“I admire your work, Mr. Nakayama,” he said in a crisp British accent. “It’s truly an honor to meet you.”
“No, sir,” I said, “the privilege is mine.”
“You damned foreigners and all your formalities,” said Normandy cheerfully. “It’s enough to drive us uncouth Americans crazy.”
“You are hardly uncouth, Gerard,” said Tyler. “Although your suit’s a bit loose. And those glasses make you look like an accountant.”
It was true—Normandy’s clothes were always a touch too large, and he did have the look of a lowly financial man—but I had never before heard anybody speak to him in this manner. Even Rosenberg, who’d greeted me with a wave when I came over, raised his eyebrows and watched for Normandy’s reaction. Gerard, however, appeared to enjoy this exchange, in the way that a homely boy can sometimes be pleased by a handsome boy’s teasing attention.
“So you’re talented and slick and well-dressed, you old devil,” he said. “And now you’re telling me you’re an expert in grooming. Remind me never to go out with you when I’m trying to impress a girl. She’ll run off with you and never give me a second glance.”
“You hardly need any help with women, Gerard,” replied Tyler. “You’re out with a different woman every time I see you. If I had a daughter, I’d lock her up whenever you came around.”
“Oh, please. Those girls just want me to get them into pictures. If you want a real ladies’ man, you should talk to Jun.”
I was aghast at this exchange, horrified that this was the first thing that Tyler should hear about me, and I lowered my eyes to the floor.
Tyler, however, didn’t seem to notice. “Well, he does cut quite a figure,” the director remarked. “He looks like the tuxedo was invented for him. I suppose I’ll have to keep my daughter away from both of you, then. The only man she’d be safe with is our friend David here, but that’s only because he’s dreadfully boring.”
Rosenberg, hearing this, leaned over and said, “That isn’t what they tell me, old man.”
Normandy and Tyler both laughed. I continued to marvel at Tyler’s informal manner with Normandy, which was particularly striking because everything else about the director appeared to be so proper. Nobody kidded with Normandy this way; he was one of the kings of Hollywood. And when I got to know Tyler better, I would see that he was able to speak in such a manner because of his age and accent, his air of class. It was all good-natured teasing of the highest order—tasteful, for Ashley Tyler was a gentleman.
“So Jun,” said Normandy, turning back to me, “I’ve been thinking. Ashley’s my brightest new director, you’re my best actor, and it’s time to put the two of you together. How would you feel about working on a film with Ashley? And Ashley, I’m not asking you, because I don’t care what you think.”
The director laughed. “I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you’ve been wasting Mr. Nakayama’s talent on one-dimensional villains. With me, he could play characters of some complexity.”
“And what do you think, Jun?” Normandy inquired, ignoring Tyler’s comments.
“I’d be honored,” I said. “I’m a great admirer of Mr. Tyler’s films.”
“Well, wonderful. It’s settled then,” Normandy said. “Why don’t you both come by my office next week? David, do I have time on Tuesday?”
“For them you do,” Rosenberg answered, and just at that moment my date reappeared, tugging at my arm. She gave me a look, and at her cue I introduced her to Tyler and Normandy, who shook her hand politely but did not offer anything beyond the requisite greeting. Disappointed, she turned away and began to pull me after her.
“See?” said Normandy, grinning at Tyler. “He can’t fight them off with a stick.”
The project that Normandy came up with for us was the World War I spy film, The Noble Servant. As he had promised at the Ship Café, we all met on Tuesday at his office, a cavernous room with heavy wooden paneling and stained glass windows, which seemed designed to intimidate anyone who entered. Both Normandy and Tyler were all business that day. The lightheartedness and kidding of the nightclub were gone, replaced by a focused but excited attention to the details of the project. It was Tyler who suggested Nora Minton Niles for the female lead, and this caused a prolonged discussion. While I was worried about working with someone so young—not to mention someone with an ever-present mother who had a reputation for being difficult—it is also true that I was intrigued at the prospect of appearing in a film with the unmistakable new darling of Perennial.
My enthusiasm only grew when Normandy laid out the plot, which reflected America’s recent entry into the war. Nora was to play Sarah Davidson, the lonely daughter of an army general who is consumed with preparations for battle. My role was that of Nori, ostensibly a servant in the general’s household but in reality a Japanese secret service agent whose mission is to protect Sarah, and to discern who in the general’s household has been stealing his secret war plans and turning them over to the Germans. Despite my objections to my character’s unlikely name—which Normandy insisted sounded “authentic but pronounceable”—I was pleased with my part and with the story line. The Great War had made allies of the U.S. and Japan, and this affected how Japanese characters were portrayed on the screen. I had played spies before, yes, but always dangerous ones; now my character’s motivations were purely noble.
Nori, who admires the heroic General Davidson, takes seriously his charge to protect his young daughter and to ferret out the spy in the household. Through his interactions with the servants and his careful observations of Sarah, he discerns that her suitor, Peter Mays, is in reality a German spy who has been courting Sarah in
