The Silent Country Page 6

  ‘Until we find a cook and general factotum,’ broke in Helen who, it was obvious, had no intention of cooking for the camp.

  ‘Maybe we need other man. But, big, big question is – we must find star,’ thundered Topov. ‘Trees, natives, animals, all good, but we want beautiful lady actress to be star of film!’

  Drago rolled his eyes and Peter the Dutchman smiled. Olga nodded in agreement.

  Helen spoke first. ‘And how do we find this star?’ she asked.

  ‘Put ad in newspaper,’ declared Topov. ‘We make auditions.’ He stabbed a finger at Drago. ‘You use my Bolex camera and make film screen test.’ He then pointed at Colin. ‘You write scene for audition. You read with actress.’

  ‘So is this actress being paid, or does she invest as well?’ asked Helen.

  ‘Topov make her a big star but investing is also good,’ said Madame Olga.

  ‘Topov will decide,’ declared Topov. ‘We meet next week. Dutchy, find vehicles. Maybe boat. Come, we talk.’

  Peter nodded at Colin. ‘See you next week. If you have any motor contacts, let me know.’

  ‘ ’Fraid not, Peter. I don’t even own a car,’ said Colin. He bid Topov goodbye and as his hand was gripped by the Russian’s large paw, Colin asked, ‘About this scene you want for the audition . . .’

  ‘You write something sexy. Make her cry, make her laugh, make her scared. You know best paper for advertisement?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Colin.

  ‘Then you write ad and put in paper. Say auditions on Wednesday.’

  ‘Ah, whereabouts? How do they apply?’ wondered Colin.

  ‘Tell them Nino’s Café. We take details and good ones get to screen test.’ Topov turned away.

  ‘Get a receipt from the newspaper,’ Helen reminded Colin.

  ‘Oh, right.’

  The next day he lodged the advertisement, paid for it and put the receipt in his wallet. The ad appeared in a large box in the classified section of the morning newspaper.

  ACTRESS FOR OUTBACK FILM

  International movie director making a film in the Northern Territory seeks talented, adventurous actress. Must be prepared to travel in rough conditions for several months through outback with large experienced crew. Interviews Nino’s Café, Macleay Street, Kings Cross, nine am, Wednesday. Screen test to follow.

  Colin hoped he’d covered the essentials and wondered just who might respond to the ad. It seemed rather unprofessional. Didn’t actors have agents? He decided to make up a few flyers, maybe he could mimeograph them at the bank and stick them up around the halls and meeting rooms at the docks where some out-of-work actors congregated. He imagined it might take some time for word to get around, but anyone could leave their details at Nino’s and it would reach Topov, who treated the café as his office.

  After dinner, as he was leaving his flat, he clattered down the stairs and passed Johnny the cockney, who lived below him.

  ‘What’s up, Col? You going out?’

  ‘Hello, Johnny. Yes, I’m sticking up a few flyers. Where do you think actors and actresses might hang out? Real ones I mean, not girls from around here.’

  ‘What d’you want with actresses? Not your cup of tea I would’ve thought, eh Colin, me lad,’ grinned Johnny.

  Colin showed Johnny the flyer and briefly explained the search for a leading lady.

  ‘Well, I’ll be blowed. A man could make a lot of use out of this if I had the time. Tell you what, come with me, I’ll take you down to the theatre district. Go round the stage doors and get them to put ’em on the noticeboard backstage.’

  Johnny led the way, chatting nonstop as they jumped on a tram to the city. He was a short, energetic man, about Colin’s age, with a mischievous smile and cheeky personality, the sort of chap Colin’s mother would describe as being able to ‘charm the birds from the trees’. All Colin knew about him was that he’d come out to Australia as a ten-pound Pom and loved the place, which he confidently told Colin was ‘ripe for the pickings’. He was always dressed in a shiny suit, a narrow tie and a snappy narrow-brimmed fedora hat. He seemed to turn up everywhere and he told Colin that he had a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. Johnny always had a deal he was doing or was about to do.

  ‘So, tell me more about this film thing. Where is the Northern Territory exactly? Where are you going and for how long?’

