She’s still luminous. Still dangerous. And at forty-five, far more suited to the role of the retired opera singer whose torrid love affair with the Crown Prince of Bohemia—captured in a compromising photograph—threatens to derail that Royal’s impending marriage.
Her best line in Scandal is the painfully grammatically correct, “I love and am loved by a better man than he.” She can deliver it sad and brooding. Or defiant. Or proud. Or secretive. She can even make the statement sound self-deluding if that’s what they want. Or start one way and end another.
Anthony Fox, the actor who played Sherlock opposite her Irene, is reprising his role in the remake, too. Even way back then, he was on the downhill side of a semi-distinguished acting career. The Times reviewer called his performance “solid.” After Scandal he found himself showered with cameos in films like Scream IV and The Muppet Mystery. Not the Royal Shakespeare, but it was a living. On top of which he had points on the back end of Scandal, which Angela did not. That’s turned out to be the gift that keeps giving.
Because who could have predicted that their Scandal would develop a cult following? At classic film festivals, Angela’s Irene Adler is nearly as recognizable as Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia. Fans come to midnight showings dressed in character and intone famous lines like “To Sherlock Holmes she was always the woman.” They boo and throw popcorn at the screen when the king dismisses his former lover as “a well-known adventuress.”
At last the door to Lancaster’s inner office opens. “Angela!” The man himself emerges. He doesn’t look half bad. Black T-shirt tucked into jeans, sockless loafers, his shaved head gleaming. That weird scruffy beard is new. He bounds over to her with the intensity of a much younger man.
“Darling!” he says. “There you are.” He bends down and, pure reflex, she crosses her arms over her chest as she leans in for what turns out to be a perfectly innocent air kiss. He whispers, “There’s someone I need you to meet.”
Coming out of the office behind Lancaster is a young woman. A tiny sprite, pale and ethereal as a ghost, she’s got to be a natural blonde. Her tight blue jeans are artfully ripped like the ones that cost hundreds. She’s carrying an enormous pumpkin-colored bag, its straps too long and floppy to be a real Birkin.
“Angela, this is Ruby Lake,” Lancaster says.
“Miss Cassano!” Ruby says, holding back, shy. “I’m such a fan girl. I’ve seen you in this movie a gajillion times. I just hope I can be as good.” Angela doesn’t get time to consider what that means because the girl, she’s barely out of her teens if she’s a day, adds, “And I adored Wallflower.”
Angela is taken aback. She stands. “You saw it?”
“At Sundance. It was great. Really terrific.”
“Thank you so much,” Angela says, and she means it. Wallflower was a low-budget film that she wrote and directed, and when it got into Sundance a few years ago Angela thought maybe, just maybe she’d break into Tinseltown’s most exclusive boys’ club. But despite rave reviews, the film didn’t get picked up. No opportunities to direct more motion pictures came flooding her way.
Angela can count on two hands the number of people she knows who’ve actually seen her movie. She can tell from Lancaster’s blank expression that he’s not one of them.
“I’m so looking forward to working with you,” Ruby says. “I can use all the help I can get.”
Help? It’s not until then, as Angela registers the look of undisguised pity that the receptionist is sending her way, that the penny drops and Angela’s stomach goes queasy.
“Won’t Ruby make a splendid Irene Adler?” Lancaster says, standing back and appraising his prize. Confirming the worst.
Angela’s face burns with humiliation and her insides feel thick. How is she supposed to respond? She wills her face to go expressionless. She’s an actress. She can handle this.
Lancaster turns to Angela. “And of course, you’ll make a fabulous Mrs. Hudson. One for the ages.”
She swallows the lump in her throat. From infamous femme fatale to iconic landlady who, in the script, doesn’t even get a name. The thought should have cracked her up but instead it’s put her on the verge of tears.