Page 36 of Hollywood, Ending

“But do you like it?”

“She likes it. We like it,” Lon said. “The song isn’t changing. Great song. Lou Reed wrote a song about Andy Warhol dying and we play the song over Andy Warhol dying. It’s pretty simple stuff.”

“But the song itself—”

“Has been purchased,” Natalie finished.

“Well,” said Juniper. “Yes, I see. Shall we begin discussing notes?”

“I feel like we already have,” Natalie answered.

Juniper pulled out her black leatherbound notebook. “In the first scene between Andy and me, we’re on my coverage when he says, “I never fall apart because I never fall together,” and I look so amused and charmed by him and not at all like a real reporter, and I just think in the very first moment it undermines my seriousness as a journalist and so I wonder if at least for that line we could be on Andy’s coverage and see him saying that, and then go back to a less starry-eyed version of Carly when we cut back to her.” She then continued to talk like that about almost every single shot in the film. Juniper had noticed a hundred things that I hadn’t, thought about a thousand angles I hadn’t considered. She viewed the movie the way athletes look at film of old games.

At the restaurant, I read the menu and watched as Juniper broke down every scene of the movie and how each could be improved. While I’m sure that Lon and Natalie found that ninety minutes excruciating, I was just astounded. How could someone notice so much? Care so much? I can’t remember even one percent of what she said, but, like, at one point she questioned the color correction of a scene that takes place in my bedroom because it made the windows look dark, when as she understood it the room had been lit intentionally to emphasize that all the light was coming from outside, because the house itself had become what she called a “well of metaphorical darkness.”

They let her talk. Natalie took notes. I ate a quinoa bowl with grilled vegetables. Juniper had some sort of salad and a lot of water. And then as Lon placed a very sturdy-looking Amex card on top of the bill, he said, “Juniper. I adore you. You’re going to make a great director someday. But you are not directing this film.”

“I’m not trying to direct it; I’m trying to—”

“We will absolutely pass along a version of all this to Kathryn,” Lon said. “Absolutely. But listen, this movie is ninety-two percent top two boxes as is. Can it be better? Sure. Citizen Kane could be better. But ninety-two percent top two boxes? I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“He’s been doing this a very long time,” Natalie added.

“And this is only the second movie I’ve ever had that was over ninety percent top two boxes.”

“The other one was Moulin Rouge,” Natalie said.

“The studio shit the bed on the awards campaign, and it still won four Oscars.”

“Should’ve won Best Picture,” Natalie said. “They got screwed. But that’s the Academy.”

“I’m not going to tell Kathryn to recut the entire film when it’s ninety-two percent top two boxes.”

“At least the cemetery scene,” Juniper said. “And the—”

“Listen, get some rest. I know it’s hard to see yourself up on screen. I know this is a stressful process. It’s stressful for me too.”

“I’m not stressed,” Juniper said. “I want to make the movie bet—”

“And we want to make it better, too,” Lon said. “And your notes will make it better.”

“We will absolutely pass on a version of this to Kathryn,” Natalie said. “These are great notes. Very helpful.”

“But we also want to manage your expectations,” Lon said.

“The movie is basically locked,” Natalie said.

“And we all need to be advocates for it. It’s in everyone’s best interest to love the movie.”

“We’re all on the same team here,” Natalie added.

“Yeah,” Juniper said. “Yeah. Right. I get it.”

9

I almost never tell people until I have to tell them. I told my parents only after it all came out and he got arrested and the police wanted to interview me. I told the police only when they asked, and only what they asked. They kept saying, “You’re not in any trouble,” but they were saying it to me in a windowless, fluorescent-lit interrogation room inside a police station, which made me feel very much like I was in trouble.

I don’t ever want to tell anyone. But for some reason, I wanted to tell Juniper. I don’t know why. I just wanted to, but I couldn’t find the right time. It’s a difficult thing to shoehorn into a conversation.