  ‘Well, in the north. It’s the outback, way out bush. Past the black stump, Johnny,’ said Colin. ‘Actually I have no idea exactly where we’re going.’

  ‘You mean you’re going on this caper? How’s a fellow get to go, then?’ asked Johnny with sudden, serious interest.

  Colin rubbed his fingers together indicating money, as he’d seen Johnny do. ‘You will probably have to invest in the film.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Johnny.

  ‘Johnny, what’s it matter? It’s not your sort of thing.’ Colin almost laughed at the idea of Johnny in his spiffy suit and hat in the bush. ‘It’s going to be a bit rough. You know, dirt roads, no roads, bush tracks, rivers, desert. Who knows what.’

  ‘Listen, I want to talk to the bloke in charge. You fellows are going to need vehicles, trucks, just to get you there. Not that easy finding the right sort of transport to go to those sorts of places, but you know I’ve got contacts. Do you know if anything’s been organised?’

  ‘It’s not up to me. You need to talk to Topov, it’s his film, or Helen, the business manager. Come to the café when the auditions are on,’ suggested Colin.

  ‘I’ll certainly do that. Be there with bells on. C’mon, this is our stop. Let’s hit the Capitol Theatre and the Tiv and put up some of these flyers.’

  Colin had laboured over his little audition scene and was feeling quite pleased with the short two hander. There was a nice speech for the actress and while he fed her lines, she could give scope to various emotions. He’d set it on the bank of a river, a scene he’d recreated from a picture on his calendar of somewhere in rural Australia where a river meandered over stones between sandy banks lined with willow trees and captioned ‘On Tranquil Banks’.

  He could not get to the café until his lunch break. He hurried downstairs to where Nino had given Topov the space in the basement restaurant that was closed to customers during the day. To his surprise, he found that the auditions had not even started and that Helen was just setting up a table with three chairs behind it and putting notepads in front of each chair. On one side of the table, Drago had a small tripod and a camera set up and several professional lights to take still photographs of any potential leading ladies.

  ‘Hello, Colin. Do you have copies of the audition piece?’ asked Helen.

  ‘I dropped them into Nino’s this morning on my way to work, but I only managed to do a few copies. Do you want me to get them? Where’s Mr Topov?’

  ‘He’ll be along. We’ll ask only those girls who have obvious talent to read,’ she said.

  ‘So how do you decide who that will be? By their experience?’ asked Colin.

  ‘What good is that? Most of them will make up their résumés,’ said Helen.

  ‘It’ll be the looks,’ said Drago. ‘Did you put in the advertisement that only pretty girls need apply?’

  At last Topov arrived, looking as if he’d slept in his clothes, rumpled hair and bleary-eyed and told Peter to bring in the applicants. Colin was amazed at the turnout. Twenty had arrived to be interviewed, including two male transvestites still in their make-up and cocktail dresses from the previous evening.

  Topov dropped a large black-leather notebook on the table and called for espresso coffee. ‘Topov is writing brilliant script,’ he announced.

  Colin blanched, wondering if he was suddenly out of a job. ‘Mr Topov, I’ve written a scene for the leading lady. If you’d like to look at it . . .’ But Topov pushed the papers back at Colin.

  ‘Good, good. First we look at girls. Bring in first star to be.’

  The women were dressed in a variety of outfits from casual to ela
borate party wear. Some had never acted at all, others inflated their meagre thespian experiences. One young woman, dressed in denim jeans with turned up cuffs and a man’s shirt seemed to be the most experienced and talented. But when she said she was studying method acting with another actor from New York, Topov threw his hands in the air.

  ‘This rubbish. Crazy acting. Be a cow. Be an alligator. Be a cloud.’ He began dancing about waving his arms, in a surprisingly nimble way.

  The woman scowled. ‘Is that what your film is about? Cows and alligators? Count me out.’ And she stomped from the room.

  Topov burst into laughter. ‘I like this one.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s interested,’ said Helen. ‘Let’s move on.’

  Topov, Colin and Helen sat behind the table as the women continued to come forward to answer questions posed by Topov. It was an ordeal for everyone. Colin cringed as Topov challenged, taunted, teased and flirted with the women, dismissing most of them, but telling a few, ‘You wait. Come back for screen test.’

