The Olympian Girl
Tanya Brindley looked at the Oscar on her fireplace mantel and recalled the night at the Dolby Theater fifteen years earlier when Sean Penn handed the coveted Best Actress award to her. She was in her twenties then and looking forward to a long and respectable career. Now that her fortieth birthday was in the rearview mirror, her cherished aspirations were fading along with her youth. She was no longer offered those romantic leads that made her famous. Her last role, in fact, was a supporting one, playing a psychiatrist who treated the star of the film, a nineteen-year-old beauty who was welcomed to Hollywood after appearing on the covers of popular fashion magazines.
Where will I be in another ten or twenty years? she wondered. Playing some young actress' mother, no doubt. Or, worse, I'll be doing commercials for incontinence products.
Quite possibly, she hated to admit, she would no longer be acting. Not every woman had the longevity of Meryl Streep, Jane Fonda or Diane Keaton.
Ever a pragmatist, she hoped for the best while preparing for the worst. She kept her spending to a minimum. She lived in a modest home—by Hollywood standards. It had no home theater, bowling alley, gym, indoor pool or handball court. Her closet was not filled with designer gowns and shoes, nor was her jewelry box brimming with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and emeralds. No expensive sports car was parked in her garage, and no high-priced art hung on her walls.
"I won't spend a thousand on artwork by Thomas Kinkade much less several million for paintings by Frida Kahlo, Gustav Klimt or Jackson Pollock," she once told a friend who invited her to an art auction at Sotheby's.
If she could put a painting on her wall, it would be Edvard Munch's "The Scream." It was the one work of art that seemed to personify how she interacted with the world around her. She could see herself standing on that bridge in Oslo, surrounded by the blood-red clouds at sunset, holding her face with her hands and screaming at the top of her lungs.
As she visualized the ghostly alien-like face in the painting, the ring of her cell phone interrupted her revelry. She glanced at the name on the screen. It was Eugene Trenchard, her agent.
"Hello, Gene," she said, hoping he was calling about a prospective role.
"I've got three words for you," he announced, not bothering to return her greeting. "The Olympian Girl."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Get out your computer. Google it and then get back to me."
As he requested, she got out her laptop and Googled "The Olympian Girl." She then spent twenty minutes reading about the life and career of Bibi Rose, a silent film actress who was credited as being the first real Hollywood star.
And yet, I've never even heard of her!
* * *
"Well?" Eugene said when he answered the phone. "What do you think?"
"It made for fascinating reading," Tanya replied. "By what has a silent film star to do with me?"
"Bennett Grossman is producing a biopic about her."
"Let me guess. I'm being considered for the role of Bibi's mother."
"No. Bennett thinks you would be perfect for the lead."
"Considering Bibi Rose made her stage debut when she was just three years old, wouldn't he want a younger actress to play her?"
"Most of the story takes place in the Twenties when she would be just about the age you are now. Naturally, there will be flashbacks, so a child and a teenager will be cast to play those scenes. However, he wants to concentrate mainly on the years leading up to her suicide in 1938."
"Do you really think I've got a chance to land this role?"
"Bennett himself suggested you. He loved your work in Heavy is the Crown. Besides, he thinks there's a physical resemblance that can be strengthened by a good makeup artist."
"Is he considering anyone else for that part?"
"No. He wants to meet with you. Are you free tomorrow morning, say nine o'clock?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'll pick you up at half past eight and drive you to the studio."
After ending her call with Eugene, the actress phoned her hair salon.
"You've got to help me," she pleaded when she was told there were no appointments available. "I've got what might be the most important meeting of my career tomorrow morning. I need to look my best. Please!"
"Let me ask Ivanna if she'll be willing to stay late today."
"Tell her she won't regret it if she does! I'll give her a very generous tip."
The fact that the normally thrifty actress was willing to part with her money was a testament to her desire to play the role of the Olympian Girl.
* * *
"Six million! I can't believe it!" Tanya exclaimed as her agent drove her back to her modest dwelling in one of Hollywood's clean and safe but less fashionable neighborhoods. "Six million! And if the picture does well, it will open more doors for me. Hell, I might even win another Oscar."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eugene cautioned. "Before you even think about any other roles, you've got to give one hundred percent of yourself to this one."
