Death in a Bowl
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Beschreibung zu „Death in a Bowl“
FREY SHRUGGED his broad shoulders, gestured helplessly with spread hands, palms upturned. His face was white and drawn; his eyes, streaked with red, held a weary expression. He said flatly:
“She wouldn’t scream like that. She’s been shot in the stomach— she wouldn’t scream like that.”
Ernst Reiner smiled in his superior manner, said something thickly in German, then spoke slowly in English. His tone was low; his words held a precise dignity.
“I use realism to get effects. If she does not scream— I lose an effect. She is shot in the belly, and she screams.”
Howard Frey bowed mockingly. “It’s your picture,” he said. “She gets shot in the stomach, and she screams.”
“She wouldn’t scream like that. She’s been shot in the stomach— she wouldn’t scream like that.”
Ernst Reiner smiled in his superior manner, said something thickly in German, then spoke slowly in English. His tone was low; his words held a precise dignity.
“I use realism to get effects. If she does not scream— I lose an effect. She is shot in the belly, and she screams.”
Howard Frey bowed mockingly. “It’s your picture,” he said. “She gets shot in the stomach, and she screams.”