  It became obvious to Colin that Drago had been right. Topov only spent time with the pretty women, even when it was obvious they lacked experience or had not the faintest idea of what they would be embarking upon. One girl wanted to come back home at weekends to visit her boyfriend, another asked if she could bring her mother along. One actress wanted to be able to go back and forth for theatre auditions.

  Topov continued to ignore Colin’s script. When he thought a girl had some potential he leapt up and sketched a brief dramatic scenario, which proved to be mostly incomprehensible to the actress. But with Topov leaping dramatically in front of her screaming, ‘Killer snake, crocodile, wild beast . . . coming to attack! What to do,’ the girl quickly got the message to squeal, scream and emote. While several of the girls simply looked at Topov as if he were a madman and walked away, others flung themselves into scenes of abandon, throwing themselves around, howling and crying.

  Helen sat stony faced. Drago dropped his head in his hands. Colin had no idea what to say, so tried to make notes. Finally there were no more hopeful leading ladies and Colin knew he would have to return to the bank.

  ‘Is there anyone you want me to film?’ asked Drago.

  ‘No, they are all dragons,’ declared Topov. ‘We go.’

  ‘What are we going to do about a leading lady?’ asked Colin anxiously.

  Topov shrugged. ‘Word will spread. Someone will arrive. Let us go upstairs and have something to eat.’ He called for Nino and ordered food for himself and the small entourage of fans and hopefuls who were hovering in the café.

  As Colin left to go to work, Johnny scuttled into the café.

  ‘That’s the man, right?’

  ‘Yes, but you need to speak to Helen,’ said Colin, pointing at the efficient woman in the severe blouse.

  ‘Nah. That’s the man with the action. I’ll talk to him.’ Johnny made a beeline for Topov.

  Colin walked back to the bank, digesting the extraordinary auditions. He didn’t understand how anything could be achieved in Topov’s unstructured, emotional and casual manner. But maybe he was too used to the ordered calmness of the bank’s routine. He realised that he would have to relax and try to appreciate how these film people worked.

  After work he returned to the café. Topov had left but Johnny, Drago and Peter were deep in conversation. Johnny’s face was flushed and he was in high spirits. He waved to Colin. ‘Hey, matey. I’ve organised the transport and I’m in. I’m going along. I’m going to be the cook and drive one of the vehicles. This is crazy. I love it. Come and have a drink.’

  Colin was amazed. Johnny was such a town person. Colin couldn’t believe that he would join such an adventure, so far from the wheeling and dealing that the young cockney loved. ‘Fantastic! That’s really good news. Congratulations. Is Topov downstairs? Any more girls turn up?’

  ‘A few. Topov has gone. Helen is going through the rest of them,’ said Drago. ‘She said she’d call me if she needed any photos taken.’

  Colin went to the basement where a waiter was beginning to set up tables and chairs for the evening. Helen sat at the desk reading the notes she’d made.

  ‘Oh, Colin, glad you’re here, you can relieve me. Not that I think we’ll have any more hopefuls turn up.’

  ‘Has anyone interesting come in since I left?’

  ‘No. Young actresses obviously have better things to do with their time than try out for a film.’

  ‘So what do we do about a leading lady? Maybe we’ll find someone in a country town?’ said Colin.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Helen. ‘I would hardly rely on rural Australia to find dramatic talent.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Colin doubtfully. He remembered the amateur suburban plays he’d seen with his mother, which he had thought excellent, and offered, ‘What about the suburbs?’

  ‘Really, I don’t think the suburbs would supply the sort of glamour that Mr Topov is looking for.’

  Colin decided to drop his suggestions. Helen was so imperious. ‘Have you met the new cook?’

  ‘I met Johnny when he and Topov discussed the transport. I hope he measures up,’ said Helen.

  Topov suddenly appeared in the room. ‘Do not leave room. We have one more lady to see.’

  Helen glanced at her watch. ‘It’s late. Lucky we are still here, seeing interviews began at nine am.’

  ‘From nine am,’ muttered Colin.

