“The Camera Has Its Reasons” – a short story by Tony Van Witsen

“The Camera Has Its Reasons” was a short-listed entry in our recently concluded 72nd Short Fiction Contest, and is published with the consent of the author.

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photo by Aysenaz Bilgin/via Pexels

The Camera Has Its Reasons

by Tony Van Witsen

California, 1936

…..When Frigyes “Fred” Hvassy walked onto the stage at 7:50 a.m. with script under one arm, his Pekingese Zsuzsu under the other, and nothing else but confidence in his own abilities, it may have been something in his Hungarian upbringing that led him to believe he could direct picture after picture on nothing but intuition and nerve. Possibly it was his knowledge of just when to throw an on-set tantrum in front of the cast and crew. Possibly both. These qualities had taken him from Budapest, where he’d directed seventeen movies in three years, to Berlin (where he’d directed eight more) and now to America. He never studied a script or struggled to block a scene, just gazed at a set, gathered his cast, set things in motion. He knew. Had to know, when six pictures was considered normal year’s output.

…..Gazing around the stage, he placed Zsuzsu on the floor then stopped, trying to find the scene before him. Nothing, not even something on which to fix the eye. Looking up, looking down, he gradually perceived a black velvet backdrop forty feet high from the ground to the ceiling rafters, stretching in an arc a hundred fifty feet from left to right, with little strings of lights hung on it. Nothing made sense but the foreground, where the scene carpenters had built a wonderful illusion: a full size replica of one side of a DC-3 aircraft made of plywood, painted silver, accurate right down to rows of little plywood rivets, also painted silver. The prop man ran crazily around, waving a swatter as a horsefly buzzed just out of reach.

…..Hvassy turned to the massive black metal camera on its dolly and the cinematographer perched on a round cushioned seat attached to one side. “What is this?” he said. “Where is the setting?”

…..The cinematographer, Valerie Menshikov Gonzales, had been peering through the finder when Hvassy barked out his question. Squinting, she turned, looking past the director who stood just inches away, and up at the parallels, the catwalks overhead where fifty electricians were adjusting lights. She squinted once again at the stabbing brightness.

…..“Pete?” she said.

…..Valerie’s longtime gaffer, or chief electrician, Pete Woods, had been swaggering around for the past hour, giving orders to the electricians up above with the authority of a boss longshoreman. “Bay 20! Splash those three 18’s across the front of it. Flood it. Hit it hard! Bay 16! Swing that 36 across the tail. Ease it off the windows.” Without another word, Pete put down the mike he’d been using to communicate with the electricians and looked toward Valerie.

…..“Those backlights on the aircraft are giving a slight kick into the lens,” Valerie said. “Can you trim them a little?”

…..“Right-o, Val.” He picked up the mike again. “Numbers six and eight: trim your top barn doors two inches,” roared over loudspeakers hidden somewhere in the shadowy ceiling high above the lights, followed by the squeak and scrape of metal being adjusted.

…..Hvassy had been watching these leisurely proceedings for several minutes without saying anything. Now he spoke up again. “What is going on here? When I ask a question I expect to be answered.”

…..Valerie turned to face Hvassy for the first time. “I’m sorry. Did you have a question?”

…..“Where is the set? When will you be ready to make a shot?”

…..“I’m not sure exactly.” Valerie frowned. “Maybe an hour. Maybe longer. We’ll be ready when we’re finished setting the lights, how’s that sound?”

…..“May I inform you it is the director who gives orders on this set?” Hvassy said.

…..“I was very arrogant then,” Hvassy recalled many years later. “I walked up to the director of photography. There was practically no light on the set. I should add that the cinematographer was a woman, probably in her early thirties. Very unusual for that time. I said ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

…..“She said something like, ‘Pete, it’s too hot.’ Ignored me, just asked her gaffer to adjust something.

….. “Well I was ready to shut down the set,” Hvassy recalled. “I thought there should be only one genius in picturemaking and that was director! But then there was a— Kind of shuffling of feet as people began moving away from me. That set off a little bell in my head. I staged a strategic retreat and went off to work with the cast.”

….. While Hvassy cooled his heels and rehearsed his actors, Valerie looked through the camera’s finder again and frowned. “Pete, that plane looks just like what it is. Painted wood.” She sighed. “I hate lighting shiny surfaces.”

…..A voice boomed over the loudspeakers. “Valerie, pick up line six.”

