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Sophie’s always loved the movies.
It’s half the reason she wants to be an actress, three quarters of what got her into grifting, and one hundred percent responsible for her rich fantasy life. There’s always something to the idea of being whisked away, shown a whole new world and being able to reach out and touch it for yourself.
Sophie loves the movies. She just never expects to be dropped into one by a tempermental rift.
A silent film, no less.
Still, the opportunity is an interesting one. She’s always looked stunning in black and white, and now she’s achieved what she’s always wanted without having to go through the process of auditioning and starting over. She’s a femme fatale, a damsel in distress, and the romantic love interest every day of the week, and she loves it more than she can possibly say. Even if her life is continually interrupted by title cards explaining the moment. She would explain to someone that she doesn’t really need them—her acting is more than capable of speaking for her, but she doesn’t think it will do much good.
Still, at the end of the day, she’s always the woman that’s wanted. The woman that is cared for and rescued, and won, and the man is exactly what she’s always needed from the other men in her life—trustworthy, reliable, true. It’s far too good to be real, far too simple to be safe, but for a little while she lets herself believe the illusion. There’s dramatic tension—love, laughter and heartbreak all rolled into one, and she lives for it in a way that she never has anything else.
Her final scene is rather cliché, but she plays the part with every ounce of fervor she has. She’s the damsel in distress, tied to the rail road tracks. He true love will rescue her, and she tells the robber baron just that (the title cards never lie, but Sophie does use much more colorful language), but all he’ll do is cackle away, claiming that no one could save her now. She swoons dramatically, lying prone against the railroad tracks as the card flashes in front of them.
But who will save the day?
(Sophie keeps trying to convince the movie runner, whoever he is, that it would be much more interesting if for once the damsel saves herself and bests the villain without the hero’s help, but he seems to think that the movies aren’t ready for powerful women’s roles yet. Not that they actually have that conversation—the only sound that actually exists in this universe is the bad piano music for the background noise—but she likes to think that’s what he says.)
The hero jumps onto the scene as the train is barreling down the tracks, and just as he’s about to reach down and save the day, the world explodes in a burst of color and like Dorothy heading to Oz, she’s dropped down onto a Chicago street. She’s still completely bound, and she she’s dressed in her costume for the movie, but at least she’s not on those rail road tracks anymore.
Even if she’s a little sad the music stopped.
She wiggles a bit, trying to get herself up into a sitting position, to see where she is, but the ropes don’t give much room to bend. All she can see is what she assumes to be Grant Park and she lets out a small sigh as she flops back against the ground.
“Life is so much better in the movies.”
597 words
It’s half the reason she wants to be an actress, three quarters of what got her into grifting, and one hundred percent responsible for her rich fantasy life. There’s always something to the idea of being whisked away, shown a whole new world and being able to reach out and touch it for yourself.
Sophie loves the movies. She just never expects to be dropped into one by a tempermental rift.
A silent film, no less.
Still, the opportunity is an interesting one. She’s always looked stunning in black and white, and now she’s achieved what she’s always wanted without having to go through the process of auditioning and starting over. She’s a femme fatale, a damsel in distress, and the romantic love interest every day of the week, and she loves it more than she can possibly say. Even if her life is continually interrupted by title cards explaining the moment. She would explain to someone that she doesn’t really need them—her acting is more than capable of speaking for her, but she doesn’t think it will do much good.
Still, at the end of the day, she’s always the woman that’s wanted. The woman that is cared for and rescued, and won, and the man is exactly what she’s always needed from the other men in her life—trustworthy, reliable, true. It’s far too good to be real, far too simple to be safe, but for a little while she lets herself believe the illusion. There’s dramatic tension—love, laughter and heartbreak all rolled into one, and she lives for it in a way that she never has anything else.
Her final scene is rather cliché, but she plays the part with every ounce of fervor she has. She’s the damsel in distress, tied to the rail road tracks. He true love will rescue her, and she tells the robber baron just that (the title cards never lie, but Sophie does use much more colorful language), but all he’ll do is cackle away, claiming that no one could save her now. She swoons dramatically, lying prone against the railroad tracks as the card flashes in front of them.
(Sophie keeps trying to convince the movie runner, whoever he is, that it would be much more interesting if for once the damsel saves herself and bests the villain without the hero’s help, but he seems to think that the movies aren’t ready for powerful women’s roles yet. Not that they actually have that conversation—the only sound that actually exists in this universe is the bad piano music for the background noise—but she likes to think that’s what he says.)
The hero jumps onto the scene as the train is barreling down the tracks, and just as he’s about to reach down and save the day, the world explodes in a burst of color and like Dorothy heading to Oz, she’s dropped down onto a Chicago street. She’s still completely bound, and she she’s dressed in her costume for the movie, but at least she’s not on those rail road tracks anymore.
Even if she’s a little sad the music stopped.
She wiggles a bit, trying to get herself up into a sitting position, to see where she is, but the ropes don’t give much room to bend. All she can see is what she assumes to be Grant Park and she lets out a small sigh as she flops back against the ground.
“Life is so much better in the movies.”
597 words
