Director's cut

Jim is a great comic actor. He has the needed charisma and confidence to have a screen presence; more importantly, he has excellent timing and knows how to deliver his punch lines straight faced or over the top. A successful partnership was forged between him and director Tom which through a span of twelve years has resulted in numerous critically acclaimed and profitable flicks.

Lately, something has changed in Jim. He is still appreciative of his fortune, his fame, and the recognition of his comic talent; however, he no longer wants to be categorized as a comedy actor, a clown as they used to be called in the 30s. He wants to be taken seriously.

 

 

Tom, on the other hand, was not labeled a comedy director and has been doing ‘serious’ flicks as well. Many times in the past Jim has asked him for roles, even small ones, in his serious flicks. Tom would find reasons why he can’t put him in this or that movie: “This role is too small… This one won’t fit you… The audience won’t accept you in this role…” Jim was becoming quite frustrated. One day, after wrapping up a shoot of one of their comedies, an excited Tom approached Jim.

Tom: I think I’ve got the script of a lifetime. I want you to read it and we’ll discuss it tomorrow over lunch.

So, Jim went home and read the script. It was exceptionally well written, dark, and with more than one complex character. Jim immediately saw himself doing the role of the psychotic. He spent the night coming up with mannerisms and habits for the character. Next day, they met at lunch. Jim, with his left hand, pulls up a cigarette pack, takes out the cigarette, lights it up and exhales smoke from his nostrils.

Tom: I didn’t know you smoked

Jim: I don’t, but my character does.
Tom: what character?
Jim: The psycho in the script you gave me yesterday; you’re right it is the script and the role of a lifetime.
Tom: oh, you didn’t think that you’re going to do that part
Jim: …
Tom: my dear Jim, you have a great career going; if it’s not broken why fix it.
Jim: but I want to do serious roles. I’m sick of their laughter; I want their sobs.
Tom (laughing): actually that’s a nice line.
Jim (getting angry): but I can do a good psycho.
Tom (joking): I thought you already did, in real life.

Silence.

Jim, with outward calmness and icy eyes, put out the cigarette in his hand – a smell of burnt hair and skin. Then, he firmly lodged a knife in an astonished Tom’s arm. He wiped his mouth with the handkerchief, fixed his hair, got up, returned the chair to its place, and walked away…