano skills needed for the film and ate less to achieve Elio's slim build.
Andrew approached me, drenched with sweat. "Are you ready to see the villa?"
I replied, "Only if it were a vacation."
He smiled back. "It does not feel like that. I'm curious, did you have any hesitation about this film?"
"I have it for nearly every project I do. But I remember Bruce saying to me, 'I don't think I'm good at my job. But I like doing it.' I think I feel the same."
"I hope so. I am not ready to jump 200 feet with a firehose choking me." We both chuckled, and our eyes drifted towards the countryside estate.
The estate was only five miles from Crema, so we decided to bike there to be the first ones there and to get used to the Italian way of transportation.
We passed through a small Italian town nestled between rolling green hills that seemed too lazy to expand into the endless lowlands of the Po Valley.
"Wow," Andrew murmured.
Villa Albergoni had a huge private park filled with peach and apricot trees that invited Andrew and me into their shade.
We both sat down and looked at the washed-out terracotta and patches of brickwork that showed the building's age but were still quite mesmerizing to see.
"I could die here," Andrew said.
"Me too."
"You think people will watch this movie?"
"No."
We both got up, and I saw the tiredness on Andrew's face up close and smiled. "You look exhausted."
He walked towards the small pool that was built with flat, wide stone slabs. "You know why. We are both dating Emma."
"Spider-Man can't handle that? That should be easy."
"Wait, do you hear that?" He looked around towards a lone peach tree that had long, slender leaves and old, brownish fruit.
"Are your Spidey senses tingling?" He turned around, stepped towards me, and put his hands on my back as I fell into the swimming pool.
I cleared my eyes and shouted, "I won't forget this."
The air was clean and alive and now and then an apricot rolled onto the veranda. Luca and the cinematographer, Mukdeeprom, arrived. I talked with Michael Stuhlbarg and Amira Casar more as they shared their experiences working in Europe and told me that this was their favorite place. We all had a delicious dinner paired with some good Bonarda wine.
***
The next day, we decided to do the arrival scene first to set the tone of the movie.
Andrew flashed a smile before he got out of the car, and the director let the cameras roll and the scene breathe.
He whispered to me, "Andiamo," as he stood right next to the 35 mm lens.
Esther walked over to me as I stood watching Oliver shake Elio's father's hand.
I tried to look detached and walked down the stairs as the camera panned towards me and my mother.
"Aiuta Oliver a portare le sue cose in camera tua." (Help bring Oliver's things to your room.)
I smiled. "D'accord," and kissed the right side of her head.
Luca followed behind me as Oliver stood up to shake my hand.
Andrew looked surer of himself as the doubt and confusion evaporated, although the tiredness was still there.
Mr. Perlman pointed out. "Elio. Oliver. Oliver, Elio."
"Nice to meet you. Can I bring your things to your room?" I said as politely as I could.
I smiled as though this was going to be a great summer.
"My room," I smiled.
"Great," Luca said.
Andrew and I went upstairs, and I set his things in the bedroom. Andrew launched himself onto my bed, and I said, "My room is now your room. I will be next door. We have to share the bathroom—" I smiled as I saw Oliver snoring, and I closed the door without making any noise.
Luca smiled and whispered to the DP, Mukdeeprom. I went back and yelled, "You actually need that sleep, Andrew."
He ignored me and was still snoring even when the camera was put down.
The crew laughed as Andrew stayed completely still. Luca clapped his hands once. "Let's move to the study."
The afternoon sun poured through the villa's tall windows, and dust floated beneath the ceiling fan. I wandered into Mr. Perlman's study, where the shelves were filled with books in Italian, French, and Greek.
Andrew followed me. "Should I give you one of these books as a wrap gift?"
He waved his hands. "No, you need to give me this." He pointed to the upright piano that stood against the wall.
I changed my outfit to straight-leg '80s jeans, and Andrew wore a light-colored, short-sleeve button-up shirt that showed his stomach and khaki shorts.
Andrew adjusted the collar of his shirt and looked over at me.
"You look cold."
"It's Italy."
"You'd be surprised."
A wardrobe assistant handed me a towel.
"You can keep this nearby between takes."
"Thanks."
Luca walked into the study with Mukdeeprom behind him.
"All right," Luca said. "Let that sexual energy roll off between you two."
He looked at me.
"You're finally having him. Let your feeling come out."
Then he looked at Andrew.
"And you are just curious."
Andrew nodded.
"That I can do."
The crew laughed.
Luca smiled.
"Tutti ai posti, per favore." (Everyone to your places, please.)
The room became quiet.
I sat down on the piano bench and rested my hands on the keys.
Andrew wandered over to one of the bookshelves, pretending to read the titles.
