bethany francesca walker.
academic. writer.
- i only know that people
call me a feminist
whenever i express a
sentiment that differentiates me
from a doormat.
He doesn't know why he's wasting his breath. If she can't listen the first time, it's not that appealing to repeat himself, but this is exactly why he's one of the good guys, always a sense of obligation to do the most for the ones that'll never appreciate it. It fits that the jacket he's wearing is embroidered with the bright, yellow word Security on it.
"I was asking," he tried again, "if you needed to be walked back to your trailer yet. New actresses are tagged as raw meat to some of these animals."
"actress?" the word is spat, vile in comparison to only herself. of course there was nothing wrong with the career, she supported whatever path women chose, but to assume that it was her job? "i'm a writer." as if clarity in work was what he had asked. as if it was the most important part of the conversation. "i'm just finishing up some notes," she looks at his jacket, tries to decide just how much respect she needs to give to the kind of studio authority that's forced to wear neon. "and then i will be headed off the lot. do you need to chaperone me, because i think i can handle myself."
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Ah. Girlhood. Give him a break. Somehow, he restrains himself from outright rolling his eyes, but the gesture holds up in the way he blinks, an exaggeration of the lids, as if the eyeballs could detach from their sockets if he didn't realign the skin just right. "Right. The perversion level wasn't high enough? You needed some pedophilia? Does the ending involve the soldier turning out to be their abusive uncle?"
He's as big of an ally as you can get, but sometimes you just have to call a fake a fake. They may have had their differences, but there's not a chance Astrid would fall for anything like girl power. Call it the work of the patriarchy, but Santiago's name is the first to bubble up in his mind when she questions him, but it doesn't get as far as his tongue. He's reformed.
"Look. Good for you for bagging them, but how long are you going to rest on other people's laurels? Especially the nepo-couple. You're better than that, Beth. Aren't you?"
"have you read freud recently? it sounds like there's been a halt in development during your phallic stage. waitâ" she pursues her lips, double entendre always found for those who were looking for it. for those uneducated enough anyways. she could lecture on psychoanalysis all day, it didn't change that people saw what they wanted, especially when they happened to be looking for evidence of something.
"how dare you." there's only one person she cares to actual defend in that sentiment, an op-ed already made her opinion on that particular situation clear. "you know just as well as i do that a contract in the family isn't worth what people think." nor does it build a career that is separate. "when was the last time you won an award?" vitriol isn't exactly the word for her tone, but she's certainly not batting around playful ribs anymore. "and just because she's not interested in a work ethic like yours doesn't mean you can just cry nepotism. for shame asher welles."
"You"--he gestures to her--"me"--he gestures back to himself--"Who else do you see? No one. Claudia's job? Is not yours. You're a writer? Write. Or? Go. Copy someone else." The exit is easy to point out, hand raised in that direction and willing to see her walk out without a single thought. What she has to say doesn't matter to him, now; he doesn't listen to bullshit. She takes the page before he has the urge to crumple it and toss it. "I don't work with thieves. I see another line you've stolen?" The script is held up. "It will be fucking trash."
"a thief! it's an homage!" of course he wouldn't understand what nuance was if it was bolded and footnoted. nothing could be subtle, not when there was the option to bathe it in red. "if you're having trouble with difference, i am more than happy to give you a lesson." she looks at the line, doesn't highlight it on her own copy, lets it sit uncorrected. "if you're not interested in trying to understand the nuance of the dialog, then what is the point of this?" he needed a script that much was clear, she needed a director. but at what cost did such things have to happen. "what do you think she should be quoting," she searches for other books that would fit the period, "natty bumppo, moby dickâthe bible?"
The guard watches Meagan before her hand waves, swatting him back to go do his research as he was instructed to do so, sending him right back to his post to pick up the phone. Good. He must be calling for his manager to help him do his job. He better hurry; this heat is enough pain and suffering alone to deserve compensation. If she has a heatstroke, it will be just the beginning of them hearing the name Meagan Finley.
From the brim of her sunhat, though, she catches sight of someone else, seeing her before hearing her. "I'm sorry too that I know him," she addresses first before she pulls around the Coach purse hanging off of her shoulder. "This is how." A card is handed over. Mothers Protecting Children. Facebook group and aol email listed on the back. Their motto is 'life begins with mothers.'