The Olympian Girl was to be a big-budget film with a holiday release date. But before she donned a designer dress and jewels on loan from Harry Winston to attend its premiere, the leading lady had a great deal of work to do—and not all of it was in front of the camera. Before filming began, there would be makeup tests, costume fittings, rehearsals and the inevitable magazine interviews and TV talk show appearances.
Most importantly, I have to memorize my lines, she thought, taking a copy of the screenplay to bed with her that night.
It was only an early draft and no doubt there would be many changes to the script both before and during filming, but she wanted to have a basic grasp of the character she was to portray.
The movie opens with a middle-aged Bibi Rose reading a copy of a 1929 newspaper with headlines about the Stock Market Crash. The financial crisis serves as a metaphor for the difficulties she faces in her personal life. There is no dialogue in the scene. Instead, it calls for the character to drop the newspaper on the floor. The camera pans from the headlines to the actress' sorrowful expression and tear-filled eyes. At this point, even before the first line of dialogue is delivered, there is a flashback to the 1890s. Despite being only three years old, Bibi joins her actress mother on the stage. Billed as "Baby Bibi," she tours the vaudeville circuit. Fast-forwarding ten years, the "baby" sobriquet is dropped and she appears in more substantial roles.
The actress who will be cast as the teenage Bibi then meets actor Chuck Hodel who convinces her that there is a future in "flickers" (silent movies). Since the actress enjoys performing but dislikes traveling from theater to theater and living out of a suitcase, she agrees to appear with him in a film directed by D.W. Griffith. The movie is a success, and soon after its release, Bibi and Chuck get married.
Since pictures are being turned out with assembly-line regularity—it's estimated that more than ten thousand movies were produced during the silent film era—the newlywed Hodels are never at a loss for work. However, silent actors and actresses do not enjoy the celebrity status that performers do today. Few moviegoers even know who they are since performers do not get their names on the productions for fear they will become too egotistical and demanding. All that changes when film distributor Saul Cantor decides to challenge Edison's monopoly on moving pictures.
After a scene where Saul promises to make young Bibi the most popular actress in flickers if she will follow him from the East Coast to California, the movie returns to 1929. Tanya's first line in the picture is a one-word question.
"Everything?" the astonished character asks her business manager.
"I'm afraid so. Your stocks aren't worth the paper they're printed on."
Not all the silent film star's woes are financial in nature. She and Carlo Rinaldi, her second husband, a nightclub owner with ties to the mob, have recently separated and plan to divorce.
"No husband, no career and now no money," Bibi moans.
"You're still working, aren't you?"
"Yes, but since the fire and the fall, the only parts I've been getting are supporting ones. All the good roles go to Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish."
Tanya knew from the brief articles she read on the Internet that in 1915, during the making of Belle of Atlanta, a staged fire got out of control, and Bibi was seriously burned. In her efforts to escape the flames, she fell and fractured her spine. Despite her dazzling reign as The Olympian Girl, Olympus Studio refused to pay her medical expenses. Thus, the accident had devastating consequences for both her health and wealth.
Stifling a yawn, Tanya looked at her Seiko watch (no diamond-studded Rolex or Jaeger-LeCoultre for her). It was already after one in the morning. No wonder she was so tired! She took off her reading glasses, put them and the script on the night table, turned off the lamp and went to sleep.
* * *
Tanya woke the next day, eager to continue reading the script. But she was a creature of habit, and she stuck to her morning routine. Breakfast first. Half a grapefruit, a soft-boiled egg and a cup of black, unsweetened coffee. Forty minutes of vigorous exercise on the Peloton followed. After taking her post-workout shower, she stood in front of the bathroom vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Bennett Grossman thinks I resemble Bibi Rose, she mused, turning her head from side to side.
The hair and eye color were the same, and both women had high cheekbones. However, Bibi's face was fuller than her own.
I believe he's right. With the proper makeup, I could look just like her.
