adolescence, was replaced by a charming sweetness that
spoke to the camera because it was genuine.
Zack coaxed and dragged all of that and much more out of his two female leads during the eight weeks they were in production. His own determination to succeed transmitted itself to both of them, his sense of
timing and lighting had helped too, but mostly it was his intuitive knack of knowing how to use Emily and Rachel to their best advantage.
Rachel had been furious over his badgering and the endless numbers of takes he made her do for each scene, but when he showed her the first week's rushes, she'd looked at him with awe in her wide green
eyes and said softly, "Thank you, Zack. For the first time in my life, it actually looks as if I can really, really act."
"And it also looks as if I can really, really direct,"
he'd teased, but he was relieved and he let it show.
Rachel was amazed. "You mean you've had doubts about it? I thought you were totally sure of everything we've done!"
"Actually, I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep since we started shooting," Zack confessed. It was the first time in years he'd dared to admit to anyone that he had any misgivings about his work, but that day was special. He'd just seen proof that he had a talent for directing. Furthermore, that newly discovered talent was going to dramatically brighten the future of a winsome child named Emily McDaniels when the
critics saw her superb performance in Nightmare.
Zack was so fond of Emily that working with her had
made him long for a child of his own. Watching the closeness and laughter she shared with her father, who stayed on the set to look after her, Zack had suddenly realized he wanted a family. That was what was missing from his life—a wife and children to share his successes, to laugh with and strive for.
Rachel and he celebrated that night with a late dinner served by his houseboy. The mood of shared candor that had begun earlier when they'd admitted their private doubts about their individual abilities led
to a relaxed intimacy that, on Zack's part, was as unprecedented as it was therapeutic. Seated in his living
27
room in Pacific Palisades in front of the two-story glass wall that looked out over the ocean, they talked for hours, but not about "the business," which came as a welcome change to Zack, who'd despaired of meeting an actress who could concentrate on anything else. They ended up in his bed where they further
indulged themselves with a night of highly pleasurable and inventive lovemaking. Rachel's passion seemed
genuine rather than a repayment for making her look good on film, and that pleased him, too. In fact, he was thoroughly contented with everything as they lay in his bed—the rushes, Rachel's sensuality, her intelligence, and her wit.
Beside him, she levered herself up on her elbows.
"Zack, what do you really want from life? I mean, really want?"
For a moment, he stayed silent, and then perhaps because he was weak from hours of intercourse or perhaps because he was sick of pretending that the life he'd carved for himself was exactly what he wanted, he answered with only a touch of derision,
"Little House on the Prairie."
"What? You mean, you want to star in a movie sequel to 'Little House on the Prairie'?"
"No, I mean I want to live it. The house doesn't have to be on the prairie, though. I've been thinking about a ranch in the mountains somewhere."
She burst out laughing. "A ranch! You hate horses and you despise cattle, everyone knows it. Tommy Newton told me so," she said, referring to Nightmare's fledgling assistant director. "He worked as a grip
on the first Western you made when you were a kid
—the one where Michelle Pfeiffer played your girlfriend." Smiling, she rubbed her finger across his lips. "What have you got against horses and cattle anyway?"
He gave her finger a playful nip and said, "They don't take direction worth a damn, and they stampede in
the wrong direction. That's what
spoke to the camera because it was genuine.
Zack coaxed and dragged all of that and much more out of his two female leads during the eight weeks they were in production. His own determination to succeed transmitted itself to both of them, his sense of
timing and lighting had helped too, but mostly it was his intuitive knack of knowing how to use Emily and Rachel to their best advantage.
Rachel had been furious over his badgering and the endless numbers of takes he made her do for each scene, but when he showed her the first week's rushes, she'd looked at him with awe in her wide green
eyes and said softly, "Thank you, Zack. For the first time in my life, it actually looks as if I can really, really act."
"And it also looks as if I can really, really direct,"
he'd teased, but he was relieved and he let it show.
Rachel was amazed. "You mean you've had doubts about it? I thought you were totally sure of everything we've done!"
"Actually, I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep since we started shooting," Zack confessed. It was the first time in years he'd dared to admit to anyone that he had any misgivings about his work, but that day was special. He'd just seen proof that he had a talent for directing. Furthermore, that newly discovered talent was going to dramatically brighten the future of a winsome child named Emily McDaniels when the
critics saw her superb performance in Nightmare.
Zack was so fond of Emily that working with her had
made him long for a child of his own. Watching the closeness and laughter she shared with her father, who stayed on the set to look after her, Zack had suddenly realized he wanted a family. That was what was missing from his life—a wife and children to share his successes, to laugh with and strive for.
Rachel and he celebrated that night with a late dinner served by his houseboy. The mood of shared candor that had begun earlier when they'd admitted their private doubts about their individual abilities led
to a relaxed intimacy that, on Zack's part, was as unprecedented as it was therapeutic. Seated in his living
27
room in Pacific Palisades in front of the two-story glass wall that looked out over the ocean, they talked for hours, but not about "the business," which came as a welcome change to Zack, who'd despaired of meeting an actress who could concentrate on anything else. They ended up in his bed where they further
indulged themselves with a night of highly pleasurable and inventive lovemaking. Rachel's passion seemed
genuine rather than a repayment for making her look good on film, and that pleased him, too. In fact, he was thoroughly contented with everything as they lay in his bed—the rushes, Rachel's sensuality, her intelligence, and her wit.
Beside him, she levered herself up on her elbows.
"Zack, what do you really want from life? I mean, really want?"
For a moment, he stayed silent, and then perhaps because he was weak from hours of intercourse or perhaps because he was sick of pretending that the life he'd carved for himself was exactly what he wanted, he answered with only a touch of derision,
"Little House on the Prairie."
"What? You mean, you want to star in a movie sequel to 'Little House on the Prairie'?"
"No, I mean I want to live it. The house doesn't have to be on the prairie, though. I've been thinking about a ranch in the mountains somewhere."
She burst out laughing. "A ranch! You hate horses and you despise cattle, everyone knows it. Tommy Newton told me so," she said, referring to Nightmare's fledgling assistant director. "He worked as a grip
on the first Western you made when you were a kid
—the one where Michelle Pfeiffer played your girlfriend." Smiling, she rubbed her finger across his lips. "What have you got against horses and cattle anyway?"
He gave her finger a playful nip and said, "They don't take direction worth a damn, and they stampede in
the wrong direction. That's what
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