The 4tth day of production on Martha's Vineyard broke with a fog that refused to yield to the sun.
Duke Hauser stood beside the open door of a Ford station wagon, his peacoat buttoned tight against the damp chill rolling off the Atlantic Ocean.
The chanical shark was still being repaired out of its precarious internal buoyancy.
Rather than halt the production, Duke simply pivoted, choosing to shoot around the absent monster.
He stared up at the Amity town hall, a weathered wooden structure with peeling white paint and a sagging roof.
The building possessed a kind of architectural wear and tear that Duke found weirdly nostalgic.
Electrical cables went up across the wooden steps, disappearing into the hall where the lighting technicians were already hard at work.
Inside, the room the art departnt had worked through the night, transforming the modest community center into the center of the fictional Amity Island.
Faded nautical maps, amateurish sumr regatta posters, and a wooden sign detailing the town's founding hung from the walls.
Dozens of local residents, hired as background extras, filled the chairs.
Duke moved through the center aisle, offering nods to the locals. He reached the front of the hall, where the cara departnt had established a periter around the main debate stage.
Tucked away in the corner of the room, Roy Scheider stood in silence, trying to get into the ntality of Chief Martin Brody. He wore a khaki police uniform that looked intentionally just a little too tight, emphasizing the uncomfortable nature of a city cop in a small island town.
Scheider held a grainy prop photograph displaying the mutilated remains of the first shark victim that the prop people did at his request.
Duke watched him from across the room, Schreider at least was dedicated.
Opposite Scheider, Murray Hamilton paced behind the wooden podium, embodying the slick Mayor Larry Vaughn. He was practicing his lines in a rapid whisper, experinting with different inflections.
The conflict of the upcoming scene was Vaughn representing the bureaucratic pursuit to keep the sumr dollars flowing to protect the town's economic survival, while Brody stood as the moral wall trying to prevent another tragedy. Duke stepped into the light, raising a hand to signal the crew. The noise of the set evaporated as Duke offered a final, encouraging smile to both actors.
Just as the lucrative Fourth of July tourist season is approaching, a young woman is killed while night swimming. The new police chief, Martin Brody, wants to close the beaches to protect the public.
However, the town's mayor, overrules him.
The mayor is terrified that closing the beaches will ruin the town's sumr economy, so he insists the death was a boating accident and keeps the water open. Unsurprisingly, the shark strikes again, this ti killing a young boy in broad daylight.
Following the boy's death, the mother puts up a 3000$ dollars reward to whoever can kill the shark.
A town eting is then held to address the bounty hunters flooding the island. Marine biologist Matt Hooper arrives to investigate. Quint introduces himself by scraping a chalkboard and offers to hunt the monster for 10.000$.
"Action!" Duke called out.
The scene started, the mayor spoke with joviality as he attempted to placate the townsfolk, promising that the beaches would remain open and safe. Scheider stepped forward, cutting through the mayor's rhetoric and saying the beach would be closed and experts would be contacted.
Duke watched the small, portable video monitor with intense focus, letting the actors find their own organic rhythm. He refused to interrupt them, allowing the natural dialogue to build up the atmosphere.
During the lighting turnaround, the door at the back of the town hall swung open.
Duke turned from the cara monitor and waved toward the entrance. Bruce Lee stepped over into the room, the martial arts legend looked healthy, his face glowing with a relaxed energy.
Trailing closely behind him, his massive shoulders blocking the doorway, was Bolo Yeung. The imposing Mr. Hong Kong who was in Enter the Dragon. Duke had personally invited the two stars to visit the set following their ending of production on their latest movie in Hong Kong.
Bruce navigated the maze of thick electrical cables and C-stands, approaching Duke with a bright smile. He extended a hand, gripping Duke's forearm in a respectful embrace. "You look tired, my friend, the monster is fighting back against you?"
Duke let out a small laugh, "The monster seems to be refusing to appear on cara," Duke replied smoothly. "The machine had issues, so we simply pretend he is out there waiting for us in the dark. It forces the actors to work harder."