Whether or not the physical resemblance would be noted by the audience was another matter. Very few people today have even heard of Bibi Rose much less seen her in movies or still photographs. Charlie Chaplin, her contemporary, who made quite an impression on moviegoers with his Little Tramp character, was still a recognizable figure, but he was one of the few silent film stars to be remembered in the twenty-first century.
I wonder if anyone will remember me a hundred years from now. Hell, I wonder if humanity will still exist then!
Ignoring those feelings of doom and gloom, Tanya poured herself a glass of diet iced tea and continued reading the script where she left off the previous night.
The next scene is another flashback. Twenty-two-year-old Bibi—to be played by Tanya and not a teenage actress—is working for Saul Cantor and his fledgling Olympia Studio. After casting her in several films, the savvy producer realizes the public is drawn to the raven-haired beauty and, fearing she might leave him to work with Edison or Laemmle, decides to keep his promise of making her the most popular actress in flickers.
In one of the earliest known publicity stunts in Hollywood, he issues a press release claiming the actress was hit by a streetcar and killed. Although moviegoers do not know her by name, they recognize her photograph in the newspaper. People flood Cantor's office with their condolences. He waits two weeks and issues another statement, claiming there was a case of mistaken identity and that Bibi Rose is still very much alive. Now that her fans know her name, he schedules a public appearance tour. The actress draws large crowds of adoring fans wherever she goes.
"You did it!" she says gratefully. "All of Hollywood knows who I am. No one cares or talks about Marion Leonard. Just me."
Saul is quick to capitalize on her popularity. Her name begins appearing not only on the title sequence of her films but also on theater marquees.
The script then calls for a montage of images from Bibi Rose's best roles. Up until and including that point in the film, the story is a happy one. The actress has a loving mother, a devoted husband and a successful acting career. However, like most biopics, there comes a point at which the subject of the film reaches the summit and then begins the inevitable downward slide.
The year 1915 flashes on the screen. The next scene is centered around the fire that destroys her career and ruins Bibi's life. It is but the first of the calamities to befall her. During the fight to regain her health, other actresses eclipse her limelight. Faced with medical bills, the rising costs of the couple's extravagant lifestyle, failing investments and only Chuck's paycheck to cover the expenses, she is desperate for work and takes any part offered to her, no matter how small and insignificant.
For five years, the Hodels manage to hold on. Then Bibi loses both her husband and her mother in quick succession. Left alone in the world, the grieving, widowed actress marries Carlo Rinaldi. Thanks to Prohibition, her husband's nightclub is making a great deal of money doubling as a speakeasy, and she manages to get out from beneath the mountain of debt she was buried beneath. Also, although she is no longer a leading lady, she is still able to occasionally appear in front of a camera.
Soon, however, Carlo's eye begins to wander. It's not surprising considering the number of beautiful young women who flock to Hollywood to make a name for themselves in flickers. Bibi overlooks his first indiscretion but cannot tolerate his repeated infidelities.
* * *
"Good morning, Miss Brindley."
Tanya looked up from the script and acknowledged the presence of Marcella Cantu.
Unlike many Hollywood stars, the actress did not employ a large household staff. She had no full-time, live-in maid, cook, secretary, gardener or chauffeur. She did, however, have a woman clean her house on Mondays and Thursdays and a handyman on call should she need his services.
"Can I get you a cup of coffee before I start vacuuming?" Marcella asked.
Since the cleaning woman was paid by the day rather than by the hour, her frugal employer took advantage of the offer.
"That sounds good. Don't bother bringing it out here though. I'll have it in the kitchen."
Tanya sat in one of the chairs beside the island and opened her laptop. She googled Bibi Rose's name and searched for images. She printed one out and then compared it to an eight-by-ten glossy of herself.
"Tell me, Marcella," she said when the cleaning woman passed through the kitchen on her way to the laundry room. "Do you think we look alike?"
"Yes. But your face is thinner. Who is she?"
"Her name is Bibi Rose, and she was an actress back in the days before movies had sound."
"She is beautiful—as are you."
After finishing her cup of coffee, Tanya went up to her bedroom. The sheets had been changed, and the bed was made. The carpet was vacuumed, and the furniture was dusted. Even the ensuite bathroom was clean. Marcella worked hard for her money.
