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Filming had to be compressed into a month because the budget was so low, but fortunately, the chemistry between me, Andrew, and my on-screen parents quickened the pace. When I realized this was my last scene and that I would never work on this project again, I wished for the power to freeze time.
Andrew approached me, and I asked before the scene, "Why is this town so empty?"
He hopped onto his bike, ready for the DP to give him a thumbs-up. "Someone told me it's the grand finale of Crema's festival. It's like a farmer's Halloween. You're a New Yorker, right?"
"Born and raised."
"Then it's like a smaller Italian Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade."
"Let's go. Maybe we can get some cheap pizza too."
"And some rats, weed, and some guy saying the world is going to end."
"Can't wait to do that tomorrow."
The DP gave us a thumbs-up, and Andrew and I rode our bikes across a dirt path that smelled like fresh grass and the sweat on Andrew's polo shirt.
We reached the Villa, and Andrew touched my shoulder. "You're going to miss this."
"Shut up," I whispered in his ear.
Luca approached us. "Voi due sembrate così tristi come i bambini che hanno preso il carbone" (You two look so sad like kids that got sweet coal).
I approached him. "Thank you for everything."
Andrew said, "Save it. Your nose is going to bleed soon."
"I'm going to tell the press that you hit me." Luca laughed.
"Riesco a sentire l'odore della tensione sessuale" (I can smell the sexual tension). He continued, "Come, let's enjoy this dinner too afterwards."
Paolina came up to me. "Dai, you were so easy to work with. Remember what I told you: do not get a tattoo."
"Of course. It doesn't match me."
She cleaned my face with alcohol toner. "Chiudi gli occhi" (Close your eyes). She took a tube out of her bag and put it inside my nostril.
I wanted to sneeze so badly that I looked up at the blinding Italian sun.
"Scusa."
"No problem. When I was little, a tennis ball hit my nose, and I thought I went blind."
"No, that would be a shame."
I blushed, but it must have been hidden by my sunburn and tanned skin. A tube ran down my nose.
"Now, I don't know if you have done this before, but I will give you a little trial. Be careful with your shirt."
I took off my graphic T-shirt, revealing a small tan line and a light scar on my ribs.
She pressed the plunger, and blood quickly came out. My body instinctively wanted me to get up.
Luca approached. "Add a bit more soap, Lina."
She nodded and removed the tube.
He looked at me and said, "This is a normal thing for Elio."
I nodded. I knew this character better than I knew myself sometimes. During the past month, I sometimes forgot that I was acting. It was a complete loss of ego: all of the acting disappointments from my last life and the loss of my mother seemed to mix into the stew of Elio's persona.
I shook my head and got ready.
Amira and Michael approached and hugged me. Michael raised his hands.
"It's burning. What are you going to do after?"
"Promo for Looper and the premiere."
Andrew chuckled. "Me too. Same week, right?"
"Yeah, July 6. May the better film win."
Amira smiled and said, "And promo for American films lasts forever. In Europe, it's one festival in France and a few handshakes."
Michael said, "And if you get nominated, it's like doing six Luca movies in a row."
I laughed. "If I did six movies like this one, I would be the luckiest actor in the world."
"Luca would be the luckiest director," Amira said.
I said, "Who knows? My agent might be the luckiest after."
The table laughed. We all got ready for the scene. The crew set up the dinner table, real Italian food was served, and the lighting was adjusted.
The garden was transformed from a quiet backyard into the Perlmans' dining room. The prop department had carefully arranged baskets overflowing with fresh bread, bowls of apricots, and half-filled wine glasses. The smell of roasted vegetables and fresh olive oil filled the courtyard, and I could see steam rising from the pasta.
Andrew said, "I love A Serious Man, Michael. How was it working with the Coen brothers?"
"Unlike the name, the brothers are very funny. I remember for the audition, I had to learn Yiddish; they kept chuckling to themselves. On set, they are very much part of the same kind of head. It's really hard to differentiate the two. It was a relaxed set."
Andrew smiled. "Must have been easier than The Pillowman. I heard you gained sixty pounds."
Michael rolled his head back. "My God. I had to play a murderer too. Though both had great casts. The great Richard Kind."
"I did my first play during that time too. There is nothing like theatre."
They both turned to me like I was a different species. "Have you done theatre, Ryan?"
"No. I would love to."
Michael said, "You would be great."
The actors who played the grandparents of the family spoke in broken English. "Your face would look good for theatre."
I smiled. "I would eventually, but I want to take my time."
The elder woman said almost to herself, "Yes. La gatta frettolosa ha fatto i gattini ciechi" (literally translates to the hasty cat gave birth to blind kittens; an old Italian proverb that means haste makes waste).
