The production will not move itself if they cannot find appropriate stand ins. Imagine several background actors dropping out due to illness or conflict of interest. A musical is an esteemed genre of art. This one in particular needs all involved to give more than 100% but he will leave that to Landon. After all this is one project the esteemed producer and director Corvus Maxim DeVille is not taking the helm.
Landon is the name in the director's chair. Something that Corvus offered him without question. As though he had known all along that it belong to his cousin. Perhaps it always had. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is an immense production, one they are rejuvenating with the utmost care. Beyond revival, it is being reawakened. With new blood, new vision and a homage to the strange magic that made it a cult phenomenon the first time it came to be. Scarlet Pictures, Corvusâs own studio nestled in the shadow of the elite of Hollywood, was the stage upon which this new performance would take place. In all manner of speaking.
Corvus sat in his leather chair, pouring over a few transcripts from other possible projects. Always in an constant state of approval or dismissal to his knee eyes. The sunlight split through the blinds over the window behind his desk, casting streaks across the polished floor. Sunlight in the darkness some might say. After all he was a man of a dreary aesthetic. Vintage art deco lighting, and film memorabilia that whisper tales of long-dead monsters and forgotten horror stars graced the ever present opulence of his inner sanctum. The man himself was a figure of deliberate myth. A staple of macabre cinema, Corvus had built his reputation on stylish terror and haunting elegance.
His fingers stroked his goatee as he listened to a voice in his ear, phone dangling carelessly in his hand. Almost as if he found the technology unnecessary. The handset of a blood-red rotary phone rested against his ear. The voice on the other end was indistinct.
âNo,â Corvus said, his voice low but resolute. âI havenât made a mistake.â He leaned forward slightly, dark eyes narrowing. âYes. Iâll call upon you soon. When the time is right. But not before." Tapping the screen, Corvus exhaled through his nose, placing it down atop his mahogany desk. He steepled his fingers, expression unreadable despite the importance of the call. His pondering ceased when a rapping came at his door. Drawing his eyes there, he leaned back in his chair, lowering his hands. "EnterâŠ." -||- @opvlyte