"I'm the founder and president," she states with belonging before she makes her assumptions. "Have you worked with him for a long time? Because he'll be looking for another job soon when I'm done here."
she takes the business card, turning it over in her hand reading both sides. mpc didn't exactly have a ring to it, and she doubted that had she read the groups manifesto she would be thrilled with what she found. it was always in the word mothers that danger seemed to lie, the narrow-minded trying to keep their children the same. the slogan was enough for her to want to wave off the whole protest.
but she weighed her last conversation with asher, the tally of insults counted to see who had won. "no, i would never work with him." truthful, although her tone is still cautious. explosions always had a radius, and she would not get caught in one now. not now, when she was in pre-production. "what's he done this time?"
Whatever answer he'll give her, he knows it'll be turned against him, or at least she can try. She has that right, always will, but it doesn't make it any less annoying. Instead, he does the only thing he can do: force a smile at her, an emphasis on force. "Whatever you say."
The carbonation of his energy drink pops against the aluminum can, a soft little buzz underneath Beth's defensive voice. "Since when has womanhood been mitigated to nuance?" he asks back, but he might be too late; maybe it's his imagination but there's a particularly distinctive pop that echoes when she mentions Astrid's name. His eyes instinctively squint, not out of pain, but of how hard he's trying to figure out what she's getting at and how. Too bad for him he already has a good idea of the answers that go to both.
His attention is pulled away by his own hand, returning to look at the movers, the items that they carry from point A to point B. He tries to make it casual, but the intent is obvious, no matter how hard his lips scrunch together in nonchalance. "I don't know⌠Her schedule is usually full. You'd have to have a solid pitch, andâŚ"--his eyes drift back to her--"you haven't sold me yet. She's tougher."
"girlhood." she throws back without thinking, the clarity only apparent to her because she's had the life experience to know that women and girls are different. they have thoughts all their own, funnily enough. "they deserve to be fully realized characters, not just random blondes." inevitably what her characters would be seen as if the interpretation was left up to someone who couldn't tell the difference.
"sell you?" the scoff is hot and harsh, a punishing overstatement of their respect for each other. she needed his opinion on her work like she needed a hole in the head. but, when did that ever stop the comments from coming. "i don't want your approval for this, and i don't remember needing it." of course astrid would be a tougher pitch, she had talent and she'd studied her work. "if she needs credentials for the project, i can give them to her. you have read the other names attached to it right?"
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Why shouldn't he expect anything else from her? His head slowly rolls in a burning annoyance before he finally meets her eyes for the first time today. "Yeah, okay, that's cute that you read anything with my name on it, but shouldn't there be a limit to what you'll buy?" Because he's still a director. He's still maintained that title. Don't take that away from him. He might be Atticus' director, but he's still one. Not some lowly A.D. New angle.
"Oh," he begins, head rising in revelation, "is that why I'm supposed to sympathize with the south during a time of slavery? Because you know the facts say that happened. And facts are⌠what's the word⌠factual." Cheers with the help of his energy drink before taking a sip. "But you probably cover that in between the sexual assault scenes."
"your name?" she lets the sentence hang just for a moment, there were plenty of other names to choose from in the article. but she was smart enough to let the question be, to let him fill in the blank with whichever insecure answer he might choose. but still, she let it linger. "who said i picked it because it had your name?
and if that wasn't enough, he doubles down on the inaccurate takes. "not the south, girls. although i should know nuance is completely lost on you." perhaps not many people would understand the story she was trying to tell, but at least the studio was willing to try. "do you think astrid winters would be available to consult?" she skates past the comment about assault, because if he's going to take shots at time period, then he's definitely looking for her to defend the intricacies in the scenes she's written. and she will not give him the energy. "i want to get the costumes right for the girls, and you two are so close."
"I never mentioned overalls," he corrects easily, slipping in between her own words. He watches for a beat longer, stretching his neck to see just how many trucks they have to fill before their cross-country roadtrip takes off. He wonders who's going to throw Beth in the back of one of them or tie her to the bumper. "I read it's about confederate women sexualizing the first disabled soldier they see. I can't tell which side I'm meant to support..."
