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The Final Cut CHAPTER Seven
CHAPTER SEVENJimmy leaned on the balcony railing and gazed down into the canal as the final rays of sunlight fled the sky. He took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt towards the towpath, admiring the sudden cascade of sparks as it hit the ground.He needed Sam on board with this project. He couldn’t let it go, not now. He had too much invested in it emotionally. He wasn’t sure why it meant so much to him, but it gripped him like no other project before.It wasn’t just that it was going to be edgy and daring, walking that line between fantasy and reality, using footage of an actual murder. Making the viewer wonder how much of the torture is real. Few of them would realise.He also felt there was an important statement to be made about the genre as a whole. This film was going to either damn or redeem him, both as an artist and a human being. This opportunity for salvation or damnation had a specific gravity, and Jimmy’s soul was caught in its pull. Like the glowing
The Final Cut CHAPTER Eight
CHAPTER EIGHTJimmy hated auditions. They were an exercise in mutual humiliation. You sat behind a rickety table, in a musty rehearsal room, and pretended to be interested in the resumes of a dismal procession of drama school drop outs, who pretended to be interested in your film.Because it was an Indie horror film, none of the agents they contacted sent their brightest or best. The guy they’d just seen had nothing but extras work on his resume. The highlight of which was a Swedish advert for haemorrhoid cream in which he’d been: “at the front of the queue of people who pushed their way out of the lift at the end.” This gave him a “full second close up in the lengthier cut.” The saddest thing was that, although abysmal, he wasn’t the worst person they’d seem that day.The next two actors pulled a no-show.“Maybe that’s a blessing,” said Jimmy. “Let’s just knock it on the head and go down to the pub.”“No,” said Sam, ever practical. “We’ll give them ten more minutes then we’ll go
The Final Cut CHAPTER Nine
CHAPTER NINE“Here he is,” said Alfie, as Jimmy walked into the tiny front room of Alfie’s council flat. “George Jung, famous coke smuggler.”The comment was a reference to the real life character Johnny Depp played in the film Blow, one of Alfie’s favourites. It was also a dig at Jimmy over the coke deal, that had gone spectacularly wrong.“More like cock smuggler,” said Tim, a tall fat bloke with a huge beard, who took up more than half the sofa he was sprawling on. He was usually round Alfie’s when Jimmy called.“Or cock juggler,” said Alfie. He was a short guy, no more than five foot five, with dark hair, shaved at the sides. He had a Cypriot look on account of his Greek dad and spoke in a broad east end accent. He was also an inveterate gossip and sold the best blow in North London. Nothing went down north of the river that he didn’t know about within hours, even though he hardly left his high rise flat.Jimmy had a ton of things he’d promised to do that day. He also had five
The Final Cut CHAPTER Ten
CHAPTER TENThe studio they were renting was on the top floor of a converted warehouse by the river. Sam was with Melissa, filming the scenes where she, as Nadine, was alone in bed, dreaming of torture in a dingy cellar. Jimmy wondered what Melissa would think if she could see the footage they were going to splice in as the dreams she was having? He guessed she would see some of it eventually, just not in its current form.Sam and Jimmy hadn’t finished the script yet, but they’d worked the bedroom scenes into shape. Those seemed the best things to shoot first. They both agreed it was the easiest way of breaking Melissa into the project.Neither of them was sure she was going to show as they waited for her that morning. They’d had no contact with her since the audition, nearly three weeks ago. She did turn up though, and only twenty minutes late. She’d been firm about keeping to her condition of having only one person on set with her at a time.She’d chosen to work with Sam that day
The Final Cut CHAPTER Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVENSam had taped signs saying: ‘QUIET PLEASE—FILMING IN PROGRESS’ all along the corridor and also at the entrance of the studio. Gone were the days of a red or green light over the door. Even though he knew they weren’t filming, Jimmy still entered tentatively.Down the opposite end of the studio was the bedroom set Jimmy had helped Sam build and dress over the past couple of days. Furnishing it as cheaply as possible, from charity shops and market stalls. He had to admit Sam had done a great job of lighting it.Sam was in a different part of the space, standing over the makeshift desk they’d set up. It was covered with recording equipment and several laptops. Sam was staring at one of these laptops, frowning over the footage he’d just shot.“So how’d it go?” Jimmy said. “Melissa any good?”“She’s okay,” said Sam, after a long pause. “Nothing special in the way of talent.”“Really? That’s a surprise. Her looks though, she’s perfect for the part. So long as she’s not e
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE“Right,” said Jimmy, bounding back into Sam’s living room. “Let’s get this script treatment sorted.”There were coke crumbs around his left nostril. Sam knew he thought the stuff made him more creative, but it also make him a bit of an arsehole. Especially if they were under pressure to finish something. It was already late, and they had to be up early tomorrow to prepare for another day of shooting.“What we really need to work out is how the whole story wraps up. Did find out how that myth ends?”“Not yet, I’ll get around to it later.”“I thought you said you were going to read up on how it ended before we started the script.”“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been a little busy of late.”“It’s just that it might help us come up with a conclusive ending,” said Sam. “Something that will tie up the whole plot.”Jimmy frowned. “Does it have to be totally conclusive?”“Yes, we don’t want to cheat the audience.”“We’re not cheating them if we leave the end
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEENThe next morning they waited for Melissa. They got in early, as planned, and re-dressed the set so it would now work as a living room. Jimmy had stayed up all night writing dialogue and Sam had edited it that morning.By midday there was still no sign of her. “She’s not coming,” said Sam, obsessively retying his man bun. “I fucking knew it!”“Relax,” said Jimmy. “She’ll turn up.”But she didn’t, not that day, nor the next.“We’re fucked,” said Sam, on the third day. His eyes were red and his chin unshaven. Sleep had evaded them both the past few nights. Sam had even dipped into Jimmy’s coke stash, something he rarely did these days. “We haven’t got an ending, we haven’t got a cast and we haven’t got our leading lady anymore.”“We can fix this,” said Jimmy. “It’s alright, I’ll find her.”“It’s not her you should be worried about, it’s our whole fucking film.”“But I am worried about her,” said Jimmy. “I am.”