The older man said, "With Luca, your face is better on film." Everybody laughed, and Andrew chimed in, "With his face, this movie might do better than The Avengers."
"Is Marvel not your rival? But in the comics, y'all are on the same team."
He shrugged, and Michael said, "Tight spandex suit or a lover in northern Italy?"
Luca said, "There's only one right answer."
I whispered, "Which one is paying more?" Luca said in Italian, "I can't beat Marvel; the money must be too orgasmic." Everybody laughed.
Luca let the conversations drift naturally among all the actors across the table and raised his hands.
The camera focused on the two extra actors playing the grandparents.
The elder Italian woman said in Italian, holding a cigarette, "So we got the government of Bettino Craxi."
The elder Italian man held up his hand. "Because we don't do anything but talk, talk, talk."
He continued, "Let me speak." She passed the plate to Ms. Perlman. "We have five parties that do nothing but fight."
She said, "Smoke and shut up! Let them speak, him, her." She pointed to the Perlmans.
He said, "Annella (Ms. Perlman), what do you think? A five-party government!"
Ms. Perlman said, "I think it's the historic compromise—"
The elder man said, "Don't say that. Compromises are tragic. You have changed since you inherited this place." Both of them talked over each other with exaggerated gestures.
Ms. Perlman said, "You're mad, darling."
The elder man said, "Why don't we talk about the death of Buñuel? Buñuel was a genius."
The woman said, "Cinema isn't the answer."
The camera cut to Oliver and me awkwardly looking at each other. The man said, "Cinema is a mirror of reality, and it's a filter. They broadcast The Phantom of Liberty with constant interr—"
Their faces grew redder and their voices louder. She cut him off and pointed to Oliver. "Let's hear his opinion."
The older man said, "He doesn't know anything about Italy!"
She said, "Say something. Give us your impression. Do you have an impression?"
Ms. Perlman said, "Darling, he's American." She said, "That does not mean stupid! Just stop."
They laughed, and Luca raised his hand. Paolina came up to me and put the tube inside my nostril. It felt weird, but I ignored all distractions and let myself be.
He experiences this a bit and doesn't want to get too embarrassed.
The future soundtrack played in this moment—"Futile Devices" by Sufjan Stevens—played in my head.
Luca did a close-up of my face in the background while the elders continued arguing. Blood slowly trickled from my nose while I played with my food.
I wiped my nose and pushed my chair back as I grabbed a napkin to cover it. The older woman said, "What's wrong?"
I got up from the chair. The camera caught my lower back, and Ms. Perlman said, "It's nothing. It happens all the time." She twirled her hair.
Luca nodded and went inside the house with his DP, where Mafalda was making dessert.
I asked, my voice muffled through the napkin, "Mafalda, ice?"
She said, "It's in the fridge."
I headed to the fridge, but there was only meat inside. The camera cut to a nearby room where there was ice. I put the ice against the napkin and sat down on the floor, soaking up all the emotion—mostly embarrassment.
In the film, the song plays:
So I won't say it all / And I won't stay very long.
The fingerpicked acoustic guitar creates a warm, floating feeling that contrasts with the Italian argument outside.
Outside in the garden, the older man said, "Don't you realize you're mixing everything up? There's no more politics, nothing."
Oliver got up and excused himself. He whispered, "Elio? Elio?" He looked around the house.
But you are the life I needed all along
I think of you as my brother
Although that sounds dumb
And words are futile devices
Oliver came up to me while I was hiding in the corner with the ice pressed against my nose. "You all right?"
I said, "Sit for a second."
Oliver lay down beside me. "If you insist."
I could smell his cologne as I looked down at him. I said, "I'm such a mess."
Oliver caressed my knee and massaged my foot. "Well, the kitchen sure is."
I looked into his chestnut eyes and smiled, then hissed as he pulled too hard and I put my hand on his shoulder. "Ah, where did you learn to do that?"
"My bubbe used to do this for us when we were sick. Trust me, it helps."
I responded, touching his chain. "I used to have one of these."
"Used to?"
"How come you never wear it?"
"My mother says we are in discretion."
"Well, I guess it works for your mother."
I said, "Funny witch." We both laughed. I looked at Andrew's tanned skin, so different from when filming had begun a month earlier.
Oliver pulled my big toe too hard, and I recoiled. "You'll fucking kill me if you do that."
"I hope not."
He brought my foot to his lips, and I smiled as I thought about the last month of filming with Andrew.
It had been bliss.
"È il wrap!" Luca smiled.
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