Maybe if this role does open a few doors for me, I'll give her a fifty-cent raise.
Fascinated by her resemblance to the Olympian Girl, she sat at her vanity and turned on the lights. She picked up a brush and began experimenting with different foundations and blushes. Then she applied several shades of brown eyeshadow and black mascara.
I wish I had red lipstick. The color photos of Bibi Rose all show her wearing it.
She then looked at the soft curls that hung down past her shoulders.
Perhaps if I had my hair bobbed like Bibi's, I could look even more like her.
She placed another call to her favorite beauty salon.
"You're in luck," the owner told her. "Ivanna's two o'clock just canceled."
When Tanya stepped out of the salon forty minutes later, her hair was ten inches shorter.
"Is it my imagination or does this bob make my face seem rounder?" she asked herself as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Now, I look just like Bibi Rose, and I'm not wearing any special makeup."
The physical transformation fascinated her, but at the same time, she found it a bit unnerving. In becoming more like the dead silent film star, was she losing her own identity?
* * *
That evening, after a light dinner, Tanya sat in her living room with a glass of wine and the script. When she reached the last page of the typed manuscript, she was disappointed. She picked up her phone and called Eugene Trenchard.
"That can't be the way the movie ends!" she complained. "If it is, the picture is sure to be a bomb at the box office."
"Let me call Grossman and ask him about it," the agent said. "I'll get back to you after I've had the opportunity to speak to him."
The actress sat with her phone in her lap for two hours, drinking three more glasses of wine as she waited. Finally, the ringtone sounded.
"Well? What did he say?" she demanded to know.
"The ending hasn't been written yet."
"Thank goodness!" she cried with relief. "When will I see the completed screenplay?"
"I don't know. Bennett and the writer disagree on how the movie should end."
Once again optimistic that The Olympian Girl would boost her stagnant career, Tanya refilled her wineglass, picked up her remote control and streamed an episode of Ozark on Netflix.
"I would have been perfect for the role of Wendy Byrde," she told herself. "Too bad Laura Linney beat me to it."
That seemed to be the story of her life lately. Despite her winning an Academy Award, other actresses were getting parts she ought to have gotten. But now that Charlize Theron, Angelina Jolie, Anne Hathaway, Reese Witherspoon, Kate Winslet, Natalie Portman and Hilary Swank—all Oscar winners—were in their forties, the competition for good roles was stiff.
"It doesn't matter," Tanya said, finishing the last of the bottle of wine. "Belle of Atlanta is going to be a huge success, and I'll be right on top again!"
Wait! What did I just say? she wondered as she headed toward the kitchen with her empty glass and bottle. I must have had too much wine. That was Bibi Rose's movie, not mine.
It was but the first time the line that separated the actress from her character blurred. It would not be the last.
* * *
When Tanya walked into the studio's hair and makeup department, Bruce Kenner sat her in a chair in front of a mirror. Several enlarged photos of Bibi Rose, both frontal view and profile, were taped on the wall beside the mirror. Known as a man who could work wonders with prosthetics and special effects makeup, Bruce had experience creating all sorts of characters from zombies, aliens, circus freaks and monsters to normal people of all ages, ethnicities and sizes. He took one look at the actress who was to play the Olympian Girl and smiled.
"This is going to be the easiest assignment I was ever given," he declared.
"Why?"
"Honey, look in the mirror! You're the spitting image of Bibi Rose."
The makeup artist cupped Tanya's chin and raised her head. He then viewed her face from the side.
"Something about you looks different," he declared. "Did you get a nose job?"
"No."
"That's funny. I don't recall you having a pug nose when I did your makeup for The Bride Wore Black."
"What can I tell you? It's my nose. The same one I was born with."
By the expression on Bruce's face, she could tell he did not believe her. But she was telling the truth. She never had plastic surgery of any kind.
"Let's see what color foundation looks best on you under the lights," the makeup artist said, reaching for his brushes.
As Kenner applied the makeup to the apples of her cheeks, Tanya watched him work in the mirror. Was her nose always small and upturned?
This is ridiculous! she scolded herself. I ought to know what my own nose looks like.