…..Valerie had begun cranking the camera to the left when the call came. “I can’t take it right now.”

…..“Valerie, long distance from Virginia, line six,” the voice repeated as everyone’s muscles tightened up for an instant. Long distance calls were expensive. Who called a cinematographer at this hour from the other side of the country?

…..Sliding off the cushioned seat on the camera dolly, compressing her lips, Valerie trotted to a padded stage wall behind the black velvet backdrop and picked up a phone. “Yeah?”

……….Hollow sounds of electrical relays connecting, then, through a blizzard of background hiss, a man’s faint, pleading voice. “Valerie?”

…..“Glenn? Glenn Irby? Yes, it’s me, Valerie!”

…..“You don’t have to shout,” came the voice. “I can hear you.”

…..“What’s up, Glenn?”

…..“Iris is what’s up,” the voice on the phone said. “Your friend. Your—”

…..“I know who Iris is,” Valerie said, staring past the top of the backdrop at the lights being adjusted overhead.

…..“Your friend, Iris. Also the star of the picture we’re making. Trying to make. She won’t work. Can you talk some sense into her?”

…..“What’s going on?”

…..“What?”

…..“Can. You. Tell. Me. What’s—”

…..“I said you don’t have to shout.”

…..“You said you couldn’t hear me over this connec— Never mind. Where are you?”

…..“We’re at a mansion in Virginia hunt country. Iris is playing a society heiress. You should know that, you live together. I’m trying to direct her scenes.”

…..“What’s the problem?”

…..“The cast was supposed to skate through the formal garden for the big musical number. Iris enlisted everyone in a roller skating free-for-all across the living room floor.”

…..“Just a minute. Pete?” she yelled. “How’s the rigging going?”

…..“Take about another fifteen.”

…..“Alright, I’ll talk to her,” Valerie said.

…..“Thank God.” A faint sound like exhaling breath beneath the noise. “I’m taking the phone to Iris. She’s stark naked in the bathtub.”

…..“Naked?”

…..“You can’t see anything. There’s bubble bath.”

…..“What is it, Pete?” Valerie turned to her gaffer, who had come up beside her.

…..“I need you to look at something.”

…..“I thought— Wait a moment.” She picked up the receiver again. “Glenn? I have to solve a lighting problem. Can you put Iris on right now? Never mind telling me any more, I’ll just talk to her.” She turned back to her gaffer. “Pete? Fine-tune it the best you can, okay? She turned to the phone. “Iris? Hold on, I was talking to someone else. Okay, Pete?”

…..“I’ll fiddle with it. But I’m going to need you soon.” Pete disappeared around the front of the velvet drop.

…..“Iris?” Valerie repeated. “What’s the matter, darling?”

…..“Everything!” came the little-girl voice across the noise. “I needed to talk to you so badly. They wouldn’t let me. Finally I screamed. That’s the only way to get attention around here.”

…..“No it’s not. Never mind. Are you wearing anything?”

…..“The wardrobe lady gave me a robe,” the voice said.

…..“What was the roller skating about?”

…..“Oh, that.” Her giggle. “I was having fun, that’s all.”

…..“On a work day?”

…..“I’m bored silly in this place. I thought it was time we had some fun. Mr. and Mrs. Rathborne loved it.”

…..“Mr. and—”

…..“They own this mansion. You should have seen them skating around the dining room with the rest of us. Mrs. Rathborne kept shouting ‘WHEEEEEE!!!!!!!’ Mr. Rathborne said, ‘They’ll never believe this at the club.’” Giggling again.

…..“Iris.” Valerie forced herself to ignore to the noises from the lighting crew on the other side of the backdrop, where it was a working day, just like in Virginia. “Iris,” she repeated with careful deliberation. “How much longer are you scheduled to film at that location?”

…..“I don’t know. I miss you. I’m bored and horny and I miss you terribly, Val. I miss you.”

…..“You’re repeating yourself. Can’t you wait until—”

…..“The assistant director made a pass at me. I told him NO but he tried again the next day. I almost smacked his face.”

…..“Iris, I’ll ask you again.” Valerie slowed her speech to something a child could understand. “How long are you scheduled at that location? It can’t be long, can it?”

…..“There’s nothing to do in this hick town. You can’t get a decent martini. I go back to my room and learn my lines for next day, that’s all. It’s hot. It’s full of mosquitos. It’s no fun without you in this godforsaken—”

…..“You’re babbling, Iris.”