"you read that?" the illusion of calm was quickly lost, the smug expression that might have otherwise found its way to her face when talking with him. of course he would find a way to introduce sex, to find a way to make her work a pastiche of what it really was. "and not the actual script." deep breath, "because you of all people should know a summary doesn't do work justiceâ" avoid the landmine, keep eyes on the prize. "or are we making excuses for your step to assistant director, i think i read that too."
"You will let me in." Meagan has been at this for nearly half an hour since she arrived outside the Prometheus Productions' gates. "I have a right to be here, and if you use the term 'private property' one more time when speaking to me, I will be forced to call the proper authorities to educate you that where I am standing is precisely on the line of public property, and you can pull up the tax assessor's website to prove it. As a taxpayer, I'll wait! Stopping the latest poison from Asher Welles will be worth it."
normally, creating a public disturbance was more than welcome. it was a tool, used to draw attention to a problem. she could appreciate any number of groups that stood outside of prometheus productions and reminded them of the real harm they do. she would avoid it at all costs, if it werenât for the meeting they insisted on having to finalize her script, she would be at a coffee shop.Â
but that name catches her in her tracks, before she can flash the id and slip in, âsorryâ how do you know asher welles?â
Out of state productions are like the reverse of a circus being in town. Still gets the same amount of attention, but the attraction isn't that it's coming to you; it's that it's going elsewhere. It's the kind of spectacle that's been hard to come by, especially lately. Asher is just here to catch a glimpse of it like the freak-show it is; Beth is the side act that only the bearded lady can bring.
His eyes follow the lighting equipment being rolled away before taking a sip from the can in his hand. "Don't let them forget to pack the mandatory banjo."
her expression is dour at best, finally acknowledging whoâs speaking to her. thereâs nothing that asher is going to say that she needs to hear. itâs not a blanket discount of someoneâs opinion, she would never do that, but he has not given her anything positive in their prior interactions. in fact, sheâd rather forget them all. âif the civil war south is just images of overalls and banjos to youââ a complete discount of all the nuance of those who were living through it, real people and her own characters included, âthen iâm not sure why youâre here to observe.â
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Still. His eyes shoot to her. "No." It has been a lifetime since After Midnight, and Walker's interest is not welcome. He's had too much of his share of fans. "And? You can read. Read," he tells her as the page is brought down to her side of the table that they aren't sharing; he's made that clear already. "You want to be creative? This line? It's shit. And? Not yours. Whose? From where?" He knows where, and it's all the more reason why he stares at her with eyes darkening in their brooding stare. "You're late. This is not Pride and Prejudice."
of course he would do this! give an inch! "noâ this is a meeting between me and you." she'd asked for claudia sure, but seeing how readily he jumped on it made her blood boil. "typical, you know." she grabbed the offending page, reading over the line. "you can't just push off all the work on her again because you don't want to do it."
âYou?â Julian directs, looking up from the script heâs been tangled with, âWere not a thought.â Theyâre even. Itâs good to find common ground. Now? Fucking leave him alone. It plays in tandem with the way his pen draws through a line. If she notices it? Good! Itâs too cliche. Too cheap. Too worthless to keep. âYou want something?â he questions. âIf not? Go.â
itâs a notes session, an appreciative collaboration of the mind. director offering suggestions before they move forward, writer politely counter offering. but he hasnât earned her polite, and he certainly doesnât deserve just because he has an attitude. âif youâre going to cross something out, at least do me the courtesy of telling me why.â so they can come to a mutual agreement, thatâs work these things work. âactually, does your wife still write? i would prefer her input here.â
"let's see..." she's journaling, little observations from everyone that's packing up a production to send across the country. her production, she'll proudly take credit. she finishes her note before finally turning back up to who's spoken. "do you want to say that again?"
"for the record, you weren't my choice." how could he be! she was wary from the outset, that he would be labelled as the top option even though she'd made herself clear. "i would have preferred ingrid. or maybe someone more indie."
