The Lonely Hearts Bar. Конни Гранма

in the morning, I was awoken once again by a loud noise. From the window, I spotted a pair of legs sticking out from under my car, so I left the bar and walked over, staring at the worn chucks.

      «Morning,» came David’s muffled voice.

      «Morning!» I replied, somewhat annoyed, examining the black spots that stained his clothing.

      «Your car’s ready. To. Roll,» he declared, pulling himself completely out from under the vehicle.

      «Thanks. How much do I owe you?»

      «It’s on the house.»

      «But you —»

      «The car’s ready to go, alright? Have a nice day.» He headed to the bar.

      I followed him and ran into Nick.

      «Mornin’ honey! I was just comin’ out to fix yer car. The ol’ handyman hit the bottle and now he’s lyin’ somewhere on the road with a bunch o’ Injuns, tryin’ to prove it’s his land. So I’ll be takin’ care of this masself.»

      «That actually won’t be necessary, but thanks!»

      «What do you mean… it won’t be necessary?» he drawled, his brows furrowed.

      «It’s working again.»

      «Well I never! Was outback lookin’ for my toolkit all night!»

      «Well, this is for the sleep you lost over my car. And would you mind giving that money to David Ogden?»

      «He do a striptease for you or something?»

      «Not exactly. Thanks again.»

      I got into the car and drove off, a plume of sand rising in the rearview mirror.

      «Don’t look back in anger,» by my favorite band, Oasis, blasted at full volume. It’s an oldie but a goodie. Whew! I was singing at the top of my lungs! My thoughts were far away, somewhere on the far side of the moon.

      I’d packed up as soon as I got the letter saying I’d been accepted to a master’s degree in filmmaking and screenwriting. Only a couple weeks remained until the start of classes. So I got into my car and decided to go it alone – well, with one sidekick – my GPS, and a useless map. No planes, trains, greyhound buses… just me, my good old homegrown clanker, Murica and the far side of the moon.

      The line of downtown skyscrapers peeked over the horizon and my hands tightened around the steering wheel. I slowly took off my dad’s old Ray-Ban Wayfarers.

      «Los Angeles.» The words made my heart skip a beat. Long, tangled roads, palm trees, graffiti, that signpost with all of Los Angeles’s sister cities and their distance in miles, Walt Disney Concert Hall, the Sunset Strip, the Angel’s Flight railway, Watts Towers… The colors of the traffic lights seem different, the crowds on the crosswalks, the little stores with real American Coca-Cola and, of course, the sky…

      My name is Connie, and I’m not sixty-five. I came to Los Angeles because I was accepted into a filmmaking and screenwriting course. Winning-at-life level: 50 %.

      This is where my new story starts.

      1

      Cinema is bigger than all of this other stuff. Cinema truly is an art form given to us by the gods …with the magic of it. The other stuff isn’t important.

Francis Ford Coppola, «Seduced and Abandoned»

      «Well… home sweet home!» My bags fell to the floor with a thump.

      Before the start of the academic year, I had to do everything on my Murican to-do list: watch «Friends» in pajamas on the couch, order Papa John’s at 1am, run around the apartment screaming like Kevin in «Home Alone»…

      At night I turned everything off, went out on the balcony and sat in a rocking chair, soaking in the nighttime view of Los Angeles and joined occasionally by my glass of lemon water. And then I watched a light purple chiffon scarf float in the air, as if dancing to the whispering wind. What does this incredible calm in my heart mean?

      My first academic day in Los Angeles. Morning. I had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV with a towel on my head. Then my alarm went off. I blow-dry my hair and quickly pull on a big T-shirt and shorts. A couple sips of coffee. I pull on my Nikes with their clashing laces. Off I go!

      I slid into the parking space and looked up at the main building of the university. How would my life change after I take the next step? What sort of dialogues or monologues will echo among the walls of a university I haven’t yet been to? Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I didn’t even glance at anyone as I ran to the classroom, which I still had to find.

      There it is! Inside, there were a couple desks arranged in a semicircle. I sat down next to Alex and William.

      Ten minutes later, all seats were occupied. A tall, slender man with backswept, graying hair entered the classroom. It was trimmed at the sides, and his eyes were framed by rectangular, black-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a black T-shirt, slightly worn dark gray jeans, and purple converse.

      «Hi guys! I’m Brendon Bern. My students tend to shorten that to BB,» he wrote two capitalized Bs on the board, «and that’s okay. I’m going to lead your group for the first two classes: «Film Directing» and «Cinematic Storytelling,» plus a class on screenwriting and, as I call it, ‘Write your own story’.»

      Classes went on until evening. There were two breaks, during which the students got to know the cafeteria.

      «Not many people become real directors: that comes from the depths of the human soul and subconscious. This field of work is crazy: lengthy, meticulous and extremely difficult. If you have even the smallest doubt in your abilities, the door’s open, and I’d advise you to leave this building immediately and avoid it in the future. You see, you have to envision beforehand how everything’s going to look,» he paused and studied each face, «you have to work with the screenplay, create a clear plan, but nonetheless always be ready for improvisation during takes and criticism afterwards. The set is your home, your world, your universe, where only those who’ll help you put your thoughts onscreen can enter.»

      Mr. BB did everything so that we’d feel, from the very first day, that we’d entered another world: the world of the film industry. He gave a persuasive lecture on how important it was for directors to have acting experience, and made it clear that this would be the basis of his lessons: «The director is in front of the camera, just like the actor. Not behind it.»

      «I don’t follow the rules or the schedule by the door: I constantly improvise. That’s why you’ll have a hard time guessing beforehand what our next topic is.»

      This was followed by my first performance on a small stage, when, instead of homework, Mr. BB thought up a «tricky» improv for the topic of «mise-en-scène.» We had to stage a small scene from any film and play the main roles in front of graduate students. They now looked appraisingly at my co-star Alex and me.

      God, my hands are shaking like crazy! Yet I feel strangely euphoric inside. I proposed a scene from «Pulp Fiction.» Pretty sure you know which one.

      So, the girl dressed up as Marilyn holds the prize, and the announcer asks Mia to introduce herself. Everything’s just like that shot from the Tarantino film, even Mia Wallace’s gold shoes. Only her toenail polish slipped my mind. I’m playing Uma Thurman; Alex is John Travolta’s Vincent Vega. And here it comes, Chuck Berry’s song «You can never tell.» The main thing here, of course, is the twist.

      It was worth it! I was waiting for the moment when we’d get a standing ovation from the whole room, even if it wasn’t all that big. For some reason I was really surprised by it. Winning at life level: 51 percent! It’s an incredible feeling. Just like that light, dizzy sensation when you take your wig off at the end of the show…

      There were twelve people in my group, and everyone turned out to be really friendly. They each had their thing. For example, Alex was amazing at getting into character. He’d probably be better off studying