…..“I wasn’t babbling.”

…..“Well, you were yelling, anyway.”

…..“I wasn’t yelling.”

…..Valerie felt a presence behind her. “Val?” Pete’s voice again.

…..“Hold on a sec, Iris. Pete, I thought you were working alone for a while. Iris, I’m talking to someone else. What the hell difference does it make who I’m talking to? It’s my gaffer, that’s all. Will you just hold on a minute, Iris? Be patient a minute, I’m not going. Sorry, what is it, Pete?”

…..“Here, look at this.” The gaffer handed Valerie a crumpled paper with some numbers calculated in his penciled scrawl.

…..Valerie squinted in the gloom. “Shit—I can’t read it—it’s too dark back here. Tell me again how much more time you’ll need.”

…..“I didn’t tell you,” Pete said. “But now that you’re asking, I’d say a just a few more minutes.”

…..“Well.” The tone was subdued. “I’ll try to sort out some things—” Nodding toward the phone receiver. “—here.” She sniffed the air. “Hey, something smells wonderful.”

…..“The director brought a box of Hungarian pastry.”

…..“Hungarian pastry? Really?”

…..“He mentioned the names but I can’t pronounce them.”

…..“Bring me one, will you?” A little wearily, she leaned against the stage wall. “Iris? I’m sorry that took so long. Things are falling to pieces at this end. Now listen: I have to go, lover. I’ll fix you a martini when you get home. I’ll fix you a whole pitcher of martinis if you’ll just go back to work.”

…..“I don’t need to be bribed. I’m 26 years old. I’m a responsible adult.”

…..“Of course you are, darling,” Valerie said. “But—”

…..“Do you miss me, sweetie?”

…..“I miss you. I really do. But I have to go.”

…..“You’re saying you don’t care about me? Is that it?”

…..“Yes! Yes, I—”

…..“Say you love me, just once and I’ll go back to work.”

…..“Iris,” Valerie said. “You’re being—”

…..“Being what, Val?”

…..“Iris, I’m on a tight schedule.”

…..“Go on, Val.” Her teasing voice. “Say you love me.”

…..“Can’t we talk about this when you’re home?”

…..“I’ve got something better for us to do than talk.”

…..“We’re almost ready to make it, Valerie,” came Pete’s voice.

…..“Give me a sec, Pete,” Valerie said. “You’re acting like a child, Iris.”

…..“At least tell me you miss me,” Iris said.

…..“I miss you. But I need to—”

…..“What part of me do you miss most?”

…..“I can’t talk about that here.”

…..“Yes you can. Just for a little teeny second. P-l-e-e-e-e-a-s-e? Because you know what I miss about you? I miss kissing my way up your—”

…..“Don’t talk like that,” Valerie said.

…..“And using my tongue to—”

…..“Stop it!”

…..“Why?”

…..“Iris, you’re not playing fair.” Valerie rose to her feet again. “It hurts to hear you say those things when you’re three thousand miles away. Wait a minute. I need to sit again.”

…..“I thought you were sitting.”

…..“I was. Now I’m standing. Well, I was standing a second ago. Now I’m sitting. Never mind,” Valerie said. “Can I speak to Glenn again?”

…..“I’ll get him. Kiss me first.”

…..“Kissy-kissy,” Valerie said.

…..“Valerie-e-e-e-e!” Iris said in a musical voice. “I’m licking the phone now. Can you hear me licking the receiver, Valerie?” Scraping, shuffling sounds, then Glenn came on again, loud and clear. “Valerie?” he said. “Did you talk some sense into her?”

…..“I think so,” Valerie said.

…..“Hold on a sec,” Glenn said. “This receiver is wet. I’m getting my handkerchief.” Rubbing sounds. “That’s better. I had to dry it off.”

…..Hvassy came up to Valerie with a rolled up script in one hand, followed by Zsuzsu, followed by Pete. “We’re ready to make it,” Pete said again.

…..“Hold on a moment, Glenn,” Valerie said.

…..“You want to check it through the finder first?” Pete said.

…..“In a minute. I just need everybody to leave me alone a moment.”

…..“You alright, Val?” Pete said. “You look like something hit you.”

…..“I’m feeling a little punchy right now.”

…..“A little punky did you say?”

…..“Punchy. What’s the diff? I feel like a complete punk too.”

