OCR Text |
Show "8- 5 X "Wow, hot. But gosh, isn't it beautiful out here ?" he said. The actor looked at him coldly. "Jesus Christ!" said the cameraman. The director frowned. Last night the boy had sat up to listen to the coyotes and that morning he had been getting on everybody's nerves with this jazz about beauty. "Sure it's okay," said the director, "why else you think we'd come way out here ? But listen, Baby, listen good, because you're a smart kid and you've got the touch, you could go a long way in this art. Like you've got an eye. But listen, making commercials just isn't as simple as it looks. No siree, Baby. On your toes all the time, no distractions: you've got to know the values. Dig ? So cool this beauty angle, huh? I mean just because something's beautiful doesn't mean a thing. Nothing. A big fat zero. Out here or up in the mountains, in oceans or cornfields, with chicks or horses-" "Ah, chicks, " breathed the boy. "Chicks, " said the director with infinite scorn. "Sure chicks. And moon over Miami and grass and flowers and the whole bit, huh? Listen, if you're gonna be an artist like me, you've gotta have the values. Because it's all props and nothing but props, dig? That mountain up there? Just a prop to sell stuff. That's all any of it's good for, sells cars, cigarettes, beer, soap, you name it. That's what it's for and that's all it's for, and don't you forget it." The boy hung his head in a contrite and humble manner, pleasing to the director, who frowned importantly and tossed his milk carton toward the other trash. He lifted his finger and the makeup man hurried over to begin work on the actor, who throughout the operation looked up with cold and blase eyes. "Jesus Christ, " said the cameraman. "Hot damn son of a bitch!" |