– She still thinks I’m thirty. Arithmetic was never her strong point. At least I can say I once got to fuck a nineteen-year-old.
Mother’s Joy is inaptly named. Filming it is a chore: cheap sight gags, and Mae’s unhappiness at playing old fruit beside the new. Increasingly, she is being given jobs only to satisfy his stipulation that she should work with him, even when there is no suitable role for her. Flavia in Mother’s Joy is another of these parts, and Mae knows it. Her detachment is visible on the screen, so much so that it’s hard to tell if the chill she exudes is real or assumed.
But there is one scene in which Mae manages to display genuine emotion: the wedding sequence, when she, as the heiress, rejects him at the altar, announcing that she has taken a dislike to him, and he responds in kind. As he watches Mae say her lines in her wedding gown, he understands that at this moment she is not acting, and neither is he.
But he will not let Mae go, and Mae will not let him go.
Not yet.
45
Chaplin meets the great Russian director Sergei Eisenstein.
Chaplin tells the great Russian director Sergei Eisenstein of his admiration for Battleship Potemkin. The great Russian director Sergei Eisenstein thanks Chaplin, and asks Chaplin for $25,000 to make a picture in Mexico.
Chaplin politely demurs.
The great Russian director Sergei Eisenstein taps someone else for the money, spends $90,000, and returns from Mexico with a set of holiday snaps.
Chaplin is nobody’s fool.
46
He is arguing with everyone. He is arguing because he is unmoored, and troubled in his heart. He is arguing because he feels undervalued. He is arguing because he is tired of barely getting by.
And he is arguing with Mae, and he is arguing because of Mae.
Hal Roach isn’t paying him enough. Even Mae says so, and in this much, at least, Mae is not wrong, because Mae knows the value of a dollar. Worse, Hal Roach pays slowly, and Hal Roach takes too long to sign off on pictures. Harold Lloyd is a star, and Hal Roach’s treatment of Harold Lloyd is of a different order to how the rest of the actors are treated. He is not a star, and Hal Roach lets him know it.
He wishes A.J. were here. A.J. is taking care of his business affairs outside the United States, but A.J. is in Ealing, not Hollywood. Whenever he calls A.J. in frustration, and raises the possibility of returning to vaudeville, A.J. counsels him to stay in pictures. A.J. has at last smelled the dying of the music halls, and vaudeville must surely follow.
What can he do? He can stay with Hal Roach, or he can show some spine and leave. Mae tells him that he should go elsewhere, but he no longer feels comfortable trusting Mae’s instincts.
He no longer feels that he can trust Mae at all.
Friends have ceased to call on them. Invitations to join dinner parties as a couple have dwindled to nothing. He works better when Mae is not on set, so he no longer campaigns for her.
And Mae knows. Mae, like Chaplin, is no fool.
You don’t listen to me, she says.
– I listen to you. You don’t give me any choice.
– I only want what’s best for you, what’s best for both of us.
– Maybe they’re not the same thing, not any more.
– What do you mean? Do you want to leave me?
But he does not answer, because she is Mae, and he loved her once.
47
It is early morning. He is asleep.
Mae, naked, stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. She observes the softness of her body now transmuting to fat, the curve of her hips blurring into her waist, the sad sag of an aging mother’s breasts. She sees the stretch marks on her belly, and the pock marks on her thighs. She sees the gray in her hair, and the lines at her eyes. She sees the yellowing of her teeth, and the loosening of her mouth. She sees the wattle of tissue beneath her chin, the rolls of flesh beneath her arms, the red veins in the whites of her eyes.
She is now thirty-seven years old. Sometimes she looks a decade older.
But yes, she was beautiful once.
He says that he still seeks parts for her, but she does not believe him anymore, and when the parts do come they are background roles. One scene, maybe two: no name, no character. She hears the crew laughing behind her back, but the faces are always averted when she turns to look.
She remembers the first time she saw him on stage, how handsome he was, even as he played the clown. She remembers the first time they made love, and the first time they performed a routine together, the two acts coalescing so that each step on the boards is a kiss, each stumble a caress, each fall a thrust, each gale of laughter a sigh, each round of applause a climax. She remembers the chill of railway platforms, the coarseness of sheets, the cheapness of meals. She remembers the feel of him against her, the heat of him inside her, the taste of him in her mouth. She can remember all these moments, yet she cannot remember the last time they made love.
He is thirty-five years old. Sometimes he looks a decade younger.
Hope is slipping away from her.
He is slipping away from her.
And what will she have left when both are gone?
The bathroom door opens. Usually he knocks before entering. He is bleary-eyed. He came in late last night: problems with the edit. This she believes, for she smelled no liquor on him, no unfamiliar perfume.
He looks at her. He does not ask what she is doing. He is simply embarrassed to have discovered her like this, embarrassed for him and for her. He has not seen her naked in so long.
And she wants him to come to her, and she wants him to hold her, and she wants him to say that he is sorry – not for anything he has done, but for all that must come to pass.
Instead, he closes the door on her. When she returns to bed, he is sleeping.
And a spark of hatred for him blossoms into flame.
48
Percy Pembroke, who wishes to be a great director, and will act for a time as his manager, offers to help him out.
The comedian Joe Rock has progressed from stunt doubling, to acting, to producing pictures. Percy Pembroke knows Joe Rock, and intercedes with Joe Rock on his behalf. Joe Rock offers him a twelve-picture deal at fifteen percent. He informs Hal Roach that he is leaving. Hal Roach tells him he is free to go.
He is hurt. He tries to hide it, but he fails.
That’s it? he says. You’re not going to put up a counter-offer?
– No.
– Why not?
– Because you’ll be back. Now go make dime pictures for Joe Rock. You know where to find us when you’re done.
Hal Roach’s words hang over him.
They hang over him as he makes Mandarin Mix-Up, and Detained, and Monsieur Don’t Care.
They hang over him as he makes West of Hot Dog, and Somewhere in Wrong, and Twins.
They hang over him as he makes Pie-Eyed.