to touch the stars/2
One of Raspalli’s best friends here is Pakistani. “This would never happen at home,” she says. “He is gay also. Disinherited by his parents. But he has a good heart. His life is more difficult than mine, you understand? With so much that is forbidden.”(The friend is from Lahore which is the very city Raspalli’s parents fled after the Partition.)
“So how are you going to make these hopes of yours happen?” I ask, gently.
She beams and throws back her hair. “I have sent my resume (rezoomay) to every production company in New York.”
“But Raspalli, the kind of production companies you want, they’re all in Los Angeles. That’s where the money and the movies live.”
She shakes her head and smiles. “I don’t care,” she says. “I’ll tell you why. I could be sitting here having coffee with you and Steven Speilberg could walk by. That’s how it still happens, sometimes. People with power see you and they want you.”
“Only in Bollywood,” I’m thinking.
“I can not go back to India until I have made it. I can not. My father has sacrificed everything for me. He believes in me.”
Which is when something clicks. Not about destiny or the gods or what is written but about the power of being believed in. I suddenly think of Raspalli’s boss. A young Israeli, true Sabra. She, too, has defied all odds and sunk every cent she and her husband own to open a restaurant downtown.
“This is why they work as a couple,” Raspalli says. “Because she has a husband who believes in her. This is what we all should have. One who believes and the other who acts…”
Ahha! I think, signaling for the check. One who believes and the other who acts. I like that. Despite the nomadic wanderings of a mind past its prime, despite the cataclysmic collapse of confidence that occurs in middle-age, I recognize some part of my own soul in this dangerously happy, exotically beautiful woman across from me. Because I still believe. I do. I believe it’s possible to touch the stars.
Steven Speilberg walked past my wife once. Even acknowledged her and said good morning. He was filming at R’s workplace. (The picture was “Amistad”) Then he moved on to whatever he was doing that morning. Your young friend has tremendous drive, but you are right, you gotta be where the jobs are.
I do love the observation about the couple where one acted and the other believed. When you are believed in, you find your reach is much greater than you thought possible. That is so true. I have seen several where the actor is thwarted by lack of belief, and where the believer is frustrated by unwillingness to act. Sad to see.
and to think a little while ago you said “nothing to write about”….more more more, please!
nice work you are the joseph mitchell of bloggers
At a screening of “My Queen Karo,” the (female, Belgian) director was asked for her advice for aspiring young filmmakers. She said it is best to be naive, to not know too much before plunging in, otherwise, the task would seem impossible(film financing/production as war). I think that is absolutely right. Plus, if she went to LA, her spirit would be flattened, and that is never a good thing. When you are 23 and smart and beautiful, stranger things have happened than being engaged by old dude filmmakers. I guess Spielberg wouldn’t be my pick, but to each his/her own.
Being called the Joseph Mitchell of bloggers is high praise indeed. (Listen to Steve Earle’s Pale Male song, Down Below, for mention of Mitchell).
I just love you and your writing, and you are here with us, unlike Mitchell, our living gift.
I thought Pale Male was the name of that hawk nesting outside Mary Tyler Moore’s apartment? I’ll check it out.
In my dreams, city boy. In my dreams…