…..“You know something?” Pete said. “When I watched you peer into the finder of that camera this morning, I thought about your father, Boris. That was exactly the way he used to squint into the finder in the silent movie days. It’s the Russian in you, I guess.”

…..“Pete,” Valerie said “Would I be out of line if I asked for a hug right now?”

…..“What is this about?” Hvassy interjected. “I do not allow private business on my sets during working hours. Down, Zsuzsu!” he added as the Peke took several leaps toward the pastry in his hand.

…..“Is that Hvassy I just heard?” came Glenn’s voice. “I know that accent. Lemme talk to the old bastard.” Wordlessly, Valerie handed Hvassy the phone.

…..“Who is this?” the director said.

…..“Hvassy, you son-of-a-gun. It’s Glenn.”

…..“Glenn Irby? Is that you?” Hvassy shouted over the noise.

…..“Of course it’s me. What are you shooting this morning?”

…..Hvassy cleared his throat then, with a little shrug, tossed Zsuzsu the remains of his pastry. “I thought I had the honor to work with Miss Gonzales this morning on the first scene from Silver Wings. But now I see her talking to you. Is she so gifted she can shoot two productions at once? Quiet, Zsuzsu.”

…..“Freddy cut the crap,” Glenn shot back.

…..“What? What?” Hvassy held the phone at arm’s length before returning it to his ear.

…..“What I said, stop the bunk. We were in the worst pickle. Iris Valentine threw a tantrum. Our star was refusing to work.”

…..“Where are you?”

…..“I’m in a mansion in Virginia. We nearly had to shut down production because Iris got huffy. Valerie talked some sense into her; God knows how.”

…..“I see,” Hvassy said. “I—” He paused as if searching for a response he wasn’t sure he possessed. “—see.”

…..“Anyway, it’s back to work,” Glenn said. “I have to hang up. Tell Valerie I owe her a bottle of scotch. And Fred?”

…..“Yes?” Hvassy said.

…..“One more thing: when you work with Valerie, you should get down on your knees and thank her for every shot she gives you. You’re a very lucky man to work with her today. I hope you know that.”

…..“Should I?”

…..“You will when you see the results,” Glenn said.

…..“Well. Nagyon szépen köszönöm, as we say in Hungarian,” Hvassy said. “‘Thank you so much.’”

…..“You’re quite welcome,” Glenn said. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I truly wish I had Valerie with me today. Anyone who can calm that flibbertigibbet Iris, can direct the whole damn picture for all I care.”

…..“Alright,” Hvassy said, hanging up the phone. “Zsuzsu, I told you no more pastry,” he told the yapping Pekingese.

…..The aftermath was reconstructed by Hvassy in an undated video interview given many years later with the American Film Institute. The video shows the famed director frail but lucid at 98, hornrimmed glasses having by now replaced his signature monocle.

…..“I replaced the phone on its hook, walked around the backdrop and found Valerie perched on her stool again next to the camera. She got off her stool, went up to me and said “We’re ready to make it.”

…..Q: What did you do?

…..Hvassy: Something I wasn’t accustomed to doing. Took a chance. I said, “Places, everybody!” The assistant director shouted, “Places everybody. Quiet!” The cast jumped into their start positions. I said, “Roll camera. Background. Action.”

…..Q: And?

…..Hvassy: Well, the camera is funny. It sees things its own way for its own reasons, not the way the eye sees them. So I was going on pure faith. But then the next day when we were all in the screening room watching the rushes, I didn’t see the black backdrop at all. And the strings of lights looked exactly like runway lights going back, back, back a mile into the distance. Of course it was only a few feet in reality.

…..Q: That’s amazing!

…..Hvassy: But more than that. Something she did with the lighting, or the small accents she added to the scene. Instead of that black backdrop you saw the atmosphere above the aerodrome. You felt the air moving past your face and your own smallness against the vastness of the night sky. Without a word, you knew something about those pilots who flew off into that sky to deliver the mail. Should I add that one of the pilots in that picture was a woman? Maybe that’s relevant too—I don’t know.

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Tony Van Witsen is a recent resident of Georgia and has been writing for approximately sixteen years. In the summer of 2001 he enrolled in the MFA program in writing at Vermont College and received his degree in January 2004. His published stories and essays have appeared in a range of journals including Identity Theory, Ray’s Road Review, Serving House Journal, Crosstimbers, and Valparaiso Fiction Review.

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