Page 5 of Love Unscripted
“Thank you.”
Inside the soundstage, Aaron Cortelli was reviewing a document when he looked up and saw her. Camille took a deep breath, again confronted by the quiet magnetism that seemed to surround him. This was the first time she had seen him since the audition nearly a year earlier. The changes were obvious. His hair was long, grazing his shoulders, and he wore a trim beard and mustache—no doubt for his role as King Ahasuerus, which she knew he was playing in addition to directing. He had on awhite shirt, a black jacket, and black jeans. Altogether he looked undeniably handsome.
Camille swallowed, reminding herself that she was here for a fresh start, nothing more.
~*~*~*~
He had not expected the moment to affect him, but it did. Aaron glanced away from the sight of Camille making her way toward him, giving himself a moment to regain his composure. He had not seen her since the audition, and seeing her now moving with command even as she ever so gently sashayed those hips in that elegant dress—reminded him exactly why he had insisted Ray not cast her and probably why Ray had insisted that he would.
He did not miss the way several male crew members’ eyes immediately locked onto her. The attention was unmistakable.
She fit Esther. That much was certain. She was very beautiful. But there was also Aradia—theShadow Peakqueen—woven into her presence—the other reason he had objected to her being cast as lead. He knew he would likely need to strip that away if Camille was to portray Esther faithfully and not turn her into something seductive. What had he said to Ray, Esther required restraint, not allure. And Ray had snapped back that as director it was his job to shape it. Well, fine. He would do what he had to because he sensed that if given half a chance she would revert to what seemed to come naturally to her.
Aaron set his notes aside and walked toward her. “Camille. Welcome.”
“Thank you,” she said. Her smile was polite and restrained, any hint of flirtation was absent. For some reason, he had expected that she might try to flirt with him given her reputation. He was relieved that she hadn’t. It would be awkward to have to put her in her place on the first day of work.
“I thought we’d take a few minutes before rehearsal,” he said, “just to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“That would be helpful.”
At his gesture, they stepped aside, away from the center of the set.
“These early scenes,” Aaron said, his voice thoughtful, “begin with Esther before any of this touches her—before the palace, before the crown. She’s with Mordecai, living a life that’s… simple. Steady. There’s warmth there, of course. He’s her only family and the one who has always looked out for her. She feels safe. Protected. You see who she is when she’s not trying to impress or perform for anyone.”
Camille’s expression softened slightly. “So we get to know her as herself first.”
“Exactly,” he said. “And then everything shifts. The selection process begins, and she’s pulled into something she didn’t ask for and doesn’t fully understand. It’s not ambition driving her as it might be for some of the other women—it’s a desire to be obedient. To trust God even though she doesn’t know what He’s doing.” He glanced at her, choosing his words carefully. “There’s submission and hesitation. Even a quiet fear. She’s stepping into a world where she has no control, no guarantees.”
Camille nodded slowly. “So less outward emotion… but more going on beneath the surface.”
“Right,” Aaron said. “She’s watching, learning, trying to find her footing without drawing attention to herself. Every choice matters, even when she doesn’t yet know why. The audience needs to be able to sense that even though she isn’t verbalizing it.”
“It’s what we actors call subtext. The thinking or feeling behind the words.”
“Yes, pretty much.”
“Yep, when what isn’t said out loud is communicated through facial expression, body language, pauses and timing.”
Aaron held her gaze. “Precisely.”
He was impressed that she understood what he had been trying to communicate so well. Not every actor got it right away. He was reminded that this was not her first rodeo. Camille Carlucci had been a child actor, had grown up on television sets so she was an old hand at this. It gave him hope that it might turn out better than he thought.
“If a scene doesn’t feel right,” he said, “tell me. We’ll work it out.”
“Thank you,” Camille said. “I will.”
~*~*~*~
Three weeks Later
Camille sat in her trailer after a long day on set. She brooded as she carefully removed her makeup.
These past few weeks on set had been smooth enough on the surface. She had entered the production with ideas of her own, instincts honed by years of work, but she realized early on that Aaron intended to keep a tight leash on her.If a scene doesn’t feel right, tell me and we’ll work it out,he had said. In practice, though, that promise dissolved the moment the cameras rolled. She would arrive on set and he would lay out her performance with military precision.This is what you’re to do.No room for interpretation. No room for discovery.
At first, she complied eagerly. This was her first foray into Christian cinema, and she genuinely didn’t know where the lines were—what was permissible, what might be questioned. But it didn’t take long for her to notice the imbalance. Other actors floated suggestions—What if I try this? What if we shift that?—and Aaron listened. He considered. He adjusted. When Camille did the same, the answer was immediate and final.
“No. That isn’t Esther. That’s not what Esther would do.”
