บท 19: Filming wrapped up
Morning came way too early after a night of intense editing, but I dragged myself out of bed to meet the team. We had a movie to finish, after all.
Hours of filming later, we were finally at the last scene - the big confrontation between Michael and Kay at the Shadow Estate. As I looked around the study, watching the crew make their final preparations, I felt a mix of exhaustion and excitement. This was it.
I nodded to start rolling, and Firfel jumped right into character as Kay.
"Michael, is it true?" she demanded, her voice trembling with worry and anger.
I took a drag from my cigarette, channeling all of Michael's newfound coldness. "Don't ask me about my business, Kay."
Firfel's voice rose, her elven tones making even her anger sound musical. "Is it true?!"
I matched her intensity, jabbing my finger for emphasis. "Don't ask me about my business!"
"No!" Firfel cried, every inch the distraught wife.
And then... something shifted. I felt a strange heat in my eyes as I said, "Enough." The word came out calm, but there was an icy edge to it that surprised even me.
I waited for Firfel to call me out on my weird delivery, but she just stared at me, wide-eyed. Assuming she was deep in character, I pressed on.
"Alright... This one time," I said, my voice low. "This one time, you can ask me about my affairs."
Firfel's face was a mask of conflicting emotions, she was quiet for a few seconds as she asked, "Did you?"
I looked her straight in the eye, shaking my head slightly. "No..."
The tension held for a moment before Firfel's face softened. She approached me, and we embraced. I kissed her cheek, trying desperately to stay in character and not think about how nice she smelled.
As soon as I called cut, I bolted for the projector, eager to review the scene and hide my embarrassment.
"When I said 'enough,' did I not look the part?" I asked Firfel, worried I'd messed up the crucial moment. "Was it bad?"
Firfel looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Bad? It was actually good. You said 'Enough' so coldly it gave me chills."
I laughed, not buying it. "You're joking."
"It's true, boss," Klein chimed in. "I even saw your eyes change color."
Now it was my turn to look confused. "My eyes changed color?"
"Yeah, from golden to scarlet," another crew member added. "It was terrifying."
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
Firfel looked thoughtful. "I thought you did it on purpose. It's rare to see a royal demon eyes transform like that. It's a sign of great power, but..." She trailed off, giving me a look that clearly said, 'But you're you, so...'
I chuckled inwardly. Yeah, I got it. Trashy prince and all that.
"Maybe your eyes changed because of your emotion as Michael?" Firfel suggested.
"Maybe," I said, not entirely convinced.
As the crew bustled around, preparing to review the footage, I couldn't shake a nagging feeling. Had I really tapped into something deeper for that scene? And if I had... what did that mean?
We huddled around the projector, and sure enough, there it was. Right after I said "Enough," my eyes shifted from their usual golden hue to a deep, unsettling scarlet. It was like watching a spark catch fire, bringing a chill to the room despite the heat in my gaze.
I didn't understand how or why my eyes had changed, but I wasn't about to look a gift demon horse in the mouth. This unexpected transformation captured Michael's inner turmoil perfectly. Sometimes, dumb luck is the best director.
"Well," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, "I guess we don't need to reshoot that one."
The crew murmured in agreement, still looking at me like I might spontaneously combust at any moment. Great.
We quickly set up for the final shot. Firfel, as Kay, left the room after our embrace. The camera followed her, capturing the moment she turned back to see Michael's men approaching him, kissing his ring in a show of loyalty. The door swung shut, leaving Kay - and the future audience - on the outside looking in.
"And... cut!" I called out, my voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, nobody moved. It was like we were all holding our breath, afraid to break the spell.
Then it hit me. We'd done it. The Demonfather was complete.
"That's a wrap, everyone," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "We... we actually did it."
The studio erupted into cheers and applause. Crew members were hugging each other, some even crying (though they'd probably blame it on some errant hellfire smoke if you asked).
***
As the euphoria of wrapping up the film began to settle, it was time for goodbyes. We bid farewell to our main cast - the demons who'd brought Tom Hagen, Peter Clemenza, and the rest to life. It felt strange, like saying goodbye to family members we'd only just met.
Firfel lingered behind, her eyes sparkling with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "You know," she said, a small smile playing on her lips, "when I first signed up for this role, I had no idea the script was written by a young prince of the Morningstar royal family. I thought it was just from some aspiring director with a wild imagination."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I'm not exactly a prince anymore. So yeah, you're right - it did come from an aspiring director." I shrugged, trying to play it cool.
Firfel shook her head, her expression turning serious. "No, seriously. When I found out it was you, I had my doubts. I loved the script, thought it was unique. But I was worried you'd ruin it."