"Rolling."
"Take one."
The clapperboard snapped shut.
I'm trying to hide my hurt feelings.
The script supervisor checked the pages on her clipboard while a camera assistant adjusted the focus marks beside the piano. A makeup artist stepped forward to brush the shine from my shoulders, and wardrobe pulled Andrew's shirt slightly lower so it matched the previous shot. Mukdeeprom leaned into the camera as the boom operator raised the microphone above us. One of the production assistants closed the study doors and the room became completely still.
Oliver stood by the door, his right hand holding the chair.
I played the first few notes, and my back was arched.
"That sounds different. Did you change it?" Oliver asked.
"I changed it a little bit." I deepened my voice.
"Why?"
"I was just playing it the way Liszt would have played it if he had altered Bach's version."
"Play that again."
"Play what again?"
"The thing you played outside."
"Oh. You want me to play the thing I played outside?" I let my voice rise as I finished my sentence. I smiled towards Oliver, but the camera only saw the back of my blond hair.
"Please."
I yawned and began to play the piece with much more confidence and gusto.
I'm sending you a gift.
When I finished, Oliver said, "I can't believe you changed it again," showing a full row of pearly white teeth.
"A little bit."
"Why?"
"I just played it the way Busoni would have played it if he had altered Liszt's version."
"And what is wrong with Bach? If Bach—"
"Bach never wrote it for the guitar. We are not even sure—"
I began to play Bach in its original form: "Capriccio on the Departure of a Beloved Brother, BWV 992." I let all of the expectations fall away from me: the pressure from the Looper premiere at Sundance, my first audition for Margin Call, and everything from my growing Twitter account to my Conan interview.
I finished it. "It's young Bach. He dedicated it to his brother."
Throughout the scene, I held the source material—the novel—close to my heart, and the passage of the book said: "This is the Bach as transcribed by me without Busoni and Liszt. It's a very young Bach, and it's dedicated to his brother." I knew exactly what phrase in the piece must have stirred him the first time, and each time I played it, I was sending it to him as a little gift because it was really dedicated to him, as a token of something very beautiful in me that would take no genius to figure out and that urged me to throw in an extended cadenza. Just for him. We were—and he must have recognized the signs long before I did—flirting.
Luca had a wide smile. "Perfetto."
Andrew came up to me. "God, how long did you practice?"
"Since I was told that I got this part."
"Well done." He patted my shoulder and left for the snacks.
I walked out of the room and towards the garden. It was truly otherworldly.
As the sun sank lower, the garden softened into deep shadows. Golden light slipped between the trunks and lit the dust in the air. Bees drifted between the flowers, and as the pink and lavender sunlight covered them, they looked like tiny flecks of gold frozen in time.
I felt a wave of nostalgia and gratitude wash over me, and I wanted to share the moment with someone. I called Emma, and her voice was shaky and deep.
"Did I wake you up? Sorry."
She said in a flat voice, "No. Tell me about your day."
"It's amazing. I mean, this is probably the best set I could ask for. It's just so free. Luca does not even say action."
"How unfair. During Scream, I accidentally dropped my script in a parking lot. The final ten pages, which had all of the fucking secrets, blew away as a production helicopter was landing. I thought the camera was still on me. Then I quickly gathered them. I thought my heart was going to explode."
"And you played the villain? I'm just playing a young man in love."
Her tone changed, and she murmured, "Life's so unfair. You get all of these roles."
"Pure luck. I don't know what to say." I walked towards the peach trees, away from everyone else. The connection was crap, and there was a noticeable delay.
"Are you—" Her voice became static. "Actually, call me sometimes during the shoot. I know you love—"
There was a layer of sadness that even the bad connection could not distort. My heart rate shot up, and I said, "I do love you."
She said, "I can't hear you. Call me again later."
The phone call ended, and the purple glow of the sunset reflected on the dry leaves.
I thought to myself, Where did this come from? We had great communication. What should I do?
Andrew approached with a bag of San Carlo potato chips. "What's wrong?"
I looked straight at him. "I think Emma is mad at me." I continued, "I don't call her enough. I don't know." I shook my head, and we slowly walked back to the villa.
He said, "I think she's jealous." He smiled. "I would be jealous too."
He stopped smiling. "She just wants to feel like she's in a relationship."
I raised my voice. "I tell her everything."
I even told her about my biological parents.
I continued, "What should I do?"
He touched my shoulder. "After all this, take her out. You're rich, right? Maybe some Nobu. Do you go out at all?"
"No. Not really. I mean, one time we went to the carnival at Santa Monica Pier. It was a really nice day."
Andrew said, "Mate, you need some more thrills."
We both nodded and went to sleep.
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