suspect of her ability to manage her life at any higher degree than that of a blind, flatulent lapdog, he could not deny the power of her luminescence as it filled the room—even in such a moment of ordinariness.
Max Klein walked up to Kinney. “It is amazing, isn’t it? How the hands of men can transform an empty room into a breathing village so easily.”
Kinney nodded. “Is Madame Bernhardt upset?” he asked. Klein seemed barely capable of maintaining her. From where Kinney stood, it seemed like the diva walked right over her manager day and night. It’s a wonder Max Klein never went the other way and ended up married, for how much he appeared to like to be stepped on by women.
“Why would you ask?”
“You are making sure she is content, right? I would just like everything to run smoothly from this point on. Although I don’t think a little public outburst now and again regarding the bishop would be the worst thing to happen to us. But let’s make sure that we plan for it. No more chances with the press.”
“I will make sure to relay that to her…Is her car parked along the pier?”
“I saw it myself.”
“It is good for occasions of momentary solace. Sometimes even the sun needs to hide behind the clouds for a while.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing her shine.”
“You will soon see Sarah’s brilliance. There are just some technical difficulties to be determined. Differences of opinions, you know.”
“Is it the hall?”
“It is more a matter of having an empty hall. It leaves more room for discussion.”
“The auditorium is fine, I hope?” Kinney asked.
“The auditorium is fine.”
“And Madame Bernhardt?”
“I have told you—she too is fine.”
Kinney said he was glad to hear it. Since the episode on the pier he had had a needles-and-pins stomach about this performance. He really did not have any secrets, nothing to hide about his business dealings and such, in fact he had made the point with all his accountants that every transaction and deal that had been made to bring Venice of America to life should be free and clear of malfeasance. He had worked hard to keep a clean reputation, limiting his newspaper contacts to benign press releases and general statements. So far there had been very little interest in Venice, but he knew they were waiting. Newsmen like Vince Baker, who made a career out of making the major players sweat. In fact, when Kinney had seen him the other day during the fishing fiasco, he felt sure that Baker would churn that drama into something that somehow implicated Venice of America. He just wanted to keep reporters like that away and control the news of Venice himself by feeding anecdotes to the entertainment guys. Bernhardt was a risk. He knew that. She had a reputation for speaking out or doing crazy things, so maybe that pier incident should not have come as too big a surprise (although her reputation clearly had the potential to be an asset). He just had to keep a sharper eye on things. It was a gamble he needed to take. How else could he get a star of her caliber to his place? Against his better instinct, he was willing to trust Max Klein’s ability to hold the reins. But one slipup and Kinney was taking control of the whole production, and don’t think for one moment that he was afraid of the reputation and brilliance of Sarah Bernhardt. The only thing that scared him was the newspapers. Not Sarah Bernhardt. Not the Catholics. Just guys like Vince Baker. Just the gutter press.
It could cost him a king’s ransom to make sure the story was set straight.
SHE LEANED AGAINST THE STAGE, feeling the ridged edge of the floor cut against the back of her neck. A big empty house, almost tomblike. She might have been anywhere. Standing in the middle of a blank canvas while the artist mixed the colors to paint the scene. It doesn’t take too long to find out that no matter how expansive and different the world, a theater stripped of life is the same everywhere. This was the lull that she detested most. The point before the stage takes form. When everybody is running around confused, as if they have never done this before, and absolutely convinced that nothing is going to work. Then they scream at one another for a while before cowering down to her to adjudicate the matter, only to have her render the same judgment: “Isn’t this what I pay you for?”
She might have gone over the top with Alexandre. It is simply amazing how quickly even the most self- assured can regress into the common insecurities that overtake the room. As lead carpenter, Alexandre had constructed this set at least a thousand times now. Today he was compelled to doom. Nothing was going to work. “I don’t think we can have the set done in time. The impossibilities are too large,” he lamented in that hollow refrain of the amateur. Per usual, Sarah was forced to turn into mother (it didn’t work out well once in its organic biological state, why would it work in this removed case?), and she had to have him explain the problem, thereby reducing the panic to levelheaded planning. “Tell me from start to finish,” she had said to Alexandre, as her eyes drifted around the large hall.
“This theater is not proper for a production of this level of intimacy,” he said. Nodding his head. Waiting for her reply.
“I do not know what you mean,” she said. “Intimate?”
“This set is designed to be personal. As though the audience was peering through the windows of 9, rue d’Antin. But look at the size of this room.” He swept his hand in a dramatic gesture. “It is as if they are looking in from the neighboring rooftop. As though we are turning the audience from members of the cast to simple gawkers. And that is not what you wanted. From the start that is not what you have wanted.”
The trembling panic in his voice was becoming annoying. “What are your suggestions?” she asked, trying to calm down the almost girlish frenzy.
“I am lost, Madame Bernhardt.”
“Are you paid to be lost?”
“I mean in options. I suppose that we could construct a thrust stage. Then at least you can carry your blocking out into the audience. Just bring the stage out to them.”
He was talking like an idiot now. But at least a calmer, slightly more rational idiot. “And how long would that take?”
He thought for a moment. “Provided we get the supplies, I think by the end of the day tomorrow. Assuming we can get the wood easily.”
“Then that leaves one day to reconfigure the design to meet your requirements?”
“I suppose that is right. And we may need to make a rake stage to give the thrust some dimension. But, yes, that would leave about a day. You are right, Madame.”
“And then, Alexandre, you are suggesting that that allows one more half day for the actors to readjust their blocking to accommodate your new stage.”
“That is what I am saying.”
She supposed that all men innately wanted to be mothered. That they wanted the women in their lives to listen, to hold, and ultimately to scold them. That in fact they were incapable of making decisions and acting without brooding, before the conciliatory nuzzle at the maternal bosom. She imagined that at some point it would become tiresome for the men, because god knows it was for the women. But nevertheless, she gave Alexandre what he wanted when she told him he was being foolish. “You think that this production is one that can just be manipulated and twisted to fit your convenience and vision of the day? Do you think that Renoir
Alexandre started to turn away out of instinct, not rebellion.
“You cannot expect the actors to restage the entire production based on the house that we are in. There are subtleties to each movement. Purpose behind each footstep. It’s not a matter of moving the masking tape a few feet in this direction or that direction. Every inch has motive. Every inch has emotion. Every inch retells the story.”
And now that his head had significantly hung low, she came back with calming, reassuring words. (Isn’t that what he expects Mommy to do?) “Trust me and the actors. If the fourth wall is deeper, then we will have to make the intimacy of our lives that much louder. Trust that we will not drown in this giant bubble, but rather that we will fill it. Don’t be such a man, Alexandre—where you have to knock things down all the time to have them make sense
