The filming of L.A. Confidential continued at its usual rapid, urgent, and intense pace. Time was no longer a concern; although movies required repetition and many small assembly processes, everything was moving smoothly. The director had envisioned the film from the first day of shooting.
It was like a North Star that compelled people to sit and focus during work time. In L.A., by the sofa, Monica was present throughout the filming for the first time. She was a true delight, with a keen sense of fashion and a penchant for wearing new dresses. This time, she wore a white dress with a blue leather jacket, looking stunning.
She observed everything with passionate eyes.
She watched Billy’s performance with the necessary attention, noting every detail of his portrayal. Billy was an amazing actor, among the best in Hollywood. His partiality didn’t matter; he had that passion, which was so needed in his love life. Just watching him with such dedication excited her immensely. She was sure he would be a wonderful lover, as sweet as the wine of Dionysus.
-Adjust the lighting; the place needs to be dark... - shouted the crew, who seemed like busy ants in a construction site, everyone ordering every little detail.
Billy was being made up. His face on camera was angular and serious, but when the camera rolled, he shifted to an innocent look with a hint of rebellion, marked by the way he raised his eyebrows.
An old black man in a tattered tuxedo plays the piano. Bud, sipping a drink at the bar, approaches a redhead with too much makeup and too many miles on her.
REDHEAD: Are you having a drink, old man?
REDHEAD: Nobody is born with the name Bud.
BUD: If they give you a name like Wendell, you need an alias.
REDHEAD: “What are you doing, Bud?
BUD: I’m a bit between jobs. Look, what if we...?
A hand lands on Bud’s shoulder. He turns to see Dudley Smith.
DUDLEY: Kid, can I talk to you?
James Cromwell’s presence and his clear way of doing things made him perfect for the role. Some actors remain among characters, recognized but never reaching superstardom. Personally, and in Billy’s view, James was his superstar.
BUD: What’s up, Captain?
DUDLEY: Say goodnight to your friend and join me at those tables in the back.
Pointing to a table hidden by a pillar and shaded by the distant light, Dudley’s eyes were cold and eager. Billy mimicked the questioning look, trying to gauge what was happening in the room. Dudley begins. Bud turns back to the redhead, but she’s already talking to a sailor.
Dudley sits at a table. There is an open newspaper with a small pile beneath it. Bud joins Dudley.
BUD: Does that newspaper say we’ve been accused? Does it say Exley is a hero for ratting me and Stensland out?
DUDLEY: He made his move and got what he wanted. They’re making him a detective.
BUD/BILLY: Captain, what do you want?
DUDLEY: Call me Dudley.
BUD: Dudley, what do you want?
A faint expression of disdain, so subtle it only creates some discomfort.
DUDLEY: Kid, I admire your refusal to testify and your loyalty to your partner. I admire you as a cop, particularly your adherence to violence as a necessary part of the job. And I’m very impressed with your punishment of wife-beaters. Do you hate them, Wendell?
DUDLEY: And with good reason, judging by what I know of your background
Bud looks back. Dudley is becoming too personal.
BUD: What’s going to happen to Stensland? He’ll get cirrhosis from this. He’s a year away from his pension.
DUDLEY: It would have happened years ago if you hadn’t carried him. Why the loyalty, Wendell
BUD: He helped me once. That’s all.
DUDLEY: Your partner is finished. The department’s scapegoat by the chief’s orders. Charges have been filed against him, he’ll be prosecuted, and he’ll get revenge.
BUD: Him and me too. Screw Exley.
DUDLEY: Don’t underestimate his skills. As a politician, he even surpasses me. But the department needs smart men like Exley and... straightforward men like you.
BUD: What do you want?
DUDLEY: Wendell, I want you to come to work for me.
BUD: To do what? Mow your damn lawn?
Smith tears off the newspaper, revealing Bud’s badge and .38 Special.
Bud is stunned by what he sees.
DUDLEY: They’re yours. Take them.
BUD: I knew you had power, but... Is there no damn charge against me?
DUDLEY: Four of the accused retracted their testimonies.
Dudley dismisses the question with a wave of his hand.
DUDLEY: I need you for a mission the chief has approved. A duty few men are fit for, but you were born for it. You’ll be working in Homicide.
Homicide? A detective?
Billy's smile was one he tried to hide, but his eyes sparkled in front of the camera, prompting James to match his expression with a smile of his own. They played off each other like a pair of poker players, elevating the performance to a new level of natural and flawless interaction.
CHIEF: Your talent lies elsewhere, Wendell. This is a job for strength and shooting. You'll do what I say without asking questions. Do you follow?
DUDLEY: Will you work for me?
BUD: Of course... But how?
DUDLEY: How what, Wendell?
BUD: How did you get them to retract their statements?
Dudley places his bloodstained bronze knuckles on the table.
-Great take, change the set. – the director shouted. The studio had small rooms and twelve sets, making it easy to simulate various scenarios.
Billy wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over to where Monica was observing the entire process.
-I think the schedule is more intense than I thought, - Billy remarked, checking his watch and noting it was 5:30 PM. Monica simply nodded, deeply captivated by the magic of filming. Such processes required long hours or multiple takes from different angles for the director and future editor.
-I love being here. Many of the takes are so incredible and insightful that you start to understand how Americans achieve such professional film editing. Many deny its artistry, but I find beauty in it, - Monica commented.
In the 90s, Hollywood reigned supreme over any filmmaker or recording. The potential and risk were simply magnificent, with significant stakes involved.
-Luis, how much time do we have until the next take? - Billy asked a young camera assistant.
-15, 15, and 30, - the young assistant replied. This code meant they would likely be waiting another hour due to some discontent between the director and producers over minor issues. Billy took the script and read through his lines as Monica lovingly caressed his hair, offering small gestures of affection he appreciated.
Monica didn't hesitate to help him with his lines.