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Fade Out 9/9/2024 7:05:09 PM
As the credits slowly roll down the screen and the darkness of the room is gradually replaced with light a group of people sit on old theater chairs applauding. But this is no ordinary audience. It consists of the director of the movie, producer and the leading lady. All of whom came together to view the latest movie of which the actress stars in.
“Another great performance.” The director says to the actress complimenting her.
“Thank you.” She responds.
“This must be your best performance to date.” The producer says. ‘It is sure to win you an academy award!”
“I hope so.” She replies.
While they are busy discussing the potential of the movie, they don’t notice a silhouette behind the credits which has shadowed over them at times. The figures arms are stretched out and hands are directly on the screen as if to try to get their attention but to no avail. None of them notice it. And eventually they all leave the screening room, going on with the rest of their day and hoping for yet one more block buster movie.
“I always seem to get the feeling that I’m being watched somehow.” Thinks Sandra out loud as she sits in front of her dressing room table mirror in a nineteen twenties flapper dress embellished with sparkling beads and fringe plus a head band with one feather. Her hair is in bob. “I suppose it is natural to feel this way given that I dance in night clubs among many people often, but I also feel watched when I am alone in my private space.” As Sandra thinks about the peculiar feeling she gets and stares at her reflection in her dressing room table mirror she begins to notice several figures sitting behind her. One of them looks exactly like her. She turns to look behind her but there is nobody there. Every time she faces the mirror she can see them. Suddenly the realization dawns on her; she is a character in a movie. She had been that and only that all along despite the fact she felt real, she felt normal and has done things any real person would do. Her heart starts pounding within her chest and she reaches out and frantically pounds on the mirror hoping to get their attention, but they just get up and walk away no longer paying attention to the screen.
One morning in nineteen- twenty-five Sandra walked down the street of her home with her sister, Kathryn feeling carefree and happy. There was a reason they called that era the Gay Twenties. The two just talked of old memories and enjoyed one another’s company. They spoke of things they did together, events etc. They shared these memories and neither ever wondered if these memories were real or not, where they came from or who gave them to them. They just took it for granted that they were. And they were very happy.
The two young women went to lunch together chatting about their favorite actor, Rudolph Valentino and of silent films, hoping and dreaming that one day there would be sound and color and what that would do for their favorite movies. They never saw Valentino in person, only on the black and white screen. They wondered what color the actors’ eyes were; what his voice sounded like. They wondered many different things about him, things they felt they would never have the opportunity to find out and so would just talk about them without ever attempting to learn the truth.
As Sandra and Kathryn sat at a café table sipping on their ice teas on that sunny late morning a feeling came over Sandra of being watched but as she looked around the café everyone was busy conversing with each other and enjoying their meals. There was no one looking at her. So she dismissed it as an overactive imagination and a touch of paranoia and continued to chat with her sister and sip her tea.
Back when she was a child her parents would make black and white home movies of her and her sister hamming it up in a play movie like their favorite silent film actors with colored sheets as costumes and faces which looked as if they were trying desperately not to break out into laughter. They would have fun doing this together. She was given the old films her parents made of them play acting and having fun. Somehow those old films would mesmerize her. She always believed that those films were of her and her sister, and her parents made them and gave them to her and yet she did not recognize herself or her sister in them. She had no memories of her sister and her ever play acting together or of any of the occasions her parents captured on that film. It was as though the memories she had were borrowed from someone else for some reason. A reason she knew nothing about. She had no childhood memories at all except the ones that were manufactured for her on those old home movies and found herself questioning them. Did her parents really make those old movies? Had she been given them? If so why? Why were they not given to Kathryn? And why could she not stop watching them? Why did she continue to watch them night after night?
On one sunny Sunday afternoon while she and Kathryn sipped on iced tea talking about Valentino, the advent of sound and color in movies Sandra decided to try to change the subjects.
‘Why don’t we talk about something else?” She asked her sister. Kathryn.
‘Don’t you like talking about our favorite movies? Aren’t you having fun?” Kathryn asked Sandra in return.
“Yes, I am but,” Sandra started.
“But what? If you are having fun, why change it? “Kathryn asked in rebuttal.
“Why do we go out every Sunday afternoon and talk about movies?” Sandra asked
“Why not?” Was Kathryn’s reply
“Isn’t there a world of other things to talk about other than movies?” Sandra asked.
“Like what?” Kathryn asked back. But as much as Sandra tried to come up with a different topic she couldn’t think of any. It was as if her thoughts and words were taken from her, and she only knew the ones she was given. Soon her whole query about why they talked about the same things every time they went out was forgotten and they were once again talking about Valentino and silent movies sipping on iced tea on a Sunday afternoon.
Sandra once again carried on with her nineteen twenties life accepting the idea she was real and the memories she had were hers and real and not just made up. She was after all having fun and wasn’t that what this time was for, being hedonistic, dancing until dawn or until you were exhausted, drinking alcohol secretly at a speak easy and hoping it wouldn’t be raided? The whole world was out having fun, at least the one she knew of and was a part of. This she convinced herself of. Who really wants to believe or even find out that everything about them might not be real, that everything seemed scripted? Who would want to learn that they were merely reading from a script every time they spoke, that in essence their whole life was an illusion right down to their identities they clung to? Would you want to go on living if you learned that nothing about yourself was real at all? And so rather than live with an uneasy feeling that something was very unreal about her life, Sandra just went on with it becoming more and more immersed in it. But she never lost the feeling of someone watching her. It followed her everywhere she went at night clubs, cafes, at her home. No matter where she was or what she was doing she felt as though she was being watched.
As the credits slowly roll down the screen and the darkness is gradually replaced with light a group of people sit on old chairs applauding. But this is no ordinary audience. It consists of the director of the movie, the producer and the leading lady. All of whom came together to view the latest movie of which the actress stars in.
“Another great performance.” The director says complimenting her.
“Thank you.” She responds.
“This must be your best performance to date.” The producer says. “It is sure to win you an academy award!”
“I hope so.” She replies
While they are busy discussing the potential of the movie they don’t notice a silhouette behind the credits which has shadowed over them at times. The figures arms are stretched out and hands are directly on the screen as if to try to get their attention but to no avail. None of them notice it. And eventually they all leave the screening room, going on with their day and hoping for yet another block buster movie.
“I always seem to get the feeling of being watched” Thinks Sandra out loud as she sits in front of her dressing room table mirror in a nineteen twenties flapper dress embellished with sparkling beads and fringe plus a head band with one feather. Her hair is in a bob. “I suppose it is natural to feel this way given that I dance in night clubs among many people often, but I also feel watched when I am alone in my private space “As Sandra thinks about the peculiar feeling she gets and stares at her reflection in her dressing room table mirror she begins to notice several figures sitting behind her. One of them looks exactly like her. She turns to look behind her but there is nobody there. Every time she faces the mirror she can see them. Suddenly the realization dawns on her; she is a character in a movie. She had been that and only that all along despite the fact she felt real. She felt normal and has done things any real person would do. Her heart starts pounding within her chest and she reaches out and frantically pounds on the mirror hoping to get their attention. But they just get up and walk away no longer paying attention to the screen, Fade out.