With each change of makeup, the actress had to pose for a photograph. It was a necessary but time-consuming process. Since Tanya's role would span a period of thirty years, different shades would be used in different scenes. In addition to showing normal aging, Bruce had to recreate the injuries Bibi sustained in the 1915 fire.
"That's it," he announced shortly before six in the evening. "We're done."
"Finally!"
"Hey, you're getting off easy. Be thankful you're not starring in a fantasy or horror movie where you might have to spend a few hours in the chair before stepping in front of a camera. Did you know Jim Carrey spent eight hours a day in makeup when he played the Grinch?"
"No, I didn't."
"And that's less than half the time spent by the current record holder."
"Who's that?"
"Rod Steiger. It took twenty hours to transform him into Carl from The Illustrated Man."
"I don't recall ever seeing that movie."
"It was based on a series of short stories by Ray Bradbury and was about a man whose tattoos represented dark visions of the future."
"Sounds too weird for me," Tanya said. "I'm not into science fiction."
"Neither am I," Bruce admitted, "but the makeup on that film was amazing."
* * *
Although the makeup and hairstyle enhanced the resemblance between the two women and thinned the line that separated the performer from her role even more, the wardrobe fitting completely erased it. Costumes that consisted of drop-waist dresses, beaded evening attire, fur coats, cloche hats, feathered headbands and long pearl necklaces made Tanya look like a flapper.
"What is that?" she asked with mock horror when Suzette Jardine, the designer, brought out a drab cotton frock.
"It's your costume for the first scene."
"You can't be serious! It looks like some old lady's housedress."
"You're not playing Wallis Simpson or Barbara Hutton, wearing the latest fashions from Paris," Suzette laughed. "At the height of her career, Bibi Rose was able to afford clothes designed by Chanel, Lanvin, Schiaparelli and Poiret. However, her financial problems and the Great Depression necessitated a change in her wardrobe. Later in her life, couturier outfits were replaced by inexpensive ready-to-wear dresses from Montgomery Ward and Sears Roebuck."
As she tried on one of the cheap dresses, Tanya imagined what her life would be like if her career took a nosedive. Would she be reduced to wearing clothes from Walmart and Target?
There but for the grace of God, Bennett Grossman and Eugene Trenchard, go I, she thought.
It was when the costume designer suggested she try on a reproduction of a Schiaparelli evening gown in Elsa's signature color, "shocking pink," that the Tanya Brindley/Bibi Rose demarcation line was eradicated.
"This was one of my favorite dresses," Tanya said, suddenly losing her New York accent. "But then I always preferred Schiaparelli to Chanel. Coco can keep her little black dress. For me, the more colorful the better."
"Isn't it a little early to be getting into character?" Suzette laughed. "Filming doesn't start for three weeks yet."
"It's not too soon," the actress replied. "No one has heard of Bibi Rose in eighty-five years. It's high time they do!"
After her costume fittings, Tanya phoned her agent.
"Have you heard anything about the screenplay? Does it have an ending yet?"
"I spoke to Bennett yesterday," Eugene answered. "He and the screenwriter still don't see eye to eye."
"I don't understand what's taking so long! This is a biography, not a work of fiction. Bibi Rose died in 1938. Therefore, she must die in the movie—end of story."
"Obviously, one of them wants something different. The main character doesn't necessarily have to die onscreen. Bohemian Rhapsody, Freddie Mercury's biopic, ends with Queen's performance at Live Aid. The audience is told the singer died of AIDS-related bronchial pneumonia in the epilogue that appears before the credits."
"Either way, moviegoers need to leave the theater knowing what happened to her. I don't see what's holding this up."
"Be patient. You know how these things work. Even when you have a complete script in your hands, it's subject to change."
"Things were so much easier in my day," Tanya declared. "An actress didn't have to learn lines."
"What are you talking about?" Eugene asked, noticing his client's use of the first-person pronoun.
"Flickers. Facial expression was the key to acting. Chuck and I acted out our parts without speaking. I could convey any emotion with my eyes. Of course, many actors were better known for their athletic abilities and swashbuckling exploits. Doug was always good at those."
"Doug?"
