Here at last... Enjoy!
Both men watch the Girl slump onto the imported Italian marble. Nobody continues to stare at her confused, mind reeling. The Senator scoops up the discarded camera and advances on the bit-part player, his eyes gleaming with a murderous hunger. Nobody pleads for his life, trying to defend himself with one hand; while the other struggles to get his unruly erection back into his pants. The Senator flashes him his trademark shit-eating grin and I buy it, he is capable of anything.
During the badly choreographed struggle, Nobody is knocked to the floor and the Senator uses the camera to hammer home his disappointment. Over and over the Senator brings the camera down on Nobody’s skull. The camera finally gives, coming apart in the Senator’s blood soaked fists. He kneels above the photographer’s twitching body, breathing heavily; he takes a moment, he looks at Nobody and then back at his hands. Holding what’s left of the camera, dripping with the remnants of Nobody’s once handsome face. He drops the broken, blood soaked debris to the floor and wipes his shaking hands on Nobody’s shirt. All the Senator needs now, he says to himself, is a shower and a change of clothes and he’s back in the game. He licks his lips tasting Nobody, who’s blood speckles the Senator’s face. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand – the hand he’d slapped her with. We’d forgotten about the Girl.
|Image from American Psycho II|
The Senators eyes widen, in close up, confused. We pull back and the Girl is behind him, she pulls the scissors out of his neck, great gouts of blood spray over her hands and arms. He tries and fails to stagger to his feet, the blood flow drenches his hand-made suit; the Senator is on all fours now. She stabs him again; lower in his back, he falls turning to face her. She looks beautiful as she straddles him. At another time this could be a love scene, but now, covered in blood she is both beautiful and terrifying. The Girl repeatedly plunges his wife’s scissors into him. There’s so much blood now it doesn’t seem real. The Senator tries to speak but he just coughs blood. I wonder if he is aroused – can he feel his penis, rubbing against her as she ends him. We know he’d fantasised about having her. His bloody hand grips her thigh – she leaves it there un-noticed. She is exhausted. Her anger and terror spent. Lying on top of him as a lover would do; both soaked to the skin in his blood. She sobs silently, shaking, as she mourns this once great man, this monster, this would-be modern-day Caesar.
In the final moments of his life I wonder, as you might, how the Senator weighed his actions. All his plotting and scheming; his intimidation and blackmail, was it all worth it? Here at the end would he have given a thought for his wife and children, how he’d loved and failed them. Or does this fickle power hungry man mourn only the missed opportunity with his maid. Would the Senator be pleased that he’d died a parody of Caesar: bleeding-out onto Italian marble?
The Director shouts “CUT” and that’s it for the day, robes are handed to the players, she smiles glad to be warm. I kill the power to my camera and start to pack up; it’s been a long day. Now dressed in his robe, and still covered in fake blood he spends the next five minutes having a quick word with his PA then he’s off to his trailer; I’m guessing, he has an appointment with a shower, a glass of scotch and a hand-job, not necessarily in that order. With a spring in his step he exits stage right with a quick hop over Nobody - well, Nobody’s stunt dummy.
(c) Lee Auburn 2011