Bruce nodded slowly, a look of understanding crossing his face. "The unseen opponent is always the most terrifying one,"
Behind them, Bolo stood quiet, his sheer physical fra intimidating the local extras who whispered and point from their folding chairs.
Duke placed a hand on Bruce's back, guiding him toward the craft services table where Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss were hydrating between setups.
Duke made the formal introductions, watching as Dreyfuss, usually a confident youngster found himself starstruck. The young actor stumbled over his words, clutching a paper cup of water as he tried to formulate a question about Enter the Dragon.
Bruce just smiled and answered the technical questions in detail, defusing the young actor's anxiety.
With the lights finally reset and the crew ready to proceed, Duke turned back to his honored guests. He gestured toward two director's chairs positioned directly behind the cara, a place of privilege on the set.
"Would you care to sit in on the next setup, Bruce?" Duke offered respectfully. "We are moving in for tight close-ups, and I would value your eye for it."
Bruce offered a polite shake of his head, declining the offer. "I ca across the ocean to watch the master work, Duke, not to be watched by the crew," Bruce said softly. "We will find a place out of your way."
Bruce and Bolo retreated to the side on folding chairs in the back of the hall.
The interior work wrapped at noon, a minor miracle of efficiency amidst the complex production schedule. Duke stood at the front of the hall, raising his voice to thank the dozens of local extras for their patience and professionalism during the repetitive takes.
Gary Kurtz materialized beside Duke, handing him a steaming paper cup of black coffee. Duke wondered whether he should hire a Coffee boy, just like Christopher Nolan has a tea person on set.
A few dozen yards away, Richard Dreyfuss paced back and forth across the sand. The young actor muttering his dialogue under his breath, his hands gesturing as he practiced his inflection. Every few monts, Dreyfuss would stop, shooting a nervous glance over toward the figure of Shaw.
Duke did not move a muscle to intervene. He took another slow bite of a salty pretzel, watching the tension unfold. Gary Kurtz stepped up beside him, following Duke's gaze toward the two actors.
The producer shifted his weight in the sand. "Do you want to go over there and say sothing to them?"
"Break the ice?" Duke slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving Shaw. "They are skilled actors. They will work out this tension directly on the cara lens, as long as Robert hits his assigned marks and does not start a physical altercation with the boy, we dont intervene."
Kurtz frowned as he turned to look at Duke. "Aren't you and Dreyfuss the sa age?"
Duke dismissed Kurtz with a hand wave. Shaw possessed a lot of respect for Duke cause of his identity as a writer and standing in the industry and Duke treated him like an adult, so they both were getting along.
A production assistant with a clipboard hurried over, her face pale, she leaned in close to Duke, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Mr. Hauser, soone from wardrobe just checked on Mr. Shaw. They said that silver thermos on the table is full of whiskey."
Duke waved the assistant away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "If he is standing upright and speaking his lines with clarity, you leave him entirely alone,"
"If he happens to fall down in the sand, I'll waterboardd him or sothing." The non-confrontational policy stood in contrast to the stereotypical, screaming matches that defined difficult Hollywood productions.
As the crew began to pack the cara lenses into their velvet-lined cases, Duke retreated to his converted wooden shed near the base camp where the telephone was ringing. Duke reached out, lifting the receiver.
Katzenberg's voice ca out as he reported, that the Federal Trade Commission had backed down from their investigation into the Blue Beetle animated series. There would be absolutely no financial fines levied against the studio, and no new governnt regulations forced upon their lucrative television division.
The looming legal threat had dissolved into a simple, toothless "warning letter" officially advising the studio to label their toy comrcials as sponsored advertising and separate it from the animated show.
"I told you exactly how this would play out, Jeffrey," Duke said, refusing to gloat over the massive victory. "These governnt bureaucrats absolutely do not want to endure years of exhausting lawsuits."
Duke had been having the feeling lately that the governt seem to be a little against him lately, the Paramount Record stuff, investigations from the FTC into Blue Bettle and Atari, and even his studio taxes were under pressure from the IRS as they perford an Audit
___
future partner voting(maybe first son mother...)
Margaux Hemingway
Suzanne Sors
Barbara Bouchet
Another chapter in around 4 hours
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