The Final Cut CHAPTER Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEENJimmy’s phone buzzed as he turned off Oxford Circus into Berwick Street. It was Sam.“Any sign of her?” said Jimmy, hopefully.“Nope, this is the fourth day she hasn’t shown up. I told you she’s not coming back. We’re pissing away money here, money we don’t have. We need to regroup, come up with a new plan and hold some more auditions. And we need to do it now. No more wild goose chases.”“Just let me chase down this one last lead.”“Listen to you, when did you become Sam Spade?”“Fuck off, I think I’m finally on to something.”“We can’t find her, just admit it. We’ve been through every single headshot on spotlight.com, contacted all the agents we can think of, looked at every actor’s directory there is. There aren’t any other leads. We need to start focusing on the project otherwise it’s gonna go tits up.”“Look I know you’re right, but let me do this one last thing. I got out some old copies of Spotlight from the local reference library this morning, from bef
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The Final Cut CHAPTER Forty
CHAPTER FORTYJimmy couldn’t stop shivering, not just from the chill air, but from everything he’d been through. He wanted to cry, but was afraid he’d lose himself to hysteria. His chest wheezed as his asthma threatened to return.He knew at some point he’d have to climb down from the table and explore the tiny space. He wouldn’t find a way out otherwise, if there was a way out. At the moment though, all he wanted to do was hug his knees and rock gently back and forth.The darkness that surrounded the tiny area was thick, black and seemingly absolute. Beyond it were beings more dangerous than Jimmy could comprehend.He had no idea what to do if he couldn’t find a way out. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He never did. He wasn’t a great finisher or completer, he needed Sam for that. He was an initiator. He launched into the things on impulse without a thought for where they might go or how they might end.It all came down to endings yet again. It always did. It wasn’t supposed to
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINEJimmy darted behind one table and then another, trying to get as far away from the Anunnaki as possible, but nothing stopped their advance. Eventually he pushed himself up against a wall and sunk down into a squat with his arms over his head, naked and vulnerable, wearing only his boxers.The Anunnaki pushed right past him as though he wasn’t there. They were interested only in Mr Isimud. They fell on him in a blurred and shadowy mass. Jimmy pulled himself up and sat on the edge of a table.It was impossible to look directly at the massive scrum of Anunnaki surrounding Isimud. To try and take it in hurt not only Jimmy’s eyes, but also his soul.Jimmy turned away and tried to block out first Isimud’s screams and then the sounds of rending and tearing. The Anunnaki began to separate into smaller mobs each carrying a different Isimud, kicking and thrashing in their grip.Jimmy’s eyes couldn’t process the mass huddle of Anunnaki that had fallen on Isimud. The sight
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTMelissa’s body went into convulsions. Her jaw hung open and started to spasm. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth and an agonising moan escaped from her throat. Her torso shook as her body went into shock and a torrent of blood spilled from her wound, pouring over the edge of the table and onto Jimmy’s feet.Jimmy gripped Melissa’s shoulder as the blade squirmed in his hands, trying to shrug off the form it was currently holding. It looked like an image on a TV with bad reception, crackling in and out of shape. This ruptured Melissa’s organs and caused her to cough up more blood.Melissa threw her head back and stopped shaking, her breath barely perceptible. The robe around her shoulders started to liquefy and soak into her pores. Her skin was absorbing it, becoming one with the Tailor’s handiwork.As the robe merged with her flesh, and then her bones, Melissa’s body began to change. Her breasts disappeared and chest hairs sprouted in their place. Her leg
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENJimmy was no longer in the cinema, or anywhere in London.He was in a giant underground space that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. In places it looked like a cellar or a basement, in others a catacomb or a vault. In every area of the space there were people tied to operating tables, stone slabs and sacrificial altars with blurry Anunnaki buzzing round them, destroying and tormenting their flesh.Jimmy was looking at the whole landscape of a murderous story that had no end. It was a limitless cartography of pain, showing every victim the story had ever taken, all suffering side by side. The atmosphere was like that of a charnel house, on a scale that Jimmy’s mind just couldn’t process. The air was so thick with human agony you could choke on it. Jimmy pulled the robe up around himself like a small child who pulls the blankets over his face, in the dead of night.The hem of the robe had joined itself to the fabric of the story. There was no differ
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Six
