The actress

My dad wanted me to be either an actress or a stewardess. I never quite understood how he came up with those two ideas: women in our family were either teachers or pencil pushers. I strongly resented the idea of becoming a flight attendant. I knew only too well that the profession would not suit me, as I was not gracious enough and had a poor sense of balance, and would not be able to walk straight, in high-heels, on a tilting airplane, without grabbing the passengers’ heads for balance. Becoming a stage actress was more appealing to me; I had once played a vengeful queen in a primary school play, and had reveled in being a villainous character. Everybody who saw the play said I had killed my subject very convincingly. I also loved to recite patriotic poems at school assemblies. I did not, however, have the retentive memory necessary for a stage actress, and was unable to get those long Shakespearean monologues down pat, so I chose to study physics instead, mainly because physics requires understanding and logical reasoning rather than memorization.

            Nevertheless, the yearning for acting - awakened in me by my dad’s hopes for me and by my superlative school performances - remained. I kept imagining that by some strange twist of fate, I would one day be given the chance to play a part on a real stage in a real theater. All I wanted was a small part - say, the role of a maid - who announces that dinner is served or that the carriage is at the door - a part that does NOT involve memorization. A more realistic goal to achieve, that of being an extra in a movie, did not appeal to me; I didn’t want to be one of a crowd, I wanted to play an individual, no matter how insignificant.

            The things we dream about usually come true, though sometimes in a convoluted way. One summer in the late seventies I was staying with my friend’s sister in Paris, an art director in film production whose name was Danka Semenowicz. Every couple of years I intruded upon her privacy by showing up at her door without being invited, but she never expressed any objection nor showed annoyance. Her apartment was a nice place to hang my hat after walking the streets of Paris all day, and she was very hospitable. I tried not to be pain in the neck, but there wasn’t much chance of that happening as she spent every day from morning till night on the set, leaving home before I woke up, and coming back when I could barely keep my eyes open. However that particular week they were shooting at the Institut de Physique Nucléaire d'Orsay, and I could not resist asking her to take me with her.  The Institute of Nuclear Research in Poland, where I was happily employed at the time, always looked up to its French colleague. I did not stand a chance of being invited to work at Orsay (of that I was absolutely sure), but at least I could take a look at the campus … Danka woke me up early the next morning, and after a 20-minute drive, we arrived at the important scientific center. The commotion and excitement there did not seem to fit this normally quiet and tranquil place. There was also some nervousness caused by the fact that the movie crew was short of extras: they needed more young people to play physics students. Would I be interested? Of course I would! Need they ask? And I didn’t even have to pretend, as I had only recently graduated from university.

            That day “we” were shooting three scenes, all featuring the end of a lecture. The first scene took place in fall, the second in winter, and the third in late spring. For the first two scenes we were wearing sweaters and scarves, which we took off for the spring scene. Before shooting each scene, a real physics professor would write a bunch of formulas on two huge blackboards (I checked, they made sense.) Then the actor-professor would finish the last formula and say something funny to end the lecture. Students would laugh and start leaving the hall; while the professor was packing his scattered notes into a briefcase, a female student from the first row would approach him to ask questions. Their conversation was inaudible. In the fall scene the professor was relaxed, and he would slowly leave the lecture hall, accompanied by the female student. In the winter and spring scenes his behavior was different: in the winter scene he would head toward the exit before the female student had even finished talking to him, and in the spring scene he would leave in haste, not giving her the chance to catch up with him.

            The physics professor was played by the great Swiss actor Bruno Ganz. The shooting of those three short scenes took the whole day, as each of them had at least fifteen takes. Every time Bruno Ganz became exhausted and confused his lines, the director would call for a break; I happened to be alone with Bruno Ganz once in the coffee room. He seemed very friendly and easy to talk to, but I only managed to utter “merci”, when he handed me the cream jug.

            The movie, called “5% De Risque”, turned out to be a fat failure in spite of having a great cast. The story was about a perfect crime. In order to help his politician friend, (a woman? I wasn’t sure) who is being blackmailed, the hero David - Bruno Ganz, a physics professor, resolves to kill the blackmailer. David’s idea was to do it within a short time, so that it would not seem humanly possible for him to have done it. To gain time for the murder, he was shortening his lecture little by little, hoping that nobody would notice, including the inquisitive female student (played by a young Belgian film director). According to his estimations, there was a 5% risk that he would be caught. Meanwhile his politician friend died, but David was so involved in his “project” that he had to pursue it to its end.

            I did not have a chance to see the whole movie, and only saw part of it at a private screening, so I’m not sure how it ends; did the professor get away with murder? I hope so. Danka told me that my face did show up on the screen for a split second, so I can brag that I co-starred with Bruno Ganz in a French movie. I did not let my dad down after all.