  Topov sat at the table as a young woman came down the stairs. She had coppery curly hair, a big smile and was wearing brown capri pants cinched with a wide belt and a clinging leopard-print top that showed off her curves. Colin smiled back at her. The girl came and stood calmly in front of them as Topov frankly studied her.

  ‘Name?’ asked Helen filling in a form.

  ‘I am Marta.’ She had a soft Scandinavian accent but spoke clearly. ‘I am an actress.’

  ‘Where you have been actress?’ asked Topov.

  ‘Theatre in Denmark, some short films in Sweden. I also work in London and Paris. French theatre.’ She was still smiling sweetly.

  ‘You make a scene for us,’ said Topov leaning back in his chair.

  ‘What would you like? I can do Chekhov, Bernard Shaw . . .’

  ‘Scriptwriter, you do with her,’ said Topov waving at Colin.

  ‘You mean, this? My scene?’ Colin picked up his script feeling dreadfully nervous.

  ‘Yes. Go stand, walk around, read,’ directed Topov.

  Colin handed Marta two sheets of typed paper. ‘Sorry you haven’t read this. It’s two people on the banks of a peaceful river, when suddenly they see something scary.’

  ‘A crocodile?’ asked Marta with wide blue eyes.

  ‘Perhaps. The girl is frightened, then excited, and then . . .’

  ‘Read,’ bellowed Topov.

  Colin stood on the spot, his head down reading the lines he’d written and knew by heart. But Marta was relaxed and walked around, lifting her eyes from the page to direct her gaze at Colin, occasionally tossing her head and catching Topov’s eye. When the script called for her to become fearful, she rushed at Colin and clung to him and he felt very self-conscious and knew that his face was getting red. After Marta had finished, she moved away from Colin and stood in front of the table looking serenely at Topov and Helen.

  ‘Dobro,’ muttered Drago who had come in unnoticed.

  Colin sat back down.

  ‘Script no good. Script rubbish,’ announced Topov beaming, as Colin cringed. ‘You,’ he pointed a finger at Marta. ‘You okay.’

  ‘Would you like to give us your details?’ asked Helen, pencil poised.

  ‘Drago. Make picture of this woman. Close up, walking, doing the faces, you know.’ Topov stood up as Drago began turning on his lights. ‘So, you have been to Australian bush?’

  ‘No. But I would like to.’ Marta’s curls bounced as she nodded and smiled.

  Helen nudged Topov and murmured, ‘Investing?’

 
Topov scratched his head and looked crestfallen. He walked to Marta and dropped an arm around her shoulders. ‘You pretty lady. Good actress. Topov would like you star in his movie. But, budget, it no good. We have shoe budget.’

  ‘Shoestring,’ interjected Helen.

  ‘But Topov will make brilliant movie, show wild Australia to the world, for Olympics. Everyone in film become famous, get rich. But for making film, we all put up money.’

  ‘So we have shares in the picture,’ said Marta brightly.

  Helen stared at her.

  ‘You have money?’ asked Topov.

  ‘If I invest and I am the star, I get a share in the returns plus living salary,’ said Marta briskly.

  ‘All investors get the same return,’ said Helen.

  ‘We make you happy,’ Topov assured Marta. ‘Comfortable. You will love the outback. Yes, Mr Colin?’

  Colin nodded enthusiastically. ‘It’s a wonderful chance to be in a film and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see these places.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Marta.

  ‘Camera ready,’ said Drago.

  ‘You do screen test, we talk money, contract after.’ Topov signalled Helen and they headed back upstairs as the waiter began setting out cutlery and glasses on the tables around Drago, his camera and Marta.

  ‘Good luck Marta,’ whispered Colin as he gathered up the papers and hurried after Topov.

  Everyone had dispersed and Colin headed back to his flat. He thought he might grab Johnny and go out for a drink but there was no answer to his taps on Johnny’s door. So he stayed in and thought about Marta and her performance and wished he’d written a better script. But now he could see that the project was coming together with definite possibilities and he hoped that he’d be able to live up to Topov’s expectations.

  The next day an invitation was slipped to Colin at the bank. His hands started to shake with excitement as he read.