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXThe Isimud that stood before Jimmy, was not the man he’d seen in his vision. He was relaxed genial, and quite unbelievably charismatic. Like the Tailor he had the air of a man who does one thing so well that it brings him a great deal of power and influence, and nothing is more charismatic than that.He also seemed to be filled with genuine anticipation. He was practically rubbing his hands together. This unnerved Jimmy more than anything. Something sinister lurked behind his anticipation, something more frightening than the maliciousness that played about his smile.“”Sometime towards the middle of the year 623 BC,” Isimud continued. “Sin-shar-ishkun, one of the last Assyrian kings, led a large army into Babylonia to crush the rebel Babylonian forces led by King Nabopolassar. To begin with, the battle went in the Assyrian’s favour and Nabopolassar’s forces were routed. Then Sin-shar-ishkun’s chariot followed his troops right up to the battle’s front, where he met
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVEJimmy passed through into a small, shabby cinema. To his immediate right were about six rows of raked seats with two further rows of seats in front of them. The seats were worn and threadbare and the screen at the front was grubby and smeared with dirt.The floor was even stickier and the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke was stronger. There were about ten men in the cinema, mostly sitting by themselves, but a few sat next to each other. One of the men had his hands down another’s trousers.On the screen, a large black woman was tied to a stained mattress. Two white men, in loin cloths and Ku Klux Klan hoods, stood over her. The woman was screaming at the men, calling them racist bastards. One of the men left and returned with an industrial sander that he applied to her nipple.The woman bellowed in pain and anguish. The hand held camera moved closer, blood and viscera spattered the lens.So this was the type of establishment Isimud was running. A private club
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Four
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURJimmy marched out of the shop, up the cobbled alley and out onto the high street. He came to a mini cab office, pushed open the glass door and walked into the waiting room. There was cracked linoleum on the floor and faded blue paint on the walls, the skirting board was scuffed. The whole place seemed dirty, run down and neglected. A bored black guy with a big afro sat behind a grimy window that opened onto the despatch office.“Help you?” the guy said without looking up.“I’d like a cab please,” said Jimmy. His voice sounded odd to him, as though it were a chorus of voices all speaking in unison. He was many characters speaking at once.It occurred to Jimmy that he was connecting with the world around him through a filter of myth. People talk about getting immersed in a story, but they have no idea what that really means. Jimmy knew what it meant; he was clothed in a story. Everything he said, and everything he touched turned to fiction.“Where you going?” sai
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE“Can I put it on now? Jimmy said. The Tailor nodded. Jimmy removed his clothes and the Tailor placed the robe around his shoulders.It didn’t feel like anything he’d ever worn before. The robe wasn’t heavy as such, it just had the grave weight of a terrible tale about tragic events. It didn’t feel like fabric against his skin, it had the substance of stories, as though there was now a barrier of fiction standing between him and the world and Jimmy could rewrite himself endlessly, changing the way he was perceived and how he interacted with everything around him.The elderly man wheeled out a full length mirror and placed it in front of Jimmy. The robe in the reflection was even more difficult to look at and even busier to the eye.“Does it really look like that on me?” said Jimmy. “It seems larger and formless, like it’s growing all the time.”“That’s because stories are only mirrored by other stories,” said the Tailor. “What you’re seeing is every other story
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Two
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOJimmy took hold of the thread and pulled it off his eyelids.“The footage . . . it’s the story. It’s thousands of years old.”“Yes it is. Like all good fiction it has changed and adapted itself to the latest medium. The story has slowly evolved so it can most effectively prey on the select few who encounter it. The type of twisted individuals who seek out such material.”“You haven’t explained about the ending though. Why would the story keep going just because it was open ended? I like open endings.”“That might be your biggest problem as a film maker. A story without an ending lacks the proper shape or form, it insults its audience and plagues their mind because it lacks resolution.”“Real life doesn’t have any resolution or neat endings.”“Fiction isn’t real life,” said the Tailor, as though he were explaining something to a child. “When you tell a story you are setting a contract with your audience. You don’t say to them ‘Let me tell you something that hap
