“God forbid. I love red wine, but after this, I’ll never drink it on a plane again. Of course, please allow me to send you a new dress, if you would be so kind as to give me your address.”
“That’s very kind, but I doubt you or any other man could choose a dress that I might like, let alone would actually wear. Men have terrible taste. They can’t even choose an appropriate tie or the proper color for a suit.”
He smiled at her, you might say paternalistically. “And what do you think of me then? Do you think I’m as tastelessly dressed as all men are in your opinion?”
She looked him up and down as if assessing him: “I would say: so-so. Not very elegant and not terribly tasteless. So-so. Fifty-fifty. To judge properly, I would have to know whether your tailor, your wife, or your servant chose the material and cut.”
Holved meant to say that he was not married, but he swallowed his response. He also did not mention that he had a servant, a chauffeur, and a housekeeper. He said to himself: Why? In a few hours we’ll arrive in New York and I’ll never see her again. Plus, I’m not interested in seeing her again. Why? What would be the reason? A third wife? Not me. I’ve had plenty with two. And plus, she’s too young for me. She can’t be older than twenty-five.
“You talk so much about good taste, but when I see the scarecrows women wear on their heads, the words ‘ridiculous,’ ‘appalling,’ and ‘terrifying’ seem like an understatement.”
“You’re right. But for your information, a woman wants to be noticed and will stop at nothing, not even wearing the most monstrous hat, as long as she is the only one in the entire city wearing it. When she is walking down the street, she wants all eyes on her hat, especially those of other women seething with jealousy.”
As if she wanted to change the subject, she tipped her head and indicated the book that was peeking out from the seat pocket in front of him. “May I ask what you are reading on this trip?”
“I always carry two or three books with me. But usually just when I have finished the first chapter and want to start the second one, the announcement ‘Tighten your belts for landing’ comes on. Then I push the book back into my briefcase and it’s very rare that I find time later on to pick it back up.” He pulled out the book. “Toltec Architecture,” he said, looking at the title and handing the book to her.
“Are you an architect, if I may ask?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I do work in construction. And you know, the Toltec, a perished Indian people of Mexico, were great builders. We can learn a lot from them. If they had known how to melt and forge iron, and if they had known about the keystone and the wheel, they would have far surpassed Europeans and Asians as far as construction is concerned.”
She browsed through the book.
“Every once in a while, I have something to do with the Toltec, Maya, Aztec, Inca, and similar ancient civilizations,” she said, handing the book back to him.
“Are you a student of archaeology, anthropology, or history?”
“Far from it, very far.”
“Really, very far? How far, if I may ask?”
“Well,” she said, “you couldn’t measure the distance in feet, I would say.”
She ran her hands down her damaged dress while saying this, as if she wanted to smooth it out. Following the movement of her hands, he thought that she was really more of a girl than a woman.
“For three years,” she said without looking at him, “I’ve been the chief officer of the review body of the WWGLS Film Corporation. I have my own private office, two front offices with three secretaries, and five assistants. I can’t think of any other work that would satisfy me as much. I have a massive library at my fingertips. In addition, all expenses like hotel, per diem, taxis, drinks, and entertainment are paid for during every business trip, like this one. The company needs me more than I need them.”
“You said review body. What kind of research and examinations do you have to do? And what is the purpose? Do you mean to say for detective films?” he asked.
“Quite often for detective films. You are right. Mainly though, I am responsible for making sure that in a film, let’s say a film about the time period of Richard II, not only the costumes but also the weapons, the shape of the chairs, the beds and water bowls, as well as the baby cribs are historically accurate and authentic. I have to find out whether the Roman legions under Caesar marched in a closed column and in step, or whether it was an unorganized heap of soldiers. I spent a lot of effort—and the company a lot of dollars—to figure out exactly when, on what occasion, and in which locations forks, napkins, handkerchiefs, high heels, braids, wigs, and crinolines were used for the first time. Often, it’s not the public but the critics who jump on these incidental mistakes and they do so not so much as to criticize but rather to show off their knowledge.”
Holved laughed. “I have to say that you have a devilishly difficult responsibility. I assume every now and then you have to figure out how many tons of concrete and square feet of glass are needed for a building with twelve floors?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you ever had to answer those questions?”
“Not exactly those, but similar ones. Two months ago, I saw the first showing of a western in our screening room. It was about a gold digger who walks through a desert for three days before he comes upon a miserable farm. He has loaded his haul and tools onto a pony. According to the script, his haul was worth one hundred fifty thousand dollars. After the screening, I went into my office. Fifteen minutes later, I explained to the production director that you would need at least three, if not four ponies to carry that amount of gold dust. I also informed him that if a gold digger did not find water at least twice on his march through the Arizona desert, neither he nor his pony would reach the farm. The change did not hurt anyone and cost the company less than three hundred dollars. It seemed the only thing they needed to change was the dialogue, reducing the worth of the gold dust to eighteen thousand dollars and the duration of the march to two days and a night. It would be a ridiculously hard journey, but at least a possible one. If the company had not made the change, it would have received no less than two hundred letters calling us idiots. So, you see how important my work is. The question is not only how authentic the material looks, but also where to get it from.”
“What I don’t get,” said Holved, “is why the director doesn’t notice such glaring mistakes.”
“He can’t worry about such things. To him, the details are incidental. He receives the script and that’s what he uses to direct. He has to concentrate on the whole and can’t be interrupted every ten minutes to ask someone who happens to be standing around: ‘Listen, could you possibly tell me what the age of conscription is in Bosnia?’ As you can see, division of labor is as vital here as in any other prominent business.”
“Tell me about it. Division of labor. If division of labor did not exist, we would not be sitting in this airplane, which is transporting us from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast in just a few hours. I admit that it does so not without causing us some anxiety, since we’re human beings and not birds, but with quite a bit of comfort, ease, and almost one hundred percent safety. In the same way, if I understand correctly, no film could be produced without your work, your painstaking work.”
“That’s not entirely correct. If I didn’t have this job in the company, someone else would do my work, maybe even as well as I do it or maybe even better. Who knows?”
“My case is a little different, to talk about me for a change. I’m the sole ruler, with one caveat: only so long as the stock market is stable.”