Barry and Norman stepped out of the darkness of the cinema theatre, still munching on the paper cartons of popcorn. They blinked in the afternoon sunlight, as their eyes adjusted. There was nothing like a trip to the cinema, nothing in the world as magical as watching films. While their family and friends had thought they were odd for their obsession with movies, they, on the other hand, thought it was everyone else that were the odd ones out. Some of their friends were mad about sport, or music, or fashion, but for these two, there was nothing like the big screen.

They were both in their mid-thirties, and had grown up in what they considered to be a golden age of cinema. From Jurassic Park, to Goodfellas and Trainspotting, the 1990’s had been the decade that got them into films. While the cool kids had been going to see indie rock bands in the city centre, the two friends had been using their fake ID to get into showings of Reservoir Dogs. 

While the sports fans they knew could hardly wait for the finals of the football season, and the World Cup competitions, the highlight of Barry and Norman’s year was the Oscars. They would book the next day off work, and stay up all night, tuned in to the events at the lavish Hollywood award ceremony. 

One evening, Barry called Norman on his mobile phone. Norman paused the movie review show on TV and answered.

‘Norm, I have big news.’ Barry began.

‘If it’s another theory about the Godfather Part III, then I’ve told you, I’m not interested. It’s not a patch on the first two films, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.’ Norman replied. 

‘There’s an article on the Manchester Evening News website. It says filming will start in Manchester on Monday of the new blockbuster starring Joe Palazini. The Hollywood actor will be on location for three weeks.’

‘No way. This is big, huge. This is what we’ve been waiting for.’ said Norman.

‘We’ll never get to Hollywood, but it sounds like Hollywood is coming to us.’ Barry said. 

‘We have to be there. Can you get Monday off work?’

‘Yes, definitely. Even if I have to phone in sick. I’m not missing this for anything.’ Replied Barry excitedly.  

Barry and Norman hopped off the bus in Manchester city centre just after nine o’clock on Monday morning. They walked quickly down Deansgate, mixing with the suited office workers bustling around the city streets on their way to office buildings and meeting. The two men had much more important business to attend to. A Hollywood movie was being shot in their rainy Northern English city. This was massive. And Joe Palazini himself. The actor had risen to fame playing gangsters and hitmen, most of his films being set on the mean streets of New York. And now he was here in Manchester. 

The lads turned off the high street and into the old-fashioned red-brick streets of the Northern Quarter. The hip gentrified area had been featured in a lot of film and TV recently. The area had doubled for 1920s America for a recent television show. Maybe the new Hollywood film would be set in the past, maybe the movie would be set in Prohibition-era New York. 

Barry and Norman turned a corner and stared. There it was. Up ahead the street was cordoned off by a metal fence. It was bad news that the set was closed off, but the good news was that they could see through the wire metal fence. The movie set was visible through the fence, and there was a gate up ahead. The gate was locked with a thick chain and padlock. Black clad security guards wandered around just inside the fence. The two friends had no plans to try and vault the fence or make a break for it and gate-crash the set. For them, it was enough to be there, to see what they could of the set. That, in itself, was something special. 

They went right up to the gates and peered through the wire. On the cordoned-off street they could see the trappings of a film set. Barry was just ecstatic. He tried to take it all in. There were trailers, actual Winnebago trailers, for actual Hollywood stars. Imagine, he said to Norman, having your own trailer on a movie set. People crossed the sets wearing headsets and carrying clipboards. They rushed this way and that as they tried to get things in position for the shoot. 

Barry and Norman spent the day, hovering by the gate, peering at the comings and goings of the set. They tried to take in everything, craning their necks, standing on tiptoes to get a better look at the action on the set inside.

‘Look.’ said Barry. ‘Have you see who that is?’

Norman followed Barry’s gaze. And there he was, the Hollywood legend, Joe Palazini himself. He sauntered down the street with such easy confidence. He oozed the effortless cool, and charm that had helped make him a star. The Italian-American actor walked across the street, and came close to the fence.

‘Excuse me,’ Barry called out. ‘Mr Palazini. We’re massive fans. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a photo or an autograph?’