"Fairbanks. You must have heard of him. He was Zorro, the Thief of Bagdad, Robin Hood, Don Juan ...."
"I've heard of Douglas Fairbanks, but why are you ...? Oh, I get it. You're in character."
"No, you don't get it. I'm not acting. I really am Bibi Rose."
"Funny, but you and I both know she's long been in her grave."
"Let me rephrase that. I'm Bibi Rose reincarnated."
* * *
The first two weeks of filming were uneventful. Everyone arrived on set on time and did their job to the best of their ability.
"If this keeps up, we could finish this picture under budget," Bennett Grossman announced optimistically.
Eugene, who frequently visited the studio to keep an eye on his client, nodded but remained silent. He had not discussed his fears over Tanya's mental health with the producer. If Grossman learned that his leading lady was losing her mind, he might replace her.
"Try to make it to the set on Friday," Bennett suggested.
"Why? What's Friday?"
"The fire scene. I'm going to use real flames, not CGI."
"Is that safe?"
"If Selznick could burn down Atlanta, I can manage a much smaller studio fire. Don't worry. Your client will be safe from harm."
It was not Tanya's physical safety that worried Eugene. If she truly believed she was Bibi Rose, how would she react to seeing the fire?
He got his answer on Friday.
Moments after the flames were lit, Tanya began to scream. Despite everyone on set assuring her there was absolutely no danger, the actress refused to remain.
"I'm not going through all that again!" she cried and stormed off the soundstage.
"What the hell is she doing?" Bennett shouted.
"Ah, maybe you and I should have a private conversation," Eugene whispered.
"All right. What gives?" the producer asked when the two men were alone. "Is your client drunk? High?"
"Worse, I'm afraid," the agent replied with a heavy sigh. "She thinks she's Bibi Rose reincarnated."
"Christ! Why didn't you tell me she's gone Shirley MacLaine all of a sudden?"
"I was afraid you'd replace her with another actress."
"This is Hollywood! Don't you think I've worked with nut cases before? We'll shoot the fire scene without her, but make sure she's back to work bright and early Monday morning. Got that?"
"She'll be here. I promise."
* * *
"There's no way I'm going back to the studio!" Tanya stubbornly insisted.
"You must," Eugene maintained. "If you don't report for work, they'll fire you and hire another actress."
"Are you kidding? Who else could play me?"
"Will you listen to yourself! You're Tanya Brindley, not Bibi Rose. She's been dead for eighty-five years."
"As I told you before," the actress said, trying to be patient. "I've been reincarnated. Why can't you understand that?"
A knock on the door brought an end to the argument. It was a messenger from the studio with a package for Tanya.
"What's this?" she wondered.
"It must be the revised script. Bennett told me the screenwriter finished it last night."
"It's about time!" the actress exclaimed, tossing the empty box on the floor. "You have to go now. I want to read the ending."
"Not until I get your word that you'll show up ...."
"Yes, yes," Tanya said, interrupting him. "I'll be there first thing Monday morning. Now leave me be, will you?"
Unlike the first three weeks of shooting, the next four were disastrous. Not only was Tanya frequently late to the set, but she also messed up her lines again and again.
"Cut!" Miles Scargill, the director, shouted after the leading lady made another mistake. "I don't know what script you're working from, but it must not be the same one I have."
"There's no need for sarcasm!" the actress retorted. "The script is wrong. I never begged Saul Cantor for that role in Shadow of Death. He came to me."
"I don't give a damn what really happened back in 1918. I want you to deliver the lines as they were written."
The disagreement went on for more than twenty minutes. It was only after Eugene Trenchard was asked to control his client that Tanya fell in line.
"At this point, I don't care who you are—Tanya or Bibi. I just want you to be an actress and play the role you were given. I hate to make threats, but if you're fired from this picture, I'm going to drop you as a client."
The memory of the cheap Sears Roebuck dress she tried on during her wardrobe fittings dampened her rebelliousness.
"Okay. I'll behave."
In all fairness, she had every intention of doing so. However, the more the script deviated from the truth, the more resistant to Scargill's direction she became.
"I can't take anymore!" Miles complained to Bennett Grossman. "She's the most temperamental actress I've ever worked with. She's the reason we're behind schedule."
Temperament was one thing. Hollywood had no shortage of divas. But money was quite another. Producers don't like running over budget.
"Shoot the flashbacks with the kid and the teenager," the producer said.
"And then what?"
"While you're doing that, I'll look for another leading lady."
* * *
"They can't do this to me!" Tanya screamed. "Jennifer Lawrence is completely wrong for the part. I am the Olympian Girl."
"Miles won't work with you," Eugene explained, "and Bennett is upset that the picture is already over budget. So, I'm afraid, you're out."
"Change their minds."
"I can't."
"You're my agent, damn it! Do something."
"I already told you that if you got fired from this picture, I would drop you as a client. I meant it."
"Are you saying you're not going to represent me anymore?"
"That's right."
"I'll sue you," she threatened.
"On what grounds? There's nothing in my contract that says I can't walk away."
"But why now when I need you more than ever?"
"You don't need an agent," Eugene said. "You need a psychiatrist."
Like a character in a bad melodrama, the actress reached out her hand and slapped him across the face. Having nothing further to say, the agent turned and left.
A vision of Bibi Rose's last days flashed before Tanya's eyes. Divorced from her alcoholic, abusive third husband, suffering from both depression and a rare bone disease and being cast only as an extra or in uncredited bit parts, she felt as though she no longer had a reason to live.
"Why does it have to end like this again?" she cried.
When she saw the screenplay for The Olympian Girl lying on her coffee table, she walked across the room in a zombie-like stupor. She tore off the last page and took it into the kitchen where she found a ballpoint pen in her junk drawer. With tears streaming down her face, she wrote her suicide note: I was given a second chance, and I blew it. Sadly, this new life must end the same way my previous one did.
Resigned to her fate, she put on the Elsa Schiaparelli shocking pink evening gown that she "borrowed" from the wardrobe department, drove to Mt. Lee in Griffith Park and climbed up to the top of the forty-four-foot-tall capital "W" in the Hollywood sign and jumped to her death.
* * *
A large crowd gathered in Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Two dozen mourners sat in folding chairs beside Tanya Brindley's coffin; the rest were subject to standing room only. Eugene Trenchard, the deceased's former agent, was one of those seated. Bennett Grossman was another.
"Call me crazy," Eugene said, "but I can't help wondering if there wasn't something to Tanya's claim of reincarnation."
"What makes you say that?" the producer asked.
"She killed herself in the same bizarre way Bibi Rose did. Actresses are normally vain. Why would she kill herself in a way that smashed her face and necessitated a closed casket viewing? Why not go out like Marilyn Monroe with a bottle of sleeping pills?"
"If that's your reason for suspecting Bibi Rose came back to the land of the living, then forget it," Bennett laughed. "She didn't jump off the Hollywood sign back in 1938. An English actress named Peg Entwistle did that in 1932."
"But in the script ...."
"I know. But Bibi Rose killed herself by downing ant poison with a cough medicine chaser."
"Whose idea was it to change her manner of death, yours or the screenwriters?"
"Mine. Poisoning is boring. I wanted a more dramatic ending for the movie. It took me quite a while to convince the writer to do it my way. He wanted to stick to the facts. But hell! This is Hollywood. No biopic is ever completely accurate."
"So, Tanya Brindley's death was inspired not by Bibi Rose's suicide but by Peg Entwistle's?"
"Correct. If she really was Bibi Rose reincarnated, she would have ended it all with the ant poison and cough syrup."
"What a shame! If only I'd insisted she get help, she might still be alive."
"Don't beat yourself up," Bennett said. "Had she not killed herself, in another twenty years or so, she probably would have been one of those out-of-work, where-are-they-now celebrities. By doing a high dive off the Hollywood sign, she's bound to be a bona fide legend. And that's what this industry is all about. Fame. Isn't it?"
Eugene could not argue with that.
Certain details of Bibi Rose's life were inspired by Florence Lawrence, known as the "Biograph Girl." There were false reports of her death, she is often credited with being the first movie star, she was injured in a fire and committed suicide in 1938.
I don't know how talented Salem is as an actor, but I do know he can't remain silent for very long.