"Ouch," I said, clutching my chest in mock pain. "Tell me how you really feel, why don't you?"
She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. "Let me finish, you drama queen. What I'm trying to say is... you proved me wrong. You didn't just do well, you did great."
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline.
"I mean it," she continued. "You're actually really good at directing. Despite having such a small, inexperienced crew, you led them well. The way you handled the camera angles, the sound composition... it was beautifully done."
I felt my face heating up, and for once, it wasn't because my eyes were doing that weird color-changing thing. "Thanks," I mumbled, suddenly finding my shoes very interesting.
Inside, I was laughing. If only she knew that I'd basically stolen every camera angle and sound cue from the movie in my previous life. Thank hell for crystal-clear past-life memories, right?
***
With the last echoes of "that's a wrap" fading away, we dove headfirst into the next challenge: editing. The studio, which had been a whirlwind of activity during filming, now became a different kind of chaos. Reels of film covered every surface, and the air hummed with the constant whir of projectors and splicers.
My team and I were putting in overtime, fueled by a mix of determination and whatever passed for coffee in the demon world. We'd poured our souls into this film for weeks, and now it was time to shape it into something coherent. No pressure, right?
"Alright, people," I called out, my voice slightly hoarse from too many late nights and not enough sleep. "Let's make this edit as tight as a miser's purse. We've got to be good and we've got to be quick. The Ferland Demon Film Festival is breathing down our necks, and we can't afford to miss it."
A chorus of "Got it, boss" echoed around the room, punctuated by the snipping of film and the occasional curse as someone inevitably nicked a finger.
Then, from the corner, came a gruff voice that could only belong to Rocky. "Why am I editing here? I thought I was only an actor?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "It's your fault for boasting so much about your film editing skills a few days ago. Consider this your audition for a new career."
Rocky grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "smart-ass kid," but I saw the glimmer of a smile on his face as he bent over a reel of film.
As we worked, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. Each frame of film was precious - and expensive. We'd been careful during filming, but now every cut felt like a life-or-death decision. One wrong snip and we could lose a crucial moment, a perfect expression, a bit of magic we'd never be able to recreate.
"Hey, boss," George called out, holding up a strip of film. "Remember when your eyes did that weird color-change thing? Should we, uh, edit that out?"
I paused, considering. That moment had been unintentional, unexpected... and absolutely perfect for Michael's character arc.
"Leave it in," I decided. "Sometimes the best bits of movies are the accidents."
บท 20: Ferland Demon Film Festival
Weeks of filming followed by two solid weeks of editing had left us all looking like we'd been dragged through the nine circles of hell. And now, with the Ferland Demon Film Festival (FDFF) looming just two days away, we were running on fumes and whatever passed for coffee in the demon realm.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of our marathon editing session, a cheer erupted in the studio. We'd done it. Three hours of demonic cinematic glory, ready for the world to see.
The team hugged each other, exhausted but elated. I couldn't help but overhear their tired mumblings:
"Sob, I thought our suffering finally ended when we finished filming. Turns out editing is much worse."
"You're right. It was so tiring."
"I kind of miss doing makeup for the cast."
"Now it's complete, I'm glad."
I had to bite back a laugh. If only they knew this was just the beginning.
After bidding farewell to my weary crew, I crashed hard, sleeping like the dead (which, in demon terms, is pretty impressive). I woke up at 10:00 PM, feeling like I'd been hit by a hellhound.
The studio was eerily quiet. Seems like the rest of the crew was either still in bed or just dragging themselves back to consciousness. It wasn't until 1:00 PM that everyone had finally trickled in, looking like they'd been through a war.
"Alright, guys," I said, once everyone was assembled. "Now that we've completed the filming and editing, it's time for the moment of truth. We're going to review the whole film."
A buzz of excitement ran through the group. Amazing how quickly exhaustion can turn to enthusiasm when there's a chance to see the fruits of your labor.
As we settled in to watch, I couldn't help but sneak glances at my team. Their expressions ranged from disbelief to awe as the film unfolded.
"We did... We did this film?" I heard someone whisper.
"I know, right? We're only two hours in, and it's so good."
I chuckled to myself. They probably thought we'd end up with something passably average. After all, what else could you expect from a bunch of inexperienced misfits led by an exiled prince who hadn't even finished high school?
But as the film played on, I felt a swell of pride. We'd done it. Against all odds, we'd created something... well, something pretty damn good.
"Well," I said as the credits rolled, "I guess we didn't completely mess it up, huh?"