The actor stopped, and looked at them for a moment. He came right over to the fence. 

‘We’ve seen all your films. We’ve been fans since your early New York movies.’ Norman said.

‘Get out of here.’ Joe Palazini yelled. ‘Go on, beat it. I’m working here. If you’re still here in five minutes I’ll have you arrested.’

The two men were just stunned by the altercation. They looked on as the actor lit a cigarette and marched away, shaking his head at the intrusion. Without looking back, the movie star dashed up the steps of his trailer and slammed the door shut behind him.

Norman swore, and wondered just who people thought they were. He turned to Barry. His friend had tears in his eyes. Norman sighed. 

‘They do say,’ Norman said softly. ‘never meet your heroes.’

Barry looked shocked. Normal really felt for him. Barry had blown this up in his mind. This was his chance to see his dream of Hollywood in action, to see a film set and a Hollywood legend. And that legend had just told him to get lost. 

‘Come on,’ Norman said. ‘I’ll buy you a beer.’ 

Half an hour later, they were sitting in a pub, drinking pints of ale and discussing what had just happened.

‘I can’t believe that guy. Thinking he can speak to us like that, because he’s some Hollywood big-shot.’ Norman said.

‘I never want to watch one of his films ever again. In fact, the way I feel right now, I never want to watch another film. I just can’t believe how rude he was. There was just no need for it. Why would you treat your fans like that?’

Barry sighed, taking a long gulp of beer. His bottom lip trembled as the emotion of the day nagged at him. 

‘It’s ruined it for me.’ Barry said. ‘It’s ruined everything.’

Later that evening, Barry and Norman had been around a few pubs and decided to stop for one last pint before heading for home. They went into the pub, an old-fashioned Northern pub. The place was quiet, as it was mid-week and there were not football games to draw the crowds in. As the barman pulled their pints of bitter, Barry spoke.

‘I’m done with films. I don’t know what I’ll do instead. I might even get into football. There’s a match on tomorrow night. I might even go to the pub to watch it.’

‘Don’t take to heart, mate. Don’t let one rude actor ruin the whole film industry for you. They can’t be all like that.’ Norman replied.

As Norman was paying for their drinks, he glanced down the far end of the bar. There was a man sitting at a stool at the end of the bar. Norman stared at him for a moment. He looked familiar. He nudged Barry.

‘Check it out.’ He whispered, pointing to the end of the bar. 

Barry, acting as naturally as he could, as though they were looking for an empty table, looked over at the guy at the end of the bar. He swore under his breath.

‘It’s the director of the movie.’

They both stared as the man in the flat cap sipped his whiskey. It was definitely him, Francis Martin. The guy was arguably one of the greatest living directors, an absolutely genius of the screen. He didn’t simply just make movies, he created films that were almost works of art. Having been scolded by the actor earlier, the both looked on from a safe distance. Finally, the man noticed them staring.

‘How you guys doing?’ He called out in a thick New York accent. 

That was all the invitation needed, Barry and Norman scurried along, eager to meet the Hollywood director.

‘So good to meet you, Mr Martin. We’re big fans.’ Barry said.

‘The Little Italy trilogy was just the best thing I’ve ever seen. And the cinematography in the restaurant scene, just wow.’ Norman added.

‘Thank you, guys.’ Francis grinned. ‘Always nice to meet a fan. And I’m glad there are still some folks out there who appreciate movies that aren’t full of CGI superheroes.’

While they laughed along, Barry zipped up his jacket to hide his Batman t-shirt.

‘We were at your film set today. It was so cool to glimpse an actual set in real-life.’ Barry said.

‘We saw Joe Palazini through the fence. He said he was too busy to stop and chat.’ Norman added.

‘I bet he did.’ Francis said, rolling his eyes. He downed the last of the whiskey. Barry sensed that the difficult actor was the reason the film-maker was seeking solace in a Manchester pub. He also had an inkling that the day had suddenly taken a turn for the better. 

Francis waived over to the barman, raising his empty glass. 

‘Give me a double, and whatever these gentlemen are having.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom