Curiously, the dance between Edward Norton and Billy Carson began to be played in a new way—this time with a younger Helena, more charming than the years had ever granted her. Not too fond of surgery, with a taste for cigarettes during tense moments. But she was undoubtedly beautiful when she wanted to be. Her body was in great shape, and she never hesitated to claim she was still blooming in her youth—she was younger than Monica. Her dark eyebrows and her disregard for looking pretty… yet, when she chose to be beautiful, she absolutely could. Some women are magnificent and radiant when they decide to be.
She was now wearing a skirt and a white top, showcasing the beauty she was made of.
–I fear the challenges become more essential when filming… Now the bohemian life seemed charming to her… with a wide range of clothes to choose from – she was heard whispering.
She loved it when she had to wear something entirely in the style of Marla Singer—a mad style, with the kind of chaos that matched the red jacket, a plaid one, the yellow, red, and blue glasses, and from other angles, the boots, the military gear worn like beachwear.
–What a complete lack of respect. You must know my charm is like that of a butterfly – Helena remarked, ready to shift the mood and build a strong argument, one that would add the kind of weight that needed adding.
–Butterflies live for 24 hours, and it's those 24 hours… Better to be a striped tiger, a peacock, a unicorn, or a goldfish with a longer life – replied Edward Norton, still in his usual state of insomnia. The detail now was that he likely hadn't slept at all. He scrubbed himself down with a scouring pad and chewed tobacco before every scene to give his teeth that bloody yellow hue.
Billy, on the other hand, exercised every day. Now trying to bulk up, he was eating over a pound of chicken daily, with vegetables, eggs, and spinach soup, adding vitamin supplements, lentils, and proteins to gain mass. A hundred exercises to a hundred exercises—he wasn't about to back down when the work of tearing muscle was already part of the plan. For filming days, he'd follow an aggressive dehydration method just to deliver a magnificent shot.
–A person can change in three months, and butterflies are reborn every 24 hours – Edward Norton commented, making Helena laugh.
Shaking her head at Edward's boiling attitude, Helena ran to the dressing room, trying to come up with the silliest and most irreverent outfit she could imagine. While adjusting her wardrobe, others helped her form a perfect color line between each piece.
–I like that jacket – said Edward, eyeing a brown diamond-patterned suit Billy wore, along with a pair of textured brown jeans that looked like high-end carpet. His polished leather boots, with worn red leather details, were quite charming.
–It's my outfit for the next scene. Then I'll try not to let people be entirely swept away by the magic of a good take – said Billy. Wrapping up the matter, he took a breath—the recorded lines were just minutes away from a cut.
…
He checked the cameras and noticed that not far from their location, many other sets were within reach. Taking a deep breath, he tried not to mess up. He took a big step, syncing with the sequence of cameras pointed at them from multiple angles. He didn't want to admit that the next scenes might be a lot of work—it was better to restart with a quick take, just as he saw Fincher capturing two takes and nodding approvingly.
–Action. –
INT. LOU'S TAVERN – SAME
Jack and Tyler sit in the back with a pitcher of beer. Billy's look is captivating, showing that hard-to-read, rugged side.
JACK: You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I'll ever need. No matter what happens, I've got the sofa covered. Then the right dishes. The perfect dining set.
TYLER: That's how we fill our lives.
Tyler lights a cigarette—he struggles with it, while Billy tries to get used to smoking. The addiction is easy to catch, and he treats it as a character gesture.
JACK: I guess so.
TYLER: And now it's over.
JACK: It's all over.
Tyler offers cigarettes. Jack declines.
TYLER: Could be worse. A woman could cut off your dick while you're asleep and throw it out the window of a moving car.
JACK: That sort of thing happens.
TYLER: I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's a tragedy.
JACK: …no…no…
TYLER: I mean, you lost a bunch of nice, neat stuff. Trendy paper lamps. That trashy European shelving, right?
Jack laughs, nods, shakes his head, and drinks.
TYLER: But maybe—just maybe—you've been liberated.
JACK
(raises glass)
Liberated from Swedish furniture.
TYLER: Liberated from couches with dark green stripe patterns.
JACK: Liberated from Martha Stewart.
TYLER: Screw Martha Stewart. She polished the Titanic's metal, and it still sank. You've been liberated from crap colors like "cobalt," "ebony," and "fuchsia." So who cares?
They laugh together. Then, silence. They sip their drinks.
JACK: Insurance covers it.
TYLER: Ah, yeah, you've got to start the list.
JACK: What list?
TYLER: The list of "now I get to go out and buy the same stuff all over again." That list.
He took a long drink of what was apple juice from the beer mug, sipping deeply with confidence and force, delivering the kind of presence that made a scene hit home.
JACK: I don't… think so.
TYLER: Maybe this time you'll get a widescreen TV. You'll be busy for weeks.
JACK: Well, I have to file a claim...
TYLER: The things you own end up owning you. But hey, do whatever you want, man.
He made a mocking gesture—that's what they expected from Billy, to mock in a way he could always transform, shaping his character's emblems and flaws.
JACK: Me? No?
TYLER: Do whatever you want.
JACK
(looks at his watch)
God, it's late. I should find a hotel…
They were both getting up, trying not to bump into each other as the old bar led them into a space that felt entirely alien. Though Edward seemed small, he was the same height as Billy—it's just that he was a genius at transforming his presence.
TYLER: A hotel?
JACK: Yeah.
TYLER: So, you called me just to have a drink before… looking for a hotel?
JACK: I don't follow you…
TYLER: We're on our third pitcher. And you still haven't had the balls to ask—you just…
Just ask me!
JACK: Huh?
TYLER: You called because you needed a place to stay.
JACK: No, I…
TYLER: Why don't you stop being weird and just ask if you can crash at my place?
JACK: Would that be a problem?
TYLER: Is it a problem to ask?
JACK: Can I stay at your place?
TYLER: Yes, you can.
JACK: Thanks.
TYLER: Don't mention it. But I want you to do me a favor.
JACK: What's that?
TYLER: I want you to hit me as hard as you can.
JACK: What?
TYLER: I want you to hit me. As hard as you can. I've never been in a fight, and I want to know what it feels like to get hit.
JACK: That's crazy, I don't get it—that's fucking stupid. Where do you want me to hit you?
TYLER: Surprise me. Come on.
He bounced up and down, warming up.
The punch landed hard—hard enough for Billy to feel completely wrecked. Then he fired back, landing a hit straight on the eyebrow. Edward started screaming while Billy laughed.
TYLER: You hit me in the eye! Are you trying to blind me?
He responded with another punch.
JACK: You hit me pretty damn hard, asshole… You asked for it.
TYLER: Then take that, you bastard.
He took the punch.
JACK: I'm gonna hit you again, you bastard.
But he started laughing as the two of them engaged in a slow, methodical brawl. It was calculated—curiously, Edward split Billy's brow, and Billy gave Edward a black eye.
–Cut. – said Fincher.
Trying not to reject the implications, nor the errors. He was laughing too. As the laughter settled and the two sat down, David gave them a thumbs-up.
–Why'd you hit me? – Billy asked.
–David told me to hit you hard – Edward said, shrugging as he iced his cheek. Saying anything else wouldn't have been the truth.
–Sorry, I just wanted some realism, some closeness between you two. You're way too tense – David Fincher apologized.
–It was fun – said David. – Funny how things seem to get messy… Good thing you guys had a blast. –
–Edward's got a better hook – Billy remarked.
–You're both out of your minds – David said, replaying the scene of them hitting each other. Billy was super focused—not a brawler—but he was always ready to listen, and that's why he was so well-known.
–Let's move on to the next scenes. You guys ready? – Fincher asked.
–We can shoot at least thirty more scenes, – Billy said.
Fincher smiled, seeing the brilliance in every take.
...