When I was in college, there was one film that everyone in my dorm watched over and over again. And I mean over and over, at one point we considered having weekly viewings in the lounge. It was electrifying, it had never been done before, it was Inception. Forgive me the rose-colored glasses, but I donât think thereâs ever been a film quite like it. The story, the acting, and those special effects! We spent hours discussing the ending, trying to understand the physics of the dream world (we were in the honors dormâ total nerds), and looking up trivia. So how could it escape our devoted eyes that it was the first big-budget film of the cinematographer. More than that, she had just graduated college! Her achievements suddenly felt just out of reach to us, as if we worked hard enough we too could hit it big from the instant our careers started. She was a role model, a genius, if there was a poster of her for sale I would have hung it on my wall so every morning I could have recited my daily affirmations to Claudia Marshall.Â
Yes thatâs right, Claudia Marshall, the name that now populates tabloids accompanied by the credentials âfiancĂŠeâ and âfuture Mrs. Santiagoâ.
Before all that, she was a role model for thousands of us on merit alone. So whatâs the problem with the newfound attention sheâs getting? Shouldnât I be happy, you ask? Finally after a decade in the industry, sheâs being recognized. And the short answer is no, a woman is not just her relationship. And the long answer is, this particular woman has already been overshadowed so much, this is the final straw.Â
That film, the one that we all couldnât get enough of, the one that made me realize that a woman (no matter her age, no matter her experience) could flourish when given the right opportunity, has a connecting thread. It was written and directed by Julian Santiago. Now, you donât need me to give you the full history of Hollywoodâs favorite love-to-hate-him controversial director. But a TLDR; for those of you who are not up to date on your non-actor drama, Julian Santiago from the dawn of time has been a problem. Heâs been abusive on set, hit crew members, caused scenes at every type of event, and all of it in the name of anti-cancellation. Now, politics withstanding; your stance on cancellation is not an excuse to abuse people who are under your power. And it is not an excuse to control through fear.Â
How is this possible? That the same film that inspired me so much, has such a dark legacy as well? How can I reconcile this after so many years of adoration? Once again, the short answer is I cannot. And the long answer is, I am going to try my hardest to.Â
Imagine now, you are twenty years old. Youâre about to graduate college, and youâre searching for the film that will put you on the map. Wouldnât you do anything for that opportunity? I know I would, and it seems so would Claudia. And when working your hardest to take advantage of this dream job, is there any hurdle you wouldnât jump? Any rule you wouldnât break for yourself? We find the same answer. It is the âlogicalâ choice. And sometimes, it is the dangerous one. Especially when there are power hungry manipulative men waiting in the wings to make sure that these defenses are broken down. Why else would she be yelled at on set day after day. And sign up for a second film (After Midnight in 2011). And a third (Shutter Island in 2013).
It seemed as though he would stop at nothing to work either. When she signed up for Wind River in 2015, Julian Santiago was the one who followed, unseating the chosen director for the project for no apparent reason. Unless we have started counting control as a reason to want to work with a person. And this pattern continues for anyone who would like to double check my IMDb research: 2016, 2018, and 2020, all feature productions in which Julian Santiago and Claudia Marshall worked together. It seems as though since she turned twenty-one there has been no one else better for her career than the man six years her superior. Even as we watched her win multiple awards for films that he was not involved in, and toiling in the midst of scandal when with him. Who among us could forget the most explosive moment of the 2018 production cycle, when Julian Santiago started physically assaulting crew members after another signature outburst? And who among us actually remembered Claudia Marshall among the list of those assaulted? I had to do a double take, but the incident form has been official for years. And still, she would work with him again just two years later. And now we must accept that she will go on to marry the man who has embedded himself in her career.Â
This is, as I hypothesize, a textbook case of grooming that we have allowed to happen simply because she does not carry A-List status. Because she does not boast the last name Bellamy or Bardot, we should not have to pay attention to the red flags that have been thrown up throughout the years. Well, I am here to set the record straight. I should have done better for Claudia Marshall. Just because she is a strong role model, does not make her any less infallible or any less susceptible to the manipulation of powerful men. I should have seen the signs, so should you. We all should have.
Bethany Walker is a guest content writer for AXED! and screenwriter for Prometheus Productions.
AXED! is not liable for the opinions expressed in this piece, nor are they considered fact.
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