The studio erupted in cheers and laughter. Rocky clapped me on the back, nearly knocking me over. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
As the excitement died down, reality set in. We had a film. A good film, even. But now came the real challenge - getting people to watch it.
***
With our film finally complete, it was time for the moment of truth: submitting it to the festival. I found myself in the lobby of the FDFF headquarters, surrounded by a sea of hopeful filmmakers, each clutching their precious reels like lifelines.
The moment I walked in, all eyes turned to me. I could practically hear their thoughts: "Look, it's the exiled prince. What's he doing here?" Their stares ranged from curious to outright hostile. Great. Just what I needed - more pressure.
I approached the submission desk, where a bored-looking demon sat, his horns curled around a pair of reading glasses. His name tag read "Brimstone, Film Intake Coordinator."
"Name and film title?" he drawled, not bothering to look up.
"Arthur Morningstar," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The film is called 'The Demonfather'."
At that, Brimstone's head snapped up, his eyes widening in recognition. "Morningstar? As in the exiled prince?"
I nodded, bracing myself for rejection.
To my surprise, a slow grin spread across Brimstone's face. "Well, well. This ought to be interesting. Alright, Your Ex-Highness, let's see what you've got."
I handed over our film reels, each one feeling like it weighed a ton. Brimstone hefted them, raising an eyebrow.
"Three hours, huh? Ambitious."
As he started filling out the paperwork, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was too easy. "Don't you need to review it first?" I asked, immediately regretting opening my mouth.
Brimstone chuckled. "Kid, half the fun of this festival is seeing what kind of train wrecks make it through. And a movie made by an exiled prince? That's too good to pass up."
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or offended. But hey, we were in. That's what mattered, right?
As I turned to leave, paperwork in hand, Brimstone called out, "Hey, Morningstar!"
I looked back.
"Break a leg," he said, then added with a wink, "Or a horn. Whatever works for you demons."
As I walked out of the lobby, past the staring crowd of fellow filmmakers, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread. We'd cleared the first hurdle, but the real test was yet to come.
***
Two days flew by in a blur of anxiety and last-minute preparations. Before we knew it, the Ferland Demon Film Festival was in full swing, transforming the Indulgence District into a glittering spectacle of demonic glamour.
We found ourselves huddled at the edge of the red carpet, watching as a parade of demon celebrities arrived in vehicles that probably cost more than our entire production budget. The air crackled with excitement and the faint scent of brimstone.
My crew, bless their demonic hearts, were absolutely losing it. Their professional demeanor vanished the moment the first star-studded limo pulled up.
"Is that Lee from the Beelzebub acting family?! Lee!" George shouted, jumping up and down like an excited imp.
One of our makeup artists, a young demoness named Lilith, practically swooned. "That's Jonathan from the Lust Family!" Her eyes were so wide I was worried they might pop out of her head.
"You like that guy?" Mara, another crew member, scoffed. "I don't like him. I prefer Leonardo from the Jackson family!"
"Hmph. Jonathan is way more handsome than your Leonardo," Lilith shot back.
"At least he's not a lustful guy like Jonathan."
"That's natural. He is from the Lust Family."
"Heh. Heard he was having relationships with both women and men."
"That's a lie!"
I watched this exchange with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Here we were, about to premiere our film at one of the biggest events in the demon world, and my crew was gossiping like teenagers at a hellfire high school.
"Guys," I tried to interject, "maybe we should focus on—"
"Oh my Satan!" Rocky's voice boomed over the chatter. "Is that... is that Damien Darkflame?!"
I turned to see a towering demon with skin like polished obsidian step out of a car that seemed to be made of living shadows. The crowd went wild.
"Who's Damien Darkflame?" I asked, immediately regretting the question as every single member of my crew turned to stare at me in horror.
"Who's Damien Darkflame?" George repeated, sounding scandalized. "Only the biggest action star in the nine circles! How can you not know Damien Darkflame?"
I shrugged, feeling very much like the out-of-touch exiled prince I was. "Been a bit busy making a movie, remember?"
As my crew launched into a detailed explanation of Damien Darkflame's filmography (apparently, he was famous for his catchphrase "Hell hath no fury like me"), I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. We were small fry in a big, fiery pond.
But then I remembered our film. The Demonfather. Our labor of love, sweat, and probably a little too much ketchup. We might not have the glamour or the star power, but we had heart. And in the movie business, sometimes that's all you need.
"Alright, team," I said, interrupting the Darkflame debate. "Our time will come. For now, let's just enjoy the show. And maybe try not to drool too obviously over the celebrities, okay?"
They laughed, the tension breaking a little.
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